Wonder in Nature

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So this week’s Legacy Lesson was to “wonder in nature” with a picture of a Praying Mantis parked on the wall outside my door.  What started out as wonder quickly turned into; careful what you wish for…you’ve got to be just a little bit distrustful of anything that can stay that still for that long.

I took that picture on my way to a writing workshop in the city being taught by the amazing Julia Cameron of The Artist’s Way fame.  It was all writing from the time we walked in until we left.  Blank piece of paper please and she would throw out a cue.  One of the more interesting cues was to create a tabloid type piece, outrageous, highly unlikely, and pulled from somewhere where you normally don’t live.  Ok, you’ve got two minutes.

Here’s what came out:

The dog told me to kill the Praying Mantis.  What?  No not in dog speak but in English so I could understand perfectly that she wanted that thing dead.  We argued, isn’t it against the law I said?  Are we really arguing I asked her?

She didn’t care, if freaked her out every time we walked out the door just clinging to the side of the railing, eyes bulging like it knows something.  How does it do that we wondered.  In the end the dog decided we should go out the back.  She said it would be better for her if I didn’t wind up in jail.

Time.

Yeah I know it’s not the most outrageous story but truth be told I was the one a little freaked out by the damn thing and obviously it was on my mind.  It’s not like the dogs don’t “tell” you what’s on their mind by the tilt of the head, the refusal to move or the running for the back door.

I was pretty happy to see it wasn’t there when I got home.  A little research revealed I wasn’t wrong in my distrust.  They should be called Preying Mantis instead of Praying Mantis.  These little things are ruthless, rip the male’s head off after sex, eat bugs and frogs and chip monks kind of ruthless.  You heard me they are purebred killers.  And no it is not and never was illegal to kill one of them.  The myth originated in the 1950’s but no one knows why, they weren’t endangered and they were considered beneficial for the pests they ate.  I was kind of relieved to hear that because a couple of years ago there was one in the house and I dropped a very thick book on it from about 4 feet in the air.  I was sure no one saw me but…  Oh and that’s not all they ate, using those knife like front arms to saw up their prey.  Eeewww.  Just saying I was glad it was gone when I got home.

Fast forward to the morning when I’m making my coffee and holy shit.  I jumped out of my skin when I saw this thing hadn’t left, just changed position to the screen on my kitchen window.  DSC_0465

Come on already.  Go find another garden to stake out.  Of course now I’m obsessed so when I get home and search it out I find it moved only about 4 inches.  There are some people that believe the Mantis can teach you how to remain focused and centered in the midst of confusion and chaos. Like a warrior, s/he maintains self-control. The actions of the Mantis are not guided by others, but rather by an inner force within the stillness of self.  Ok, sure, not me.  I want her/him to get its bulging eyes outta here.

Next day it winds up on the door next to mine.  My friend John comes over to give me an estimate for some work to be done and I put him in charge of either a) moving it far away or b) whacking it with the paper laying on the porch.  No, he says, it’s illegal.  Here we go again.   In the end he scooted the damn thing over the side of the porch with his tape measure…gone.  I was pretty convinced it moved along until this morning when both dogs jumped up and stared at the fireplace…book in hand

that poor…

tiny…

little….

innocent…

cricket didn’t stand a chance.  Done.

Sometimes the Touch of a Friend is Enough

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Every once in a while you are privy to something so tender between two friends that you can’t help but watch.  It’s so lovely that you have to smile.  Inevitably it’s between two people who have been friends for many many years and moved beyond the “life gets in the way” stage.  They leave themselves open to animated conversation and gentle touches of reassurance and openness and honesty without ever deflecting any feelings.  Hard to believe you can gather this from a brief few minutes in time but when genuine love passes between friends it is just so palpable.  You can almost smell the sweetness or the saltiness or the feistiness or the sincerity in the air around them.

