Horses and Hot Rods

One of the fascinating things I found in A Natural History of Love about coming of age is that girls focus the romance of relationships on horses and boys on cars. These are the vehicles through which girls and boys first imagine what romance is about. I guess it should not have been any big surprise, but it is just one of those things I had not really thought about. Our bodies, minds and souls are fascinating as are the travels we have on the physical, intellectual and spiritual planes through our lives. I am always amazed that no matter how long I live there is still more to discover.

Barter and Handshake

Diane Ackerman describes evolution as taking place by barter and handshake rather than proclamation. Humans, like all other animals change in tiny ways over millions of years to adapt to our changing environment. I remember a principle from embryology, "ontogeny recapitulates philogeny" which means that the lifestory of the individual mimics the lifestory of the species. It seems to me that our lives are a series of barters and handshakes. We cannot just will the world to be the way we want it to be but must make a series of small compromises in order to survive.

(Herb and spice market, Vigo, Spain)

Our Warrior Culture

Not too long ago I read an article about the Los Angeles Police Department suggesting that they lived in a warrior culture. I have at times thought the same thing about our national culture. Often our first response is to fight back, seeing it as the only way to respond. Warriors do not often stop to consider what the conflict is about but are more focused on the best way to fight. Sometimes the outcome of the battle is that we become more bellicose rather than finding any peace. Maybe we need to first consider what we are fighting and how much the enemy lies within our own souls.

(Siege tunnel- Gibralter)

Sitting on the Porch

I have been reading Diane Ackerman's book Natural History of the Senses lately. I am interested in a better appreciation of the different senses and in heightening my awareness of them. I opened my journal for today's entry and started writing. To my surprise, almost my entire entry consisted of documenting the various sounds I heard while sitting there. I didn't know I could do that. Every once in a while I learn that I have a skill I did not think I had.

(Breakers on the shore- Curacao)

Art Therapy

When I first heard this term many years ago, I wondered what to make of it. Art seemed like creative expression and therapy was a way to address mental health problems. Over the years I have come to see that the two are interlinked. One of the effects of mental illness is to make people feel they are cut off from "normal civilization." They often feel others do not understand how they feel and are often frustrated in trying to explain their feelings to others. Art is a way of expressing feelings in a graphic way without the difficulty of words. People understand art in their own way and are often able to communicate through art in a way in which words do not allow them to.

(Acrylic on paper- Pete L.)

The Mystery of Love

I wrote a column recently about the power of love. When I started the column, I realized how little I knew about love. When I had finished the column, I did not know much more. I think love is largely a mystery. We seem to know more about war, hatred, competition and all the things love is not. I recently discovered Daine Ackerman's book, The Natural History of Love and started reading it this afternoon. I am hoping for enlightenment.

(Wedding in Portland, Maine)

The good is oft interred with their bones

At a funeral yesterday, I thought of the words of Marc Antony from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, "The evil men do lives after them while the good is oft interred with their bones." Fortunately this does not seem to be so in the twenty-first century. Now it seems that people's good points are stressed and remembered by families and friends. Although we can still learn from the difficulties our loved ones have faced during their lives, it is easier to remember and emulate the characteristics which endeared them to us. When we are not sure how to act, we have fond memories to inspire us.

(Rocky Mountains- Estes Park, Colorado)

Spring Breezes

I sat on my porch this morning with my coffee in hand. I felt the swirl of the spring breeze, watched the whispy clouds on the edges of the sky, listened to the birds sing and felt the long awaited warmth on my skin. As I watched the cars speed by, piloted by determined drivers, I thought back to the days when I ignored nature's beauty in my quest to get to work on time. I once thought that getting older was not something to look forward to. Now I appreciate having the time to commune with nature without having any pressing engagements.

(Gulls at Canadaway Creek)

Ready for Heaven

I did not know Pops well and only met him in his later years. I saw his delight in his wife, children and grandchildren. He enjoyed being among them peacefully, quietly celebrating the milestones of their lives. I did not know him in his more active years but only in his twilight. I was not acquainted with his life struggles, challenges or accomplishments. I did hear him practice his bird calls in occasional moments of quiet. The last time I saw him he was sleeping quietly in his hospital bed. I heard that several days ago, he reached out to God and asked to be taken. He died peacefully in his sleep last night. My hope is that when it is my time to die, I will also be at peace and ready to go as well. James, rest in peace.

