Never Enough

As I sit here listening to Willie Nelson and Norah Jones singing “Baby It’s Cold” outside, I find myself reflecting on how lucky I am. Very.

Why just the other day I found out I’m about to come into a windfall, admittedly small, but still something I hadn’t expected. My mind ranged over a couple of things I’d been meaning to take care of and I found that with the extra cash I could do one – not both. Isn’t it amazing how there’s never enough?

The truth is that this was just the right amount to do something for myself, and then share a little with my son and daughter. Just enough. But we are so conditioned to always be searching for the amount of money that will meet all our needs, and then all our wants, and then all our conceivable wants and needs into eternity!

Never enough. It never ends – the need for more and more – if you don’t stop it yourself. I think it’s in our DNA to collect, hoard and save, as a hedge against the future and to comfort ourselves that nothing could ever go wrong, because we have enough.

The truth is that there really is never enough to save us from poverty of life or spirit no matter what. There are still earthquakes, floods, tornados, heart attacks, aneurysms, Bernie Madoff, Wall Street crashes and all manner of thieves to steal away your safety nets.

There is only way true way for what you have to be enough. You must declare it so and mean it. You have to take stock and look around you and say, “I have enough for today and that may be all the time I have anyway. I’ll worry about tomorrow - tomorrow.”

I’m not saying you don’t responsibly plan for the future, just that you don’t let the future take you over. Enjoy what there is today – a downpour, jazz music filling your little space from your small (but good enough) radio, an onion bagel. Let the warmth of fuzzy socks soak into your soul and convince you that in the precious moment – that’s all you really need. Enough is enough.

As Thanksgiving Approaches

I’ve written editorials that espoused all the platitudes about gratitude and meant every word of them. But now it’s time to get a little down and dirty. Tell it like it is. Kick the euphemisms to the curb. Oh, yeah, baby!

Excuse me while I fan myself. I got a little overwrought there. But really, isn’t it time to be for real about gratitude. You want to know what I’m most grateful about this season? I give thanks everyday that we’re a nation at peace. Oh, wait! No, that’s not right. Well, at least we have universal health care. What? What’s that you say? Not exactly.

Let’s start over. I’m thrilled that I don’t have to be the one to hose off the guy who lives in the ratty RV next door when he accumulates too much filth. I’m even more thrilled that alcohol didn’t get me the way it got him.

I’m thankful to be the one trying to get donations for the food bank, instead of being one of those that need the food.

I’m happy that when I whine about how tough life is, I still have the ability to get outside of myself (after several minutes of intense whining) and see that I’m really a very lucky gal.

Every time I’m lonely, I can reach for the phone and call someone. Isn’t that something?

I’ve been given the gift of understanding how wonderful the internet is and it makes my life easier in so many ways that I’m eternally grateful and excited to see what’s next.

I get a paycheck twice a month. I have a roof over my head. I have a vehicle that gets me where I want to go. I have enough clothes to last two weeks comfortably without doing the wash! I have family who love me and I love back. I have…I have…I have.

Thank you, Universe, for everything I have. And thanks even more for letting me see that there are others who don’t have…don’t have…don’t have.

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.

Dear Abby Needs an Update

This weekend, I was casually looking for the movie times, when I spied Dear Abby and was compelled to read it. When I was in my teens I used to read Ann Landers religiously, so I’m still drawn to advice columns. This one sadly disappointed me.

A newly-wed woman was complaining that her husband was happy to eat frozen pizzas and bagged salads every night saying the meals she cooked, with pleasure after a long day at work, were too expensive and too much trouble. Abby advised her to make him eat them anyway, because it was healthier and gave her pleasure. Hmmm.

There are so many things wrong with that answer, I don’t know where to start. First, she works herself, so she should feel free to cook for pleasure if she wants. Second, if he doesn’t want to eat what she cooks, she should take the leftovers for lunch the next day. Third, he’s an adult and is entitled to make his own food choices, healthy or not, and is capable of heating up his own pizza and pouring his salad from the bag. Fourth, who says a married couple must be blended together to such a degree that they must eat the same way?

The answer Abby gave leans on the tired old way of looking at marriage that I see around me everyday. This subject bugs me so much, that I may have mentioned it before in my blogs, but it bears repeating. Being married doesn’t equate to giving up oneself and becoming like the other.

I can immediately think of two couples where the wife is constantly saying things like, “We think…” Really? And when did your husband have his cloned (from yours) brain transplant? I’ve never heard a husband say the same thing. I think this is so horribly wrong.

These same two couples are not able to function separately in their lives away from work. The wives can only go shopping by themselves, never to a girls’ night out or a solo weekend retreat. The husbands seem to whine a lot and mope when left on their own, one of them choosing to starve until his wife returns to feed him. I don’t know which is sadder, being held captive against your will or willingly building your own prison walls.

Anyway, Abby, this isn’t the first half of the 20th century when the sole responsibility for health and happiness (and cooking) was in the wife’s hands. This is an age where two adults supposedly come together out of love, most of the time sharing responsibilities for income and household. It’s not necessary for the poor schmuck to eat her dinners to make her happy or him healthier. It is necessary for both to wake up to the reality that they are different entities and truly blend their preferences in a way that neither gives up the way they want to live; or not. In which case, they’re not long for the married state.

