Last night I trekked across town to listen to my friend Brianna sing soulful, original songs at a place with the wonderful name of The Listing Loon, a “craft beer & wine bar/bottle shop.” I also unexpectedly heard her play more “upbeat” stuff with another guitar player and a drummer, a side I’d never seen before. In the process, I met people and, yes, talked about Spirit Moxie, supported the local economy by buying a couple of drinks including one for the musician, and for the first time, was betrayed by Uber. As result, I also had a perfect, unexpected, and beautiful midnight bus ride home. Great evening.

I also started thinking about how we support artists and why it matters. I was going to write a Conversation piece about going to art fairs, and I still might, but today the broader scope seems more crucial.

It truly is through art that the world is changed. The impact of writers is fairly obvious. Look at the writers, especially novelists and playwrights, in closed and violent Communist countries who told the truth of what suppression did to people. Think of Madame Defarge, in Charles Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities, who has now become an icon for revenge, who used something as innocent as knitting to secretly keep records. As Samantha Bennett says, “…the only thing that ever changed the world was a new story.”

But today I’d like to put in a plug for the visual and performing arts similarly changing the world. And I’d like to add our support and participation, since I know some of you are artists, for changing it, too.

At it’s best, art makes us see things differently. We see an ordinary object from a different perspective. The “truth” of a song, any still life, a great portrait, that weird piece—whether visual or audio—where you can’t figure out where they are coming from. Look at the fairly recent popularity of flash mob performances. Just having our regular routine “upset” by art seems to speak to us.

A New York City friend recently posted on Facebook about someone taking over her subway car: “That moment when your train entertainment is so good you wish you had money to throw at them. Sorry man, you totally deserved my absent cash money. Hope to hear you again soon with a full wallet.” (For the record, for non-New Yorkers, the people who choose to interrupt the anonymity of subway travel are usually terrible.) The only money I give out on the street is to performers who are worth it, sharing their talents and trying to make a bit.

You might already support multiple artistic endeavors. Your children’s school performances. The garage bands started by friends and family that get real gigs in bars and restaurants. I still remember the ska band Nice Guy Eddie that was the creation and obsession, for awhile, of my younger son’s friends, who are now my friends. And then there was the grand red carpet opening (and only showing) of my son’s almost complete film, which also featured his friends, Bitch Ass Ninjas: the return of Fatty which we attended in faux fur and a tuxedo.

And of course, when you attend an event you are also supporting the bars and restaurants that have these groups play, which also helps the world.

When the “little things that can change the world” piece on Dance came out, I talked about my friend Misa’s work. She’s now on to bigger things, so if you’re anywhere near Los Angeles or Santa Barbara you might want to look up TURF. My drummer friend Lance, who critiqued that same post, now has his own band Free Speech, based in Cincinnati, which unfortunately I’ve only been able to see a couple of times. And I’m just using this as an example. What are yours? What excuses are you using for not going? They’re playing too late? I don’t go to bars? How dare they charge when they’re amateurs? If you’re playing that last card, I don’t suppose you’ve considered buying their new CD either.

And how do you support the visual arts. I can find time to attend events, but I only have so much wall space. Well, artist have events too. While you might not buy, there are openings, receptions, and, yes, shows. My regret is that my awesome friend Jeri is regularly winning pastel honors and being featured in shows, but the closest I ever got to attending one was trekking to downtown New York to see one of her miniatures on exhibit. I’m just not in that part of the world at the right time. My friend Kim has reinvented herself into a successful encaustic artist who is featured in various Colorado galleries. But I can “like” the pieces these artists share on Facebook. I can tell them I’d like to be there for the opening. And I can cheer when one of their pieces is the perfect piece for an award or show or, gasp, just because I love it.

The beautiful cover photo that was on the Spirit Moxie Facebook page through August 2016 (you can see it in the notes below) is by my friend Su York of Suzanne York Photography who is frantically launching a business with her gorgeous photos (she’s also winning awards), while she continues to be one of the best hair stylists in Cincinnati. Sometimes one can just cheer. I’ve met the incredible Roxana Ramos Cueva — and “liked” the paper installations she’s done throughout South America. Etc.

So who are you supporting and how? Every like, every dollar, every purchase, every  puzzled “what were they thinking” or pure moment of simple enjoyment , helps change the world. Trust me on this one. Report in. We can help the world see itself in new and creative ways.

Are you in?

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Illustrations from the top:

Brianna Kelly and Friends — Spirit Moxie
Ezra Croft quotation — Spirit Moxie on Canva
20th Century Theatre marquee— Spirit Moxie
Movie Opening — Spirit Moxie
track 2/train late — pastel by Jeri Greenberg, used with permission
Water of LIfe — encaustic monotypes by Kim Roberts, used with permission
Installation in paper by Roxana Ramos Cueva — Gabriela Morales Gonzales

The August 2016 Spirit Moxie cover photo by Suzanne York Photography

When I worked in New York a number of years ago, the staff where I worked decided I was important, competent, and interesting. To this day, Delta Airlines knows me as Dr. Sedgwick thanks to a secretary who wrangled my plane reservations. When I worked for a similar organization in another city, the identity I was given was, “Who are you? Prove you’re worthy to work with us.” Needless to say the first position was a lot easier and, actually, more effective for everyone involved.

