Speaking truth gently

Telling the truth has its many challenges. One of them is doing it while honoring the dignity and tenderness of others. I wrote an essay on truth, and one page of it addresses being gentle while being truthful. The page includes these two quotes:

“Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true.”–Robert Brault

“My mother used to say to me, ‘Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.’ For years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.” Elwood P. Dowd, in the film, Harvey.

If you would like to read my page on this theme, click HERE.

Enjoy the game today!

Speak gently whenever you can.

Hearts and flowers

My valentine!

E. B. White wrote: “I admired girls a lot, but they terrified me. I did not feel that I possessed the peculiar gifts or accomplishments that girls liked in their male companions—the ability to dance, to play football, to cut up a bit in public, to smoke, and to make small talk. I couldn’t do any of these things successfully, and seldom tried.”

He goes on in his essay, Afternoon of an American Boy,  to list the things he could do with confidence, but, as he said, none of these impressed the girls.

I share these characteristics with Mr. White. But young men are driven by a volatile cocktail of emotions and hormones that overcome such obstacles sooner or later. One finds what one seeks, obstacles notwithstanding. I found Yvette, and she found me.

As St. Valentine’s Day approaches I am moved to contemplate my Valentine of nearly 25 years, and to reflect on the richness that comes with relationships of long standing. Our relationship has been just what we both deserved, and I say that with the deepest affection. Both the tough parts and the sweet were just what we deserved, and just what we needed.

Thank you, dear Yvette, for blending your reality with mine for all these years. The pleasant far outweighs the rest.

I have the fascinating experience of watching several young people search for their valentine, and an acquaintance posted recently on Facebook, “Explain to me one more time the law of attraction?” There is always someone at the entrance to the tunnel of love, and it is good that it should be so.

I will offer a bit of advice to young men, both those who are searching and those who are in a relationship. The whole world is awash with messages that oversimplify womanhood and femininity. You have to reject those messages, and develop a nuanced view of women with all their mystery and complexity. I say ‘you have to.’ The cost of not doing so is borne by the woman, and I hope that is not what you want.

One of my preferred ways of doing this is to read books written by women about their own search for identity and self-esteem. Women who write about writing are particularly good at this. I recommend Natalie Goldberg’s Wild Mind, Living The Writer’s Life, and Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, Some Instructions on Writing and Life. You can also read Michelle’s wonderful blog, of course, which I mention frequently in this space.

Thanks again, Yvette, and thanks to all the women in my life who stoke the fire of my admiration. This list particularly includes Alice, Darla, Pita, Lin, Michelle, Carol, Cassandra, Jaime, Jeanne, Joey, and so many others.

Mental scarecrows

I can’t speak for other people, but the inside of my head is a messy place.

One of the lessons of the yoga mat comes via the examination of the minute-by-minute commentary that goes on almost all of the time in the yogi’s brain. This is too hard. That yogi over there is cute. I should be better at this by now. Yadda, yadda.

I take that awareness with me when I leave the studio. Yes, it fades in and out constantly, but when it is working I notice that I have planted a lot of scarecrows in my internal landscape.

They warn me to WATCH OUT! The wicked witch could be nearby.

One thing I have learned is that all the decisions I make that are motivated by scarecrows are weak and ineffective. Should I move, or stand still? Go left, or go right? No matter the choice, the results are mediocre.

I’m learning that effective action results only from a calm mind. The scarecrows must be turned into holiday décor so that life can go on.

Swami Yogananda said that a calm heart is not susceptible to fear at all. Imagine that.

Getting very, very quiet

Will Duncan

I know two people at Yoga Oasis who are signed up for a three-year-plus silent retreat that begins in the fall of 2010. They are Will Duncan and Bliss Rowland. I asked them if they would sit for an interview, and they both said yes. In preparation for the interview I set about learning what I could about this retreat.  A list of frequently asked questions is available HERE. You can browse the project’s web site to the extent your curiosity dictates.

If you prefer a video introduction, click HERE.

My first reaction to the material I found is that reading it has an effect much like visiting the dog pound, or a children’s hospital. You get touched in a really deep way, and you can’t stop yourself from caring much more than you thought you would when you parked your car out front. You want to take several dogs home, and you want to sit and read stories to the children, and offer them ice cream that you are happy to fetch and pay for yourself.