(Sunset on Lake Erie)

Knowing You are Right

There seem to be plenty of topics on which people are sure they are right and others are wrong. I can remember times I thought I had my facts right and others were mistaken. In addition to remembering facts, which can usually be proven one way or another, are opinions to which we hold just as tightly. We can be just as sure of our opinions, although there might be no way to prove them correct. Our opinions come from our experience, what we have heard from others we trust, or maybe from what we know "must be true." Wars, fights and arguments are often based on these differences. What would the world be like if we all followed the adage "Never deny, seldom affirm, always distinguish?"

(Rainforest Cafe- London)

Who Owns God?

Karen Armstrong wrote a book called The Battle for God. In it she wrote about the struggle over a period of centuries for people of the major religions to come to terms with the implications of the modern world and their age old traditions. It does not seem that this battle has ended. Some people have opted to reject the modern world and cling to their own particular beliefs. Others have chosen the modern world, rejecting all religions. Some have tried to forge their own way realizing that their solitary path has few guideposts to make their journey easier. Some people see it as their job to convert others to their view of God and reality. Others see it as their job to get others to see the fallacy of any religion. Still others have chosen to live the best life they can without help or interference from others. Those of us who think about why we are on earth struggle to make sense of our lives and discover the purpose for which we are here. Is there a way for us to help each other with this search without being dogmatic in our efforts?

(Stone relief in Santillana, Spain)

Writing, Religion and Spirituality

In our writers' group meeting this week, we listened to each other read our writing and were able to make constructive suggestions to each other. Our final discussion was of a passage which centered on a spiritual experience. We had more difficulty with this one. It was interesting to me that of all the topics we discussed, spirituality should be the only one (so far) which has caused us any problems. Spirituality or lack thereof seems to be a very emotional topic for at least some people. There are people for whom their spirituality is their lifeline, those for whom the mention of spirituality recalls for them bad memories of religion being forced on them or or disappointments arising from unmet expectations of God. Others think the whole idea of spirituality is silly and illogical. Some don't seem to know what to think of the whole topic. It occurred to me that the difficulty of listening to others talk about religious and spiritual views which differ from our own is part of what makes nations war with each other. We can't change the whole world by tolerating differing beliefs, but at least it is a start.

(Westminster Abbey)

Rabbit on the Lawn

Yesterday morning, I awoke with my mind full of all the things I had to get done. I looked out the kitchen window and saw a rabbit nibbling grass in the back yard. I had not seen him since last fall. He looked up at me, or at least that is what he seemed to be doing. I looked back at him and was not in any particular hurry to accomplish anything at the moment. I stood for a few minutes in contemplation of the rabbit and of nature in general. I don't know what the rabbit was thinking. I was glad to have a few minutes with him.

Why Do Birds and People Sing?

I was sitting on the porch a few minutes ago writing my morning pages in my journal and thinking about what to write here this morning. I heard a robin singing its intricate song and thought of the blue jays and cardinals I had heard earlier this morning. I got to wondering why birds sing. There are a variety of practical purposes. They greet each other, define territory, attract mates and warn of danger. But do birds also sing for the fun of it? Do otters slide and dolphins lead ships for fun also? I don't think anyone has discovered a way to ask them yet. But I think they might just like to play sometimes. I also thought of the Metropolitan Opera which I attended last week. There are much simpler ways to communicate information than song. Arias often do not contain very many if any words. My favorite is the one sung by the Queen of the Night in The Magic Flute and also hummed by my friend Joe as he walked down the street last week. Song seems a good way to communicate feelings and sometimes is just for fun.

(Metropolitan Opera House, Curtain-Adventure of the Seas)

The Flowers That Bloom in the Spring- Tra La

I was feeling in the full bloom of spring when I visited New York last week. It was warm to the point that I did not need a jacket the whole time I was there, even at night. The trees went from beginning buds to almost full leaves in the few days I was visiting. Daffodils were in bud one day and had broken into bloom the next. I had visions of getting out my lawn chair and relaxing in the back yard as soon as I got back home. Unfortunately, it was in the forties here and not yet fit for back yard lounging. I went back into winter mode and rode out the rest of the week in my winter coat. It was great to have a promise of spring and a taste of what is to come.

