Wednesday, June 29, 2005

"They always say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself." -Andy Warhol

If I handed over my healing process to time, it could take more than I have. There's life to be lived, goals to be accomplished, relationships to be tended and enjoyed, daydreaming to be done.

Daydreaming is an avocation of mine. Some call it procrastination. A process that is, I believe, a critical aspect of creation. In fact, I need to write a piece on that...maybe do some research, talk to others who cherish, covet and are constantly developing their procrastinative abilities...there's probably a short story in it...that I could adapt for film...

Anyway, I'm changing things. But that won't change the essence of me. Writer friend Richard said today that he read a book about famous artists who underwent various forms of psychoanalysis, and every one of them was concerned that, if they changed their habits and behaviors -- if they got better -- they would lose what made them unique. And it's not true: because the more you eliminate pain from your life, the better you're able to function.

I'm now all about the elimination of pain...ironic, of course, that it's a painful process.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Whoa, nelly!

Pending the usual test results, my exam was fabulous. All the parts are intact, healthy, and in fine working order.

Hmmm...what did I say in an earlier post? Something like, "Bring it on?"

Giddy-up.

I'm off to my Beverly Hills gynecologist; she's the very best I've ever had, and I've had quite a few, let me tell you. A few in New York City, several here. Yes, I've been quite the ob/gyn slut.

But it's true: Dr. Cohen's are the only stirrups in which I've ever felt completely safe. And she always has complimentary things to say about my parts. It's nice when your doctor can examine you, treat you (if treatment is called for), and boost your ego, all in one visit.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Inspiring wisdom from Steve Jobs.

You can read all of it here: http://news-service.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/jobs-061505.html

...but this is what stands out for me right now (thanks to Bob for forwarding this to me after our own affirming coffee talk on Sunday):

"When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: 'If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right.' It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

Monday, June 20, 2005

"Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one's self-esteem." -Thomas Szasz

He goes on to say, "That is why young children, before they are aware of their own self-importance, learn so easily; and why older persons, especially if vain or important, cannot learn at all."

So maybe I'm not as "vain or important" an adult woman as I sometimes think I am...because, especially after the past couple of days, I'm learning and applying valuable lessons about relationship, about owning one's own truth without compromising a compassionate heart. About clearing the air, cleaning the energy, completing cycles, calling up the kind of strength that comes from fearless honesty. About forgiveness and true love.

It doesn't mean I haven't cried in the past 36-plus hours. There have been copious tears of despair and gentle tears of gratitude. I'm struggling not to lose a relationship I've held so close and dear for almost two years...and I found out that, after nearly 6 years, I've recovered, at a very different level, one of the most intimate relationships -- and absolutely the most formative bond -- I've ever had.

I asked him what had been the most difficult thing about me to live with -- and it was the fact that I could never let go. He's right: I'd willfully chew on the flesh of the matter right down to the bone, causing him more discomfort than was truly necessary.

Funny he should say that when, not 15 hours before, I had just let go of something -- someone -- incredibly precious in my life. Just as I had let go of him, and us, almost 6 years before.

And this is not about either of them, except for the fact that they are my teachers, bringing hard blessings. This is about me, learning to practice the mantra that came to me on New Year's Eve in my meditation: Bring it on. This is a whole life; it doesn't stop at a certain age, or when we reach a particular status or have a big realization. "Bring it on." For me, it's the only motto to live by, if I want to do more than just get by.

But the young child in me wishes she didn't have to lose to learn. And the adult in me knows there's nothing to lose.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

So Mom and I were talking this morning during my commute about the end of the world...

...what with the temperatures rising, and in light of this spate of quakes we here in the 'Fornia are experiencing. In the middle of our conversation, I spotted a little Jewish man (I know 'cause he sported a yarmulke) walking down Crescent Heights, a plastic bag from the 99-Cent Store in one hand and a huge green parrot perched on the other. And this was hours before the latest e-quake, this afternoon at 1:54pm, which shook me while I was eating grilled salmon from the Kosher Fish Grill on Beverly Blvd. (which has now disagreed with my stomach), and answering B's e-mail about a really bad skateboarding movie. Portentious times, indeed.

Mom, who was raised Southern Baptist in North Carolina, but "got the hell out" when she was 18, brought up the Biblical end-of-the-world prophesy -- not that she buys it. Neither of us could recall the prophet; once the ground settled from the 4.9, I Googled "end of the world bible" (which is, after all, why God made the Internet) and found this:

Isaiah Chapter 24

The Lord is going to devastate the earth and leave it desolate. He will twist the earth's surface and scatter its people.

Everyone will meet the same fate-the priests and the people, slaves and masters, buyers and sellers, lenders and borrowers, rich and poor. The earth will lie shattered and ruined. The Lord has spoken and it will be done.

The earth dries up and withers; the whole world grows weak; both earth and sky decay.

The people have defiled the earth by breaking God's laws.

So God has pronounced a curse on the earth. Its people are paying for what they have done. Fewer and fewer remain alive.

The grapevines wither, and wine is becoming scarce. Everyone who was once happy is now sad,

and the joyful music of their harps and drums has ceased.

There is no more happy singing over wine; no one enjoys its taste any more.

In the city everything is in chaos, and people lock themselves in their houses for safety.

People shout in the streets because there is no more wine. Happiness is gone forever; it has been banished from the land.

The city is in ruins, and its gates have been broken down.

As the little Jewish man's huge green parrot might say: Oy; we are so fucked.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

"What's done to children, they will do to society." -Karl A. Menninger

So stop fucking up with your kids, for God's sake.

In fact, if you have even the slightest sense that you're ill-equipped to respectfully, lovingly, intelligently guide a little soul to a healthy adulthood, DON'T PROCREATE.

Fuck all you want; good sex is good for you. (Yikes! Am I channeling Dr. Ruth?) Just please do what you must to prevent the introduction of sperm to egg. I beseech you.

There are thousands of other ways to feed your ego and make your mark in the world.

Monday, June 13, 2005

"Life is short. Be swift to love! Make haste to be kind!" -Henri Frederic Amiel

I've always had an open heart. The little girl who was admonished by my dad not to wear *it* on my sleeve. The woman who searched for love with a passion few men understood or could match, almost always ending up in the wrong place with the wrong guy, getting *it* broken a hundred times in a thousand different ways. (I started to write, "a thousand times in a million different ways," but that seemed a tad hyperbolic.)

I wish I could close *it* a little. I get tired of getting hurt, I grow weary of taking things to *it*; taking things personally, taking things seriously. I want to dump my expectations of love in the LA River, where there's no water for floating; my feelings would crack into so many smithereens, a natural transmutation into dust. And I could start again, with the wisdom of a woman who knows better than to give without the commensurate taking.

I could go on about this subject, but I have a creative meeting in about 30 minutes, at which I will, alas, give all of *it* again.