Common Courtesy

I started this post earlier in the week, but it got ranty and you-kids-get-off-my-lawn pretty fast, so I stepped back and am trying again.

The simple fact is this: the title of this post is an oxymoron. Common courtesy is uncommon, largely because we exist in our own little bubble and don't bother to look up from our screens long enough to recognize how we are impacting those around us.

From the person who lets the door slam in your face when you are coming in right behind them to the guy who leans his seat all the way back for seven hours on a transatlantic flight (during the day, including dinner service) to the person who takes up two parking spaces in a crowded lot. From the weird practice of walking around in a grocery store listening to (bad) music...without head phones...to the neighbor who decides to hang some pictures at 7:30 on a Sunday morning.

To everyone reading this or picking up the common vibrations of these words I say this: practice a little courtesy today. Before you get ready to do something, think for a moment about how it might impact the people around you. Not in a cosmic, climate-changing, evolutionary way. In a very simple, right-here-right-now way. Put down your cell phone and engage with the world around you. Say please and thank you. Hold the door for someone. Let old people go first. Let mothers with children go first. Pick up something someone dropped. Put your dishes away after you eat.

It is ridiculously easy to do something nice. You don't even have to go out of your way or be inconvenienced. Let's take approximately zero seconds out of our day today (or this weekend if you can't spare zero seconds) to offer up a little courtesy to someone.

As Garrison Keillor says as he closes his show The Writer's Almanac: "Be well, do good work, and stay in touch."

As a common courtesy and to spread the love, please share this post on your various social networks. Maybe we can get something started today.

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Everyday Miracles

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”

—Thich Nhat Hanh, from The Miracle of Mindfulness

Happy Thanksgiving.

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Gratitude On A Friday Morning

I am writing this on Friday before we leave for NYC, but because I have promised to publish one blog post every day for the entire month of November, I am writing this before we get home from NYC and the TEDYouth conference.

I felt compelled to take a moment today, before we leave on yet another amazing opportunity for both of us, to express my gratitude. I was sitting at the table this morning, reacting to some very distressing news about a former softball coach, and I had a moment of clarity that was overwhelming. For a brief moment, that one that we all want to hold on to for as long as we can, my heart was full of gratitude.

Gratitude for family and friends who have supported us in so many ways.

Gratitude for the opportunities that have come our way.

Deep and abiding gratitude for all of the teachers who have been in both of our lives, the good and the bad, the ones who were actually teachers and the ones who just taught us lessons.

Gratitude for the interwebs in all of their crazy glory, for bringing people into our lives that we may never have met otherwise.

Gratitude for the relationship that I have with my child and the amazing person she is becoming.

Gratitude for our ability to grow and change. I hope we never get stagnant and are always open to saying "yes."

The list could go on for miles this morning, but I actually am not quite packed and that is anxiety-producing for me. It was important that I write this before we started off today, and scheduled it to post for Sunday, just in case things get crazy and I can't quite get myself together.

I hope you all had a beautiful weekend.

Just This Poem

Just this poem for you today, this beautiful, simple poem that has poked me right in my jelly-soft center this morning. Just this poem today.

Epitaph

When I die
Give what's left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.

I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.

Look for me
In the people I've known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on your eyes
And not on your mind.

You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting
Bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.

Love doesn't die,
People do.
So, when all that's left of me
Is love,
Give me away

Merrit Malloy

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The Most Important Things: Of Love and Rehab

I can't find my knives.

We are unpacked in our temporary rental, closing on the rehab this Friday, and I am ready to start cooking. But I can't find my knives. So tonight's dinner (chicken, roasted veg, and smashed potatoes) was prepared with an old steak knife. Knife cuts don't matter for any of these foods, so it should all work out just fine.

In the meantime, our first cooking blog entry looks like it is going to be bubble tea. I know, weird.

So because it's odd, I am also going to mix up a big batch of gluten-free flour and make some chocolate chip cookies. It's like I am getting ready to go and just waiting at the same time.

Only it doesn't feel like waiting. It feels like two other things simultaneously: living right now and taking advantage of what's happening in the universe.

Fact: I love what I do for a living. Sure, I need more projects to make it really profitable, but we have had a few things going on, and still have a few things going on. So for now it is at the sustainable level and allows me to make our transitions as seamless as possible. It strikes me that with all of this time and flexibility I may be vacuum parenting right now (sweeping all obstacles out of Sicily's way), but I don't care. I want her to focus on school, not whether or not we will have a place to live. If what I do allows me to take some pressure off and maybe clean the house or scoop out the kitty litter more than she does, at this point it's okay.

Fact: I love that I found this place for us and we have moved in. It's my first place since Dane died, and Sicily and I moved us in by ourselves. While that sucked a little, it showed Sicily that she can really do whatever needs to be done. And we will for sure be manipulating our next move date so that we have lots of help (because, for those of you we will be recruiting, and you know who you are, it is going to be a bear). But for now, we have set up a comfortable temporary home and have settled in nicely in just two days. Even with internet.

Fact: I am more grateful than ever for what I have. This does not include things at all. My support system of friends and family, a sunny sky when we moved, an awesome landlord, a great kid: these are the things that matter.