(City Island- New York)

The Abatement of Surliness

I just returned from several days in New York City. I expected to find people helpful when asked but not always happy about having their lives interrupted by my needs. I envision surliness as part of the New York psyche. Surprisingly, it was completely absent on this trip. Maybe it had to do with the wonderful warm summer-like weather. One friend told me that New Yorkers were at their wit's ends and holding on to what little patience they had during the recent spate of bad weather. The sunshine and warmth seemed to help them unclench their teeth and smile at each other. I am happy I was able to be a part of it.

(Feet in Central Park- New York)

Spanking and War

It seems a difficult lesson for parents as well as nations to learn that violence leads to further aggression on the part of those whose aggression we are trying to quell. Psychologists have learned that punishment makes children work hard to avoid it but not necessarily change their behavior which caused the punishment in the first place. Could the same not be true of factions we wish to quell with our own violence. It might make us feel better but is it effective. Maybe we need to look at the bigger picture rather than just satisfying our aggressive urges when we are riled.

(Photo- cannon in Siege Tunnel- Gibralter)

Bartleby the Scrivener

I was looking through a discussion of various authors and their writings yesterday when I came across a reference to Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville. I remembered sitting in Mr. Melville's pew in the seaman's bethel in New Bedford and feeling some of his spirit. I was also intrigued with a story about a scrivener, which literally means a copier or writer. He spent his days copying financial records when he "preferred" to do so. Apparently a very mysterious life lay behind his public persona. I sometimes wonder what lies within the lives of people we deal with as we need to and then tend to dismiss and take for granted.

(Photo- Window in the Tower of London)

Staying in the Middle of the Road

I remember a quote I learned in high school which I think was by Alexander Pope, "Be not the first by which the new is tried, nor yet the last to lay the old aside." I saw it as an admonition to play it safe and not stick your neck out. I think I remember it because it was never my way. I was more "Ready, fire, aim." I have sometimes wondered what the would would have been like if no one had ever taken any chances. I thought of the wisdom in the fifteenth century about the world being flat, with concern about falling off the edge if one sailed too far. It seems dumb now, but only from the perspective of what we have learned in the mean time. I think life and personal growth are a matter of what risks we are willing to take. How many famous inventors went ahead with experiments which everyone else was convinced would not work?

Why Children Don't Gossip

Teens gossip. Adults gossip. Children don't. Why? To me, gossip is spreading salacious tidbits about other people in order to make ourselves feel better. This trivializes what we say. To children, almost anything they encounter is new, bigger than life and a source of amazement. Children tend to shout about what they see rather than whisper about it behind a hand. Maybe we all need to rediscover the amazement of our universe.

Registering a Compliment

Several years ago I searched for a comfortable pair of sandals and was consistently disappointed until I found a pair at a big box department store. I was very happy with them and stopped by the customer service desk one day to tell the clerk I would like to register a compliment. She had no ideal how to react to such a thing. She stammered and seemed quite flustered. I decided my attempt was more trouble than it was worth. This week I had a problem with my car insurance and called the company which happened to be based in Hartford. I had some reservations about getting the problem solved easily long distance. I was pleasantly surprised to find an agent who pleasantly, efficiently, quickly and professionally resolved the issue in a matter of minutes. Since I could not easily visit the office, I sent an e-mail to the customer service counter complimenting the agent and received a grateful reply within a brief time. Maybe times have changed. I hope so.

Out of Sorts

In a visit to Genesee Country Museum, I stopped at an old time printer's shop. I learned the derivation of the term "out of sorts." Sorts were small spacers placed between letters and other characters in manual type to prevent everything from running together and helping make sense of what people read sothateverythingdidnotgetallbunchedtogetherandbecomehardtoread. Yesterday I found myself out of sorts with a stomach bug. It was as if there were parts of my mind missing and I could not bring myself to create anything even though I was in the middle of working on my novel. Maybe experiences such as this are designed to help me appreciate the times when I am able to use my mind and body without difficulty. I think I sometimes tend to take them both for granted.

Sunrise, Sunset

I have been thinking and to some extent writing lately about the proliferation of bad news in our newspapers and TV news programs. Bad news does seem to sell well and also confirms our pessimism as well as making us feel better about our own personal fortunes. As I looked at the sunrise this morning, I realized that I have never seen a sunrise or sunset featured as an article of news. Yet they are probably the two most spectacular events we can find on earth. I guess it is up to each of us as individuals to thank God for this wonder freely offered for our appreciation and amazement. Thank you, God.

