Tuesday, October 27, 2009
back on the horse
Some of you who have followed my story here and on my previous blogs know that I've struggled with injuries this summer and fall.
Every runner knows many theories are out there to explain injuries.(just google knee pain associated with running and watch what happens!) One is that running over-uses certain muscles in relation to others, and the resulting weakness in "collateral" muscles puts too much strain on the major muscles used in running.
Of course, running your foot into a very unyielding bedpost will also cause problems!
In a nutshell, sometime in June, I developed severe pain in my left knee which kept me from running much at all. And just when I thought I had rested it enough, I managed to break the little toe in my left foot. That in combination with waiting for a diagnosis and then treatment of the left knee, basically put a kibosh on my running life over the last 5 months.
Now that all that is over (I do sincerely hope!), I have to wrap my mind around getting back out there, getting my conditioning back, putting my training back on track.
Everybody faces this at some point: getting over the fear, making the decision, finding the right approach, and just getting started again.
I have gained at least 10 lbs. I'm afraid of pain. I notice definite weakness in the left leg. And mentally, I'm afraid that I'm a perfectionist: it's all or nothing. Realistically I know I have to back up and start small. But how much smaller is enough/too much?
Yeah, am I over-analyzing this, or what? It's just easier to worry than it is to get out there and do it.
phone
I received this email and found it very moving. Like many of these things, it has probably been circulating for a while, but I would love to know who the author is. If you can help, let me know. In the meantime, if you haven't read this story, enjoy:
THE OLD PHONE
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was 'Information Please' and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.
My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my Mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.
I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing climbing up. I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.
"Information, please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"I hurt my finger," I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.
I said I could.
"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.
After that, I called 'Information Please' for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, 'Information Please,' and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled.
I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring Joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in..."
Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
"Information," said in the now familiar voice.
"How do I spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend very much. 'Information Please' belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.
As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy...
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown Operator and said, 'Information Please.'
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
"Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause.
Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you."
I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?''
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered: "Information."
I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she asked.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago..."
Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you. The note said, 'Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean.'"
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.
Whose life have you touched today?
Why not pass this on? I just did....
Lifting you on eagle's wings,
May you find the joy and peace you long for.
Life is a journey ... NOT a guided tour.
So don't miss the ride and have a great time going around.
You don't get a second shot at it.
I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy it and get a blessing from it just as I did.
THE OLD PHONE
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was 'Information Please' and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.
My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my Mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.
I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing climbing up. I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.
"Information, please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"I hurt my finger," I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.
I said I could.
"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.
After that, I called 'Information Please' for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, 'Information Please,' and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled.
I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring Joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in..."
Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
"Information," said in the now familiar voice.
"How do I spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend very much. 'Information Please' belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.
As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy...
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown Operator and said, 'Information Please.'
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
"Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause.
Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you."
I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?''
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered: "Information."
I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she asked.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago..."
Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you. The note said, 'Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean.'"
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.
Whose life have you touched today?
Why not pass this on? I just did....
Lifting you on eagle's wings,
May you find the joy and peace you long for.
Life is a journey ... NOT a guided tour.
So don't miss the ride and have a great time going around.
You don't get a second shot at it.
I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy it and get a blessing from it just as I did.
Monday, October 26, 2009
energy
endod, or 'soap berry ' plant, well known to traditional healers, is being studied as a natural control of the fresh-water mollusks, mollusks which spread the parasitic disease schistosomiasis, found in many parts of Africa
The philosophical approach of holistic health has always been one that made more sense to me.
To be clear, while my paying job is in the field of conventional medicine, I have often felt conflicted or dissatisfied with the limits of conventional medicine, not because I think it is not effective, but because I think in most settings I've seen at least, its approach, or focus, is limited.
I've often pondered why it seems limited.
The best explanation I can give is that it is directed by doctors; ie its power structure is a top-down one with the pharmaceutical/surgical and other such 'scientific' options for diagnosis and treatment being accepted as the viewpoint that directs health care.
