In the Name of God

In the entire year of 2012, I made four blogs posts. This is my sixth post so far in 2013 and it's still January. So while I'm not exactly regular about it, I'm going to give myself a wee little pat on the back because, hey. Who doesn't want a pat on the back? I usually have at least an inkling of what I want to write about when I hit the "new post" button, but today I got nothin'. Just figured I'd start typing and see what came out. Um... (pause wherein I go to the kitchen and eat some dried apricots)

I was thinking about God today. I wrote a long comment about these thoughts on a friend's blog which quite possibly had nothing whatsoever to do with what she had been talking about, but it's where my mind went with it. I was not brought up religious and have never felt a need to apologize for my lack of religion. I don't consider myself an atheist or an agnostic or anything at all, really. And yet...back when I was a teen I felt I needed to develop my own definition of God; something that made sense to me, that I could live with, that would lend a personalized pseudo-spirituality to my life. So I did and it goes like this: God is "The All." Not just that God is IN everything, but the God IS everything; the total sum of everything that exists. Everything is equally and interdependently God: a pebble, a mountain, a sandwich, a gun, air, music, you, me. Pretty simple, but I liked it.

I worked out that definition when I was in high school and have stuck with it ever since. I've even been kind of proud of it. But today as I was writing it, it struck me as a little hollow. And I wondered why I had ever wanted to define God in the first place, and suddenly had the notion that perhaps in doing so, I have taken away my ability to be open to some bigger, unnamed truth.

Naming things can be problematic. I read somewhere that a prelingual child will not recognize shades of a color as the same color-- chartreuse, pine green, mint green, celadon-- appear to be their own utterly unique colors until a child learns the word "green." The label then forever changes how the child sees the world. This group of colors is green. That group is red. So extrapolating here, has deciding that I need a definition for a concept of "God" prevented me, in some very fundamental way, from understanding the universe and how I fit into it?

The closest thing I have to a religious philosophy is an abiding respect for Zen. The idea of maintaining a "beginner's mind" resonates with me. I'm feeling the need to go back to that now.

Okay, enough of this nonsense. Back to the old grind.

Readin' and Writin' and Suchlike

Reading: Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler. And staying up much too late at night to do so. Third chapter in, and I like it so far. A refreshingly straightforward style and storyline.

Writing: blog posts. I want credit for this, okay? And I have what I think will be a fun story idea for my next writing group prompt. Nothing on paper yet, but circling around it in my mind.

Good Eats

Beef stew with lots of veggies in it. Raw carrot and beet salad. Dried apricots.

My Adorable Child

...is asleep. As should I be. Cop out? Sure. But after two nights in a row of fives hours sleep each, I'll take it. Goodnight. 

The Importance of Being Frank

1998 photo of Frank by Andy Timithy

Frank Green died. When I heard that yesterday I felt both gut-punched and bewildered. Had his HIV progressed that quickly since I last saw him? When was that? Probably at a party at Sally and Jerry's. Or was it at the Lit? No. No. It's not right. How could he be gone so soon?

I met Frank in 1999, when I worked with him on a committee putting together the very first Tremont Arts and Culture Festival. Frank was sharp, witty, cute. I liked him right away. We never became close friends, but I saw him from time to time and I thought of him as a touchstone in the arts community. Admired and respected him. Over the years, attacks on his mind and body from within and without rearranged the way he looked and thought. But there remained that Frankish core. Positive, creative, funny, Frank. Always Frank.

In recent years, Frank forgot exactly who I was. But every time he saw me, he'd get a bright, happy smile, and say, "I know you!" as if I were a long lost friend. Then he'd ask my name. Utterly sincere and unembarrassed. Oh sure, he could be a pain in the ass sometimes; like, he seemed to always have forgotten something-or-other and he'd need a ride to go fetch it, but you couldn't help but shake your head and smile and love the guy. Just so Frank.

And always a big hug when he was leaving. Until now.

I scanned the growing number of posts about Frank on my Facebook page and learned from Mike DeCapite that Frank had died from hitting his head in the shower. So it wasn't the HIV or the diabetes, or the cancer, or the drugs, or any of the other crazy shit that he had already survived. Hit his head. Maybe he got off easy, all things considered. Not that that makes it easy for those he left behind.

I am in no way qualified to eulogize Frank Green. I trust that his myriad of closer friends will do a stellar job of it. Just thought I'd toss in my little goodbye note from the outer fringe of his life. Because I, for one, am going to miss having him ask me my name just one more time.



Update: Just heard that Frank actually died of a stroke.  Adding that here so as to not spread incorrect information.

Lost and Found

In my last blog entry I wrote, among other things, this: 

Weird mind quirk: Not long after moving into my current house 12 years ago, someone who was driving past stopped and asked me where an obscure little street in my neighborhood was. I didn't know. I found out a couple months later and I've been wanting him to stop back and ask again ever since.