Naming. How we see each other and verbalize the labels, the ideals, and the perceptions we have about those labels and ideals makes a difference. Perfectly competent adults visit parents and immediately become needy. It’s not just their falling back into codependency or old patterns. Their parents need to be needed. It’s their identity when they are around their children, and so everyone obliges. And we all know how people with serious issues like addictions behave and are wary when we’re around them.

Naming, in my experience, can be positive as well as negative and positive naming makes the world work better and is a lot more useful. It’s important to remember, however, that this isn’t magic, although sometimes it seems as if it is, and that naming doesn’t always work.

But it’s fun when it does. A couple of years ago, I was on my way to an unfamiliar Brooklyn street corner in the pouring rain, trying to figure out where I was supposed to meet my son. At night.

When I ducked under a bodega’s awning, a tall guy who I’m pretty sure (one learns these things) was going to ask me for money was already there. “I’m so wet,” I said. True. By the time we figured things out, he was 1) mad at how inconsiderate my son was and 2) offering to walk me the several blocks to my son’s apartment. Money was never mentioned, and when my son did show up, my new friend glared at him. We had named each other as peers.

Perhaps a more dramatic example involved my friend Valerie who taught third grade. Her classroom included many non-white students who had been “named” by their previous teachers as unteachable, slow, and/or stupid. These teachers promoted these students just to keep the system moving. Valerie saw, that is “named,” them as third graders, who could learn third grade material. As a result of her naming everyone in her classroom was reading at third grade level by the end of the year.

We do this with friends too, sometimes positively, sometimes negatively. We put each other in boxes. For example, we say so and so is always late. I’m usually pretty much on time (ask my friend Su), but my friend Marilyn has named me as always late. Even if I’m early she’s there first. It maintains her perception that she’s accurate and keeps her naming of me intact. I have friends who name me as intelligent and interesting. As adventurous. And as boring and antisocial.

So there are two parts to this:

1) How do we respond to how others name us?

2) How do we name others?

Awareness of how others name you is fascinating once you realize what’s going on. The positive part is usually energizing, although occasionally you may be named as someone you don’t want to be. For instance it may be positive to be perceived as intellectual, but sometimes it just feels like pressure. There are multiple people who name me as an excellent professional communicator (as in press releases and newsletters), even though I’ve never done that sort of work and don’t really want to.

Naming also has multiple sides. To be seen as friendly and fun may cause pressure when you really just want support. On the other hand that naming may help you generate enough energy to be friendly and fun despite your mood.

What do we do with negative naming? It’s often evident in bullying. Perhaps people use negative naming to increase their sense of self importance. Can we make it a game? (Just how early do I have to show up at my next “date” with Marilyn? Nope, that idea didn’t work!)

To not live into the negative part of naming is a challenge and sometimes not worth it. I quit the second job mentioned earlier. Oh, I learned a lot from it and could have probably set the right boundaries, now that I look back with 20/20 hindsight. I named those coworkers as gifted as well as highly respected and appreciated for their work and I’m pretty sure how I named them took before I left.

If you don’t like how you are named, it may be time to change friends—or jobs.

But it’s important to realize that naming isn’t usually instantaneous, or, as I said, magic. To decide that the kid on drugs is fine or that your mother will stop being needy is a bit more complicated than just deciding. Perhaps there is need for a serious intervention (or several), for the addicted kid. Perhaps the parent has to be told a thousand times that it’s not up to you. But naming always creates change.

Ultimately, however, what naming changes is yourself. In many fantasy books, among other sources, to name is to wield power. Certainly some of the power is over and for those named. But beyond this the naming is for ourselves. I can accept the good names and offer more positive names to others. The more I do this, the more the world will gradually change. So I’ll stay important, competent, and interesting. And intelligent and inspiring while I’m at it.

So, what about you?  Together, we’ll be more powerful and joyful and creative and alive.

Who do you need to name?

Who have you named?

How are you named?

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Photo:
Blurred nametags — Spirit Moxie

This was found by a friend in a school hallway. It says a lot, but what might you add?

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Photo by Sheryl B Greenfield

Of all the “little things that can change the world,” recycling seems the obvious no-brainer in first world countries. It demands just enough effort that we can feel virtuous about it, but, at least in urban areas with recycling centers, it really demands only that we pay attention and make a little extra effort. Most of the time. Recycling reduces waste in landfills and leads to the reuse of materials—like many metals (e.g., aluminum), silica (glass), and petroleum (plastics). In a world where we are learning to appreciate the importance of trees in our environment, recycling paper and cardboard has become a way to manage that resource too. And from what I’ve read, reforming or reusing recycled materials always uses less energy than was needed to produce the original product.

I’ve been following the recycling effort at least since the 1970s when I was collecting empty beer cans. The local collection place bought them by weight so you needed a lot to make it worthwhile! When I moved to my current apartment, I assumed that because it was within the city limits we’d have recycling. Nope. So I lugged my stuff down the hill to a friend’s recycling bin or dropped it off at a major recycling center near where I used to work. But a few months ago the building’s management figured out a way for us to recycle, so now I happily catch the elevator to the basement.