Today I meet another contractor at the house. My brother is meeting me there, too, so it's a family affair. Which is amazing because it feels like I am following through with the main lesson I learned in the wake of Dane's death: keeping the most important thing the most important thing. And with that all things are possible.

10 Things I Am Grateful For On 10/10

Although I am not a fan of the listicle, per say, today seems like a good day to pause, reflect, and express some gratitude. Here, in no particular order, are 10 things and people I am grateful for on 10/10:

1. Kerry and Mark Langkammerer and their kids (who shall remain nameless just in case Kerry and Mark are keeping their internet shadow dim). We have invaded their house for the past SEVEN WEEKS, adding two people and a dog to the mix of four people and two pre-existing dogs. Yikes. They seriously deserve a medal.

2. Yoga. I have started again after finding a local studio, and I can already feel the effects.

3. My mom. There are so many things I could list here, but I am just grateful that she is around.

4. Sicily. Her teenager has been showing a bit these days, but 95% of the time she is an awesome kid and a stellar human being. Things could have gone in a totally different direction after Dane died, but she is going about the business of grieving and becoming herself with such general aplomb that I cannot help but admire her.

5. Laura Lavoie. She is the writer behind Life In 120 Square Feet, and she is responsible for putting my name in the hat for the writing job that got me started as a professional freelancer. It was the boost I needed to get going and gain some confidence.

6. The flexibility of life. I have somehow managed to reconstruct a life after death that allows me to be flexible and schedule my own days. I can docent at AVAM, do yoga in the middle of the day, write when I like, and hang out with Sicily. I don't need to take vacation time from my job because I can work ahead and still get paid. I am my own boss. Granted, the boss could use a raise, but that will come with time. The flexibility is worth it.

7. Baltimore. Odd to be grateful for a city, totally, but I am so glad to be back that it is ridiculous. The Orioles are on fire, and the city feels like home.  Not everything is perfect, and it is still the honeymoon period, I suppose, but there is so much possibility laid out in front of us it is hard not to feel gratitude.

8. That we are so privileged and that there is opportunity in front of us. With so much tragedy and strife all over the world, I feel even more grateful for the "simple" things we have: freedom of speech (even for assholes. It's cumbersome but part of the package), clean running water, education, healthy food, electricity, supportive friends and family. Imagine what the rest of the world would be like if these things were a given for everyone.

9. A sense of humor. I am glad I can still laugh at things. Maybe it's a bit morbid at times, but it's there. That has helped tremendously. When nothing's funny, time's up.

10. Dane's family in Washington. I love knowing that they are there, and that they will always be a part of our lives. We waited too long to really get to know each other, but I am glad we are making time together a priority. Hopefully they will be our first house guests in the rehab in spring 2015!

What are you grateful for? Quick, make a list and tell me in the comments. 

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Donate To Good Causes Day

So today is Donate to Good Causes Day.

I TOTALLY just made that up.

But for me, that's today.

I don't have a ton of cash lying around, and, in fact, now more than ever we need to save our pennies. But I have found that for me, whenever I am feeling low or broke or especially trod upon, giving until it almost hurts - time, money, or love - is the way out of those feelings.

Even if I am not feeling any of those things at a particular time, here's a secret: giving feels good. And I like to feel good.

So here's today's recipients:

John Muir Goes to IslandWood: My wonderful friend Julie Trout teaches art at this school, and every year their 4th and 5th grade goes to IslandWood for three days of experiential education. This school is low-income, and many students cannot afford to go, the same students who desperately need to go and see life outside of the small bubble of poverty they are in. I believe strongly in experiential education and equal opportunity, so some dollars went to this on Donate To Good Causes Day.

Nerdy Baby: The Human Infant Project Kickstarter: Another friend, Tiffany Ard, has managed to bring together art and science to create  possibly the best baby products ever. This Kickstarter is working to fund a larger printing of her baby book, The Human Infant Project, a book that I would buy tons of if I had an infant or knew anyone who had an infant.  Dollars went to this, too

So here's the kicker: crowdfunding only works if a crowd gets involved. Many people still believe that it is one or two folks giving tons of cash, but it's not. It's tons of folks giving little cash. You don't need to give a lot, and it doesn't take a lot of time to do. If these two projects aren't up your alley, then find one that is and give them five bucks.

Spread some love today...

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It's A Sign

From my Free Will Astrology horoscope for this week:

"There is a proverb from the American culture of the 21st century that I'd like to run by you: 'Never reveal all you know, confess everything you feel, show how much you care, or give all you have.'

Prove this proverb wrong. Cultivate power by revealing all you know, confessing everything you feel, showing how much you care, and giving all you have."

I have been sick of hearing my own voice in my head for the past week. Sick of writing about the drama of the move, the lack of housing, woe-is-me diatribes that are getting old, quick. When someone comments, "What happened now?" on a random Facebook post, that is a clear sign from the universe that pretty much everyone else is done with it also.

So it is odd to see this horoscope today. Not that I make all of my decisions based on astrology, or even most of them, or even any appreciable fraction of them, but on occasion I will experiment and use this particular horoscope site to guide me. Just because sometimes it feels good to not have to make the decisions All. Of. The. Time. To have a break.

