On Meditation

A few days ago, I was catching up with a colleague and he was generally expressing how busy life was and how there was so much going on in his brain. I had a simple solution:
Empty it out.
No, I wasn't advocating trepannig for him. But I hear this more and more: people are overwhelmed with thoughts, feelings, memories, and decisions to make. Each one of those is so fascinting to us that we get distracted from what they really are: just stuff.
It doesn't matter what the thought is, it's just a thought. An interruption. A blip of life itself. But then we hold onto it, squeeze it between our fingers until they ache, making it impossible for us to pick up anything new.
Life is like playing jacks: you toss up the rubber ball and gather up some jacks before it lands. The trick us to let go of the jacks so you can play again.
In a round about way, I'm talking about meditation.
A lot if us think about meditation the way a former president thought about broccoli.
Okay, that's not true: when I was younger, I thought only the coolest, strongest people were meditators, enduring boredom, discomfort, and I don't even know what for hours. (No one ever thinks that only the cool people are broccoli eaters).You had to sit in a particular position, you had to be unflappable, you had to be willing to let go of all your wants and desires. And this is a glamourized version! There's the other image of meditators: that they are spiritual goofballs, denying themselves life and enjoyment, and worst of all, they are Doing Nothing.
Some of these are old images, but they all boil down to one thing: meditation is not for me.
Well, that's not true.
You dont have to sit in an uncomfortable cushion or repeat a mantra you don't understand or even be a spiritual person. Were talking brain maintenance here. Like flossing.
There's so many types of meditation out there that you can find one that fits for you. And here's a meditation that you can do right now:
Just notice what you are doing right now: any sights, smells, sounds, in the here and now. Just sink into your surroundings.

Empty yourself out.

On the anniversary of 9/11

May I be safe from harm
May I be happy and peaceful
May I be strong and healthy
May I take care of myself with joy
-Thich Nhat Hanh

Today, let us meditate on this in ever-widening circles:

May we be safe from harm
May we he happy and peaceful
May we be strong and healthy
May we take care of ourselves with joy...

On the Doctor Laura Vacancy

A few weeks ago, I was at a family wedding, I was asked about what I thought of Dr. Laura. He asked,"Who is going to take her place?" he told me that *I* could be the next Dr. Laura.
For a moment, I saw myself in a broadcasting booth verbally abusing callers. Did people really need more of that? Of course, it's possibly just him saying I have a face for radio...
My immediate response was,"Why would I want that?"
"Why wouldn't you?" He was like Al Pacino in The Devil's Advocate. "You could help a lot of people..."
I sighed. "I think it's more important to listen to people than to just talk. How can I assume that after a minute talking to someone, I know 'the answer' to their problem? How can I even really know what the problem is?"
He was unmoved by my argument. "But people need help. Isn't it better than nothing?"
That was a tougher one. I didn't want to say no, and I definitely didn't want to say yes. I went with my old standby: noncommittance.
"Maybe?" I said with a Gallic shrug. Plus I had another image in my head: a sea of people desperate and alone, trying to find help, willing to be harranged because it feels like strength. My heart went out to them.
He must have read my mind! "How many people are you helping right now? You could be helping thousands!" This seemed like two things to me: a classic ethics debate and a temptation of the ego (Wouldn't I be so much more important if I helped more people?)
Fortunately, I was stronger than Keanu Reeves. I held firm. "Well, I'm glad I don't have to make that choice."
I realized something (aside from the fact that I have no small talk skills whatsoever and am hopeless at parties), something that was missing from his worldview: trust.
I know I'm not the only one out there who can help people. There are so many people out there doing good things and making things better. And people can help and heal themselves. In every person there is a part that is healthy, a part that wants to move towards positive change. I don't have to change what I do, which is to spend time with a handful of people and witness their journey, helping a little on the way. I love that. I love what I do. I love my work. I don't have to go chasing after a phantom of self importance and success. (Someone else will do that!)
No, I'm kidding. People do get help from radio and tv, just like they get help from a stranger's smile or a flower in bloom. I can trust that, rest in that, and just continue to do what I do.

On Sexual Harrassment

Sunday morning, I had an amazing dream. I woke up feeling free and confident. The dream went like this: I am standing around with a bunch of people I don't know. This guy comes up to me and flirts with me. I'm not interested, but I assume that he's harmless. Then he grabs at my chest. I tell him to stop, and then I tell him to stop again. I tell him a third time, pull away from him, and at the top of my lungs, to make sure everyone hears, I read him the riot act. I'll paraphrase: I've told you three times to stop touching me, and no means no, and you're an insecure jerk, etc. I say everything I need to say and I don't hold back. I say out loud all the things you'd want to say in a situation like this but can't think of in the moment. Usually, I am very careful with my words, but I was angry, not scared. When I woke up, I felt like I could sing. I'd gotten it all out of my system!
In reality, it's not that easy...

