A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm!

17-- The Star

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars."

                     Ralph Waldo Emerson

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It's been a while since I've written a little nothing about tarot cards, and I felt like tonight was the night.

Aren't you all lucky?

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When it comes to symbols, everyone likes to ascribe either completely positive or negative qualities to certain archetypes.  So far in the cards I've discussed, symbols like Death and The Hanged Man tend to draw nothing but the negative interpretation; cards like The Magician and Justice tend to make you think of nothing but goodness.

(Of course, if you bother to read through some of my posts, you will see that I enjoy pulling rugs from under feet.  But I digress.)

The Star is an ambiguous card, as it is a card of peace and calm and actual goodness, but the kind that you can usually only find when you reach into the deepest and often darkest part of yourself.  It is a card about finding that essence of who you are-- not of who you wish you could be, or who you project to the world you are, but the person that sometimes exists only deep within yourself.

The card shows a woman dipping a toe in pool of water --a symbol of the subconscious mind-- while keeping one foot grounded.  She holds water with her jug on one hand, maybe to drink from it or just to contemplate it as she pours it back into the pool.  The other hand is watering the soil beneath.

She is naked and vulnerable in the night, as many of us so often find ourselves-- lost in nightmares and horrible thoughts, sometimes of our own making.  Wading through the deep and murky waters of the things within us, that we can't even begin to understand, sometimes we can get lost in the mud.  We obsess.  We toss and turn and give up on sleep. We wake up in a pool of cold sweat, feeling that our lives may never again be the same.

But sometimes, we can see the goodness and the strength buried deep within ourselves.

There is nothing so horrible within ourselves that can't benefit from a little stirring of the waters-- a little contemplation, or analysis.  There is nothing so painful that we can't eventually embrace it and forgive that part of ourselves and be on the way to letting our own buried-deep goodness shine. 

If we let ourselves go deeply enough into that dark night, and trust that we can actually do it, we will eventually find the way to peace and self-acceptance, so we can let our little light shine.

Adding Extra Sugar to This Lemonade

I got a rejection today.

It was a short and very sweet note, but it still had within it that one stinging, final word. 

"No."

I didn't really mind it.  That much.

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Many years ago, I started writing poems.  I would write silly things and perhaps deep things and meaningful (to me) things the same way some choose to put hook and yarn together and crochet an evening away.  I would do it while watching TV sometimes.  And I thought that, you know, perhaps an attempt here or there was starting to sound pretty good.

So I let my rubber meet the road and I started submitting a few.  Not too many, but enough to say I did it.

Some people replied and said a polite, "thank you, but no thank you," no reason given, although some included a word of encouragement; but most letters were curt. 

Some let the silence be the beacon to guide their answer.

But then there is the third kind of rejection, which I find to be the most cutting and the one that feels like a bucket of ice-cold knives-- the kind that, the more you try to shake it off, the deeper it seems to drive the ice cold shame that makes you feel like a fool for trying: the "helpful" rejection.

The one that doesn't stop at telling you that you were found lacking, but either attempts to couch it in passive aggressive politeness (... "the tone is just not quite our fit at the present time...") or merely hints at the fact that the person at the other end wants you to know that he or she deems you're trying hard but it's really just not going to cut it.

Ouch.

I never could figure out how to get over that one.  I think I just balled them all up and amused myself with a self-on-self pickup "loserball" game. I'm tempted to say that I just blocked those painful memories altogether.

I have not tried to do that again.

________

More than once in this space, I have wondered how people deal with rejection; specifically, I remember wondering what it might be like to deal with rejection as an intrinsic part of your job description.  And yet, it seems that it's nearly impossible to get anywhere or to get anyone to notice you unless you develop thick skin and toughen up to the rejections, big and small, that you will likely encounter on your way to letting people know your wares.  It's the risk you take that eventually brings you a payoff, whatever that may be (admittedly, a nice payoff for me would be more appreciative readers).

As I write this, I also realize the irony of how many of you may be put off by my sudden up-tick in writing, and how this may cause you to stop coming here or unsubscribing from my feed.  And how some of you may have already unsubscribed because one of my return posts happened to reference Aunt Flo broadly, and not much else.  Sorry about that.

And now I am actually laughing and feeling just a little bit better, knowing that for every person who votes away from this place that is a piece of me with their clicks, there are many of you (over one hundred such souls, according to Feedburner) who think this is worthy of your time and of your readership.  