This is probably the same thing that religious people do when they say, "Let go and let God," but I am not there by a long stretch. I prefer my voodoo to be inclusive and not the reason for mass slaughter throughout history, which is why organized religion and I are not friends. So when I look for guidance outside of myself, I see what Rob Breszny has to say first. Sometimes I ask a question and open a book with my eyes closed and point to a sentence in the book and treat that sentence as the answer. Or sometimes I use random tweets or instagrams or reblogs as a "sign" of sorts. Anything to avoid, even briefly, making another decision that could possibly be the wrong one. Or making a decision, period.

That being said, all signs are pointing in one direction. I think the time has come to move outward. Every time I think of my own issues these days, I think in my head, "Is this ebola-level bad? Or Gaza Strip-level horrific? Or shot in the street because of the color of your skin and an enduring history of racism that has been swept under the rug-level heinous? " It's perspective. Always helpful. It's time to re-visit the cultivation of gratitude, like the 100 Happy Days project. It's time to give more than I have been receiving, in a tangible way.

I don't know what this means yet, but I am working towards something bigger and more than what's happening in my tiny little life now. I think I am ready.

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If Wishes Were Candy..And The River Was Whisky

I am tired.

I am sore.

I am grateful for rain, M&Ms, my kid, and people who will take me in even when I am an asshole (thanks, Mom).

I would like to wake up in my own bed (which no longer technically exists, as I gave it away before we moved), in my own house.

I am grateful for steady writing assignments and dogs that sleep on the bed and love you SO MUCH when you wake up.

I would like to be done with this quest. I would like to no longer be on this path, or at least I would like to step off for a few moments and just be light and free. It is wearing, to have the steady hum of missing a person and reforming a life without them be the background white noise to your entire life, but not really knowing it until something quiets just enough to hear the hum. I wish I could quiet that hum.

I am grateful that I live in a place where I get to wish for that. If wishes were candy...and the river was whisky...

If the river was whiskey and I was a duck

I'd dive to the bottom and I'd never come up

Oh, tell me how long have I got to wait?

Oh, can I get you now, must I hesitate?

I am also grateful that I am not a black man in this country, but that's a whole other blog and so heart-wrenching and awful to me right now that I cannot even give it too much space in my head for fear that it will take me to a really bad place. It's hard enough to take small sips of the violence in Gaza and the poverty in the world without having to think about how little has really changed in the minds and hearts of the U.S. since Jim Crow.

But I digress.

I should go to sleep now. I should eat less chocolate so I can actually do that.

Tomorrow, I will worry less. I will breathe more.

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The New Black

I spent 60 seconds upside-down yesterday.

In a handstand.

Away from the wall.

The yoga teacher instructed us to fearlessly and courageously set ourselves up. I did, and on the second kick, up I went. I was so shocked I almost fell over.

For some of you, this is no big deal. You may spend the vast majority of your life, fearlessly and courageously upside-down. Maybe a handstand is no big deal.

For me, it's huge.

Like the first time I did crow pose, which seems easy but was not for me, this handstand (and the one after it. Had to make sure it wasn't a fluke) represents faith and trust in myself and my ability to support myself. It required a willingness to go into it whole-heartedly. It required belief.

In the end, it was almost accidental. Which seems to be the story of all of the changes that are happening in my life over the past year and a half.

Courage and fearlessness. It's the new black.

Image by Nishanth Jois via Flickr

Gratitude

How callous would it be to be grateful in the wake of the death of one's husband?

If 14 months and 15 days can still be considered "the wake." What is the statute of limitations on that term?

Digression. As usual.

A wave of gratitude washed over me on the way home from yoga last night. It was the TGIF class, a class I had only taken once before, and last night it was filled with two women who talked in the middle of instruction, a dude who came in 20 minutes late, and a woman who came straight from work and was still in a houndstooth sweater and pearls. The two chatty women and the late man "reserved" the back (my normal spot), a practice I hate, so I unrolled my mat in the front and listened to the pouring rain by the open window as I waited for class to start. By the end, I was sweating like a hog, feeling pretty dizzy and thoroughly refreshed.

Driving home through rain-scoured streets, I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for everything good in my life, followed quickly by the image of a fairy dancing on a  soap bubble (seriously. This was so vivid in my head I thought maybe  was hallucinating from yoga still). The goodness in life is so fragile and fleeting, like a soap bubble that would pop and send the fairy tumbling.

Thankfully, the badness in life, although ever-present and wretchedly, disastrously horrible, can also be fleeting (if not particularly fragile. It's the difference between an anvil and dandelion fluff, bad stuff v. good stuff, in their physical makeup. I find that to be bullshit.). This death is a bit of a hang around (New Orleanian term for "hangover"), but stupidly the phrase "this too shall pass" generally applies. To good stuff, too, unfortunately.

So it's a delicate balance for me, driving home from yoga, feeling the beautiful sensation of gratitude while at the same time being gripped by the fear of what bad will strike us next. There is ample opportunity in the coming months as this move has many moving parts, but I am hopeful.

Image by fauxto_digit