One of the joys of working with Spirit Moxie is meeting people. One person with whom I connected was Belinda who works with our county’s environmental services and is the person who came up with the idea for our conversation “Let Others In.” Six months ago Belinda offered to set up a tour of the plant run by the primary company (Rumpke) that provides recycling in in our area and.last week everyone’s schedules finally matched. So, on Thursday, I wound my way to the address of the Rumpke MRF (material recovery facility) and donned hard hat and goggles to watch skilled workers, million dollar machines, and endless conveyor belts sort our offerings to the world of recycling. I learned what not to include and why; marveled at the very strange things people thought it was OK to include; and was pleasantly surprised at the passion of those working there for their commitment to, well, making the world work.

Recycling varies in different parts of the country so I’ll only list at the end of this conversation the specifics of what I learned. A pretty universal tip, however, seems to be to NEVER put recycling in plastic grocery bags. They are maybe the most harmful unwanted item recycle centers see since they gum up the rotating “blades” that help sort recyclable materials. The bags themselves aren’t recyclable except, perhaps, at your local supermarket.

Different cities recycle different materials and some don’t let you mix what you put in a recycling bin. For example when I was in the state of Washington, glass was separate and collected less frequently. And I remember that in other places, consumers used different containers for bottles, plastics, and paper.

Bottom line, recycling is a business, which is why in some places you pay extra for the privilege of recycling. Recycling usually requires extra collection crews and a lot more people at the processing end which creates jobs. Markets for recyclable materials fluctuate like gas prices, interest rates, and the stock market. Facilities have to learn to “ride out” lean times. And how the market uses materials also affects what the facility can recycle. If they don’t have a market for it, it goes to the landfill.

But reading about markets and business and rules can get boring. Start paying attention to the possibilities of reusing and reclaiming resources — just as a game! Besides the basic curbside recycling that we are accustomed to, you can see other places recycling happens if you look. In future conversations, we’ll talk about things like composting. We’re encouraged to take clothes and other unneeded items to thrift stores and resale shops — and to shop at them. We put our leftovers in cottage cheese containers. Dog owners reuse plastic bags by carrying them to clean up after their pets. People collect metal cans (the most valuable recycle item) from trash cans in the street, making a major contribution to our reuse of materials. (In New York City, for example, cans and bottles have a cash deposit value, but getting that deposit refund is a major pain. So people will leave their bottles and cans clean and outside for other people to “find.”)

And then there are people who really can do crafts. (So not part of my skill base.) When my friend Pat taught in the children’s program at Cincinnati’s Contemporary Art Museum, I gladly took all our beer caps, toilet paper rolls, and interesting miscellaneous treasures (e.g., a perfect piece of ribbon) to her house where they became art materials, party favors, and gifts. Local women from South America make interesting “flower” wreaths from soda bottles.

Plus there are the serious artists that include “trash“ materials as part of their work. Cincinnati artist Tim Jones prefers to work only with recyclables. My favorite Jones piece is composed of those plastic grocery bags the MRF can’t use.

So share. What do you do? What do you notice? What have you learned? Recycling can and does become recreating. And helps us pay attention. Now.

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Recycle “rules” for Southern Ohio, Southeastern Indiana, Northern Kentucky

Paper and cardboard: Pretty much completely recyclable, and this includes paper bags, junk mail and magazines, but not paperbacks or food stained cardboard or paper products (like paper plates and napkins) [OFFICE NOTE: if you shred paper buy CLEAR (not white) plastic bags and put the paper in there (to keep it contained and not turn into litter). If the MRF workers can’t see what it is, it will probably be sent to the landfill. But if they can, you just helped reduce that “90% of office paper gets thrown away” statistic! Yes, you can do this at home too.]

Metal: Only cans. Really. Including aerosol with the tips removed. Put the cans in the bin loose NOT in a plastic bag. ALL other metal goes in the trash unless you have another source for recycling. (Some other sources for recycling metal can be found here. And your dry cleaner can probably use those hangers….)

Plastic: Only bottles and jugs. You can leave the plastic caps on! Milk bottles, water bottles, detergent jugs, shampoo…. But NOT those lovely, clearly marked #5 containers your yogurt, sour cream, and cottage cheese come in. NOT those “please recycle” containers you get when you bring food home from a restaurant. Yeah, I wasn’t happy either. [Rumor has it that Whole Foods recycles #5 plastic. You might want to check it out and let us know.] And never plastic bags (except for the clear ones containing shredded paper.)

Glass: Only bottles and jars. Other glass has other metals in it that don’t work for recycling. Color doesn’t matter. Take the metal caps off, but you can place these loose in the recycling bin. This includes beer caps!

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Photo credits from the top:

Trash bins in the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, Portland, OR — Spirit Moxie
Sally visiting the MRF — Hamilton County Recycling and Solid Waste District (Web)
Sorting at the MRF — Hamilton County Recycling and Solid Waste District
Robert Gillespie promoting recycling — Spirit Moxie
New York City bottle recycling — Spirit Moxie
Bottle Wreath — Nancy Sullivan
“She’s an Autumn“ by Tim Jones — Spirit Moxie

I’m home from the World Domination Summit (WDS) and pretty much recovered from traveling to four different venues, through four airports, a couple of train stations, three time zones, and one bus transfer. Oh, and mastering (I think) public transportation in Portland.