That in itself is contradictory, because doctors are rarely involved in true 'health' care, ie, helping healthy people stay healthy. They are actually most often and most profitably employed in diagnosing and treating illness.
However, so often health problems an individual has cannot be diagnosed or treated from the mechanistic/objective scientific perspective of the doctors. A more global approach would discover that the individual's physical complaints are minor symptoms only of a larger spiritual/emotional/energetic dysfunction.
Any nurse will tell you that certain personalities seem to go with the certain ailments that we see on a regular basis. Obviously, we would be hard pressed to say which came first, the chicken or the egg, but I'll say it here: we do roll our eyes if we hear an individual with certain diagnoses will be in our care, knowing we will have a very predictable set of difficult/unhealthy behaviors to contend with as well.
So, I ask myself, knowing as much as we do about the physiological responses to certain states of mind (eg. stress releases certain stress hormones which have profound physical effects on the body), should there not be more study of the mind/emotions/spirit/energy fields of human beings and should the emphasis not shift from the medical/mechanical model to one that encompasses more alternative approaches?
There seems to exist no way for an individual to find health care without shopping piece-meal for alternative therapies and/or choosing to enter our present health care system as it is now, driven by the medical/scientific approach, ie with a medical doctor as pretty much the only gateway.
I'd love to know more about places where the more global/holistic attitude and philosophy are used to deliver health care!
random relatedness:
music and healing ceremonies of the Zar traditions of Ethiopia and Sudan, Pacific Review of Ethnomusicology, UCLA
Zar cults of Ethipia and SudanPriestess, mother, sacred sister: religions dominated by women,by Susan Starr Sered
Impacts of Urbanisation on the Traditional Medicine of Ethiopia, by
Wondwosen Teshome-Bahiru,
Anthropologist, 8(1): 43-52 (2005)
The Role of indigenous Medicinal Plants in Ethiopian Health Care, Fekkadu Fullas, Holler Africa
The impact of objects and landscape on psychological health in the immigrant experience, Salman Akhtar on TVO.ORG/Video/Big Ideas
"Can Aboriginal Traditional Knowledge Survive in the Modern World?" Leanne Simpson on TVO.ORG/Video/Big Ideas
How the medical and legal systems are failing in the so-called war on drugs, Gabor Mate on TVO.ORG/Video/Big Ideas
The Hundred Year Lie, How to Protect Yourself from the Chemicals that Are Destroying Your Health, by Randall Fitzgerald
The Path of Practice: A Woman's Book of Ayurvedic Healing, by Bri Maya Tiwari
Spontaneous Healing: How to Discover and Enhance Your Body's Natural Ability to Maintain and Heal Itself, by Dr. Andrew Weil
Why People Don't Heal and How They Can, by Caroline M. Myss
Rules for Getting Well and Staying Well, a simple list
Are You Getting Enlightened Or Losing Your Mind?: How To Master Everyday And Extraordinary Spiritual Experiences, by Dennis Gersten
HealthyOntario, our provincial government site which provides information on conventional medicine and services for Ontarians
Listings Canada: Ontario: Health: Alternative
dangerous?
Back of the Pack: The rewards and risks of extreme exercise, cbc news
Is Running Marathons dangerous?
Running Cardiologist Expert Paul Thompson, M.D., Comments on Marathon Deaths at Runner's World
Are Marathons Safe? , article at the NYTimes
Is Running Marathons dangerous?
Running Cardiologist Expert Paul Thompson, M.D., Comments on Marathon Deaths at Runner's World
Are Marathons Safe? , article at the NYTimes
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
moral hazards
Do starving Africans a favour...