One of my oldest friends, my summer sister Kyle, and I managed to steal a catch up weekend away in a little town named Skaneateles in the finger lakes of New York State.  I’m sure people have been in on some of those same conversations we’ve had ourselves over the years but this time the tables were turned. In a local bakery we watched two friends chat for a few moments and were captivated by the exchange.

I was lucky enough to have my camera on the table and managed to click a few shots of that conversation right from the table. I never lifted the camera to my eye.   As abstract as the shots are you can still get the feeling passing between the two friends.

One looking up at the other,

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the other leaning on the table. For what, support, emphasis, to hear better.  Could have been any one of those reasons.

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And then a hand on the others shoulder. As Jackson Browne said, sometimes the touch of a friend is enough.

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He went on to say, “Hold a place for the human race, keep it open wide.”  There are times when bearing witness to another’s gift of friendship renews your faith in the human race and increases your awareness of the gifts you have in your own life.  It was a fitting and wonderful few moments to have shared with those two friends without them even knowing but it was all the more meaningful in the glance we exchanged after the one left.  We know like we know how precious our gift is.

 

You’ve Got Mail…Real Mail

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Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

But here’s the thing, there aren’t enough people sending interesting mail for them to bring on their rounds. By interesting I mean NOT bills, NOT notices, NOT advertisements, NOT coupons, NOT junk.  I mean handwritten notes or letters or cards, or books or anything that doesn’t resemble bullshit. You can easily recognize bullshit when you see it, not like you don’t remember chain letters, so don’t send it.

The art of the handwritten note is dying a slow and painful death and it is breaking my heart. I may have mentioned before that the sight of a colorful envelop in my mail stops me dead in my tracks.  I must open it right there at the mail box and read it over and over on my way back to my door.  Mind you that’s only about thirty steps away and I usual can contain myself from jumping up and down but I’ve got to rip the envelope open immediately.

Joe Baca has said that the Postal Service’s unmatched ability to reach every household and business in America six days a week is a vital part of the nation’s infrastructure.  Blah blah blah, we all get that but he’s talking business, I’m talking love letters, inspirational notes, birthday cards, motivational notes, thanks yous….you remember those.

All the bitching about the price of postage…please.  I once made it my business to send a note every other week to someone going through chemo, all total about eight or ten cards, and the whopping total for that postage came to 3.20 at the time.  Come on, for under four bucks they were surprised with some tiny little note in the mail.  Something that wasn’t a bill or a report or work they could do from home.  It was a down and dirty I’m just thinking about you and sending the love.  I will do that again and again and again.

Then there was the time that I inadvertently read a situation so completely wrong that my dear friend Linda actually said she was done with me.  What?  How could I have done that?  How could I have been so wrong?  She wasn’t taking my phone calls; the idea that I might never see her again devastated me.  There was only one thing I could do, write my mae culpa in a heartfelt letter.  I thought long and hard and poured my heart into a letter that resulted in a phone call from her that said, come home all is forgiven.  I send cards and letters all the time and Linda has been the recipient of many of them. Come to find out she’s saved everything I’ve ever written her; you see the legacy connection, no?

Perhaps you’ve heard of Postsecret?  From their website:

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail
in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard.
PostSecret, 13345 Copper Ridge Road, Germantown, MD 20874

The concept of the project was that completely anonymous people decorate a postcard and portray a secret that they had never previously revealed. No restrictions are made on the content of the secret; only that it must be completely truthful and must never have been spoken before. Entries range from admissions of sexual misconduct and criminal activity to confessions of secret desires, embarrassing habits, hopes and dreams. The secrets are meant to be empowering both to the author and to those who read it. Frank Warren claims that the postcards are inspirational to those who read them, have healing powers for those who write them, give hope to people who identify with a stranger’s secret, and create an anonymous community acceptance.

