Come Awake

Every year I am amazed at how our property turns from desolation to overgrowth seemingly overnight. Vermont Spring seems to be on fast forward as though the earth beneath our feet understands that its warm days are limited and it ought to hasten the process for the well being of those tasked with tending it. In late winter, the earlier whispers of SAD grow to shrill and defiant roars, and there is a conspicuous fog of relief when warmer winds blow. It must be that this is why we are so enthralled with the crocus’ that break ground often through the snow. They afford tiny, colorful reminders that we too should seize the fresh start. Indeed, there is a coming awake that happens universally in the spring.

We all have our own way of climbing out of our winter skins and coming to our senses. My hens begin to lay again, my neighbors plan barbeques and spread thick layers of aromatic mulch, and my kids spend hours on their trampoline. In my world, when trout season begins I feel revitalized. Our current river levels all but ensure my fly rod and I would be swept swiftly downstream as my waders fill with water and sink me like a stone. But, the very process of organizing my gear, renewing my license and picking out new flies the way most women shop for shoes, makes me hopeful that there will be sunny days spent in the river and warm afternoons spent at the Alchemist.

The digital revolution and our tendencies toward emailing, facebooking, texting and tweeting have resulted in a false sense of comfort among tightly packed villages that do shallow, distant relationships well. In this era of 24/7 connectivity are we sure we are spending adequate time connecting back to the natural world and to our humanity? Not only has this trend given way to new verbs, but it has bred a new generation and offered a sickle like tool to an existing one with which we can hack at human relationships. These paradigms allow us to disengage from more solid associations and more grounding forces that were meant to tether us back to each other and to the earth. It reduces our ability to cultivate intimacy, a key component to the emerging trend toward mindfulness.

Our work weeks have become so ambiguous with technology that the boundaries necessary to create the time and space we need to participate in the awakening have become virtually (pun intended) unrecognizable. Our accessibility and response times have become unrealistic now that everyone can answer an email on their phone. When did we decide that manners do not apply to technology? When was the last time you walked away mid-sentence while someone was speaking to you? Likely never. Ever not answer a text mid -conversation or have someone do it to you? Same thing. We are forgetting how to be part of the environment; and, the natural world does not wait for us and our creations. It moves at its innate pace bringing seasons to a close whether we notice or not.

From the closing line of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off which suggests that “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it” to the Tao Te Ching which cautions, “Amidst the worldly comings and goings, observe how endings become beginnings” we are reminded to be a part of our world and to not abdicate our innate ability to notice.

Unlikely Rebel

I am a rule follower by nature. I miss opportunities otherwise seized by the majority on the basis that they may run a slight risk of violating some potentially unwritten law. To this end, I miss out on many a good parking spot on the off chance I could be towed. But today I broke as many written and unwritten rules as possible, most in the area of etiquette and human decency. In church this morning it was offered that we often express anger as a response to our own feelings of hurt, frustration and fear. While not angry, I did act out of all three emotions today and enjoyed doing so. Following service, which I attended alone, I drove without informing anyone in my family, to my favorite coffee house. Broken Rule #1. Off to a fine start. Upon arrival, I found that it had undergone extensive, and in my opinion unnecessary and unwelcome renovation. Nevertheless, I took a seat at the bar in the window and watched the prettiest snowfall, drank the worst latte, and enjoyed the solitude.

I chose this place because on past visits I had wondered to myself why such a gem was so sadly under patronized and today 'quiet' was on my agenda. Unfortunately, sleek cappuccino machines, shiny new bamboo flooring, flashy decking with modern handrails, and granite counter tops seem to coax the residents of Jericho out of their otherwise sleepy farmhouses on snowy Sunday mornings. In a misery loves company moment, a large woman dressed in pink sat uncomfortably close to me. I had taken the middle seat at the three person bar to make it less likely that anyone would sit next to me. These are not the rules by which I typically play, but this was not a typical morning. I was in an almost visible bubble and I was liking it. Her proximity was so close that it forced me to gather my newspaper innards, stack them neatly, tuck my elbows in and put my latte mug on top of my paper making it impossible to flip the pages at my leisure. I became so uncomfortable with this posturing that I hummed along loudly with the tune playing in the coffee house which seemed to work. A sideways glace in my direction on her part, and not one bar into "Round Here" by the Counting Crows and she was gone. Rule #2 shattered.

I was surprised to find myself feeling so mutinous after church and in the coffee shop to which I had come to soul search. But then I do enjoy the rare and sporadic digression into sarcasm and in fact at the inception of this blog I all but promised such forays to its readers. As a writer I find it fascinating to write in different states of mind and this was certainly a different state of mind. Immediately following the ingenious humming incident I decided that writing in this, at best overtired and at worst unhinged, state should yield something funny if not perhaps admissible in court. So I did what any Sunday morning-post church-rule breaker might do I grabbed the newly renovated coffee shop's menu, flipped it over and started writing. Rule #3...nearly unforgivable.