This is my second year attending and my third year writing about WDS. For 2013 and 2014, I compared it with the Wild Goose Festival which I attended both years, but I’m not comparing them this year, because this year Wild Goose was so much like WDS it was scheduled for the same weekend.

So this year WDS gets a post all to itself. In 2014, at the end of WDS, I was sure I needed to return, but this year I was pretty sure I didn’t want to and I’m still trying to figure out why I felt that way. WDS is committed to supporting community, adventure, and service. Sounds perfect to me. “To live extraordinary lives in an ordinary world.”

Of course, I don’t find the world all that ordinary, but I think you’re beginning to know that.

Part of my personal dream for WDS was for Spirit Moxie. I planned a “Let’s Change the World!” meetup, using what for me was a perfect time last year to meet people before things got started. I even found a bar/restaurant rumored to have a great, but poorly attended, happy hour. A call to Mummy’s in downtown Portland confirmed that they would be happy to have us. [If you’re in Portland, check them out — it’s Egyptian food. Really. I had a falafel, unlike any I’ve had before, and a fava bean dip/appetizer served with laid-back hospitality. And I’m told there’s real belly dancing Saturday nights.] WDS approved the event and it was “sold out.” Almost 40 people said they were coming and there was interest in my Facebook invitation as well.

Only eight people showed up, nine if you include me. As far as I could tell none of them had signed up for the event, but came anyway hoping there would be room. The timing was difficult. The announcement said we started at 3pm and registration for the whole event started at 2pm. The restaurant had a reputation for being hard to find although I said an orange door was a clue. And, in the best tradition of events, those who showed up may indeed have been the right eight people to be there. In any case the conversation was wonderful and rich, and the people there were looking to give and share ideas and inspiration (e.g., how might you recycle those little soaps from hotels on a huge scale?). 

Although I felt sorry for the bar’s owner, and, to be honest, for myself, I shrugged it off until I heard other stories of other meetups where the same thing had happened. As the week went on, the rule seemed to be “even if you didn’t sign up, stop by to see if you can get in.” I went to one meetup that I’d signed up for and stayed for about ten minutes (hey, I was there). I “really” attended another one that I had signed up for, and I, too, stopped by another meetup that I hadn’t signed up for that was full and was told to stay.

I found myself wondering throughout all this about the whole concept of giving your word and keeping it. The RSVP. The shake of the hand. The casual, “I’ll call you next week.” Any event/party host will tell you that planning has become difficult because people do not let you know if they will attend — or they don’t let you know that they won’t be there if their plans change. Lawyers have made whole careers around people no longer honoring the handshake and their word. Friendships have been stretched and lovers separated. And I’m certainly not perfect, particularly in the “casual remarks to friends” category.

There was another element at WDS that also bothered me. While we were excited to be changing the world, we seemed oblivious to our interactions with the community. Oh, we set a world record for eating breakfast in bed (because we could) and donated the mattresses and beds to appropriate local agencies. But I’ve seen events so embrace the community that the city was minutely transformed. WDS could have been like that. Excellent volunteers made sure we laughed, gave high fives, and that there was no litter or other ecological scar. But I saw meetup leaders dismiss hassles for waiters, bus riders ignore their intrusion on the locals, the “it’s only a job” look on the theatre staffs’ faces, and the stoic disappointment on the face of Mummy’s owner. Shouldn’t engaging the world with basic politeness and awareness be a part of keeping our word to be transformative?

So WDS’s commitment—for weren’t we all WDS?—to community, adventure, and service seemed mixed. Last year, I came home with a Brave Bot, an appreciation of superhero capes (and tiny houses), riding a hot air balloon crossed off my bucket list, and a visceral understanding that we’re all related. I don’t even need to go look at my notes to remember
this. This year, looking at someone else’s notes, I was reminded that I’m a poet (first poem published in second grade), reclaimed my own experience with grief, saw my mentor Lissa Rankin heal the whole room back into love and possibility, and “met” Kid President, who shares awesomeness and is clearly a kid. I’d say about half the speakers challenged me, but I don’t really remember what they said. Almost none are remembered as I write this. Pictures remind me that I ate a Voodoo Donut—another bucket list triumph.  And I talked to people who left greatly renewed and inspired so I do know there is another side to people’s experience of the weekend.

All I left the event with were these two questions: “What is there about keeping your word?” and “Does keeping your word really matter?”

This past Sunday I went to an early church service and reported on the first of the four “venues” mentioned above. “I wish you would come do that at 10:30, too,” I was asked, and I said, “I can do that.” I was juggling bus schedules, but easily found a bus (yeah, Google maps) to my favorite breakfast spot. Perfect. Had a great breakfast, wandered over to the grocery store (did I really need anything?), and thought about going home. No buses for more than 45 minutes. No bus back to church either (had I really promised to do that today or some other Sunday?). But it was only a little over a mile away and the timing would be perfect if I walked. I would arrive about when they needed me to do my spiel, even if it was 90 degrees out. Hmmm. As I approached the church, I saw a bus pull up that would take me directly home. All I’d have to do is run or wave or . . . But I walked, watched the bus turn the corner, and went inside the church grateful for air conditioning. When I made sure they knew I was there, the leader said, “Oh, I knew you would be here. You said you would be.”

So I did my spiel. Looked at the bus schedule. And found another bus leaving in five minutes for home.

