Hitchin' a Ride

"Troubled times, you know I can not lie
I'm off the wagon and I'm hitchin' a ride."

Funny how some of the most simple thoughts can mull around in your brain until they become more profound than they were ever meant to be...

I was listening to Green Day while driving and on came this swinging little punk rock song (swing beat, bass, swing dancing in the video). Having heard it dozens of times and enjoyed it each time, this picture came into my head:

I'm off the wagon and I'm hitchin' a ride

Yeah...I'm really thankful for those who purposefully and serendipitously either remind me of or bring me to my higher self. I have no idea what the intent of the song was other than boyish fun...but it the end, when I'm off the wagon, I do hope that I can look around me and find that ride.

1,2...1,2,3,4

Fear/Joy

For the last few days my fear has acted as an unruly barrier to my joy. I've found myself grouchy, temperamental, unpleasant, and at times even inconsolable. Only in the moments of work when my counsel has been useful have I felt any sense of my joy. Fortunately, things are very busy at work and an hour or two there buries the fear.

But it comes back...It sneaks back in the restful hours of the evening when I'm trying to plan my weekend, when I'm asking myself, "What should I do?"

I have no answers and that is scary to me. I am weighing staying and going, but neither seems like the right choice. I am not in harmony even with what I want to do...which is to stay home and ignore the whole situation. But even then, there's a part of me that believes there is no getting away...there is no hiding...there is no respite.

Not until I deal with it one-on-one, call it by its name and demand it go away.

There is too much at risk if I don't deal with my fear...but I know that my joy will wait patiently while the fear will run amok until I get it under control.

Hope

"For hope, contrary to popular belief, is tantamount to resignation. And to live is not to be resigned." Albert Camus, Summer in Algiers

I've thought a great deal about that word hope since reading that line and it resonates strongly with me. We often find ourselves sitting still and hoping for this and that rather than actively working toward change.

I have also followed Leroy Sievers' blog "My Cancer" for quite some time now. He has stage four cancer, and has been through more treatment than I believe I would have the courage to try. Today I read this:

Did it work? Did the radiation I had last week do what it was supposed to do? I don't know. I can't tell. At least, not yet.

The radiation on my brain is a long-term thing. Our goal there was to slow down any tumor growth and prevent any new problems. If there are side effects, they'd show up in about three years or so. Needless to say, not something I need to worry about.

My pelvis, and the pain there, is still the main thing I have to worry about. The hope was that the radiation would heal some of the fractures caused by the cancer, and kill some nerve cells to lessen the pain.

Honestly, I can't tell if it is working or not. I'm trying to be patient, because it was supposed to take a couple of days before any effect would be noticeable. But I still have pain there as I write this. The same? More? Less? I honestly can't tell.

I guess patience really is the key to this. Whatever improvement I get, I will be grateful for. If things stay the same as they were -- well, I haven't lost anything that way, either.

That's the way it goes in Cancer World. You take your best shot, hope for good results, and live with what happens.

I can do that.

I understand hope in the context of life and death matters; in places where we need patience, courage, and relief; where what we seek is mercy pure and simple.

In that case, hope delivers life.

Courage

"When we discover our connection with the earth, courage becomes as natural as breathing."


I read that somewhere today. I was filled with gratitude.

Looking in All the Wrong Places

I take notice each morning when leaving the house of the mating pair of cardinals in my backyard...usually low in the magnolia tree chirping at me; clearly warning me. They must have their nest in that tree.

I sit on my back porch scanning through the tree for the nest. I look each morning from the higher vantage point of my shower window for it. The tree is so dense with leaves, it's hard to see anything in there.

Then, in the early evening yesterday I was reading on the back porch and the cardinal pair was sitting on the fence behind me chirping exuberantly. I turned slowly to look at them and, as I turned, I looked right at the nest...in the rose bush that climbs the trellis over my back porch. At standing height, it is around eye level. I'm not tall enough to see in it.

When I peer out my back door quietly, I can see a little cardinal head peeping out of the nest. I note they fly away whenever I go outside; whenever I let the dogs out.