Professionalism is Highly Over-rated

I nearly didn’t go to see the movie Morning Glory this weekend because of a review that bemoaned the handling of the subject – hard news versus entertainment. The reviewer likened it to 1987’s Broadcast News, which pitted looks against talent in the news biz and was filled with lots of angst. Except, said this reviewer, Morning Glory’s characters had given up fighting the good fight. Bunk!

I did go see the movie, which was basically a cute romp through a morning news show, starring a curmudgeonly Harrison Ford, who hangs on to his highly regarded reputation as a tough news man, against the wishes of Rachel McAdams’ character, a producer who needs him to lighten up and do a few fluff pieces; the basic professionalism versus fun dilemma.

First of all, the movie wasn’t great, but it was likable. A lot like the premise of the story.

I’ve always had a problem with the term “professionalism.” It means many things to many people, but the one that bugs me the most is the idea that professionalism is the key to good business, profits, etc. Bunk!

Let’s look at this rationally. You go to a restaurant – coffee shop or gourmet eatery, it doesn’t matter – and sit down. Your waitperson is highly competent, asking all the right questions, bringing everything at exactly the right time. However, he is completely without warmth or personality. Most people are going to go away unsatisfied. Why? Because, although he acted completely professional, we want to enjoy our interactions with service people and this waiter didn’t fill the bill.

In fact, this is true in every business that exists in this world. We expect to have some level of human contact that goes beyond professionalism and THAT is the key to good business, profits, etc. Let me give a few examples.

Medicine – yes, we want competent doctors and nurses, but just as importantly, we want to feel comforted, connected. Sales – we want the best deal wrapped up in a feeling that we are more to this salesperson than just a number (whether that’s true or not, studies show that the feeling is extremely important to whether we buy or not). Accountants and attorneys really have to go deeper than professionalism to truly win our trust, if nothing else to counteract their “professional” reputations as stiffs or sharks.

Rather than touting professionalism as the Holy Grail, why don’t we, as a society, acknowledge that it is the skill of highlighting our humanity that is the true key to success in business? In Morning Glory, it is when Ford’s character shows us his humanity that he wins over his new audience. I know it’s just a movie, but I think it makes its point very well. Professionalism is highly over-rated.

I Hate Facebook

Okay, I don’t really hate it, but it can be truly annoying. I think what pushed me over the top was being “friended” by a co-worker, whose first and immediate message to me was a criticism of my politics.

Really?

But the overriding factor here is the inane nature of this thing 90% of the time. If it was being used for true communication I have no problem with it, but I’ll never want to tell people I had enchiladas for dinner and it didn’t sit well with me. Nor do I want to be so informed of anyone else’s similar travails.

Perhaps part of the issue is that unlike My Space, which was mainly inhabited by the very young, this social media encompasses everyone – all ages – and what seems so ridiculous to someone my age may be ultra-important to someone much younger. So, I admit to old-fogeyness.

I also admit that Facebook can be a great tool to communicate larger issues, promote events and stay in touch with people you may not see regularly.

I’m just too busy (or, in truth, I just don’t want to be bothered) for the trivia. It feels a lot like having to answer the door at 9 am on a Sunday morning in my bathroom to a neighbor I barely know asking to borrow a cup of clothes washing soap.

Really?

Play - How We Recover Ourselves

I have discovered that I have to have a playmate in life – or in actuality, several. I have a co-worker that knows how to put joy into the day and occasionally act like a twelve-year-old, thank goodness. I have family members, especially my daughter, Vanessa, who can also enjoy silliness. I truly don’t know how I’d survive without them.
I believe that play is essential to everyone, and those that are better at it are more balanced and mentally healthier. Needless to say, they are also happier people.

So, I had an opportunity to watch adults at play this weekend at our company picnic. It was so much fun to see people who I normally think of as very staid loosing up a bit and even acting like kids at time. One of the best surprises was the gentlemen, whose wife kind of poo-poo’d yo-yos for adults, who turned out to a yo-yo aficiando and the winner of the yo-yo competition. It was great to watch the grownups compete against the kids for the competitor with the most originality and style. Oh, the gyrations!

The next work day all of us were a bit lighter. We had bonded and – most importantly – played together. Letting down our guards for a few hours had made it easier to trust each other in our work environment as well.

So, here’s the lesson learned. Play = fun = laughter = REFRESHED AND REVIVED

Everything Comes Full Circle

So, I’ve finished my novel, which was originally called “Full Circle,” and it's now called “Red Mojo Mama.” The title change and small shift in how I viewed my heroine, have given me a push in the right direction. The full manuscript is out to one agent and another asked for three chapters and a synopsis. Pray for me please!

My original title, however, had a meaning that I’ve found to be so true over the years. I believe in karma, in “what goes around comes around” and the cyclical nature of life. I’ve also come to believe that what you start out to accomplish and abandon along the way, can come back to you with more strength than ever.

I began writing when I was eleven years old. My first writing was a poem, entitled “Evergreen.” I still have the original, written on notebook paper in pencil. That same year, a few months later, I wrote a poem called “The Mark of Our Time”, which I sold to a magazine in the early 90’s. Isn’t that amazing?

While I experienced some horrific things as a child and young adult, those incidents built me into the person I am today, and offer so many touches to the stories and articles I’ve written. They’ve also gifted me with perception, understanding and kindness, I hope. So, where there was bad there is now good.

So, I guess this is an homage to my original title – boring as it was – because the truth is everything always comes full circle.

By the way, I've started two other blogs:

http://inthewritinggroove.blogspot.com/
http://aliberalstateofmind.blogspot.com/