Thank you. 

What do you say, we play some pickup paperball  sometime?

(Incidentally, I owe someone chocolate.  I am off to find a randomizer so I can get a winner by the end of the week!)

Not to Mention, He Made George Clooney's Career

One of my favorite book-reading memories ever was of the days around Christmas, 1992.  I spent three or four glorious days reading Jurassic Park, initially as an AP Bio assignment and then sheer for the pleasure of it all, and my mind was blown away.

Dinosaurs!  DNA!  Crazy millionaires!  Awesome badass mathematician (who in my mind's eye looked NOTHING like Jeff Goldblum, by the by) explaining mind-numbing concepts that were both fascinating but horrifying and yet as easy to understand as it is to watch a butterfly's flight path.

And.... VELOCIRAPTORS!  Those cunning, vicious, smarter-than-you dinosaurs were my favorite but they also made me uneasy and were the stuff of nightmares: to think that it could ever be possible to bring them to life, let alone be trapped in a magnificent equatorial island with only my wits to protect me.

That book was amazing.  The story was scary, but scary smart --not just some sort of Choose Your Own Adventure weak plot, nor was it some sort of detached, long-ago Gothic horror.  This was all, in theory, in conjecture, possible.  The movie, while awesome for many, paled in my mind to the book's rich detail and character depictions. 

This is why you should read books, kids: they are SO MUCH BETTER than the movie.  Except for The Devil Wears Prada, though-- that book should be thanking its lucky stars it ever got made into a movie. 

The scariest things come from what is possible, and what is real, and Michael Crichton knew how to weave a story that was by turns fantastic but real enough to keep the suspense going page after page.

I feel privileged to have read some of his wonderful books, and only too sad to have learned of his passing yesterday at the age of 66.

Incidentally, if you have never read any of his books and would like an introduction that is not dinosaur-related, my favorite book happens to be The Andromeda Strain. 

(Pseudo-spoiler: you'll never look at a flashing light the same way again.)

Minding Them Manners

Just a quickie post thanking DC Blogs and Famous DC for picking up my last two posts!  Thank you so much for the recognition (and the ensuing traffic!).  And if you're coming through those links, thank you for coming by and I hope you do so again!  Might I also suggest taking a look at the sidebar and checking out some of my oldies but goodies? 

You're too kind.  Thank you  :o)

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

This post's genesis is a quiet midweek afternoon before a thunderstorm.  I take Herr Meow out to the park for a little playtime before a late lunch and a nap. 

We try to see if we know anybody --a somewhat uncommon event as we don't go often enough to the park at any time of day.  There are some kids we recognize -- there are the twins we have met before, and one or two children who always seem to be over at the park.  Pretty much everyone we encounter ranges in age from six months to four years or so.

No one, except for a child who happens to be visiting a grandparent in town, is with a parent or a relative.  Nary a one out of nearly thirty children.

The storm comes in, blows the nannies away, and only Herr Meow and the child who's come here with his grandmother are left.  Tiny pinprick drops start to fall and the light canopy of trees shields us. 

They play and are happy.  The park stops being as dirty, dusty, dank and neglected as it was just a few minutes ago when the pressure was dropping and the heat was bearing down fruitlessly.

It's quiet and then it starts to rain a little more heavily and it's clear the tree canopy won't be holding up much longer.  After our goodbyes, we start to walk home.

We walk past the lovely and mostly-gentrified houses that line the way home.  I think of all the families they house.  I think of the dog walkers we pass, their arms crisscrossed by leashes and their hands steady as they handle their charges' droppings.  I think of the quiet cleaning women who smell like Pine-Sol and bleach and the mousy way in which they file in and out of a lovely house as they manage cables and buckets and hoses, keeping their eyes downcast but still managing to return a smile when one is offered.  I think of the nannies who vanished at the first sign of rain and their cacophony of languages that keeps them to themselves.

I see all these vignettes unfolding in the span of a hour.  I think I sometimes see too much. 

Finally, less than a block from home, I see a mom I know a little.  She smiles in the light rain while she and her son walk their dog.  I wave at her and she waves back.

And then we make it home.

To The One Who's Read Even the Boring, Crappy, Self-Indulgent Entries.