The Mystery of Easter Eggs

Along with Easter and the Christian celebration of Christ's Resurrection, come other traditions.

I was thinking about Easter eggs this morning and realized I was not sure where this tradition originated. I might have known once but don't now. Since Easter is a time of Spring renewal, rebirth and new life. eggs seemed like an apt symbol but I still wasn't sure. So I looked it up. One account was that eggs were a symbol of life common in many cultures and their spring rituals. Another account indicated that rabbits are also seen as symbols of fertility in light of their common multiple births. It was said that children thought rabbits laid eggs in the grass, giving rise to the connection between the Easter bunny and Easter eggs. I wonder how many other traditions we take for granted and don't really understand.

The Feast of the Circumcision

In the past few days there have been newspaper articles reporting circumcision as providing protection from HIV especially for higher risk men. When I was growing up, January 1 was the Feast of the Circumcision of Jesus in the Catholic liturgical calendar. It has since disappeared. When I was born, my father was in Guam with the navy and my parents did not have a chance to discuss circumcision which had been in and out of favor somewhat like breastfeeding. When I was seven, my parents decided it would be a good idea even though I was not having any medical problems suggesting it would be a good idea. That was in the days when most surgery involved a hospital stay. The surgery itself was not as traumatic as everyone at the hospital knowing why I was there and having to explain at school why I was absent for a few days. I was always uncomfortable with the Feast of the Circumcision. That particular episode was always a source of shame for me. This is the first time I have written about it. It's good not to have this secret anymore.

Cuddling

I usually write about ideas. This morning I awoke before five and read the newspaper. When I was done, I went back to bed and cuddled with my lover. No words were exchanged and nothing else happened except that the two of us lay there intertwined enjoying the closeness. I thought about the pleasure and comfort of physical touch and shared warmth. I think that sometimes I am so busy with my thoughts that I miss the little moments like this and fail to appreciate them. Fortunately I was in the moment this morning and was glad to be there.

Journal Travels

In my writers' group last night, we shared pages from our journals. I knew why I kept a journal but was amazed to see the variety of approaches other took. Some chronicled their sensory observations, some their adventures, memories, impressions, dreams, discoveries or concerns. It is enlightening to see the variety of approaches writers can take to a seemingly simple daily ritual. Some write only when they have something of significance to say and others write several times a day. Some write for the writing, some for themselves and some for posterity. I was glad to be there and share it and appreciate the broadening of my experience. If you are wondering, that's me sitting in Herman Melville's pew at the Seaman's Bethel in New Bedford.

Keeping My Life in Perspective

Sometimes it feels like I am at the center of the universe. Everything revolves around me and has meaning in the way it affects me. It is like I am all that is. At other times I realize my insignificance in the grand scope of things. I am only a tiny particle in the universe and in the procession of people who have lived before me and who are yet to come. I think my life is better when I keep my perspective and don't think I am too important. That way I can contribute what I have and not get too excited if people don't always take me seriously.

Priming the Pump

I have noticed lately that I can write for a while and then I run out of things to say, at least for the moment. After I read or talk with people I have more ideas. It seems like the stimulation of others' ideas starts my own creativity flowing again. I don't know if this has always been the case, but it certainly is for me right now. It is interesting what I can learn about my creative process when I pay attention.

Momentum and its Vagaries

I have noticed that there are days when I can't wait to get started writing. The words flow from my fingers and from somewhere in my mind. It is as if I can't do anything else until I write for a while. Other times it is all I can do to write, even if I have set a deadline for myself or if someone is waiting for what I might produce. I would like to know what brings about this difference in momentum. How can I be so motivated one time and so listless another? So far I have not figured this out. It seems I am at the whim of my muse. Maybe I need to tend more to the care and feeding of muses, once I figure out what they like.

Going to the Opera

When I was a child, my parents dragged me to an opera outdoors on the lawn, "Opera Under the Stars." I don't remember which opera it was but in protest I faced the other way so I would at least not have to look at. Saturday I went willingly. I knew one of the cast members in the New York Metropolitan Opera production of Il Barbiere di Siviglia. It was simulcast live from the Met to hundreds of theaters around the world. Not only did I tolerate it, I thoroughly enjoyed it, finding the singing wonderful, the plot line easy to follow and the antics funny in addition to watching Michael perform. When I was a child I never thought I would live through an opera voluntarily. I have come to enjoy a few operas, especially The Magic Flute and Carmen. Now I can add another one. I have been thinking that I might want to explore other operas as well. It is amazing to me that my childhood aversion could turn into and interest. I don't know whether it will ever become a passion as it does for some people. But the process of change is always interesting.