There are a number of blog entries posted on the site by the people who are going into the retreat. The posts answer the sort of questions you might have for people who have such a plan. The following quote comes from a post by Rebecca.

So here’s the deal—if it is true that the whole world is a reflection of your mind, then the best thing I could possibly do with my life would be to re-program my mind. A three-year retreat is like a massive reboot, where you replace all those selfish images you’ve spent your whole life accumlulating and replace them with nonstop thoughts of love, compassion, truth, and kindness. It’s just not possible to do that sort of work on your mind when you are surrounded by endless amounts of shiny lights, glossy magazines, and non-stop inundation of news about Mr. and Mrs. celebrity.  Because, quite frankly, it’s a lot more fun to go to a John Mayer concert, or  watch Avatar, or even just get a soy chai latte at my favorite Starbucks,  than it is to get in touch with what is really going on in that deep world, called the Mind.

If someone said to you, all the world is coming from you—all the war, the hunger, the violence, the ignorance, the poverty, and there is a chance in a million that you could stop it all by doing a three year retreat, wouldn’t you do it?

Will’s blog contains a short video instead of written text. A video was a good choice because it allows his sense of humor and humility to shine through. My main contact with Will was a series of eight workshops on meditation. He calls it Mind Lab 101. I found it very helpful, and I learned some useful things that helped my practice. I also learned that Will has no reluctance to admit what he doesn’t know.

So, essentially, the goal of long retreat is the same as the goal of a weekend getaway, it is to come back into the world refreshed and renewed. In long retreat, however, there is a possibility of permanent and deep transformation where one has touched such a depth that they can come back and be a lasting wellspring for others.—Will Duncan

This going into retreat is an expensive proposition. You build your own cabin (typically less than 600 square feet). It has to be good enough to get a county building permit, and you have to be able to live in it during Arizona’s heat and cold. You need food, and whatever else cannot be done without under these circumstances.

The web site invites donations, and this raises such interesting questions for me about my own priorities. I donate to the Red Cross, and the usual places.  I over-tip the good people who serve me, and who are underpaid (the ladies at Supercuts come to mind). Those are normal ways to be generous. This is a truly unusual cause. The teachers at the retreat describe the “pocket in the sky” that comes from having a close relationship with the universe. As Jesus said, the birds find their food each day, taking no thought for the morrow. The folks who retreat, however, need thousands of dollars. Getting the cash to support a retreat is really no different from a robin’s search for a worm—provided you have a pocket in the sky.

Is this kind of self-inquiry not the highest form of art, discovery, and exploration? Does Rebecca not have every intention of saving the world? In Will’s video he says that he surveyed the seemingly impossible challenges and decided to just go ahead and do it anyway.

I’m drawn to this. I want to put some sweat equity into this effort, and I sent Will an e-mail to that effect. This is better than sending Christopher Columbus to discover a new land. This is sending people forth to discover a new way of being. At least, it’s new to those of us, like me, who have not done it yet.

It’s news to me

A cloud visits Tucson, February 3, 2010

I turned on my windshield wipers today. In Tucson, that’s news. We share clouds here. Tucson clouds don’t cover more than one zip code at a time, so you have to wait your turn. I’ve seen clouds that covered the entire state of Oregon, but that is another story. This is clearly not Oregon.

Nephew David announced yesterday that he has a job. Times being what they are, that’s news. He was laid off at the end of December. David is a member of the California Bar, and has an undergraduate degree in business. He has worked in the United Kingdom, and interned for two elected officials. He took a job that has furloughs built into the schedule so they don’t have to pay him a full salary. The old days of doing things right and then having a fairly smooth shot at job security are not with us now.

Lin, and a big stack of her boxes, arrived—and her car. You know these deliveries always happen late at night. She brought televisions with her. We have two televisions per person now. Devin has a bigger screen than I do, but in terms of total square inches, I’m clearly the winner. He will never catch up now. That should be news to Devin.