What I have is my word to give, to share. It’s free. And your word is yours. How do you honor it? I’m pretty sure the universe will help you keep it.

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Photo credits from the top:
Marquee at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, Portland, OR — Armosa Studios
Mummy’s Restaurant and Lounge — Mummy’s Facebook page
Bear waiting for breakfast — Spirit Moxie
Sally and bear posing at Worldwide Waffles — Spirit Moxie
Worldwide Waffles certificate with our attending bear — Spirit Moxie
Lissa Rankin onstage —Armosa Studios
Kid President (Robby Novak) entering the stage — Armosa Studios

Hug yourself! Put your left hand on your right shoulder. Put your right hand on your left shoulder. Push hands towards each other. And there you have it. Did it feel a tad strange? Or good? Or interesting

Are you breathing? (Yes, this is a silly question, although sometimes we hold our breath when we do something different.) But is breathing something you have to think about? Heart pumping? Can you see to read this or can you hear it because someone is reading to you? Can you move? At all? Your body supports you. It just does.

One of the most interesting aspects of my journey toward being more present is the challenge I keep being given to love my body. This is not something we learn. Society seems to present “them” (aka bodies) as something that will break down, get sick, age, be used as a rack for ornamentation, and otherwise betray us as our true self, i.e., that is our mind and/or soul, gets on with the business of life. St. Francis of Assisi referred to the body as “Brother Ass” reflecting the 13th century asceticism, which we still claim, that bodies are an uncomfortable accompaniment to being more spiritual.   

“Take care of your body” is a Spirit Moxie conversation for another day. And an important one. But today, the topic is about rejoicing (really) in being a body. As Frederick Buechner says regarding man in Wishful Thinking, “it’s not that he has a body, but that he is a body.”* And loving and appreciating our bodies (this isn’t always the same thing) is crucial for how we show up in the world and how the world interacts with us. Increasingly this is affirmed by writers and speakers who show us ways to be healthier, happier, and more productive. Do you want/seek any of these things? To be healthier, happier, and more productive? Of course you do. I thought so.

So try it again. Left hand on your right shoulder. Right hand on your left. And hug. It is almost that easy. Love your body as it is right now. Whatever the weight. In pain or not. However old you are. As we work toward the gift of being present and so conscious of and  participating in the world as it is, our relationship to our bodies becomes central. This is not something we are taught. It is something we need to learn.

Perhaps it is harder for women with their forced body images. Perhaps it is harder for us all as we are told (yes, told) that we will inevitably slow down and become less attractive as we get older. But seriously loving your body, exactly as it is, provides the base for everything else we have been talking about for changing the world. And the result of loving it is that you continue to grow into your ideal self — by your standards — not the mental picture that’s been imposed on you by a greedy and unhappy world.

Amy Ahlers in her book  Big Fat Lies Women Tell Themselves gives this exercise/challenge: “Stand naked in front of the mirror and name ten things you love about yourself every day for a week. . . .They can range from ‘great ass’ to ‘the miracle of my skin’ to ‘my heart is pumping.’”** I failed this one. I tried, but I literally found myself running from the mirror. What was that response about? But even trying began the process. So try that exercise with one thing. Work up to five. Skin color? Do your nails look good? Wow, can you actually see, feel your hip bones? I never noticed the curve of my neck; my ankles; that one mole that is perfectly placed to be interesting; that my eye color is more varied than I remembered; and I forgot about my dimples. Your turn. Go. And stick with it.

Somewhere along the way, not by magic, not immediately — unless of course it is immediate — you will start seeing some changes. Maybe not on the scale. Maybe the pain is still there. But you’ll walk a little taller. You’ll get more compliments. The weight and the pain will no longer be in charge and there’s a great chance both will become manageable. You’ll be ready for your part in changing the world. So allow me to introduce you to yourself: you in your body — your best self.

Report in. What do you need to do for you? Hug.

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This is a snapshot of how this has worked for me: I began this “loving your body challenge” feeling a little dumpy, too old, and with pain that moved from my right shoulder to my left leg. Now I feel pretty awesome, really. My body gets, no, I get compliments out of nowhere. Age is just a number that I forget most of the time. And, when I’m really present and doing what I’m called to do, the pain disappears. Of course, my stretches help too.
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Hugging exercise adapted from the work of SARK
*Frederick Buechner, “Immortality,” Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC (Harper & Row, 1993).
**Amy Ahlers, “Big Fat Lie #16: one of these days I’ll win the battle of the bulge,” Big Fat Lies Women Tell Themselves: Ditch Your Inner Critic and Wake Up Your Inner Superstar (New World Library, 2011), p. 69.

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Photo credit:
Peaceful Heart Doctor – 3, 720 Grant Ave., San Francisco —Eva Blue

Additional Resources:
Amy Ahlers latest work, with Christine Arylo, Reform Your Inner Mean Girl: 7 Steps to Stop Bullying Yourself and Start Loving Yourself. Also for Dudes!
Christiane Northrup, M.D.,Goddesses Never Age: The Secret Prescription for Radiance, Vitality, and Well-Being. Primarily for women, but there is useful information for men as well.

“She can’t see.” My friend was watching his daughter pretend to know what was happening on the other side of the room. “She just won’t wear glasses. So frustrating.” About a year later contact lenses had solved the vanity part of his daughter’s not wearing glasses, and she was reacting to what was going on around her just fine.