The Gilbert Street Greeter

During nice weather I became accustomed on my way home to seeing a man standing on the corner waving to each passing motorist. I wonder how many people interrupted their thoughts about rushing home bristling at anyone who might be impeding their progress and took time to appreciate this man's mission to stand on his lawn and greet everyone. He lightened my heart each day. He did not do much in the larger scope of things but did remind me that there is more to life than rushing from one place to another annoyed with anyone who gets in your path. As spring was arriving, I began to look forward to seeing him and his friendly wave again. I read in the paper this week that he had died in Florida. I didn't really know him and am not sure whether he was there for a visit or spent the winter some place warmer than western New York. My fantasy of him is of his spending his last days greeting cars and their drivers in Florida.

Making Bread

A while ago a friend lent me her breadmaker. I used it for a time, throwing in whatever ingredients I thought would make a good bread and turning on the machine. It mixed, raised, remixed and baked the bread all by itself while I watched or just heard it humming from a distance. The bread was good but somehow did not seem quite satisfying. I did not think too much about it at the time. Eventually the hook became lost and I could not find another one. I did not trouble myself to buy a new machine.

Recently I read Why French Women Don't Get Fat. In it I found a recipe for baguettes (no machine involved). I tried it and enjoyed the process of mixing and kneading the bread, tending it while it rose and baking it at the right temperature to yield fine loaves. I began to experiment with different types of flour and various ingredients. This morning I am baking bread with unbleached flour, cracked wheat, wheat germ, oat bran, rosemary and olives.

I worked initially using my listening and talking skills in psychotherapy. Lately I have been concentrating on writing. But there is something deeply satisfying about mixing the ingredients by hand, creating new breads and sharing them with company. It helps keep my life in balance.

The Impersistence of Memory

In the column above mine in The Daily News this morning Scot DeSmit wrote about his faulty recollection of characters from a book he read to his children. He remembered a rabbit and a gopher rather than a squirrel and a mole. His column reminded me of the many times I have misrecollected things and events from my past. I have remembered houses being somewhere else, people looking and acting different and events not being quite the same as others recollect them. In studying memory, I learned that there are biological traces of every memory we have. Our minds also seem to have a pastime of creating scenarios different from the ones which actually happened. Maybe there is a novelist inside each of us happily going about creating new events from the material provided by reality. It certainly makes for an interesting world.

In and Out in Fifteen Minutes

Yesterday I accompanied someone to the hospital for outpatient surgery. She was told she would be in and out in fifteen minutes. That was true for the doctor but we were at the hospital for several hours with all the preparation and mostly waiting time. I think we sometimes consider experiences from our own point of view and do not consider what they are like for others. During the years I saw people for psychotherapy, I don't think I ever considered all the time they spent thinking about a session before or after it took place or how what we did in the session affected their lives and those of those important to them. I imagine this is true for any other interaction of which we are only a part. I will try to be aware that the significance of an experience for people is much larger that the small part which I play in their lives.

Learning Along the Path

I read a motivational sign at the Y yesterday, "If a path has no obstacles, it will not take you anywhere." It made me stop and think. Does everything worthwhile have to be difficult? I think that when there are challenges along the way and I learn to deal with them, I am better prepared for other obstacles I meet later and appreciate reaching my goals more than I would if it happened without difficulty. But there are some times when things happen easily and there are no associated obstacles. These are times of joy and comfort. They might not happen all the time but are welcome when they do come along. I think there are people who seem to like doing things the hard way and always look for ways to make things more complicated. They seem to relish creating challenges for themselves. Sometimes it is nice to have something happen without difficulty and just enjoy the experience.

The Technology of Communication

There was a time not too long ago when we had simple options for communicating with each other. We would stop each other on the street, visit each other's houses, call on the telephone or write a letter. Now we tend to choose between calling from a cell phone where all can hear our conversations, text messaging or e-mail.

