The unbearable lightness of being ...

… sick. You know - those "low gravity" days of reduced mental acuity and a general moving-through-molasses feeling.  

 

However, if is much easier to be sick when retired. I could just sleep and read (which resembles some of my non-sick days this month – except that there is a lot of coughing.) There isn’t the stress of all the things not getting done at work - or fear of what might be getting decided in your absence. And while there has been a bit of a lag in the to-do list, it’s nothing like going back to work and facing the accumulation.

Also, we had rain (perfect for burrowing in). And it has been great for the weight-loss regime. I mean, what flavor profile (I learned that on Top Chef – along with amuse-bouche) goes with the lingering essence of mentholated throat lozenges.

The unwellness probably wouldn’t have gotten as bad as it did if I hadn’t hiked and then gone horseback riding in the developing days. But a girl’s gotta live. Besides – “I’m not really sick”. Right. Anyway, I’m almost better now and feel like I’m coming out of quarantine.  I’ve developed a serious Ricola habit however.

P.S. and FYI: The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Daniel Day Lewis - back when he was playing sexy guys rather than Lincoln.

Fame Whore

I’m excited. Almost giddy. I’d been thinking how it would be nice to make a little money to pad my travel/entertainment budget - keep those road trips funded and gas in my truck for hike and horseback riding excursions. Musing about that in a conversation, an opportunity to provide some facilitation assistance arose. At the mention of the possibility, my slumbering professional alter ego lifted her head, sat bolt upright and started asking questions (the facilitator’s stock and trade). I’m surprised at what an energy booster this is. And I didn’t have to do two things I had become so weary of: promoting my self/agency and competing for work.

I’ve had other possibilities in the last several months, all of which seemed a bit much – too involved – or just too soon. But this is easy, fun facilitation - no insane timeline, high conflict, complicated funding arrangements or essential parties who don’t want to participate - just some straight-forward planning and decision-making with a group of people who already work together.

I’m back among the grownups. Sorta.

Bi-curious. Seeking ...

… happiness or meaning?

You haven’t heard from me in a bit because I have been contemplating this question. Spurred by what was going on in my head and then a post by a friend linked to this article: There’s More to Life Than Being Happy. Really?  Apparently, per the article, the pursuit of happiness is about being a "taker" rather than a "giver."

The article referenced recent studies and the bestselling 1946 book by Viktor Frankl (of which I had never heard) Man’s Search for Meaning. (I mention the topic and article to a friend at dinner. “Oh yah, that book by Frankl. It’s really good. You’d enjoy it.” Sometimes I feel so ill-read.) Anyway, the point of the article is that happiness without meaning  results in a “relatively shallow, self-absorbed or even selfish life, in which things go well, needs and desire are easily satisfied, and difficult or taxing entanglements are avoided.” And the problem is? Oh. The problem is that “the single-minded pursuit of happiness is ironically leaving people less happy, according to recent research.  ‘It is the very pursuit of happiness,’ Frankl knew, ‘that thwarts happiness.’"  Hmmmm.  Maybe they mean materialism. But that’s not what they said. However, one study author said “Happy people get a lot of joy from receiving benefits from others while people leading meaningful lives get a lot of joy from giving to others".  Really? (again)

I don't doubt the research that shows that “having purpose and meaning in life increases overall well-being and life satisfaction, improves mental and physical health, enhances resiliency, enhances self-esteem, and decreases the chances of depression.”

But it’s not one or the other. That’s simplistic and superficial. What about a bit more nuanced look at what happiness and meaning really entail. What about a balance of happiness and meaning.  Maybe that was the point and I missed it.

Or maybe I am just being a teensy bit defensive in that I have unapologetically been pursuing happiness since I retired (doing what I want to do and not doing much of what I don’t want to do. To wit:  a self-absorbed life, in which things go well, needs and desire are easily satisfied, and difficult or taxing entanglements are avoided.) And my overall well-being, et. al. have never been better, thank you.

Admittedly, I’ve been wondering whether I have paid my dues as a change-agent, since I spent a good deal of my work life pushing against convention for positive change. Could I just kick back, leave that to others now, and just be happy? (Uh-oh. Now I hear the plaintive mewing of my conscience.)