But what is it about not wanting to wear glasses (and sometimes hearing aids)—objects that make weak eyes and ears work so much better?  Perhaps it’s just that you don’t like the way they look. Or, you don’t want to admit your eyes have changed. Or, you need glasses only sometimes, like to read small print.

I have pretty great near-sighted vision out of my right eye. (Really.) So I used to take my glasses off to read because that was easier than using my bifocals. I’d put those bifocal glasses to one side and then forget where I’d left them. A few years ago, I looked into LASIK eye surgery and had just my left eye, which is naturally far-sighted but had gotten weaker, operated on to make it truly far sighted again. So now I don’t wear glasses. Usually.

Sometimes during eye surgery, a tear duct is cut, which apparently happened to me. Now, if I don’t use eye drops regularly (and I mean regularly), I often can’t see as well as I should. And I forget to put the drops in sometimes because just around the house, my eyes seem fine.

But then I suddenly remember that I need the drops when I’m driving. This year when I went to renew my driver’s license, I blithely walked out of the house and up the street to the Department of Motor Vehicles on a hot summer day. And couldn’t read anything once I got there. In a panic, and feeling very embarrassed, I hurried home and called my doctor to beg for a quick ophthalmologist appointment. And I drove an extra 50 miles to keep it. While they found nothing wrong, I did purchase glasses for driving (sunglasses, other glasses), as back up, although the doctor who gave me the glasses prescription was a bit confused as to why I needed them. To him my eyesight was fine for driving. But I had a lot of drops in my eyes while they were testing!

And, yes, when I went back to the DMV, I passed my eye test for my license renewal just fine without those glasses. But the glasses are still in my car, and I feel grateful on sunny days for prescription sun glasses or for my clear glass ones late at night when I’m tired. Then, I appreciate those visual aids that I so happily put aside after my eye surgery! And I remember to pack my drops when I travel and usually remember to put them in before I leave the house….

Friends with hearing aids talk about how the technology has changed and how small they’ve become and how useless they often are at a noisy party. And sometimes they, too, forget their hearing aides the way I used to “forget” my glasses. Or people explain how they don’t qualify for hearing aids since they can’t use them where they work (too much noise). So why, they figure, should they buy hearing aids they can use only part of the time?

Sometimes the available technology doesn’t completely solve a problem. Even now my middle distance vision can be iffy, which often makes it hard for me to read fine print on those menus posted behind the cash register. “Can I take your order?” “No, just let this person go first. [What the heck does that say?]” So this can be a challenge and if you have that cashier’s job, just help by answering if someone asks a really obvious question. Or remember to put out the paper version of the menu on the counter. And if you and I are at a bar, just tell me what that bottle says on the back shelf. Please.

So if that’s my challenge, what is yours? Do you need people to repeat what they just said? Pitch their voice a little lower or louder? Tell you that one color is really red and the other color is green? Read the fine print. (Where did you put those $5 reading glasses anyway?) All these “helps” are simple ways to make the world work better. You take care of what you can take care of, and be matter-of-fact when helping others. Deal?

Today at the bank I overheard someone ask what the balance was on the receipt the teller handed him. “I forgot my cheaters,” the customer joked. And after the teller told him the balance, they both laughed. There you have it.

This is clearly a first world problem. And perhaps one of the smallest challenges on my “little things that can change the world” list. But what are you avoiding that would make both your daily life easier and people’s interactions with you simpler, more pleasant? What can you do to make others’ interactions better?

What’s your story?

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Photo credits from top:

Sally in 2006 wearing her bifocals — Spirit Moxie
The new glasses and drops — Spirit Moxie
A friend’s forgotten hearing aids — E.M.
Sky Glasses — John Scott

Be somewhere else later. Is that so hard? — Jewish Zen saying*

While working with Spirit Moxie and generally just living and dreaming and avoiding things I “should do,” I have found myself drawn again and again to yet another “little thing” that changes the world. And like some other little things, this one seems impossible and not so little, except of course when it is easy. This little thing is the importance, the freedom, of being present.

Have I lost you yet? Every day, we’re surrounded by story, which is the spin we put on what is going on around us. “Why has my landlord stopped paying his assessment to the co-op? Will I get evicted? Could I pay it and get a rent rebate? I wonder what price he’d ask for if I wanted to buy the apartment? But I don’t want to buy the apartment. However, there’s no where else I want to move to right now; I mean I’ve fallen in love with the view. And all my pictures are hung. Oh, I hate packing, so…”

This was my internal conversation for just an hour or so yesterday. Usually, when I have a new topic to write about for the Spirit Moxie conversation, I get challenged by that topic, and after practicing being present for months — living in the moment, after I decided I really, really wanted to share this with you, apparent problems such as my living status appeared. Reacting to instinct (flight or fight; lizard brain; or just ornery), my mind went whirling off until I got dizzy from it.

So, I took a nap. The facts are that I received a copy of a letter addressed to the owner of my apartment saying I can’t use the common areas of the building until he pays his assessments. I’m not sure how that affects him, and if one of you reading this is a real estate lawyer, I’d appreciate you letting me know how this affects me legally. In practical terms, the letter told the apartment’s owner that I can’t use the laundry room, but for now, thanks to my hosts in New York over Christmas, everything is clean, anyway. And I’ve been saying for awhile that I think maybe I’m supposed to leave Cincinnati.

