“Forever Young Harry” and the True Self-Made Man

A couple of months ago, I took my friend to a doctor’s appointment to get her cast changed; she had recently broken her ankle and the cast she had was not going to make it through the healing. I agreed to drive her over to her appointment and just sit in the waiting room with my daughter and sister until she was done. During our brief time in that waiting room we had the most extraordinary encounter with a most extraordinary man; this man was a student of life, forever curious and exceptionally friendly. He wore a U.S. Navy ball cap and a calm, knowing grin. I now refer to this man in conversations as “Forever Young Harry” and he was a real breath of fresh air in the normally stale and stagnant waiting room of life.

As it is designed, everything we encounter in one way or another reflects our inner world at the time or soon to it or a little prior. “As within, so without.” Harry was a prime example of this, and of many other things for that matter. The man arrived to the office after us and had a seat diagonally across from my daughter and I. He was an older gentleman, 88, to be exact, as I would soon learn. He seemed to have a permanent semi smile on his face, as though his lips knew not what a frown should be. He had one of the most child-like positive vibes that I have witnessed for an older fellow. It was reminiscent of my Grandmother’s energy; in her devout old age she still retained a perpetual child-like curiosity for life in her heart. He immediately started eying up my daughter, an act that always makes a mother’s antenna come out and so I felt him out as I saw him watching her. He wasn’t a creepy old man, though, far from it, and as he started to speak to her directly, you could tell he was simply curious and delighted in her youthful presence.

He started speaking to me freely and openly like we were old friends, he wasn’t bashful at all, almost to a comedic degree. Watching him interact with others in the room made me realize how people mostly enjoy sitting together in mutual silence in public places, unaware of the intimacy that could be taking place. Harry seemed well aware of this opportunity. In fact, Harry seemed very aware, in general. I think he started the conversation by commenting on my face and hat, he was checking me out but not in an uncomfortable way, just as though everything was a work of art. I think the tattoo on my forearm had originally caught his attention. He mentioned that he “studied” things, he even used the word study, which delighted me. He said about studying the birds and the trees and how much he enjoys these simple pleasures. When he told me how much he loves trees, I could feel my heart grow into his a little. He said about being able to study things, like my face and then draw it perfectly later at home. Harry was an observing artist and it was evident by the way that he took in the world. I will never know if a sketch of my wire frames and wild mane are in the man’s sketchbook somewhere, or just floating around in his keen memory. He had a real zest for life, and he apparently lived a good one.

He eagerly began to tell me a good amount of his life’s story, at least the amount of any one life that can be reduced down to words that will fit in about 45 minutes worth of time. He was a veteran, having served in World War II in the Navy, he told me tales of his days in the service. He said about how much sign language he spoke on the ship and then spelled out his name, “H-A-R-R-Y! That’s my name!” Harry said that it was his job on the ship to assign everyone to the position that they would be best suited for. It was his job, essentially, to get to know you intimately in a short amount of time; I guess you could say, long enough to feel out what you are good at and send you there. Oh, the adventures aboard his ship! He delighted in sharing them. What he left out in words, he conveyed in emotion and energy; his eyes were an open door. I took his station, getting to know him intimately in a short amount of time. Once when they were stationed in Texas, everyone on the ship got the same tattoo from this woman tattoo artist, who he said had tattoos on the back of her eyelids! His tattoo, though faded and spread, held strong to its symbol even without the clear image; for being embedded in an 88 year old canvas, it wasn’t too bad, surprisingly.