And just now I got back from a walk in my neighborhood, during which a young man ran up to me and breathlessly asked me if I knew where that very street was. And I told him! He thanked me and ran off in that direction. It was utterly weird yet very gratifying, despite the fact that it was clearly not the same person who had asked me 12 years ago. One would hope the first fellow has found it by now. Still. What are the chances?

I'll bet 3 out of 4 readers would like to tell me that this was not pure coincidence. That "putting it out to the universe" has caused, or at least contributed, to this happening. And I'd kinda like to believe that too; that I let loose this little wish and the universe responded to it, albeit imperfectly.

Trouble is, if you believe your wishes, prayers, and positive thoughts can cause good things to happen, what are you to believe causes the bad stuff? I'm not going to delve any further into this right now, but it is something I think about often. Causation, consequences, coincidences. What do you think?

Readin' and Writin' and Suchlike

Yes! I recently joined a writers group composed of nine wonderful women, all of whom are truly talented writers. Last night we met at my house. The ladies brought lovely snacks, chocolate, and FIVE bottles of wine. Jealous yet? Our prompt had been Keeping it clean. The writings were brilliant, illuminating, hilarious, heartbreaking, and more. The conversations they spawned were likewise. I wrote a piece that was the proverbial "thing that you don't want to write about," the hard, gut-level stuff. I went last, cried throughout the reading of it, felt the calm empathy and warmth of this circle of women. Cathartic. Just a lovely evening. Next month's prompt: Off the shelf. Should be interesting.

 
Good Eats

This morning I went down to the Coit Road Farmer's Market to buy eggs and whatnot. Kevin, market manager and owner of Spicehound, had made venison sausages yesterday, and today had cooked up a big ole pot of them with a mess of cabbage and boy howdy, was it ever good.

My Adorable Child

...called me from the zoo today, where his dad had taken him. He wanted to know if his pet mice were okay, and if it was okay to eat some french fries. Yes and yes. I love to hear his voice on the phone. He somehow sounds even younger and cuter. 

This is not a Facebook post

So I thought I'd do something different today and I left this "compose blog post" window open all day and wrote down random thoughts as they occurred. And I just reread them now and they look to me like a series of Facebook posts. Do I really think in Facebookese now? This cannot possibly be good.

I feel that I have become addicted to the internet in general and Facebook in particular. I'd like to temporarily shut down my Facebook account, but this is complicated by the fact one of my few paying jobs these days is making a daily post on the Funny Times Facebook page. I don't think I can continue as an admin there if I don't have an active primary account. And I'm an admin on five other Facebook groups, four of which I created and two of which have had an influx of new members and a flurry of activity lately. So I can't very well abandon all of them now, can I?

Is internet addiction a real thing? I'm suppressing the urge to Google it because, come on. What am I going to do, join an online forum for internet addicts? If anyone has any wisdom in this regard, lay it on me. Meanwhile, here are my random trinkets of thought, for what it's worth...

***

Weird mind quirk: Not long after moving into my current house 12 years ago, someone who was driving past stopped and asked me where an obscure little street in my neighborhood was. I didn't know. I found out a couple months later and I've been wanting him to stop back and ask again ever since.

***

I fear the possum lying in the middle of the road isn't playing.

***

Eating fresh raspberries in winter feels incredibly extravagant and decadent to me. I try not to do it too often so I can maintain that feeling.

***

Just a plain roasted chicken on Mulberry Street. This was my thought about my dinner as I watched some fancy meals go by on my wall. Yeah, that would be Facebook I'm referring to.

***

Word of the day: sapiosexual. Yes, I saw it on Facebook. FML.

***

Outlandish! I like this word. I'll not mention where I heard it today. I tend to like old fashioned words that have fallen out of favor. My son says he has two favorite words: chicken and dunebuggy.

***

Damn. These could have been some hella fine Facebook posts and garnered all manner of likes and comments but instead Ive got them languishing away on a blog that I know perfectly well not more than five people will read. Because nobody clicks over on links to blog posts from Facebook and where else does anyone even find out about blog posts?

Yes indeed, I do have myself a problem here. Help?

Once more unto the breach

Not doing so good at keeping up here. Gonna try to dash out a post while the boy is amused by a playdate.

Readin' and Writin' and Suchlike

I made my Funny Times Facebook page readers give me a writing assignment. They gave me 20 words; I wrote a story. Of course they had to go and give me words like triskaidekaphobia and sesquipedalian. Charming bunch, those Funny Times fans. So that was kinda fun. I also had to write an essay in order to get a mystery shopping job, but I won't bore you with that.

As for reading, I wasn't really in the mood for The Lacuna, but will likely pick it up again eventually. Instead, I've started up with the 2013 Pushcart Prize book. Much better suited to my short attention span. About five stories in now and nothing I've adored yet, but Pushcart always has an interesting mix so I remain hopeful.