Thank you, Mom!  And here's a little something for my mom and all the mothers out there (courtesy of someecards.com):

Happy, happy one!

Don't Rage Against the Dying of This Light (It's Only for an Hour!)

You may remember (or not, and that's okay) that I blogged a while back about setting the thermostat lower and hoping to stargaze on March 29th, as I hope that all across America people turn off their lights for one glorious hour.

Well, people: it's not just Lights Out America: it's now EARTH HOUR.

Turn off your lights TOMORROW, March 29th, at EIGHT PM LOCAL TIME (no lame "I can't do the math" excuses need apply).

Do it, because it sounds like fun-- an hour in the lovely spring twilight, spent watching the last fingers of dusk spread across the sky, or indoors by candlelight.

Do it because it sounds like a good idea.

Do it because if we don't try, how will we know if we can make a difference?

In Like a (Very Busy) Lion

Today I start my 101 in 1001 project.  The one I blogged about, about two months ago.

You know, the one I said I'd start on February first?  Yeah, that one.  How was I supposed to know that we'd be traveling and I wouldn't really feel compelled to put a list together until now anyway, huh?

Right, right: the whole "you made up your own deadline" reason comes forth.  But anyway, here is March and here is my list.  I haven't fully given much thought as to how I'm going to do all these items, but I think that at least 99% are extremely doable.  But without further ado --and because I actually want to post this list for the 101 in 1001 site to see-- here is my list:

1. Submit something to The Sun.
2. Finish the Japanese quilt (two blocks left, baby!).
3. Piece quilt and baste it and all that stuff.
4. QUILT IT!  (mark it, etc.)
5. Start sashiko embroidery.  Started!  If you want to learn more about sashiko, click here and here!
6. Actually finish the sashiko embroidery. Finally done on 5/6/08.  Next time, it will not take two months.
7. Frame it.
8. Finish scarf (ideally while it's still cold)
9. Finish baby hat-- even if it ends up as hat for sock monkey.
10. Make the other sock monkey.
11. Fix the arm on the finished sock monkey.
12. Work those embarrassing ends on the granny square blankie.
13. Take a class in digital photography.
14. Take a class at the Botanic Garden.
15. Take a class at the Arboretum.
16. Schedule and attend a midnight walk at the Arboretum.
17. Buy plants/planters/support for this growing season and care for the garden in a responsible manner. (so far have most planters and little seedlings going!  now, for a lilac bush! fwaah!)
18. Caulk/grout the shower again.
19. Paint the rooms that need painting. Thank you, sweet Monsieur Meow!
20. Make a crafting station that is comfortable and practical.
21. Join Freecycle (or at least try again and hope they don't turn me down this time)
22. Make good use of both Freecycle, Craigslist and other places where things don't have to end up in the dump. (so far, scored vintage sewing machine from CL!)
23. Put all sentimentality aside and pare down on baby things.
24. Go for child #2. (realize this is ironic in light of #23, but oh well)
25. Develop even the teensiest of yoga routines, to be done daily. (even five minutes daily feel incredible!  Have been doing at least two poses every day for one week, and counting!!!)
26. Learn more about plants in general (maybe do more with 14 and 15).
27. Edit novel.
28. Submit something to The New Yorker (even if just for shits and giggles).
29. At least give serious thought (a try?) to start homeschooling the baby. I did.
30. Learn to sew.
31. Learn to knit.
32. Learn to play the drums.
33. Learn to play the harmonica.
34. Really learn to read music competently this time.
35. Go on a cross-country trip across the continent.
36. Try capoeira or at least be in its presence live (I know... not one of my saner moments)
37. Get necessary elements for the terraria (order plants, figure out light requirements, bla)
38. Actually assemble terraria (all three of them, yes-- must not cross off until all are done) (as of today, 3/1, one is almost done!) (3/15, One done, have half of items for two others)(4/25, two done!)(5/01-- bought Venus Flytrap and done!)
39. Throw a just-for-fun party. Half-birthday party for Herr Meow-- WAS fun!
40. Attempt to enjoy the throwing of a party.
41. Get experience helping other women with lactation, so that... I've helped more than my share.  Don't think item #42 is something I want to pursue anymore.
42. I can eventually become a certified lactation consultant (this is iffy to be possible in two years and change)
43. Get better at sending thank-you cards and birthday cards!  Jeez! (actually have made point of it prior to starting! yay me!)
44. Join a local dairy or grass-fed group
45. Make a point of eating less meat, less additives, less unnatural
46. Practice recipes from recipe books and become sufficiently adept that the recipe is committed to memory.
47. Visit a museum once a month.  Every month, twerp.
48. Actually change the baking soda in the fridge every three months and clean the thing better than just a surface wipe when I do. Thanks Rev. Mom!
49. Submit a story to the Washington Post short story contest.
50. Submit an entry to the Style invitational.
51. See the New England fall color at least once.
52. Meet more of my blog friends in person.
53. Ride the carousel at Rehoboth Beach. (is there a roller coaster there?)  (while we're at it, I want to go to more boardwalky towns)(I love boardwalks)
54. Get better at golfing.
55. Actually drive a ball past 110 yds. (don't. even. say. it.)
56. Golf in a famous and beautiful course at least once. (driving range practice counts-- I know this is probably cheating but I don't care because tee times can be expensive AND horribly booked up).
57. Bake the cookie of the month at least once. Baked the cookie of the month of June '09 (Strawberry shortcake cookie) with handpicked strawberries.  YUM!
58. Bake cookies randomly for someone nice.
59. Bake cookies randomly for someone who does not top my list of nice.
60. Go to a Redskins game (or other professional football team, if not possible to get Skins tix.).
61. Go to a Capitals game (or other professional hockey team, if not possible to get Caps tix).
62. Get to know the neighbors better.
63. Go to a show at the 930 club. Saw CAKE on 5/30/09
64. Go to a show at the Bohemian Caverns.
65. Go to a show at the Verizon Center Circus on 3/21/10
66. Go to a show at the Kennedy Center
67. Go to more than one show at the Kennedy Center.
68.  Attempt ice skating at the Sculpture Garden (hopefully while keeping limbs intact).
69.  Find the perfect lamp or fan/lamp for our bedroom.
70. Use reusable bags (at least one!) on every grocery shopping trip.(so far, so good)
71. Get Photoshop.
72. Learn how to use it. Striking through 71 and 72 because I've had an epiphany in which Photoshop is not the end-all be-all of existence.  Plus, I figured out how to use iPhoto tools, which may be less flashy but are pretty good for natural touch-ups and correction.
73. Get nice tea towel cloth (ideally when other projects have been crossed off the list).(so much for that)
74. Embroider seven towels with whimsical kitty motif.  Use them and enjoy them.
75 Learn how to make Bananas Foster.  Slice bananas.  Dredge in sugar.  Douse in rum.  Set aflame.  Not sure why this was a goal, but oh well.  Eat it more often and be merry.(there's a recipe for it in the Williams-Sonoma catalog!  Glee!  Now all I need is balls to execute the recipe.  Balls, and rum)
76. Buy an incredibly nice purse and use it.
77. Attempt snowboarding while keeping tailbone (and limbs) intact.
78. Attend a Japanese tea ceremony.
79. Learn more about teas, proper tea etiquette, utensils, pouring. I'm just wrapping this one up as-is.
80. Grow own tea.
81. Join a "friends of" organization.
82. Volunteer for the Arboretum at least once.
83. Volunteer for the Botanic Garden at least once.
84. Sometime in these next two years, be able to look good in a bikini.
85. Actually have the courage to wear said bikini in public.
86. Go to the Alliance Française and do something "Frenchy"
87. While we're at it, practice French (both oral and written).
88. .... without being afraid of making a mistake in conversation, but just going for it and getting better.
89. Take a class at the Joy of Motion.
90. Take a Flamenco class again.
91. Learn to drive stick (again) (and, properly) (not sure how feasible this is, since we have an automatic, but surely there will be a way in the next two years).
92. Really go all out and seriously dress UP for Halloween, preferably as a theme.
93. Make at least ONE dish with tofu that is so incredibly delicious that it just makes me want to make it over and over again and add it to my "meal canon".  Who knew that all it really needed was a little marinating?  Seriously-- just make a stir fry!  Use extra firm tofu and make sure to soak it in soy sauce before you cook it.  ACTUALLY delicious!
94. Do old-fashioned snail mail correspondence at least once every two months but might upgrade to once a month if the delight of doing this is supremely rewarding and overwhelming.(doing well here so far!)
95. Go to Williamsburg and Jamestown and Charlottesville and relatively local sites of interest, such as Mount Vernon ... should these all be separate entries?  (no-- only check off when all in item have been visited)
96. Write a fan letter to Mary Karr.
97. Make sure to register to vote in DC for the upcoming election.
98. Ride horses in Rock Creek park.
99. Visit a friend far away (open-ended).
100. Finish up the pay-it-forward sending (I know-- I'm embarrassed). Almost there!
101. Execute my super-duper idea for a children's book.