He shared his memory of the day that it was announced over the speakers on the ship that WWII was over. His temporary life at sea, all that he had grown to know, had come to an end. After the war, he worked flying in planes plotting new roads, exciting work for Harry, who loved seeing things from a different perspective. This took him to different places and he shared about his years in Niagra Falls; though beautiful, he said they were the coldest of winters he had ever known. He was settled locally now. “If you’re ever out on Orchard Street drop by!” he invited, a couple of times, actually. He spoke of his wife, and family. He expressed his love of children and told how just the last week they had their grandchildren over and he had one on his back and a few in a wagon pulling them around. “I was just as excited as they were!” He said how his wife gets on him, worrying about his rough-housing still at 88 years old. “I could walk 5 miles home, right now!” he told me. I’d believe it! His wife was there that day to have an x-ray of her hand, and she was still back with the doctor when it was time for us to leave. We said our good-byes with smiles and warm wishes; as we were leaving I told the man “You stay forever young, Harry!” He smiled and chuckled back at me, “I’m trying!” I was never so sure of a promise in my life. “You certainly are!” I told him.

Much of life is Ego versus Soul. We fight against ourselves and sabotage our spirits as parts of us try to thwart our plans for personal growth, but it is only in vain if we honestly want to live a satisfying life. I think that the goal of life is to end up like Harry, to be driven and steered by your innately curious and compassionate True Self, not the imaginary, interjecting parts of Ego. Harry was a remarkable guy; he was the inner child Self-actuated. Harry was 88 years old and still thrilled by life daily, fascinated by it, drawn to study the wonder of its beauties. I pray that if I make it to 88 years old, I am able to retain that sense of wonderment and awe. I want to remain just as full and whole as Forever Young Harry. Nobody wants to end their days just sitting there, bitter, broken, and emptied out by their story. I think we can all learn a lesson from the man, I know that I have. People like Harry are important because they are a reminder that it is possible to be youthful at any age. Here’s to hoping that if I make it to 88 years young I am still kicking and grinning, still singing and living, still simply LIVING after all of those years, and, like Harry, doing my best to stay forever young.

Peripheral Eternity

What can be said?

How do all of the words in my lexicon sound together at once? 

There are no words.

There aren't enough words.

There are too many words. 

Nothing expresses everything except the void; you are the void to me. 

You are every thing.

You are no thing. 

There are too many words and things between us. 

Far too much logic, too much space, too much science. 

I don't want to know you analytically, but biblically, spiritually---how the stars know the Maker that we foolishly search for with numbers. 

I want to know the Truth beyond language. 

I want to know the inner light that projects you into this garden of dreams. 

August 15, 2015 

Seoul Searching in the Mirror

This summer my sister came home for a visit from Seoul, Korea, where she has been living for the past three years. It was so very good to see her again. During her stay she helped me take care of my Self and simultaneously forget my Self. With her and my other younger sister, we automatically, and perhaps systematically, fell into group self-nurturing behaviors and traditions, essentially what you could call The Unwinding Process. Because we all get wound up from Life, right?! My sister gets wound up in her Korean life, assimilating amazingly into their culture, and she likes to come home and binge on her comforts for a short time in order to go be her bad ass Self once again for an extended time. She came home for a whole month this time. This time her visit, as usual, was essential and timely, a real gift. She also gave me another gift that, I think, of course, is a metaphor. 

The Unwinding Process traditionally consists of consumption, including but not limited to varying and mostly excessive amounts of alcohol, food stuff, and multimedia intake, balanced with bouts of emotional release, via tears and laughter. Why? Serotonin. But more importantly, oxytocin. The bonding hormone unites and only heavily bonded and blended sisters can understand how essential this mutual process of The Unwind is. Individual Unwind is essential as well, but group Unwind...that's where it's at. It's mutual, a symbiosis. It's a take-a-load-off-Fanny, kind of necessary weighted shit. And, so, the Unwind began. The Twizzlers were bought. The boxed wine was drank, the movies were watched. Take out and take in; The Gilmore Girls and The Golden Girls. The nights were late and the days were sleepy; a haze settled. We had some healing times together; we had missed the rhythm of our mutual coping mechanisms and the comfort of each other's presence. The progeny patchwork quilt all blanketed back together. All together; three sisters. It completes the girl circuit. In a world full of every kind of girl but me, my sisters are the closest thing to me that there is, and the feeling is mutual. Nobody gets you like your See-Star! Together we are the feminine whole of our family's genes, the closest thing to ourselves out there, DNA-wise. There is strength in that, a bond like no other, unstoppable love and acceptance. 