You can see more on this from Frank Warren’s TED talk:

http://www.ted.com/talks/frank_warren_half_a_million_secrets.html

So it’s not just in the receiving it’s in the sending as well.  Speaking of sending, there is yet another project called “The World Needs More Love Letters”.  From the blog:

In October 2010, Hannah Brencher began writing & leaving love letters all over New York City to ward off the loneliness and depression that ambushed her after graduating from college. Knee-deep in student loans and desperate to know her “place in this world,” Brencher’s letter writing efforts grew a platform on her blog after she made a promise to the internet: If you emailed her a snail mail address, she would write you a love letter. No questions asked.

http://www.moreloveletters.com/welcome/about/

Another amazing sender was my mother.  Open your lunch box and there it was:

Enjoy your lunch.

Hope you did well on your test.

Love you.

Making your favorite for dinner.

Have fun today.

That was a hundred years ago and today there are websites to tell you what to say, notes you can download or special paper you can purchase.  She was on to something back then and didn’t even know it.  It just came from the heart in reaction to something we might have been anxious or excited about.

I’ve saved so many different types of correspondence all to the end of having them close to me whenever I want.  There are times you simply must hold something against your heart to get the energy of the words to work.  The beautiful cards from Japan from my friend Harumi’s mother expressing so beautifully our connection from so long ago.  She’s gone now but I can hold her to my heart and think of her.  The notes and cards from all my dear ones, my sister, my summer sister, my bestie, my friends and my family even himself available to me for remembering and honoring.  Most of them were surprises received at the mailbox making them all the more special.

The point is this, if you’re considering your legacy there must be some bit of you left behind.  What better way than to express yourself in your own hand and put a stamp on it for someone to do a bit of a jig at the mailbox?  Just sayin…Ordinary Legacy, 3208 Stowe Ln, Mahwah, NJ 07430

 

Yes?

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What about you, they said, would you jump out of a plane.  Uh, no.  Skiing?  You mean where you look out over the top of a mountain and then throw yourself over on the equivalent of two sticks?  Uh, no.  Sounds like I’m starting from no but, in fact, quite a bit of thought has gone into these decisions.

Really I start from yes most of the time and I’d really like to see more people do that.  When posed the statement:  I want to live in a world _____.  I said I want to live in a world where people start from yes.  I get that that isn’t going to happen all the time but this week it didn’t happen at all.

I’m backing out of a parking space on Stowe Lane last week and my overly cautious, not want to scrape up my tires and rims, watch the mirrors, and the camera way of doing that pissed off one of my neighbors.  I didn’t cut her off but she did have to wait and she was in my face about that.  Really?  You’ve heard me mention the Mayor of the Pool and her hard ass, gravelly voice, don’t come to my end of the pool, incensed because she has to go outside the fence to smoke personality.  Well there she was giving me the face and the head shake as I’m apologizing.  Wait.  I’m apologizing.  She didn’t stop, she didn’t care so you can imagine me going all triple dog dare and calling her bitch.  I’m not proud of it but it needed to be done.

Why was that necessary in a darling little neighborhood like ours?  Why is it ever necessary to always start from no without a second’s hesitation?

Enter the Starbucks one morning and it’s jammin…no surprise it’s 8:30am.  Waiting in line, smiling and chatting with the people.  Place my order, venti skim no foam one Splenda latte please.  Your name she says. Sandi.  What?  It’s not an uncommon name but for an Ashley or a Jessica or a Kiley…who knows, maybe?  I repeat it and ask her to check if my free drink is in the computer.  Well we’ve been having problems checking against the cards (I see, the app would indeed be better) and the Starbucks computer hasn’t been responding and….oh…it went through.   I didn’t actually say it this time but she was indeed…

Continue through last week in anticipation of what I call the periodic justify your existence meeting this week.  Provide the information the project leaders were looking for only to find out it was being used at a conference call I only off handedly heard about.  You know I’m all for the next generation coming up and making a difference and I really worry about being labeled the old woman when I try and hint that they may not be entirely on track in their thinking.  Well this dinosaur knows like she knows that some people are plunging head first into fixing an anomaly by changing policy and they don’t know what they don’t know.  Point is they are starting from no.  After struggling with a spreadsheet that would provide the much needed reality check over the weekend I closed it and I’ll be damned if I know where it went.  Note to self….trying to justify your existence over the weekend with an I’ll show those spiky haired, skinny jeans kids sucking up to the guy on the ledge with one foot on a banana peel attitude might not have been the right motivation.  Sometimes the universe provides a motivation check on my behalf; thank God I printed the file.