On on Piffle

Yesterday, I went out to breakfast with my friend and mother-in-law, Pat. I was talking to her about the Prince of Piffle article, and she gave me some insight. She explained that many non-religious people are really frightened by what has been going on in the world, with the current forms of religious oppression. (I can think of the Catholic church sex abuse scandal, the violent response by Muslims over cartoon depictions of Mohammed, and the fundamentalist push to make homosexuality punishable by death sentence in Africa). She also shared with me that Christopher Hitchens was a good friend of Salman Rushdie's, and must have been greatly influenced by that. When I put myself in his position. I can completely empathize with his point of view. And I realize that I did something that psychological rearch shows people do all the time: misinterpret fear as anger. Anger is a way to protect oneself from threats to self. Knowing more about Hitchens, whose friend was almost assasinated at least twice, I understand his frothing better.
Thank you, Pat.

On Prince of Piffle

Christopher Hitchens wrote a scathing article about Prince Charles on Slate (www.slate.msn.com). He attacked both the future monarch's character as well as his religiosity. I definitely agree that the Prince looks foolish, at least in this context, but many people hold similar views: that the destruction of the environment is connected to a mechanistic view of nature. Prince Charles referred to the source of this way of thinking as Galileo, but I think it goes way further, back to the Greek philosophical split between mind and body.
At the mention of Galileo, Hitchens unleashes a tirade on all that science has given us, including a disturbing reference to it 'putting us in our place'. Again, I agree that science has given us a lot in terms of advances and technology, as well as religion and spirituality being optional, rather than mandatory. What he fails to understand that there is room for both ways of thinking, for both paradigms to coexist. It's a mistake I often see: something has to be either/or, not both. It's a failure of imagination. Hitchens gets a bit rabid, and devolves into namecalling and denigrating anyone of faith. I think that's sloppy and disrespectful.
Of course, this is the author of "God is Not Great", so it's no surprise that these are his personal views. The problem is that he's not owning them. I see this a lot in communication: people make pronouncements instead of speaking from our own experience. It's as if our viewpoint isn't valid unless we assert that it is Reality. The drawback to this kind of communication is that it offers no room for the listener's perspective. I make a great effort to speak from my personal experience; I find that people hear me better, and I feel more understood. This is a way of building community, rather than building conflict. At the same time, it takes courage for us to talk about our own lives. But we can also invoke courage: feeling the fear and doing it anyway. May we all find the courage to speak openly, lovingly, and honestly with each other.

Notes from The Women

This weekend, I was planning to watch an old favorite on TCM: the black and white female romp The Women, with a gaggle of old Hollywood glamour ladies, including Joan Crawford. The movie is known for good writing and a keen eye about the relationships between the fairer sex. I was looking for a good time, and this time around I didn't find it.

I had forgotten about all the backbiting.

It all starts with Rosalind Russell, who is a devilish gossip who just has to know what is going around and what everyone else is up to. From my distant memory, she had seemed fun, but now, watching her in the first few scenes of the movie, I was struck by her distastefulness. Here was a woman who was clearly unhappy, didn't quite know it herself, and looked for misery in everyone else.

I'm overstating it, of course. But, then again, she is a caricature. The problem is not that she's miserable in herself, it's that she spreads it around. When she finds out that the husband of one of her best friends is stepping out, Rosalind makes sure that every woman she knows finds out as well. It's pretty horrible, especially when the movie shifts to the woman in question and you see how happy she is in her "fool's paradise". It's even worse when she finds out the truth and, on top of that, deals with the humiliation of having everyone else know, too.

I'm not here to bash Rosalind Russell. I'm not interested in writing about whether women are happier knowing the truth about their marriages. I don't want to rap women on the nose for behaving in unseemly or unladylike fashions. Truthfully, I don't think there's any women in my life right now who act this way. But, it's got to be in there. We're all capable of it.

Somewhere, in our secret heart of hearts, we're jaded. There's a part of us that doesn't want to see, feel or taste happiness, even in other people, because we can't bear it. It's too painful. When we find out the ugly truth about people's lives, our worst beliefs about the world are proven true, and it's a relief. Because if the world really is as rotten as we think it is, then we can just tell ourselves not to feel it. We can put the pain away.

No one sits down with Rosalind and tells her this. No one lends her an ear about her marriage, about which she quips,"I wouldn't trust my husband on Alcatraz!", a telling phrase. She becomes part of the Bad Girls, in the "Joan Crawford, other woman" camp. A woman to avoid, to ostracize. But perhaps, we can look at someone like Rosalind with a bit of pity and a bit of compassion. Not let her do her mischief or get away with things, but with a kind, firm hand, say, "no, we don't hurt people. But you're hurting now, aren't you?" And when we see Rosalind in the mirror, give ourselves a little bit of the love she so desperately needs.