Sometimes I stare blankly at my laptop waiting for inspiration, but today I wondered how many menus I could swipe before they thanked me for my gracious $5.25 purchase and tossed me out onto the brand new porch. As the snow continued to fall the words gushed from brain to pen to menu and my smile grew wider and likely more odd to those around me. Two menus later I found myself less cantankerous, kind of liking the smooth granite counter, feeling bad about the girl I'd hummed out of there and looking forward to heading home. I am a rule follower by nature. So even when I set out to break them, I am generally the only one who notices. But sometimes going rogue, if only in one’s mind, is just the outlet we need to turn a bad day around. It really was a beautiful, sugary snowfall.











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For The Love Of The Day

Readers, friends, and family sometimes ask me to write about a particular issue. Last week, on our way home my daughter asked me to write about shopping. So I did. I was pleased with the result and it flowed somewhat effortlessly. I prefer to write purely from my own inspiration and am fortunate now to have a monthly column where I can do that. However, in my business writing I write only about what others ask for, so honing this skill is necessary. Let that be an invitation to you. A few days ago came a new request from a friend.

Consequently, I have been tied up in knots the last few days trying to write about that particular subject. It was dropped in my lap, anvil style, riddled with the angst of the past and I have at best written a sentence a night. More honestly, I have written several sentences each night and consistently deleted them all. I have tried writing after exercise, writing after wine, writing while delirious with exhaustion, all with no constructive outcome. Finally last night with the benefit of a long midday bath I wrote several well connected paragraphs about the proposed subject of time travel and the idea of visiting one's past. Minutes before entering the editing phase of my writing, iTunes and Blogger decided they could no longer peacefully coexist and both dug their heels into technical ground. I was forced to restart and all was lost. Hours of writing vanished and the auto save feature of Blogger had betrayed me, perhaps for my own good.

This morning, on Valentine's Day, I had hoped to offer some thoughts on love - again a subject more topical than inspired. As I searched the internet for quotes that might jump start my writing on the subject I found one that sits well with me. It is by Neil Gaiman -an English born American Novelist, Journalist, Screenwriter, and Children's author. I am sharing it with you on this most amorous day. Enjoy.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

I am mildly tempted to hunt him down, take his hand, and run headlong into yet another brick wall in hopes of changing his mind. However, at the end of the day, he and I stand in complete agreement on this matter and would undoubtedly instead share a toast to rough roads and hard lessons learned. Cynical, world-weary, dark and twisted though it may be; it is fact. Love stings. Having walked this often broken road, I am certain that it is through these dreadful experiences he writes about that we find ourselves and are able to recognize what we want, pass on what we do not, and live with what is, and with what will never be. Time may not heal all wounds, but its generosity does infuse our hearts with all we need to make it to the day ahead and the next. AH HA! And this is why I have no need for a time machine to the past. Shheeww, I knew I'd figure out the connection eventually! Happy Valentines Day.

When you say nothing at all...

Today it was suggested to me, by someone I hold in otherwise high esteem, that perhaps I had been condescending. Dictonary.com a service of Ask.com defines the term as "showing or implying a usually patronizing descent from dignity or superiority". During the event in question I was not being condescending, though I admit that after reading its definition I am tempted to try my hand at honing this skill. My comment at the time was aloof and actually a poorly written representation of my own crowded thoughts of the moment.

We seem to live in a culture where we say more without saying a word and yet we have fascinating words to describe this nonverbal phenomenon. Condescending is just the beginning. My new favorite overused pop-culture term to describe one's intention with nonverbal communication is "passive aggressive". I love this concept. We can be nonverbally speaking while being passively aggressive. Where then do the possibilities end? Can we be extramaritally committed?

And speaking, or not, of this how is it even possible to determine one's nonverbals via technology? The aforementioned event took place over Facebook. How could one reasonably substantiate condescension, a presumed nonverbal communication tactic, over the internet? If ever a reasonable doubt existed this would have been it. I submit that we did not even have a conversation as face to face words were not exchanged. It is the same maddening concept as someone who offers that they read a great book when they have listened to the audio book.

If statistically speaking, and again I am not sure that is possible either, most of our communication is nonverbal then how we communicate via technology is limited at best and most often misunderstood. This is the challenge for the writer to capture all the emotion and imagery typically reserved for facial expressions, hand gestures, and voice intonations and painstakingly offer them "verbatim" in written form.

As for my friend, well, we were always better face to face anyway.