People liked my Oscar post. That’s the cat, not the awards. Most of the replies came by e-mail. Thanks for the nice comments, friends.

Toyota now says it can fix my RAV4 so that I won’t be as likely to kill myself in it from uncontrolled acceleration. I just have to wait my turn. While the Toyota danger might be real, it is about as likely to happen as death from a lightning bolt, or being chosen to appear in a reality show. I’m not going to worry about it.

Richard Ruthsatz is the latest person to recommend Avatar to me. I really need to go see it.

News of coming events: Gloria Hester will be teaching two workshops in Rio Rico, Ariz. this month. You can get the details on her web site. The only class I have taken in restorative yoga was taught by Gloria, and it was wonderful. Dan Plumer will be hosting a showing of his photographs at Green Jewelers in the Tucson foothills on February 13. His photographs are extraordinary. I’ll be climbing “A” Mountain on March 6 with a large crowd of people supporting the American Cancer Society fundraiser. Join the fun if you would like some exercise, or if you are curious about the view from there, or if you want to support a great cause.

By the way, I read the headlines from the big-name papers today. I would stay away, and check with them tomorrow. It’s the same old stuff, and it won’t cheer you up.

Be well.

The cat’s pajamas

Oscar Ruthsatz (click to see him life size)

I like Oscar’s confident demeanor.  I’ve spent a little time with Oscar, and he is a take-charge guy. He walks on the kitchen counters. He knows it is against the house rules, but he ignores rules that don’t suit him.

He takes flying leaps at the patio screen door, digs in his claws, and hangs there until he decides he has seen what he wants to see. He has no regard for the tears in the screen.

I’ve largely quit walking on kitchen counters, figuratively speaking. I definitely don’t take soaring leaps against the screen door.

My dreams have begun speaking to me about this. Last night I dreamed that I left some public place and got on a bus. Then I remembered that my car was parked at the place I just left. Now bear in mind, this is all dream imagery. Why do I catch a bus when I have a car?

Then the scene changed, and I was looking for a place to stay in a resort area. I decided to look at the high-priced places just to see what they looked like. I assumed I would have to settle for less glamorous options. The supposedly deluxe accommodations were dives.

I had a dream years ago that I wanted to buy a particular house. It was big, and I loved it. The real estate agent saw that I was ready to buy, and he said, “You ought to see the guest house.” The guest house was bigger and grander than the primary house.

I take the guest house to be a metaphor for my real self. I make this careful bargain for something obvious, something logical. Then a voice says, you ought to see what comes with it. I take the guest house to be symbolic of what is available if I take the risk of being real. It’s bigger than anything I would have dared bargain for.

Many of my friends are taking the bus. We support each other in becoming open to remembering that our car is parked nearby, and that the guest house on the property we are bargaining for is bigger than anything we allow ourselves to consider.

Oscar has an animal wisdom. Oscar doesn’t get on the bus when he has the keys to his own car.

I send my best wishes to all my friends who, like me, sleep through their own possibilities. Let us encourage one another to walk on the counters, and to take flying leaps.

Thanks, Oscar, for setting a good example for us.

A lazy Sunday afternoon

Here's lookin' at you, kid.

I had three Golden Retriever photo shoots this weekend. This little guy is 12 weeks old. He’s a ball of fluff with feet sized for a considerably larger dog. He will grow into them. I’m counting all three sessions as successes.

We also had a big dinner last night to celebrate Lin’s arrival in Tucson.  The Jonilonis family were here. Jason is an executive chef, and he always assumes the role when they come for dinner. We are so fortunate! And the leftovers are something special!

I opened a Williams Selyem pinot noir that George and Jeanne gave us. It was surely a grand enough occasion to warrant a special bottle. Thanks, George and Jeanne! Devin and Pita brought a Ferrari-Carrano chardonnay. It was a remarkable meal. Jaime and Bill, you should have been here!

Lin will be here for a couple of weeks, and then she will return permanently in mid-March. Her Goldens, Danny and Joey, arrive about the same time.

In the old, old, days we only had one family tradition that I can remember, and it happened on Sunday afternoons. We would get the Sunday newspaper and some “fancy” (for those days) snacks, and talk to each other. Dad didn’t relax much, and on Sunday he was likely to make his only exception of the week.