So there it is.  If you can help me cross an item off my list or have a suggestion, I entreat you to comment or email me, please!  This is a very exciting thing for me-- especially because Monsieur Meow will also be joining me with a list of his own!

Happy March once again, y'all!

Was. Is.

One of Monsieur Meow's favorite "games" when we come back to visit family seems to be one we've come to refer to as the "What Used To Be Here" game.

For instance, we were waiting at the intersection of Market and Soquel in Santa Cruz some time ago, when Monsieur Meow reminisced that the Chinese restaurant that seems to be there (or maybe not anymore) used to be an Italian (and then at some point Greek-Italian) restaurant called Adolph's.

That also led to a side discussion on how for some reason, the name Adolph isn't quite making it to the top of the baby name lists.  Hmm.... wonder why, that one.

Today we went to the local mall and noted all the businesses that have swapped places or disappeared altogether, all the while wondering why would certain stores thrive while others foundered and eventually disappeared.

Was it the location?  The clientele?  The needs or preferences that did not agree with the zeitgeist, perhaps?

It's a sure sign that you're starting to see a lot of years elapsing, that you have enough memory to remember the way things used to be-- and somehow idealize and idolize them in your mind.

This Post Sponsored By The Good Intentions Paving Co.

Yes, I am alive, feeling better, and indebted to those of you who sent well-wishes my way.  Thank you so very much!  Sometimes a kind word can make the sniffling, sneezing, coughing and body aches seem that much less irritating.

And here I am, on a bright and surprisingly sunny day that promises to be much warmer than it's been, blogging anew-- this is truly the beginning of the year for most, isn't it?

Today is the day most schools go back --at least in DC-- and today is the day that most people return to work as usual (even if they actually returned last week, in body at least).  And I'm a little nervous and a little giddy and points in between because well... it's the beginning of the year and another one of those life-changing little projects has found its way to my virtual doorstep.

Have you heard of it?  The one hundred and one things in one thousand and one days project?  I first heard about it through my dear friend SoloMother, and I am wondering where to start.

I know that high on my list will be blog-related projects -- possibly just updates to where I am regarding my goal, in addition to my five-days-a-week posting-- and that I want to learn how to sew and that I want to finish the quilt I started in the next two-and-something years.  But what else?

Well, maybe my little silly dream of learning how to play the drums could go here as well, huh?  While we're at it, I also want to learn to play the harmonica-- which I think would make for far sweeter practice sounds.

I suppose I should also finish that novel I started writing back in 2004.  And maybe making some (very embarrassing) chapbook with some of my poetry would also be in order-- if anything so I can actually see things I've written in order and possibly printed.

Finishing crocheting projects (blanket, two hats-- surprisingly these have taken over four years to complete)
would be nice.  I can't remember when was the last time I actually started and finished these kinds of
things in the same calendar year, so it would be nice to at least finish a couple within the same decade.

I want to take my gardening more seriously, and maybe even start a garden that I've designed myself.  It would be nice to take some horticulture classes, while we're at it.

And it would be nice to clean with mostly green/organic/earth-friendly things and actually keep a clean green house most of the time, to be honest-- it's easy to slack off and turn to bleach and other harsh chlorine-based chemicals when the going (or the black mold) gets tough.  You don't have mold spots in your shower or stains or caulk that needs a good stripping and redoing?  Please do tell me how you do it.

_________

It's amazing how many undone or half-done things come to mind in just a brief amount of time.

Maybe this list of one hundred and one things won't be so hard to write after all.  Or maybe I'm just deluding myself, pretending it's easy and that I can do it at any time I want but all the while procrastinating as I have procrastinated with 99% of the things in my life-- too scared to start, and too scared to finish.

After all, I have yet to set a start date, so the end date is not even living within the realm of possibility.

But maybe, just maybe, this naked ralization is the most important part.