Within the comfort of our sisterly union, there is also a tremendous chance for reflection, which is a blessing. A lot of families don't have siblings that get along as well as we do, and believe me, it hasn't been easy, but sibling love is more solid than rivalry. We are each so different and complete, our own distinct note alone...but we blend into one stellar organic triad when we play together. Connections like that are what life is all about...harmonizing. Resonating and harmonizing. 

My sister is what I would consider a feminist. She has, what I tell her, ovaries of solid rock. You would have to, wouldn't you? To move to the other end of the Earth from your family, to live in one of the largest cities in the world by herself, as a woman, to have done all of the world traveling she has done and to have received all of the accolades and achievements in academia that she has is truly impressive. She is one of the most applied and driven women I know. It takes balls...it takes something bigger than balls. Drive. My sister is in gear most of the time. But on the opposite side of the world from her Drive lies Neutral. You want to keep it in drive if you ever want to make it where you intend to go, but you also need to savor the stops; it's okay to sit still and take some time to get your bearings before you drive on. We taught each other a beautiful lesson. The Unwind is essential for The Gear Up. 

I reminded my sister that she can be gentle with herself and cherish neutral stops, and she reminded me that I can be driven, and courageous. My sister gave me a gift, a small mirror...made in Korea, of course. Isn't that a beautiful metaphor? Just when I needed it, my sister showed me another one of my faces, one from the other side of my world. I am in a stage of great neutral motion, I feel I am going farther inward than ahead, but I am also driven. In my own way, I am also a feminist. 

It was incredibly hard this time to let her go; another year will go by before we will see her again. It was a tearful farewell, we didn't want to let go or say goodbye. The truth is, my sister and I have codependent parts that tend to each other. I'm the 12 year old that cares for her and lets her be her zany self, slopping up my house as much as necessary to get to that state of comfort and care; she is the 6 year old joker, hiding under my bed, luring me out of my depression with her nonsense and goofing, reminding me of my responsibility and influence. These parts grew to be this way out of necessity, and these parts still miss each other desperately. However dysfunctional or trapped in the past these pieces are, they are a part of us. The truth is, though, that so are the feminist parts, the driven parts, the achievers in us. We are mighty achievers, we just need some recovery time. Your manager parts can do bad ass things if you don't forget to occasionally spend some time with the exiles. 

A sister is a mirror, and in her resides a reflection of our exiled inner child. Our parts find comfort in their self-nurturing rituals together. We also see our True Selves and our full potentials in the other's eyes through the malaise. I am grateful for the mirrors I have been given. I look to them when I have forgotten who I really am. Thank you for the mirror, Sister. Drive on. 

The Boo Boo in My Head: How I Keep it Real with My Kid

July 30th

The State of the Boo Boo Address 

The Full Legalization of Marijuana Still Makes Sense 12 Years Later

HAPPY 4/20!! In celebration of this stoner holiday I am blogging my persuasive speech from the Public Speaking class I had in college back in 2003! Also because, I am going a bit retrospective. I am hoping to post for the next month or so from memory, reflecting on some events, things, or concerts I haven't managed to document yet. After all, this is for when I forget. So, the following is my persuasive speech. I put off this class until my last semester because I had so much anxiety about public speaking, also, my professor told me that my chosen topic had been done and done before, she has been doing this 30 years and had seen this and that and was it really important, she asked? Yes. So, I chose it anyway, and presented this speech (or what mostly is this speech, as I am not sure if this is the final copy of what was presented on that day)...for which I received an A+ with the comment "Very persuasive!" Made me proud. Here it is:

Marijuana is a plant. I know, you’re thinking, yeah, moron, we know, but I just want you to think about that for a minute. It has leaves, a stem, a root system---it’s a plant. It takes in carbon dioxide, gives off oxygen. It grows naturally on the earth---it’s a plant, you see, and that’s what plants do. Cigarettes and cigars both come from a plant. Alcohol is made from plants. Marijuana is a plant, just like them, but it is illegal. Why is marijuana discriminated against? What’s up with making a plant illegal in a country that was founded on the idea of freedom?

