Love: Get Used To It

Painting: Mark Rothko, #2

"We love life, not because we are used to living but because we are used to loving."
- Friedrich Nietzsche

What's your habit: loving, or regretting? Loving, or resenting? Loving, or defending, judging... what would it be like if you turned your default setting to Love, and pushed away the other un-loving thoughts and feelings--even laughing them away?

"While we have the gift of life, it seems to me the only tragedy is to allow part of us to die -- whether it is our spirit, our creativity or our glorious uniqueness." - Gilda Radner

The best of ourselves--spirit, humor, compassion, creativity, and uniqueness blooms in the act of love. So go for it--be a love cat.

"Silence is so accurate." --Mark Rothko

Mythologize Yourself

A friend is posing the following questions I've been marinating in. Well worth it. Here are some of them and a few off-spring:

What is a myth or fairy tale you're currently living? Where are you in that story right now?

What are you afraid of? Think big--think small, ask yourself this question while you go through your day. I found it lurking in dark corners--the way I react to a question at work, the way my Good Girl trembles slightly when she worries she won't be good enough, smart enough, fast enough--human but silly. I try to giggle at it, pet it, send it away.

What act of bravery could change your year?

What are five words you could use as guiding value principles?

When you write down your goals, can you line it up with at least one of your values?

What is your personal mission statement for 2007?
What's one that's big enough for you to take with you into all elements of your life?

Give Me Bed!

Here's the only place I want to be these days: Beddie-bies. Not in that depressed I-can't-face-the-world way, but that Wintery, hibernating, let-the-fat-layers-commence, I live for reading and eating in bed cave-woman ritualistic way. Or so I'd like to think. Have you ever noticed how descending into a state of lower energy, lower motivation, or what I like to call a state of Mojo Descendent can make you feel panicy, like: Is this how it will always be? Ach! What if I just rode those energy tides in Hang-Ten surfer style and didn't worry about it so much? What if I even liked them, coddled them and used this as breathing time, waiting to make a next new move when the New Year comes? Who else is in Mojo Descendent with me?

Now for a little Jewish mothering: Don't forget to have a good supportive bed. If you wake up with pain in you rmid-back and your bed is over 5 years old it may be time... even though warranties last 10 years, the Better Sleep Council says a mattress really loses its shabang after five to seven years.
It's a great pleasure to love your bed. Go for it!


Painting: Vibrant Bed II, by Marc Whitney

.. And This Waterbaby Stays Home

Well that's enough of that. Run-a-day November is over. It occurred to me that while it's been great to "get out there," oh the dreaded saying, but really, there have been some beautiful surprises, however: almost all of my runs have been laborious, and not one good long(ish) one in the bunch. So, experiment tried, failed, and I'm going back to quality over quantity. Plus, I have a stomach ache.

Yesterday I went to see Pacific Northwest Ballet do a series of cool dances, including one by Twyla Tharpe "Waterbaby Bagatelles." She has the best book called The Creative Habit: Written in plain, beautiful language, the woman is disciplined as well as gifted, and she has wise words and philosophies for all of us, because we are all creative, whether choreogrpahing a world-class dance or balancing our checkbooks or walking down the streets, it's all there.

November is run-a-day month. Which means I can't stay on the couch with my laptop, poems, and a movie. The idea of the run was partly inspired by Dean Karnazes, crazy-man ultra runner who just finished 50 marathons/50 days and is now running home from NYC. He lives in San Francisco. Granted, my runs have been tiny, and I'm out of glute muscles, but there are some cool surprises: mainly, the beauty of a rainy November.

Goal: to take off from home and run 3-4 hours pain free. Train for a 50k this summer which means returning to the trails.

More rain fell this past Monday than in all of August in Seattle. Still, when I talk about it, I describe it as "colorful," "amazing," "spectacular," because I've had to go out in it, often at night or dusk, when I would otherwise be holed inside. But daily duty summons and I discover earthy beauty and forget I should be cranky and lazy (well, I do have a bit of the lazies).

A Very Doable Daily Run Chart
Saturday Nov 11 -- tbd, said runner gobbled up by couch right now.
Friday Nov 10--2.25 on treadmill
Thursday Nov 9 --3 miles (puny swim)
Wed Nov 8--4.5-5 miles at work
Tues Nov 7--3 mi, walked 1/3 of it. (swim)
Mon Nov 6--3 miles eve run
Sun Nov 5--2x around greenlake, some walking, 5.6
Sat Nov 4--post swim greenlake run, 2.85 (swim)
Friday Nov 3 -- 2.5 on treadmill
Thursday Nov 2 -- work run: 3.5 miles (swim)
Wednesday Nov 1 -- track workout, about 4 total.

Your Inner Golden Fish

"The Golden Fish," by Paul Klee
I found this on my fave art site,
WebMuseum Paris, and used this fairytale story as a Writing Gym workout:

The Golden Fish glides through the kingdom of its underwater freedom, all lesser fish leaving a clear space for its gleaming body. This is a magical fish with runic signs upon his body, scarlet fins, and a great pink flower of an eye. He hangs majestically in the deep, dark blue magic of the sea, which is luminous with secret images of fertility. The great fish draws the mysteriousness of his secret world into significance. We may not understand the significance, but it is there. The sea and its creatures are arranged in glorious homage, belittled but also magnified by this bright presence. This quiet nobility, the brightness, the solitude, the general respect: all are true of Klee himself. Whether the art world knew it or not, he was their "golden fish."

Can you feel your inner Golden Fish?

Coming soon: more Daylight Savings Time!

Do you feel like you got away with an hour today?
I can't tell. I went to bed an hour later and still dragged my ass out to run this morning, but what beauty in Discovery Park.

I've always assumed time change were leftovers from agricultural living, working in the fields at night... but absolutely not. It's all about energy saving, an idea that's over 200 years old.

Here's a little time-twisting history:
The father of Daylight Savings Time is our favorite Renaissance Patriot, Benjamin Franklin. He suggested the idea when he was minister to France, in an essay titled "An Economical Project for Diminishing the Cost of Light." This was 1784 and it wasn't until 1907, when an Englishman named William Willet suggested it after walking passed a home with drawn shades on a bright summer night.

Here's what's in store for us: more of it.

Starting next year, 2007, for most of the U.S., DST will begin at 2 a.m. on the second Sunday in March; and it will end at 2 a.m. on the first Sunday of November.

Sometimes I lie and go along with the crowds. Right now the crowd is saying, Christ I hate this darkness boo hoo, and I nod my head and scowl. But I actually rather like it; the warm sulky cozy blanket of darkness is luscious for some privacy of the soul, creative time, writing, reading, and for getting home after work and going straight for the pajamas, eating dinner and heading off to bed with a pile of books. Aren't we all a wee bit tired from those long active days of summer anyway?

Also, there is always a new wave of flora unfolding in the fall and winter. Even sweet smells. Keep your eyes and nose peeled--something beautiful always awaits you in the dark seasons. Just be awake enough to catch it.
Get more history behind Daylight Savings Time.
Arwork, "The Persistence of Memory" by Salvador Dali.