Why is it necessary in a world renowned company to power grab instead of practice the art of consensus?

I was going to plunge right back in this morning on gathering the reality check material but I decided to start from yes instead.  Not my idea exactly, more like Evi and I sharing a glass of wine over our previous night’s texting where she reminded me to take today off, it will wait.  And our ever present mantra, it’s just cars.   So I did, today I started from yes.  Took a walk with two sets of dogs, took myself around my dear Stowe Lane, camera in hand to capture what is surely the last of the turning leaves.  Rearranged my office to be MY office, not my other work office.  Spruced up my home, took out something fabulous for dinner with my friend Sandra and let it go.

So many signs handed to me this week to start again.  When I started this post with:

Legacy Lesson: Start from Yes

Start from YesAnd then: Ordinary Wisdom from Tina Fey

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And finally: Ordinary Food for Thought

when you say yesI never thought it would turn into a rant about NO.  The fact is I should have heeded the hints, actually more like the bricks, thrown at me and stayed on course with my original thoughts on saying yes to more and more invitations, more and more tiny community adventures and more and more positive interaction.  Thankfully I’m doing that but as with anything else you can never really see the power of one thing unless you’ve experience it’s direct opposite.  I believed before in the power of yes I certainly have confirmed that this week.

 

 

Un Nuovo Giorno

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The alarm goes off on days I go to the office and immediately I am nose to nose with the two loves of my life. On those days I don’t go to the office they serve as my alarm clock, same technique just a bit later…but not much.

I stand, breathe in as my arms rise over my head. As I bring them down and cross my hands over my heart I am saying,

Thank you God for this day and everything in it. I love you.

Exhale. I know Everything means Everything, good, bad, happy, sad, my things, my thoughts, my lessons, Everything.

Un Nuovo Giorno, a new day, the first day of my life.  This is a love song sung by my beloved Andrea Bocelli.  I can’t get past the third line without tears, I can never sing it for the lump in my throat but for me it’s not about a person, it’s about how I see my relationship with God.

Some people believe, some people don’t. I believe. No good has ever come to me without me first saying thank you and I try to say it often. I am not religious in the formal sense but I have a practice.  I don’t go to church in the literal sense but my home is sacred.

My morning ritual continues on my walk with the girls. No iPod, no distraction, no rush.  Business first then we can walk and look, and listen to our neighborhood. Back home to Stowe Ln we exhale again. Every time I walk through that door I exhale thanks to the beautiful insight of my summer sister Kyle. When I got to Stowe Lane she blessed me with a wonderful wall decal that says:  “Breathe, you’re home.”  Everyone exhales when they get to Stowe Lane thanks to that little reminder, whether they realize it or not.

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On to green smoothies and dog food and coffee. Dispensed appropriately of course. I sit in my comfy chair with my hands wrapped around my warm cup of coffee to let my mind create my day. I learned of a meditation yesterday in a class I attended called the Calming Heart Meditation, place the left hand into the palm of your right hand and put your thumbs together creating a circle.  That is exactly how I hold my coffee cup…seems instinct will lead you to the ancient if you are open.

There are some days when I need to start again.  I don’t mind starting some days again, I get I’m not perfect.  I get that other people aren’t perfect.  Perfection is a myth perpetuated by God knows who to what end I have no idea.  All I want it is to look back over a day and say I tried or I did the best I could or I started again.  No shame, no regret, just considerations of how things might be better next time.

In answer to the question: What iF I truly believe I’d be just fine…what does your un nuovo giorno bring you?

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