People may claim that I, and people like myself, are just ranting pot heads, but in a country where anti-marijuana commercials are followed by “This Bud’s For You!” and “It’s Miller Time”, something can’t be right. It is in my opinion that the prohibition of marijuana for recreational use by the federal government is a hypocritical, social injustice, especially when compared to the legality of other drugs such as alcohol and tobacco. 

First, I feel that it’s important to understand the history of the prohibition of marijuana. Marijuana has been illegal under the system of prohibition since 1937 in the United States. The first crop was grown in 1611, but the practice of smoking marijuana was not introduced until the 1920’s. It was introduced by the same people that used opiates, the immigrants. Since immigrants were seen as violent and unwanted, marijuana, which was used primarily by them at the time, was classified as a narcotic. It was used legally for awhile. During the prohibition of alcohol, it was welcomed as a worthy substitute. During the 20’s, it was in over 40% of the medicines of that time, however, by 1937, all states had anti-marijuana laws. During the same year, the federal government passed the Marijuana Tax Act. This law required tax stamps to possess marijuana, but also required the presentation of the marijuana in order to receive the stamp---but if you were presenting the marijuana in order to get a stamp, you already possessed the marijuana without a tax stamp---which was a violation of federal law. This trick already made it impossible to legally possess marijuana, but the details of the act are irrelevant because no stamps were ever issued. Also, during this time period no tests were done regarding marijuana and its effects. It essentially became illegal because of misconception---and blatant lies. Even though marijuana was illegal, the government had to convince the ever-curious Americans that “weed was bad”. The first fight against marijuana was one of silence. If youths didn’t hear about it---they wouldn’t experiment. In the 1930’s, it was deemed that no schools could talk about marijuana.

The anti-pot population’s idea of silence didn’t work very well, so they moved on to strategy two---exaggeration. This was the age of “Reefer Madness”. The American Journal wrote, “Marijuana users will suddenly turn with murderous violence upon whoever is nearest to them. He will run amuck with knife, axe, gun, or anything else that is close to the hand, and will kill or maim without reason.” One doesn’t even have to smoke marijuana to see that that is an asinine exaggeration. Today, now that marijuana has actually been tested and studied, we can see that what they were telling people in the 30’s were blatant lies. Either way, marijuana is still illegal.

But what is their reason? In my opinion, no argument for the prohibition of marijuana is logical, not to mention that all arguments become invalid and hypocritical when we look at the legality of tobacco and alcohol. The War on Drugs is a horrid hypocrisy because it only targets certain drugs. It seems that people don’t realize that alcohol and tobacco are drugs. If you drink, even occasionally, if you smoke cigarettes or cigars---you are a drug user. And yet, marijuana is illegal and these drugs are not. This does not make logical sense. Our government’s arguments for the prohibition of marijuana do little to defend their cause.

The government argues that they have to protect the people. Well, how dangerous is this plant compared to the other legal drugs that the government says are okay for their people to have? These are the number of deaths that result directly or primarily from the following cause. Tobacco---kills 340,000 to 450,000 people each year. Alcohol kills over 150,000 people, not including the 50% of all highway deaths and 65% of all murders. Aspirin (including deliberate overdose) kills 180 to 1,000 or more people. Caffeine (from stress, ulcers, and triggering irregular heart beats, etc.)---kills 1,000 to 10,000 people. “Legal” Drug Overdose (deliberate or accidental), this would be prescription medication, kills 14,000 27,000 people each year. Illicit Drug Overdose (deliberate or accidental), kills 3,800 to 5,200 people each year. Marijuana kills 0 people each year.