Last week a new writers' group formed and we began looking for ways to communicate with each other. Several of us knew of structured forums we could use either through Google or Wiki on the internet. We tried setting up groups, but many of us were not persistent enough or sopisticated enough in the required technology to continue with our initial enthusiasm. Our excited communication even through the medium of e-mail fell off to nothing once we encountered the frustration of trying to deal with the technology of the forums. Best of all was meeting together in person although our schedules do not allow us to do this whenever we wish to share something with each other. I think we are coming to realize the limitations of technology which is not always an improvement on the old ways.

Fear of Poetry

I attended an organizational meeting of a new writer's group last night. I had no idea who would show up. There were writers of fiction, nonfiction and poetry. I had concerns about whether writers in different genres would have anything to talk about with each other. I learned from others with more experience in such ventures that people writing in different genres provided a diversity otherwise not available. I had not thought of it this way. Still I wondered whether I would be able to relate to poets. I remember being enthralled by Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Kubla Khan and Cristobel. Something about these poems drew me in and captivated me. I have tried reading poetry lately and find it hard to connect with it. I even heard myself say last night that I was afraid of poetry. It sounded strange coming from my mouth. I am not sure what I meant, but there does appear to be this undiscovered part of myself.

Schedules and Accomplishments

For much of my life I have not liked schedules. I liked to do things when I felt like it but as a psychologist my life ran by appointment. Now that I am spending most of my time writing, I have much more flexibility. Still, I have discovered that I can't be successful doing as I please whenever I please. At one time, I could only exercise in the morning. If it didn't happen then, I didn't get to it no matter what my intentions. I would write later in the day and that worked for a while. Recently I found that I felt an urge to write early in the morning and had to exercise some other time. It surprised me to find that mid day turned out to be a better time for me to exercise, at least at this point in my life. My body and mind seeem to have their own schedules which change from time to time. Rather than trying to impose my will on them, I have found that I am much more productive when I follow their lead rather than trying to dominate them.

Here's Looking at Me

I saw an article in the paper recently about narcissism in our culture and how it is increasing. Narcissus was a vain character from Greek mythology who was quite taken with himself. We seem enamored with ourselves in our culture as well. We hear all the time that we should have what we deserve (based on what?). Advertising often serves to feed our egos and point out how we can enhance our status even further. Reading about narcissism has taught me that people with this trait see themselves as sitting on a throne with their minions circling around them and on the earth mainly to do their bidding. They don't feel any responsibility to anyone else and view the rest of the world chiefly in terms of how it suits them. I suppose this would not create any conflict if there were ony one narcissist in the world and everyone else saw themselves and living only to cater to that person's needs. As it is, there are many people who see others as existing only to do their bidding. A strange world indeed. No wonder there are so many conflicts. It seems hard for many people to learn the lesson that in order to get what you want, the best way is to help others gain what they want. Then they are more prone to take an interest in your needs.

Reminiscences of Childhood

I talked with my brother today and got into discussing some of the old times. We got to wondering why we did some of the things we did and why we didn't do some of the things we would have liked to do. I seemed to forget that we acted in terms of what we know and thought at the time. He reminded me that we did what we thought best at the time and did not know then what we know now. I would have liked to do some things different as a child and a teenager but I did not have the awareness to know what the alternatives were. When it came right down to it, the alternatives I have available now just were not known to me then. We can speculate on what might have been but what happened took place because of the context in which we lived at the time.

Military or Peace Bases

I was reading recently about opposition to expanding our military bases in Italy. I thought about this and realized that we have military bases all over the world. Although some people are comforted by them, others find them threatening and fear our power. I began to wonder what would happen if we had peace bases instead of or in addition to military bases. They could be models of cooperation and caring for each other. While our country has a strong bellicose history, we also have experience helping other people. Our peace bases could be places where we listened to and learned to understand others. We might also learn something about ourselves and stress compromise rather than imposing our will on others. "People say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."

The Relative Merits of Routine

I read an article in the paper this morning about the benefits of routine. People talked about the comfort of starting each day with the same routine and the feeling of comfort and relaxation which accompanied it. I remember when I was younger that what I wished to avoid most was routine and the boredom I was sure would accompany it. I thought that routine stifled creativity and kept me in a rut. Although I still like excitement, I do not crave it as much as I once did. I have also discovered that a morning routine gets me in the mood to be creative and no longer leads to a feeling of boredom. I think I have learned to balance excitement and routine.