When I’m done with this rest-in-the-lap-of-happiness (there’s my conscience again saying “surely you will be done at some point”) I will be in a much better position to realize the balance that is happiness and meaning. But still:

“If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world, and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” E.B. White

See. I’m not the only one who is bi-curious. Seeking…

What (Not) to Wear

Have you ever been to Home Depot early in the morning and seen people in what must be pajama bottoms?  I mean, who has drawstring flannel pants with cartoon characters on them for actual pants. Or things on their feet that are just too fluffy to be real shoes? I’m starting to understand that now. Especially in these Nothing Doin’ days (see recent post). Without anything specific to dress for, it is easy to slide out of bed, make coffee and just go about the day. It’s easy to look down at 1p.m. and realize: hmmmm, I’m still wearing what I slept in. And think: Should I care? Hasn’t happened in public though, except for this: more than once I have gotten dressed for the day in yoga pants and much later slid into bed in same said pants after staying up too late with Chelsea Handler or Jimmy Fallon. Next morning, slide out of bed and to my 9 a.m. Pilates class still wearing the pants. And then keep them on the rest of the day. I try to avoid repetitive cycles.

This is all kind of weird because I used to be a bit of a style maven.  I’ve always seen fashion as fun and what I wear as creative expression. My bachelor’s degree is in Textiles and Clothing/Fashion Merchandising. (How I got from that to lawyering then mediating is another story. Suffice it to say that fashion merchandising was easy for me and I wanted to get out of college after changing my major three times).  So in contrast to the pajama-like attire for a no-plan day, when I do get out, I’m wearing things I haven’t worn in a while – 1950’s suit jacket, over-the-knee black leather boots, flamboyant do-dads buried in the jewelry box.  So much more fun than the professional drag necessary in the work world.

Anyway, gotta go now. Weekly walk with a couple friends. Yep. I’m wearing yoga pants. Not telling how long I’ve had them on.

Me:

Not me:

Nothing Doin’

I’m starting to get ideas about some things I’d like to do – get past Spanish 101 for example; take a non-fiction creative writing class (please do, you say). Yet, I still don’t feel like actually doing them - or even really committing to doing them. With no job to go back to it is easy to get stuck between the holidays and getting back to it; between the old year and the new; the end of work and the beginning of doing.  I’m still in that “in-between”. Too enamored of just being … of attending to the basics. Nothing propelling me along. Just drifting (contentedly) from one mundane thing to the next - laundry, puttering, reading, walking, writing.  Wondering. What will happen now that I’m well off shore and land is not yet in sight.

“Forget safety.

Live where you fear to live...” 

Rumi

I’m putting my compass aside. Navigating by the stars now.

Lost in A Holidaze

Somewhere around the middle of December, shortly after my last post, I fell into the time-warp
of prepping for and participating in the ritual that is Christmas. All chocolate and sugar. Fun and disappointed expectations. Actually not that different than when I was working for myself in the 90's. More time to deal with it all. And the week between Christmas and New Years has always been an odd in-between time. But I'm starting to emerge. Nothing like driving in LA traffic to snap you out of a daze.

Pop Psych Aerobics

I’m good enough. I’m smart enough and doggone it, people like me. Oh, sorry. Just got back from an IntenSati workout and I’m channeling Stuart Smalley.

Who knew there was anything left at the confluence of calisthenics, yoga and pop-psych therapy? Enter: IntenSati. They started offering it at the Pilates studio I frequent and being in need of some fat-burning, I gave it a try. It’s a good workout, but not sure about the affirmations. Good, I guess. Although I didn’t get this far in life without believing in myself, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah. But I put the cynic in me aside and went with it. “I’m strong. I’m confident. I want to live a life I love. I want it. I want it. I really, really want it.” (I’m not kidding with this.)