All of the studies done at American universities and research facilities show marijuana toxicity does not exist. Medical history does not show anyone dying from an overdose. Medicinal drugs are given what is called and LD-50. The LD-50 rating indicates at what dosage half of the test animals receiving the drug will die. Researches have attempted to determine marijuana’s LD-50, and failed. It’s estimated that it is somewhere around 1:20,000 or 1:40,000. Simply put, in order to induce death, one would have to consume as much marijuana as there is in 20,000 to 40,000 marijuana cigarettes. NIDA-supplied joints weigh around .9 grams. So, theoretically speaking, you would have to consume 1,500 pounds of marijuana within about 15 minutes to overdose. Logically speaking, it is impossible to die from marijuana, and yet, our government feels the need to “protect us”. The government’s claim that it’s a threat to the people is invalid and illogical, and so are the arguments that it destroys your short-term memory and decreases reaction time. Alcohol and tobacco do worse things to your body than marijuana. It’s asinine that people argue this point when alcohol and tobacco are legal.

Alcohol and tobacco have been proven to cause more health problems than marijuana, but we have the right to consume them and use them, as we should. They have both been proven to be addictive. Marijuana has never been proven to be addictive. Alcohol causes cirrhosis of the liver, not to mention 50% of all highway accidents. Marijuana users have the same or lower incidences of murders and highway deaths and accidents than the general non-marijuana using population as a whole. Tobacco kills almost 10 times as many people as all illegal drugs combined. Tobacco companies add chemicals, like urea and arsenic, to their cigarettes. They add cocoa and licorice---when burnt, they act as broncho-dilators, enabling even more nicotine to get into your body to ensure you’ll become addicted and buy more of their drug. Tobacco companies are drug lords---they spend billions of dollars each year pushing a product they know kills people. How can this be legal in our country when marijuana is not? Many young, up-and-coming politicians are given large sums of money to finance their political campaigns. It’s obvious that these politicians, once elected to office, wouldn’t say or do anything against the tobacco companies when their political career was essentially funded by the tobacco industry.

Another argument for the prohibition of marijuana is the gateway drug theory. This argument is invalid because it should be expected that more people who smoke pot move to harder drugs than non-smokers. They’ve already proven themselves curious enough to try drugs in the first place. I’m sure a similar link could be made between alcohol drinkers and marijuana smokers, but alcohol isn’t targeted as a gateway drug. Let us not forget about free will. People addicted to heroin at one time made a personal choice to use it. It’s completely absurd to claim “the weed made me do it!”

In conclusion, prohibition does not work---there has been no permanent change in usage because of the legal penalties. The DEA spends $1.3 billion a year trying to stop marijuana. Over 4 million people have been put in jail for marijuana charges. The answer is full legalization. The anti-marijuana community argues that this will lead to a drug-usage increase, even though all evidence proves otherwise. Holland legalized marijuana in 1976 and the amount of users actually went down by 40%. Wouldn’t it be better to legalize and monitor its usage instead of imprisoning smokers that are no more criminals than alcohol and tobacco users? I urge you to take a stand against the prohibition. Don’t let this wonderful plant be against the law.

Joe VS. The Driveway

Today we had a bit of Joe Vs. The Driveway. My husband and I are lucky in that in MOST cases, it's usually only one of us that freaks out about a situation, and the other can still freak out, but to a lesser degree and try to help the other remain calm...or tell them what an idiot they are being. Regardless of the chosen roles or tactics, one of us is usually calm-ish...and one feels irate. This musing has to do with getting stuck part way up the driveway, 3/4 of the way, to be exact...and THAT is a metaphor!