But not today.

Because of the freedom of being present, what I’m coming to learn is that doing what’s in front of me, quite apart from the “what ifs” and “if onlys,” and experiencing the “now” is life changing. And this has changed my relationship to my day-to-day life.

There are several areas where this shows up: time, health, finance, joy. But maybe the one that speaks the loudest in today’s society is simply getting things done. Easily. In less time. With less hassle. And no deadlines.

Somehow when I’m in this space of now, everything happens. I’m actually unpacked from my Christmas trip. (I’m one of those who can pack in ten minutes and take days to regroup when I get home.) The kitchen has been cleaned. The library book due tomorrow has been finished, but also renewed in case I don’t get downtown. All the apartment hassles are just there and my worrying about them won’t do any good at all, and one call to the people who manage the apartment put the hassle on someone else’s desk.

The important bit is that the cheese I’m bringing to a party tonight is on the kitchen counter so it will be at full flavor. It was the apparent hassle of not being able to schedule a Christmas get-together with my son who lives locally and suddenly finding myself thinking of a plan, sending a text, not getting an answer, but finding myself buying the right meat anyway, and, when I finally did get an answer four hours ahead of their arrival, getting everything cooked in plenty of time — even with a two-hour meeting in another part of town during that four hour period. As long as I just “did” and “was,” things were prepared and both the preparation and the gathering was somehow peaceful and joyous all at once. Oh, and the meal was great too.

So how do you get, and stay, if only for a few seconds, in now? For me it began with my
asking, “What am I supposed to be doing?” Because I usually remember to ask this when I am driving my car, the answer is pretty easy. Continuing to drive is really the only option! But somehow this reassures me.

More recently, I’ve learned some other aids. Having some idea of the day’s agenda helps. So now I end my morning meditation with a quick mental run through of the day and at least glance at the calendar on my phone. Today the day was to include a hair appointment, but a text woke me asking if we could reschedule, so instead I got more unplanned writing time. Maybe I’ll dance for exercise as part of that time too. The day also included putting way the clothes from my trip and getting the cheese out of the refrigerator and onto the counter, both of which just sort of happened.

Another aid is to notice, which happens more often, when my mind goes into planning and story mode: “What if?” “Why?” “Maybe I should…” When these questions start badgering me, I concentrate on the people near me, the road (why does driving make my brain scatter?), or what I can see or smell. Another aid is to ask, when things look like they will go wrong, “I wonder what is supposed to happen now?” I’ve also learned to ask, “What should I be doing now?” when I’m not driving!

No, it isn’t always a wild joy, but it is always a joyous calm. And from that place of calm miraculous things happen. Things that when you try to explain them may sound ordinary, but you know that that many perfect ordinary things never happen together. Until they do.

In mid-March some of us will gather at an Ohio conference center near Columbus to explore being present from a spiritual perspective. I’d love for you to be part of of this! Information and registration can be found here.

Meanwhile, what are your thoughts, experiences, and questions on being here? Now!

*quoted in Outrageous Openness: Letting the Divine Take the Lead by Tosha Silver

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Picture credits from the top:

Time: Union Terminal — Suzanne York
Pictures Hung — Spirit Moxie
An Apartment Nook — Spirit Moxie

One of my dreams for Spirit Moxie is to challenge the events we attend. When I was at the Wild Goose Festival, my mental challenge to them was to dance. When I shared this with some friends, there was confusion, but I was clear this was the right word. At the 2013 Wild Goose Festival people literally didn’t dance all that much. But “dancing” was required for the 2014 event to be the inclusive weekend they envisioned. That is, dancing by partnering with unlikely companions, dancing by playing with words, dancing by just letting go. And, of course, by simply dancing to the great music at the event.

It’s a popular image these days. A friend just challenged on Facebook, “Today, are you dancing on the precipice of chaos or swooning for the cradle of order?” Most people who responded to him opted for “both.” But why? What is it in us that resists dancing or makes us qualify it? Do we fear the feeling of letting go? Are we concerned that it demands something we don’t understand? We seem to crave order. Why? What is it about “dance as if no one is watching” that makes us say, yes, let’s do that — and then not dance at all?

For the record I love to dance. But in high school and college I felt that I didn’t dare.  From my perspective dancing involved doing set moves that felt like a test, sort of like line dancing does for me now. Dancing then brought out all my awkwardness and poor body image. Remember The Monkey and The Mashed Potato? For some reason I can still do an OK Twist.

But then, suddenly, toward the end of my college years it became acceptable – or maybe I just learned — to dance just by moving. Now this I can do, as long as it doesn’t involve serious ballroom moves. So I now deal with the different dance challenges of inconsistent music, no partners, and limited opportunities. And I watch sadly as even more people seem to just sit still when dance music is on.

For example I couldn’t get my younger son to dance with me at a recent wedding (no, not his). He just simply said he didn’t dance. Period. I see women dance together a bit more often nowadays and sometimes join in. But I know this isn’t some sort of female lament. Recent Facebook posts from male friends lamented the lack of dance music (or danceable music and dancers?) at a recent festival. And a friend allowed as how she should take me out with them because her husband would keep dancing long after her energy gave out.