Using the Palmer Method

I was writing my journal entry this morning when out of the blue I recalled the Palmer Method I learned in fourth grade for cursive writing. It was a traumatic time. I was raised in the age when steel nib pens were in use in my school (1951). We had to dip the pen in the ink and then write on the page until the nib was dry. Not so bad for right handers whose ink had a chance to dry before they wrote the next line. We unfortunate left handers had to push the pen across the page where it caught in the paper, making a blot which, along with what we were trying to write, was quickly smudged by our left hands closely following the pen point. My teacher, in the wisdom of the day, thought I should learn to write with my right hand. I tried it with the result that at the end of the experiment I could not write very well with either hand. I learned to print my letters to avoid the smudging. This worked better but did not afford me great marks in penmanship. I tried using the Palmer Method this morning and found my writing halting. I had to stop and think how to make certain letters, especially a capital A, which I finally had to look up. The experiment this morning forced me to think about my writing. I am not sure it helped me avoid distractions or created a new one. Anyway, it was a nostalgic visit to my fourth grade days and Sister Clement.

Gustatory Delights

After my post yesterday on the joys of smell, I thought it only fair that I gave some recognition to the sense of taste. This is another of those shortchanged if not entirely overlooked source of sensory information. I find it interesting that the mere memory of a taste can start the digestive juices flowing as easily as the taste itself. We have four taste receptors in our tongues-sweet, bitter, sour, salty. Whoa! I just looked to be sure I had this right and discovered that there is a new taste classification whose acquaintance I have never made, the umami variety which senses certain salts like MSG. I wonder how long that has been lurking in the collective consciousness of the internet. Learning through taste is usually reserved for foods. We do taste other things sometimes by accident. I suppose we could learn something about each other by tasting although that doesn't usually happen until we are on a quite intimate basis. Please enjoy you umami taste receptors at your discretion.

Olfactory Delights

I was reading recently about how to make fiction come to life. Use of the senses was suggested. We tend to use visual and sometimes auditory sense reference in writing. I realized that I at least seldom make reference to the more primitive senses such as smell. The author of the book I was reading pointed out that we live in a sanitized society with strong smells covered up. I thought back to the first night I spent in Hawaii when I could smell the beauty around me but not see it since I arrived after dark. I recalled the smells in my favorite deli while waiting for a sub. I remember the smell of my children as babies just out of the bath tub. I remember the chocolate smelling orchid and of course vanilla on the vine. It is hard to describe odors but they sure are powerful in our memories.

Capricious Creativity

Two summers ago I was drawing and painting almost every day. Last summer I was not in the mood but missed art. I have tried to get back into it on a number of occasions. It didn't work. I have felt a connection between my art and writing. When I can draw or paint, writing seems to come more easily. I tried to force myself to draw, and of course that didn't work either. A few days ago, the urge to draw suddenly returned and I am getting back in the habit, making me feel better and also contributing to my writing ease. Like many other things in life, this remains a mystery to me. I guess it is just up to me to accept the vagaries of my mind and its inclinations.

Where Did All the Time Go

I remember taking a walk with my Uncle Bob when I was thirteen. I was telling him of the get-togethers I attended as a young child and how I missed those times. He told me that time passes and so do everyone's priorities. It was time to move on and enjoy a different part of my life. I was reassured but somewhat saddened. Now many years later, I still think back to all that has happened over the years and all the times I miss now. I specifically thought of the years when I had a sailboat and the days I spent sailing on Lake Ontario. They are fond memories but it is a little nostalgic to realize they are in the past now. But maybe it is these memories which keep us going and encourage us to add new memories.

A Foray Into Politics

I don't usually write about politics. I find the whole field confusing and subject to endless debates which usually don't produce anything conclusive or widely agreed upon. I have been thinking about this "surge" idea, trying to make sense of it. So far I haven't. I did think this morning about a quote I saw on a plaque coming off the elevator of a chemical dependency treatment program. It read "If you always do what you always did, you always get what you always got." My recollection is that this statement was originally developed to apply to business. I have since found that it applies to chemical dependency as well as many other areas of life. I think it also applies to surges. Adding more troops to do the same things that have been shown to be disastrous does not accomplish much except adding to the pile of body bags. It seems very much like the increasing troop levels during the Vietnam war which never seemed to accomplish anything positive. I do agree with President Bush that if anyone has a better idea, it should be voiced. Unfortunately I don't have one, but I hope someone does or that those elected to lead our country can get together and think of one.