My husband was driving, and I was in the passenger seat. If this was a dream, I would say that is a significant note. I don't know about in real life. (No, really---I don't know about it.) During this particular incident, I was actually the calm one, which I love, because it honestly doesn't happen as often. I usually am the one dealing with the unstable mood or explosions of emotion, and will occasionally need to calm my husband down here and there when he does the same. So, needless to say, I feel awesome when I'm on the other end...like I'm a god damn Zen master or some shit. I revel in it...just a tad...because it's a good lesson. And, as synchronicity would allow, it usually has something to do with what I am personally working on in my inner world at the time. (Go figure!) And explaining or teaching, seeing something from the other seat, as it were, is one of the best ways to LEARN what it is you are teaching. So not only because I don't feel like the idiot, but because I get a chance to SEE how I should be reacting all of the time. I get a chance to see my reactions mirrored...and see how futile they are. How self-sabotaging, how pointless. Preach it, sister! Preach it! It's amusing to me, although, it is a humble sermon, because I am too often in the driver seat...literally. I am the one stuck in the driveway and not the one just watching the drama unfold. Sometimes you lose sight of that.

So my husband was getting angry as we were going up the driveway and backing down again and again trying to get past where we were. Meanwhile, the snow was just continuing to come down, not making it any better. But we had full bellies, we were in our own driveway and we were together. This is what I told my husband. No big deal. We'll get 'er! We were 3/4 of the way up the driveway...and a day later I would realize how odd it was that our driveway is shaped exactly like the arc my therapist made with her hand when she was describing how I was doing progress wise, and we got stuck in the exact spot she stopped her hand in the air and declared that I was at...3/4 of the way...riiiiiiiiight near the top of the LAST little hump before you're home free...where you keep sliding off track! Hmm...interesting. Where you are tested with what you have learned thus far. You can't make it up smoothly without knowing what you've learned. Do I digress? 

In all actuality, I just had the car stuck in our driveway a week prior on my way back home from my friend's house one night. (It was a BAD winter for our driveway!) Luckily, I had a little wine in me, so the cold wasn't bad at all and it turned into a beautiful moonlit walk, as Sam Cooke serenaded me via Pandora the entire length of my trek. "Darling, you send me...Honest, you do, honest, you do..." It was actually rather enjoyable, as I sneaked up to my snow covered abode like it was a hidden cabin in the woods. Which takes me back to us being stuck in the driveway. It's no big deal...it is what you make it. I had decided to walk and listened to Sam Cooke! It was enjoyable. It could have been made into an ordeal. I could have become so pissed that I tried to kick my tire, slipped, and fell on my ass! I could have broken my coccyx! It COULD have happened. But I CHOSE to enjoy the moment. This is what I was thinking about when we became stuck after our outing for breakfast that morning.

In my husband's defense, though, he was the one in charge of unstucking the car both times, so I am sure that is why he wasn't enjoying the moment as much as I was. I didn't see much amusement in his eyes when I replied to one of his outbursts with, "I"m having a really good time!" and a large grin. Maybe now wasn't the time? But if not Now, when? Now is exactly when you need to have a good time! Even when you are stuck 3/4 of the way up your driveway...because you're almost home. No matter how much you keep sliding into that deep drift, no matter how long it takes you to pull yourself out...no matter how many times you have to back down the drive and get a head start back up...you're gonna make it home...even if you have to walk. That's a metaphor...and a good life lesson.

BOOK REVIEW: Savor

Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life by Thich Nhat Hanh and Dr. Lilian Cheung was a very interesting read. This book was able to combine a great amount of nutritional information with mindfulness practices. 

As Cheung highlights better eating choices and patterns, Thay's mindful action plans are woven around them. This approach utilizes breathing exercises and the untying of your internal knots. Mindful Eating is discussed as well as Mindful Movement. The book is filled with practical meditations you can practice daily to improve your mindfulness with food and exercise. 

One of the biggest things I got from this book was the discussion of the nutrients we physically ingest as well as the nutriments, which includes all of our interests we take in, people we engage with, media we consume. These nutriments have as big of an impact on our psyche as the nutrients we consume have on our body. It is best to be aware and mindful of everything that we are ingesting in our daily lives.