If Dad had been here last night, hearing the sweet tributes from all present to one another, he would have been amazed. That wasn’t done in his day, in his family. He taught me well, however, and prepared me to do what he could not. He would have loved it last night.

In other news, I recently discovered that Netflix is now linked to Rotten Tomatoes. You can read reviews of a movie, then click a button and have the film added to your queue. Now, that’s clever!

One more thing of note. Michelle wrote “y’all” on Facebook the other day. Has she been spending too much time with me?

Y’all take care—and be well.

Back row: Cassandra, Yvette, Lin, Pita; front row Joey, Téa, Maureen.

The death knell for “whom”

The grim reaper finally gives "whom" its due.

I’m done with the word whom, and I have scholarly testimony that a lot of other people are too. Jack Lynch’s book, The Lexicographer’s Dilemma, The Evolution of ‘Proper’ English, from Shakespeare to South Park, arrived in my mail box yesterday.

Let’s just dispense some mercy for that title, and get on with what we can learn about a word that I have long considered a public nuisance.

He writes about whom, on page 273 (I skipped ahead): “A betting man should not place much money on the prospect of whom lasting out the twenty-first century. Already it’s common for who to appear in place of whom in newspapers, magazines, even presidential speeches. The highly educated themselves sometimes fall into errors, like Whom shall I say is calling?” He concludes, “Whom is doomed.”

By what impudence is this archaic word not spelled hoom, anyway? It was a wanton troublemaker from the start.

Mr. Lynch writes that whom has been with us for more than a thousand years. Ten centuries of persecution and annoyance directed at the pious and the sinful alike. Enough, I say. I will use the word henceforth only to flog it. I welcome all who join me in ridding the world of this pesky pronoun.

Arizona leads the nation in park closures

This is actually a city park, Himmel Park, in Tucson. It's pretty, isn't it?

The Seattle Times reported yesterday that Arizona, with plans to close 13 state parks, leads the nation in that dubious distinction.

The same newspaper reported that slightly more than half the drivers in Washington state voluntarily add five dollars to their car registration that is earmarked for park operations. It turns out that participation by half the car owners is almost enough to save the day for the state’s parks.

Arizona’s only claim to fame is rugged majesty awash with sunlight. Closing parks is like outlawing cheesecake and pastrami in New York, or the Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

Maybe we could ask the bell ringers who collect charity offerings at Christmas to work year-round on behalf of Arizona’s future. I’ll throw coins in the pot from time to time. If half of us care enough about the state to do that, we might be able to save it.

I welcome your thoughts.

This Just In! approaches 10,000 visits

The ever-so-modest TJI Muse blushed upon hearing the news.

The turnstile at WordPress that counts visits to This Just In! is wending its way to 10,000. The biggest single day was 190 hits. The count this morning is 9,287. I have no idea what this means, if anything. WordPress keeps track of the number of visits to specific articles, but it doesn’t show who browsed others once they got here.

I know that one of the most popular posts is Do you stir your peanut butter? I was surprised by its popularity.

Audience size may appeal to my vanity to some degree, but I don’t strive for big numbers. If I did, I would probably specialize in peanut butter, then grow slowly into other nut butters, and finally move into jams and preserves. Not even for fame will I narrow my focus to spreadable food.

I do have this idealistic notion about the value of connecting through blogs. Blogs are a form of network, and networks create resilience in a group of people. A blog network can also spread messages and provoke dialog around the topics contained in those messages. The interactive quality of blogs is one of their strengths and one of their virtues. At their best, blogs, and blog networks, help build community.

On a more basic level, I hope the young people in my life read some of these pieces. We have way too little opportunity to talk, and I would be pleased if some of my thoughts posted here say something to them. I have received some lovely comments from friends and family, so I know the blog is serving its purpose to some extent.

For my part, I post because: A. It is fun. B. I get to practice writing. C. It scares me. D. I can occasionally use it to do nice things for my friends, and E. Michelle blogs, and I want to be like her.

When the hit counter actually passes 10K I’m going to invite Michelle to lunch. Where would you like to go, Michelle?