Last week I was privileged to hear some African American drumming. Only about four people (out of a couple hundred) seemed to be moving at all. How could they sit still?

I think that not dancing, not daring to move, has become a social norm. We might look silly. We might, as my teen aged self thought, get it wrong. And we’ve forgotten how! Watch a small child hearing a song with a serious beat. It’s related to our heart — we literally carry a beat. Dancing is built into us. So if you don’t dance, why not? Seriously, I’d like to know and am having trouble getting answers when I ask.

A couple of days ago I asked a friend who is a drummer about this. I’m pretty sure drumming is all he thinks about. My first question was “Why do bands like it when people dance?” “That’s easy,” he answered. “When people are up and dancing they’re being entertained, and we want to entertain.” “So why don’t people dance?,” I then asked. “That’s easy, too. Good pulse is often missing from music these days.”

Hmmm. He went on to suggest watching King Sunny Adé or Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. When I searched I found various cultural mixes of modern and African and this beautiful, non-verbal flirtation and seduction between Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse: Dancing in the Dark in the Central Park. 

But again why bother even talking about it? We watch “Dancing with the Stars” and “So You Think You Can Dance.” We go to our school prom and then send our teenagers off to theirs. Perhaps we support ballet or groups like the challenging, creative ArtBark or the Dance Theatre of Harlem, You might have heard of Twila Twarp, who has reclaimed “modern” dance as true dance and as relevant to all. You probably haven’t heard of Misa Kelly, who challenges the dance scene in California and beyond (I met her in Brooklyn). Both hold dance as a way to express who we are and where we might go.

It’s even more basic than that. Gabrielle Roth said, “In many shamanic societies, if you came to a medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed . . . [they would ask] one of four questions. When did you stop dancing? . . . .” It’s even gotten scientific. For instance dancing has been shown to be much more effective in preventing dementia than that crossword puzzle you do a few times a week. So it would seem that in a disheartened world and our personal world of worries of “I’m afraid,” dancing might be the way to a more positive, joyous place.

Besides, while we might not physically dance, we do use dance as metaphor. We talk about dancing around an issue as a way of avoidance, but perhaps we avoid the issues as a way to keep from dancing. It is in letting go that possibility comes to the fore. So next time you’re confronted by uncertainty or avoidance, invite the issue into the dance. Dance with the challenge. Invite yourself in, too. And let go. Perhaps engaging and dancing with our world will heal us all. How might this work for you?

Meanwhile, if you really are going dancing give me a call. I’d love to come along.

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Photo credits from top:
ADaPT Fest 2013 — Beth Megill
Dance in Mother Nature’s Embrace — Misa Kelly
The Office — Lance Robbins
Promo photo of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire — Public Domain
Stephen & Misa Kelly — Stephen Sherrill
No Strings Attached Dance Company — Kathee Miller

“…and letting people in.” I was having my favorite conversation, and asking. “What little things could people do to help the world work better? To help it change.” And my new friend, who became the 162nd Facebook like, explained, “you know, like letting a car into traffic or letting someone to go ahead of you in the checkout line at the grocery store.”

So of course ever since I’ve been thinking about what she said! I’ve become aware of the car exiting the gas station that needed to cut across two lanes of traffic to go the other way when I was stopped at a light. I left him room to pull out when I could have easily blocked the gas station driveway.

And there was the person who for whatever reason insisted he wasn’t in a hurry and I should go ahead of him in line at the grocery. There was the time we all effortlessly merged into one lane of traffic at a highway construction site, when one greedy person could have stuck us all in place for half an hour or so. (That’s one way traffic jams happen—just so you know.) Or the person who let me into the right lane when I was sure I was going to miss an exit and was already planning route B. Oh, yes, and the slow vehicle that pulled over so I could get around him going up a hill.

It’s the wave of thanks you get when you let someone in, which means just slowing down a little so they can edge in ahead of you.

You have those stories too. It’s related to our earlier conversation, Open Doors, and essential to the idea of taking turns so beloved of adults supervising playgrounds.

Perhaps it is related to confronting bullies. Bullying is another way of shutting people out because we don’t understand or agree with someone’s way of dealing with the world or even how they appear to the world. The alternative, the way to make the world work better, is to allow them in —or dare to accept their invitation to join them in their world, if only for a moment.*

Or is it about inviting someone unexpected to be part of a group, at least for a day. Or accepting an invitation, just once, that you’re not really sure about.

Finally it may be about not shutting ourselves in. Allowing others to help us. Being vulnerable. Accepting gifts. No, not indiscriminately — we’ve talking about being a tad suspicious too.

But on the whole, allowing someone in, letting someone else in means we’re changing the world together. We can’t change the world and make it work a little better by ourselves alone. Certainly, just navigating through the day is easier when we let people in and they let us in. There are even bigger possibilities, too. What have you seen? It is through these interconnections that the world can be more whole.

*Bullying is also about feeling insecure, but that’s a different conversation.

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Photo credits from top:
162nd Facebook like: Belinda Banks Frykman — William Frykman
Train, stuck in traffic — eddie welker
Pedestrians and traffic near Wall Street — Spirit Moxie
Quick – to merge, or not to merge — Gary Stevens