Aid only feeds Africa's corruption
The limits of humanitarian aid intervention: genocide in Rwanda, the book by A. J. Kuperman
Moral hazard in humanitarian aid, Alan J. Kuperman
Foreign aid is bad: read the Munk debate
Aid only feeds Africa's corruption
The limits of humanitarian aid intervention: genocide in Rwanda, the book by A. J. Kuperman
Moral hazard in humanitarian aid, Alan J. Kuperman
Foreign aid is bad: read the Munk debate
asmari
Asmari: singers in Ethiopia who are renowned for their creative lyrics. They may sing praise songs about patrons of the asmari-bet, or bar, who are expected to pay the singer a generous tip. Or the asmari's song may be a joke, full of double-entendres about the patrons, the government or issues of the day. Being the topic of the song for a ferengi can only be guessed at if one picks out the reference to ferengi or inglesi or americawi...and much hilarity ensues.
Masinko: Ethiopias traditional one-string violin, made of wood and animal skin. Its sound is so particular, so unique, once you hear it, you will never forget it.
Masinko: Ethiopias traditional one-string violin, made of wood and animal skin. Its sound is so particular, so unique, once you hear it, you will never forget it.
joy jump
So I still struggle to pick out an Amharic word here and there, but it doesn't matter. This music makes me want to jump for joy.
Anybody who can translate the words for me, please contact me!
Anybody who can translate the words for me, please contact me!
childhood dreams
This has been knocking around talk shows, inspirational networks and the internet for ages. Just look at the number of people who have viewed this on You Tube! However, it's just plain fun and refreshing to hear someone talking about childhood dreams.
One of the things that really made me smile was the thought that at some point in your life, you realize you are not going to achieve some of your childhood dreams. But it will be enough just to stand near somebody who has.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
hunger
CBC News - World - Ethiopia appeals for urgent food aid
BBC News - Hunger stalks Ethiopia again
BBC News - Ethiopia asks for urgent food aid
BBC Focus On Africa Magazine - climate change and loss of forests: Once upon a time, Africa boasted seven million square kilometres of forest but a third of that has been lost - most of it to charcoal
BBC News - Hunger stalks Ethiopia again
BBC News - Ethiopia asks for urgent food aid
BBC Focus On Africa Magazine - climate change and loss of forests: Once upon a time, Africa boasted seven million square kilometres of forest but a third of that has been lost - most of it to charcoal
taking stock
I love making lists. I love paper. I love sorting things.
But I get distracted. Unless I'm very, very clear before I start making my lists, I can so enjoy the process that I get quite lost. I get lost in the lists themselves, making lists of lists. I get lost in the things I'm sorting, wandering off to wherever the things take me.
Take the process of taking stock of my fridge, for example.
Yesterday, I started thinking that cleaning out my fridge was long over-due, but before I could do anything, I needed to eat something like breakfast. Knowing I had only one lovely purple plum in the way of fruit, besides the cranberries (and I don't know what I plan to do with them!), I realized I'd have to get some groceries, just to eat breakfast, otherwise I would be too faint to do anything.
That meant I'd have to get dressed and that would require a shower so I'd be presentable out there in public...Oh, tried a few deep-knee bends and squats first. My balance is just a little off because of the broken toe I had on the left foot. If I concentrate, my balance is nearly 100%. However, my left knee is still a little swollen from the arthroscopic surgery last week. Maybe it's only the tapes on the skin limiting my range of motion; notice ugly grating noise in right knee. Sigh.
Seems I'm working backwards, doesn't it?
Without any organization, I ran off to the grocery store, buying some things I generally like for breakfast, trying not to get carried away, reminding myself that going crazy would only be wasteful if these foodstuffs were left to spoil while I was away in New York City and then British Columbia over the next couple of weeks...
The cab driver, whom I've gotten to know, very kindly carried my groceries up the stairs right to my door.
Home again, I realized that to make room, I should discard whatever containers of left-overs were still lingering from Thanksgiving. Besides, I know I'm not going to be able to face even a wee snack of anything from Thanksgiving anymore, even if it's fine because it's frozen...
Then, after I put most of the perishable groceries away, I took a little time to eat that very-belated breakfast. Yup, as you might imagine, I was feeling faint by this time. Ahh, but I enjoyd my coffee and I had a new running magazine to mull over with CBC radio in the background.