As I’m mouthing the words I’m thinking I’m grateful I can go home and have a  middle-aged cocktail (depending on the time of day, either a glass of wine or cup of coffee, with a couple ibuprofen) and soak in the tub. Oh okay. I AM grateful to still be able to do this stuff. And have the time to do it. Pretty much kicked my butt though – which I realized I need if I’m going to really get into shape - build stamina - for my Himalayan trek. So while I can’t get Stuart’s image out of my head, I’m going to keep this up for a while. “I want it, I want it …… “

Mom Rides Shotgun

I have an aunt in the LA area who decorates every inch of the interior of her house for Christmas. Or so my mom says. I haven’t seen it (although I’m perversely curious). My aunt was extolling her delight to my mom and they mused about the possibility of my mom coming over after Christmas for a few days. My mom mentioned it to me.  And did I have any interest in going? Hmmmmm. Hadn’t I just vowed to moderate my fun-travel quotient? (See Breaking the Fun Barrier post) Yet I’m intrigued by the idea of seeing cousins I haven’t seen in long time and kids of cousins I’ve never seen.  And I realized that breaking the fun barrier over Thanksgiving was more about over-spent. If this trip was going to happen, it would have to be on a bargain-basement budget. Staying with relatives is as cheap as it gets. So far so good.

I checked flights. Way too expensive to buy and too many frequent flyer miles for such a short trip.  I contemplate: what about driving (“It’s only eight hours” I hear myself saying). Uh-oh.  I feel another road trip coming on. I’m always lured by the road. And it is not lost on me how great it is to be able to take little trips with a minimum of planning and on whatever days suit me. I get a “look-at-me (although no one is looking) - aren’t - I - lucky pleasure jolt … which dims memories of the downside of long hours in the car.  Nevertheless, the thought of eight hours of interstate highway driving did seem a bit much. Yuma is a good half-way point and last time I was there (a decade ago - as the gateway to a somewhat ill-fated kayak trip down the lower Colorado) I discovered it had a fab retro downtown. I jump on the net to see what the cheap motel offerings might be and I discover: the Yuma Cabana Motel. They had me at the neon sign.  And completely affordable.  Done. This trip is a go!

We’re not Seth Rogan and Barbara Streisand, so this is going to be closer to Driving Miss Daisy than Guilt Trip. Except my mother will be riding shotgun. All the way to Kristmas Kitsch and LA-LA land.

Belief in Abundance Stares Down Financial Picture

I’ve always had that single-woman-fear-of-becoming-a-bag-lady syndrome (yes, even when I wasn’t single). Although now that I’ve made it this far, I can see that that is pretty unlikely. Nevertheless I still have to cultivate a belief in abundance – especially now that I don’t get a paycheck every two weeks. I pay myself, mostly. Just as I was going to write something about that -  all fear-based and doubting - this happened: my aforementioned foray into computer-fix hell resulted in two weeks of  free internet and thirty percent off six months of internet (a' la Cox Cable), a wireless mouse and  keyboard (typing on it right now. nice figure action) (a' la Dell). But even more manna from abundance land: I’m going to take a little day trip with some girlfriends that includes crossing the border. I get out my usual passport-holding wallet-y thing and notice that there is some cash in one of the pockets. I count out: ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty,  sixty, five, seventy dollars.  Free money. 

I decided to let go of the stare-down and just go with abundance. Might as well. So If you see me shuffling along with a shopping cart full of my possessions sometime in the future, you’ll know how I got there. And please drop a coin in the can.

Right to Remain Silent

As I was falling asleep last night I realized that I had not spoken to anyone all day. Had not uttered a word.

After 10 days excursions/ travel, a social Friday and full Saturday, I was tired. A quiet day at home reading the NY Times in-between mundane tasks and mindless internet surfing was just what I needed apparently.  In the later afternoon I was laying on the couch reading. A feeling of contentment settled on me. Finally rested. Headache gone. Beautiful light and fresh air streaming in. No worries that needed to be attended to. Peace.

All in contrast to today. I have spent two hours in new-computer-doesn't-connect-to-the-internet-Dell-tech-support alternate reality. I’ll spare you the details as most of you have been to that communication-challenged, frustrating, tedious land. I could feel the cortisol levels rising as the supposed fixes became more complex, yet still unproductive. But that hasn't stuck with me, as it would have when I was functioning at a higher stress level. I’m quickly returning to homeostasis.

Yesterday helped. It was right to remain silent. I may try that again. Next time on purpose.