I do hope they adjust to us...this year they were here first and deserve to nurture their babies in peace.

Je te Adore

To adore, according to Merriam-Webster, means:

1 : to worship or honor as a deity or as divine 2 : to regard with loving admiration and devotion <adored his wife> 3 : to be very fond of <adores pecan pie>

Several weeks ago, an acquaintance was described as "looking for a man who adores her." This was described in detail as wanting a man who puts her up on a pedestal and treats her like a deserved princess, worships her and buys her extravagant gifts. I thought, "no, that kind of relationship would not be for me." Viewing someone as though they are beyond perfect and without fault comes with very high expectations and is bound to lead to disappointment for everyone. It's certainly not the kind of love that nurtures the soul. It's the kind of relationship that removes you from what is real; what is life. Not for me.

Then I considered that word "adore." There are many people whom I adore. I really truly adore them. There is no better word for it. I love them, admire them and, for me to adore them, they also tickle me to no end. They make my daily sense of being that much more pleasurable. I have friends, colleagues, family members, and a lover who I adore. Literally.

So, thinking of these people who I adore, people who comprise the substance of my heart, I am certainly struck with the irony of this word. Adoration comes in two varieties. In terms of the nurturing it provides, those two are worlds apart.

[missing you, Jack. Have a beautiful time in WY.]

Editing for Others

About 10 years ago I wrote my first piece for public distribution -- a technical document on the processes and tools for developing an EnergySmart School -- I developed a large editorial board that helped ensure technical credibility and to ensure that I was properly addressing the language requirements of the Federal government. The project was sponsored by the US Department of Energy's Office of Energy Efficiency and Renewable Energy and there were many restrictions on how I could use language and present benefits.

Anyway, to my surprise, many of the edits arrived with sincere apologies for the suggested changes. Yes, I painstakingly arranged the 16 81/2" x 11" pages into philosophy, technology, process, tools and using the school as a learning laboratory. Concise with text and dense with information, the booklet was geared toward school administrators to help them understand the benefits of high performance building. And I, a visual and kinesthetic learner -- I who am not often detail oriented -- needed all of the help I could get editing for content, continuity and flow.

It was only with gratitude that I received these edits. Each person's efforts made the document that much more robust, concise and a joy to hand out to others. Without those efforts, I would have never known if I was representing so many points of view well; without those efforts I would never have known whether I was actually communicating well with anyone.

To this day, it is my pleasure to have other people edit my work. It is a necessity for me. Even more so, it is an honor when I am asked to reflect on the work of others.

Appearances

Eating peacefully alone yesterday afternoon:

1)

Me: Spagio, asparagus and lobster ravioli, the NY Times, a glass of cabernet eating alone on a late Tuesday afternoon. Something brought me to thinking about my mom who frequently eats alone at Applebees eating a grilled chicken wrap, reading an historical romance, drinking chardonnay...

So similar, yet worlds apart.

2)

Four women. All dressed well in mostly white summer outfits. One without makeup, just from the gym. All drinking the same draft lager from the tap at Spagio. All excited to be there. All with the same nicely dyed blonde hair color but different styles.

Question: Would you expect they had their fingernails done?

I did.

Not one of them did. Each one's nails were short, well manicured and unpolished.

Interesting, isn't it?

Photos are Up!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/pullingdownthebranches/

Yea!

considering home

when we consider the ties of home,

we may and we may not

find the stuff that we are made of

$14,017.06

Fourteen thousand seventeen dollars and six cents...

That's the judgment (including interest and attorney fees) against me as offered by the Commonwealth of Alexandria for "breach of lease."

It's the financial cost of my decision not to move to DC; the cost of my living split in two places and not keeping up with my mail well enough to know I needed to appear in court; the cost of closing the painful business of last year. It is the last bit of unreasonable dealings with people who sink to their most base behavior when there is an opportunity to make a little cash. In the scheme of things, it's really very little cash. I know that for the rest of their lives, every time they spend a penny, the gentlemen who successfully sued me will think of me and how they took advantage of me at the lowest point of my life.

Funny thing about that cost...it feels more like freedom.

I will send that check with only gratitude.