Then, I started cleaning up the kitchen, washing those containers from Thanksgiving. But not before I realized that the tea towels in the kitchen needed to be replaced with clean ones. So then I sorted out all of the laundry that needs doing (I'll get the laundry done tomorrow)...before wandering back to the kitchen to finish washing the dishes.
While putting dishes away, I remembered my vitamins: a multivitamin, glucosamine, vitamin B6 and B12, cod-liver oil capsules, and an herbal combo to alleviate the symptoms of menopause. Should I re-examine what I'm taking, I wondered?
Then I watered my house plants,
fussed that the plants I brought indoors from their summer places in pots out on the steps are still willy-nilly in baskets and need to be sorted out and potted up for the winter, and the plants that will go in the garden need to go in soon. Should I get some bulbs too? Is it too late, or would the squirrels just dig them all up? How am I going to handle carrying around heavy soil or digging anything right now? Fall will soon be winter and I can't catch up.
I potted up the amaryllis bulb I bought while out grocery shopping.
I noticed the water in the vase of fall flowers on my coffee table is getting rather thick! Hmmmnn...decide to deal with some of this later.Must check my emails. Reply to most pressing ones, make dates to meet friends over the next few days and enter those in calendar. Remember that the insert in the running magazine has directions for the supporters (that would be me and Jim on this trip) on how to get to various points along the race route in New York City (make note to take this along this evening and share with Jim and the rest of my running gang.)
Then I went back to what my intentions had been at the beginning, to take stock of my fridge. Taking stock of my fridge was supposed to fit in with making meal plans to improve my nutrition and dove-tail with a nenewed regimen to get my fitness back on track, a regimen that somehow takes into account my responsibilities at my paying job, as well as allowing me to make time to continue my studies, spend time with my family and to have a social life.
I realized that this is all part of the process I had hoped to begin here, to describe how I'm taking steps to get my life back on track, to set new goals and priorities, to follow through on some of my prior plans...and it seems I'm simply tossing some new balls into the air, dropping others, trying to juggle things much as I've always done, in circuitous fits and starts which bear no resemblance to organization! I told you it was going to get ugly!
Ah! But as I finished this note, the sun peeked out of the grey sky and started playing with the yellow, gold and ruby leaves outside my window. It was as if the leaves and the sun were smiling at each other. The branches waved and danced, and leaves twirled down to carpet the pavement.
And I thought to myself, yesterday I did accomplish something, after all. It might not be perfect, but that's all right. Sometimes, it is in lingering over mundane tasks that one's interior life has the time to get clearer, mellow, ripen. The sun agrees with me. It came out again to bestow a positively beaming smile upon the leaves. And the leaves are nodding, dancing.
random relatedness:
Taking stock of Canada's worst peacetime maritime disaster
A list: 33 things that make us crazy
43 things, dream it, list it, do it
Ontario Fall Colour report
Ain't No Sunshine, Bill Withers on You Tube
Un rayon de soleil, William Baldé on You Tube
Cité Soleil, an indictment of the misrepresentations of the news by mainstream media
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
change
Any season can be the beginning of change. Autumn seems especially poignant as the leaves intensify in their fiery colours and one seems to feel the urge to "rage against the dying of the light."
I've mentioned that I have felt a shifting in my life. It's troublesome. It leaves me feeling lonely, unsettled, unmoored. I feel the need to take stock: unfinished business, unfinished projects, goals yet to meet. I feel the need to sift through my "stuff", literally and metaphoretically, to discard what I no longer need, to organize what I intend to take with me as my life moves forward. And I feel the need to re-focus, to refine my goals and make plans.
In other places, I mentioned that I've made some decisions. I've yet to make others. Balance is such a difficult place to find. Is it on a map somewhere?
I got a birthday card from a dear friend which helped to lift me from a potential slide into serious depression. I was in danger of believing my own bad press (beware of the rantings of your ego!). I was in danger of believing that unless I had achieved certain kinds of material wealth, status, physical exploits, sign posts in my career, I had failed. However, this birthday card was still sitting up on my dresser. My birthday was a whole month ago.