Good Eats

Lunch: egg salad wrapped in lettuce leaves. Dinner: something involving chicken, avocados, and hijiki. Coffee today: yes, indeed.

My Adorable Child

...wrote this for me yesterday:



Instructions on how to go to sleep. I had given him an assignment to write three sentences, thus that second line says "the sentences." But he said he combined all the sentences into one.

The boy is currently in the backyard with his buddy, making a snow dragon, whilst his friend makes a snow cow. They have fallen in and out of love with each other a dozen times in the past hour and a half, periodically declaring that they hate one another and will never play together again, then working it out and having a blast. Laughter, tears, and fart noises. The stuff little boys are made of.

Off topic: Now if anyone can tell me how to fix the font size on blogger, I'd be much obliged. I want something between "normal" and "large" and I don't want to spend the time going into the HTML and changing every instance of "font size" to a number. Thanks!

More of the same

I have FIVE followers now? Geez, it's like Grand Central Freakin' Station around here. I only hope I don't crack under the pressure.

So this thing happened the other day where everyone agreed that there would be a New Year starting, and people had assorted feelings and varied perspectives, and held parties to commemorate this event. It all seems rather contrived to me. The sun rose; the sun set. Likewise, the moon. Same old same old. Revolutions and resolutions happen daily. I'm going to start my own New Year in the spring when the weather is nicer. Be it so resolved.

Anyhow, moving right along...

Readin' and Writin' and Suchlike

Uh, not so as you'd notice. Just a few random paragraphs of each. Unless Facebook counts. Does Facebook count? I read and write there daily. I can Facebook like nobody's business. Yeah, I know. It actually doesn't count. Drag. But! I'll be doing some real reading and writing before you know it, I can feel it in my bones. And my liver. And a little inkling in my gall bladder. And this: I've joined a new writers' group and we'll be meeting again in a couple weeks. Prompt this month: Keep it Clean. I like the potential for a variety of interpretations on this one.

Good Eats

Breakfast, as usual these days, was two eggs (pasture raised, purchased from Frances at the Coit Road Farmers Market) along with a pile of vegetables. In this case, a cabbage and carrot salad with EVOO and red wine vinegar. So I've been doing the Paleo* eating thing for about a year now, and it's been very healthy for me. I lost about 40 pounds, stopped getting migraines, stopped getting hypoglycemic, and in general feel healthier and more energetic. And look what happened to my cholesterol:


Compare Pre-Paleo from 2009 to current levels.

Not bad for a diet that's a lot higher in eggs, bacon, nuts, coconut, avocados, and saturated fats (butter, lard, coconut oil) than my previous diet. And yes, I've become annoying evangelistic about this diet. Don't like it? Go read some cupcake blog instead.

This is all old news to those of you who read my Facebook page. But I'm repeating it in the event that someone who is not already a friend of mine should stumble across this blog. Hey, it could happen!

*I like this particular Paleo link because it's illustrated with Lego pictures.

My Adorable Child

I've been keeping a file on my computer of adorable things my child has said since he first learned to talk. Going back and picking the ones closest to today's date for each year:

1/07/08 (age 2)
Today, just before nap, E was down in the basement and yelled up to me, "Found something sticking out of snow!" (In his voice: "Ound umteen it-een out ub no.")
"Really? Come show it to me." He climbs up the stairs, little face beaming with joy, and holds up a half of a styrofoam peanut.
"Ate it up in my tummy," he says, "I happy now!"

2/16/09 (age 3)
E laughed himself awake around 4am and said, "Thing-a-doodle! THING-a-doodle!" And then promptly fell back to sleep.

Then this morning, watching his dad walk down the stairs he called to him:
"Don't fall down the stairs Dad! That's a metal rule. Metal rules are hard. You can't break them."

1/13/10 (age 4)
First thing this morning, in a serious yet thoughtful tone: "Mommy? Todaaaaaay.....we have to figure out.....the mystery.....of Daddy."

1/13/11 (age 5)
So the boy says, "Do you want to see me make some effort in the basement?"

Turns out he wants to hang a rope from a pipe and swing from it.

11/14/11 (age 6)
E was working on a math worksheet, writing down every number from 1 to 100. He stops and asks, “Do numbers EVER STOP?” I tell him no. He says, “You're kidding, right?”

“Nope,” I say, “Just imagine. What if you got to the highest number in the world, and you added one to it? Would it get higher?”

“No...Wait, yeees! Oh man.” He falls over, sort of laughing and groaning at the same time.

12/31/2012 (age 7)
E and I have a long running joke wherein we call each other "sandwich" and crack up. This came about a year or so ago when I asked him if he wanted a lunch sandwich. He heard it as, "Do you want lunch, Sandwich?" And he gave me a funny look and said, "Did you just call me sandwich?" I realized how he heard it and I explained it to him and ever since then it's been hilarious to both of us. Misplaced commas = comedy gold.