Authenticity

This year I decided to let my hair go grey. Having colored my hair for a long time, I have been working on letting it get back to its natural color and have enjoyed it. So, my temples are white and there are silvery flecks throughout my head. Liking it very much myself, I asked Jack, "Do you like it?" He really does. When I queried him as to why, he answered that it seemed very authentic.

Funny thing about authenticity...it doesn't necessitate being natural, but it does necessitate being truthful. So, all of the years I colored my hair because it was fun were years in which I was being authentic. Now that I am ready for something different, it is also authentic. It is just that I am feeling grounded, earthy, and slightly wizened...I've earned these greys and wear them proudly.

Today I was reminded of authenticity while out buying some soap at Whole Foods. I saw a very well-dressed woman wearing a skirt suit with heels. I noticed that she was very well manicured, and yet rather homely. As I looked at her, I realized she was a male. She was striking in her authenticity.  I then remembered talking with Michael some years ago about respecting a person's choice to present themselves as they prefer -- as they feel most real -- even if it seems pure fantasy.

Authentic does not mean natural; natural does not mean authentic.

Authenticity honors truth, regardless of how impermanent that truth may be.

Importance of Discernment

I met Bob Kobet at 7 a.m. this morning for our drive to Cincinnati...Bob self-described NPR junkie and the first thing out of his mouth was, "Did you hear the news?"  It was about the current status of the democratic candidate for President.  We talked about Hillary and Barack.  I explained that I strongly, perhaps viscerally, dislike Hillary.  As I began describing my issue with her (another topic for another day) and thinking about why it was so strangely clear for me, I realized that I perceive her as infinitely selfish.  She is selfish to her own detriment.  She is selfish to the point that she lacks connection to what anyone else wants or needs.  She is selfish to the point that she has no discernment for what is in the greatest good. 

That goes for the status of our democratic nominee for President.

That goes for her relationship with her husband.

That goes for this country.

I am relieved to read that she will concede.  Our President needs to feel connected to us; to the world.  Our President needs to be able to discern what truly is for the greatest good; what is for his or her own good.

No Guarantees

"We are building the plane as we fly it."  That's what our fearless director says about the work we do.  In my case, I feel like we are building the plane as I am learning to fly (and someone else is reading me the instruction booklet on both).

As we move forward in beginning $4.1 billion in school building projects, I'm charged with the task of ensuring that our design teams meet our lofty "green building" goals.  The question always arises, 

"If we don't achieve LEED-Silver for our project, do we get paid?"  

Well, yes:  First you have to intend to meet the goal (and I have to believe your intention) and work in good faith toward achieving the goal; second, you must meet the energy performance requirements of our goal.

How we do that and whether we are successful in certification is anybody's guess because it isn't up to us.  My answer is not particularly satisfactory to an architect looking for a guarantee. We have so many buildings in various states of disrepair, quality and age that there is no prescriptive way to create protocol for guaranteed success for our design teams.   

A person's need for an absolute guarantees implies that he or she is strongly adverse to risk.  Asking for an absolute guarantee seems to be a very subtle way of saying, "I'd like to continue business as usual, even if I know I could do better."  

support

They say you need a good bra in order to "keep the girls up where they should be," to keep them from sagging down to your navel, to keep you looking young and perky for as long as possible.  Now I have nothing against youth, but sometimes I wonder about these expensive, short lived, often impractical and frequently uncomfortable torture devices.  On an average day, wearing a high-quality well-fitting bra, I will reach under my shirt to pull up my bra straps dozens of times. The material wears out quickly, which often can just mean that those girls are going on a southward road trip; however, occasionally that ever present underwire breaks and begins its slow descent into breast tissue...usually while at work and in a silk blouse.

Anyway, today I was wrapping up a shopping trip at the pet supply store...locating my purchase, my car keys...my sunglasses...where are those sunglasses? "Oh, here they are."  Between my cleavage with one earpiece neatly tucked in and secured by the center part of the underwire.

Yes, at 42 I have finally discovered the very best use of that damned underwire:

It is a secure location to hold those pesky reading glasses.  It works for sunglasses, too.