First, I admired the coincidence that several birthday cards all seemed to be of the same colour, a soft green which matched the decor of my bedroom. I wondered if my family and friends had been a particularly green mood when they bought my birthday cards or if thinking of me made them think of green?
Okay, no more dithering. Here's what the card said:
If you believe
that each of us
was designed by God
for a specific reason,
then you know
there's no such thing
as an ordinary person.
So happy birthday, extraordinary person.
Don't ever forget how truly unique,
how essential, how important
you are.
I know I won't.
The other thing that came into my mind then was the dictum: write what you know.
Well, writing what I know might be rather ugly, I thought. I've met some pretty 'interesting' people lately and they might not appreciate what I write about them! Ah, and then I remembered that I also learned a lot about myself in meeting these people. And whom do I know better than the person I see in the mirror each day. I have no idea really what motivates those people I've met recently, some of whom pissed me off! But I know a little bit about what motivates me, sigh.
So, for what it's worth, I offer you here a sort-of running chronicle of my attempts (again!) to get my life on track and to reach for some of the things that get me jazzed up about life. It might be a rough ride, but it is what it is. And as my running pals would say, it's all good.
random relatedness:
Annie Dillard's official website, author of The Writing Life amongst much more
Biology Unmoored, ethnographic research on a worldview that is not reliant on biophysiological reproduction
Browze Inside...The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard
Coming Unmoored -- redesigning a life in a tiny floating home
The Writing Life II, a blog about writing
Unmoored -- info on the groove-, later death-metal band from Sweden
I've mentioned that I have felt a shifting in my life. It's troublesome. It leaves me feeling lonely, unsettled, unmoored. I feel the need to take stock: unfinished business, unfinished projects, goals yet to meet. I feel the need to sift through my "stuff", literally and metaphoretically, to discard what I no longer need, to organize what I intend to take with me as my life moves forward. And I feel the need to re-focus, to refine my goals and make plans.
In other places, I mentioned that I've made some decisions. I've yet to make others. Balance is such a difficult place to find. Is it on a map somewhere?
I got a birthday card from a dear friend which helped to lift me from a potential slide into serious depression. I was in danger of believing my own bad press (beware of the rantings of your ego!). I was in danger of believing that unless I had achieved certain kinds of material wealth, status, physical exploits, sign posts in my career, I had failed. However, this birthday card was still sitting up on my dresser. My birthday was a whole month ago.
First, I admired the coincidence that several birthday cards all seemed to be of the same colour, a soft green which matched the decor of my bedroom. I wondered if my family and friends had been a particularly green mood when they bought my birthday cards or if thinking of me made them think of green?
Okay, no more dithering. Here's what the card said:
If you believe
that each of us
was designed by God
for a specific reason,
then you know
there's no such thing
as an ordinary person.
So happy birthday, extraordinary person.
Don't ever forget how truly unique,
how essential, how important
you are.
I know I won't.
The other thing that came into my mind then was the dictum: write what you know.
Well, writing what I know might be rather ugly, I thought. I've met some pretty 'interesting' people lately and they might not appreciate what I write about them! Ah, and then I remembered that I also learned a lot about myself in meeting these people. And whom do I know better than the person I see in the mirror each day. I have no idea really what motivates those people I've met recently, some of whom pissed me off! But I know a little bit about what motivates me, sigh.
So, for what it's worth, I offer you here a sort-of running chronicle of my attempts (again!) to get my life on track and to reach for some of the things that get me jazzed up about life. It might be a rough ride, but it is what it is. And as my running pals would say, it's all good.
random relatedness:
Annie Dillard's official website, author of The Writing Life amongst much more
Biology Unmoored, ethnographic research on a worldview that is not reliant on biophysiological reproduction
Browze Inside...The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard
Coming Unmoored -- redesigning a life in a tiny floating home
The Writing Life II, a blog about writing
Unmoored -- info on the groove-, later death-metal band from Sweden
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