Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Guest Post: Response to Universe, I Need A Raise

From my beloved R. I'd say she needs her own blog, but then I wouldn't get these awesome guest posts:

In reading your post, my dear friend, I was reminded of a different online conversation I had recently with a different friend, and my answer to youtoday is adapted from one I wrote to him, but I think it is still apropos ofyour mood.

I recently came across this quote from Rilke:"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in avery foreign tongue. . .And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then you will gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

I give you this quote today- on this day, when the dark ceiling of thesleepless night just behind you still looms large- because I have the sense from your post that you are at a place in your life where you, perhaps, feel that you should have answers, or at least more answers than you haveactually thus far found. That you have reached this place ofhands-thrown-in-the-air because, despite all the decisions you have made inorder to have those answers, you are now somewhat disappointed that thereare still things you don't know.

So I wanted to tell you that I have noticed, among my peers who have children in particular, that most people seem to feel that there is some mechanism by which they should have crossed over into a zone of having onlyanswers. Perhaps this is because, once you have a child, you feel some certain responsibility to actually have them. I don't know. Or even if you don't have children, there seems to be some line, some place-shift in the environment that should have happened, around 32, where we stopped being kids, and realized we became, for better or for worse, the adults we alwaysknew were waiting for us.

And yet, for my part- even at 36 and well past that imaginary demarcation line- I can't quite silence my inner teenager and ask "Why *should*?" and"Who says?" Perhaps because I recently learned in the hardest way possible that not all answers are right, but it seems to me now that in some ways,the questions have really never been so good. I was never so sure as when I was 18, but I have never had more wonder about the workings of the world, and sometimes my own heart, as I do now. If you embrace it like that, you may just find that it isn't so much about the answers you don't have, but rather about the questions the foundation of prior answers has allowed youto beget.

I say all this now because I found this quote in the midst of one of my darkest periods, and when I did I realized not only that the darkness was simply a form of a question, but that I had found my epitaph. Live the questions. In fact, my own personal belief is that questions, dark or light, are our tie to life. And that only in the moments before death, will all the answers be revealed to us. Only then will we be free to let go, and fall from the earth, because our souls are satisfied that we *know*-whatever it is that our lives where shaped to find out.

So as you move through whatever struggle you are facing today, and whatever compromises you may be making- with your kitchen, your job, and what have you- I just wanted you to know that you are already living an extraordinary life. You have already found many answers, you will seek many more, and- as you have on occasion already- you will have glimpses of transcendence. Today is one day, and if you are giving up your hopes and dreams, remember that it is likely only in order to make way for the new ones that await you. Don't let the answers you think you have block the questions that will help you get there.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Universe, We're All Beautiful. Show Us.

Well, I have a wonderful neighbor named Sharon who survived cancer and over a year of painful treatments. One of the things that got her through it was subscribing to every fashion magazine in exsistence and letting her eyes wander over the lipsticks and hairstyles and other things of no consequence, just to look at something pretty, just to be somewhere else. She is in remission but still has all these subscriptions, and when she's done looking at the magazines, she leaves them on my doorstep.

Now, I'm a speed reader, plus your average issue of Lucky is more or less a photo montage with about 500 words in the entire magazine, all of which are at a sixth grade reading level or below. It takes me twenty minutes to finish one, but those twenty minutes are candy-colored mindless bliss compared to the rest of my life, and it's an old unbreakable habit for someone who started reading Seventeen at age 11.

This month's In Style, which Sharon dropped off last night, is mostly about finding your personal style. One of the articles had interviews with various fashion designers on the subject. Remember, fashion designers meet all kinds of women, but they meet many women in the upper echelons of the 'rich-beautiful-thin' bracket.

So I was especially stunned to read this quote from one of the designers: "I don't know one woman who likes her body. Not a single one."

Ladies. Universe. I know there are bigger problems. But we're in the society we're in, and it happens to be one where our bodies block the exits and don't let us walk out the door into the world for some dancing in the streets. So think about this. Not one woman likes her body the way it is. Isn't that horrendous? All those people whose bodies you've wished you had -- not happy either. It's a giant trap.

Ladies. Universe. I know this is not that simple, and even less simple for anyone whose body and mind are particularly locked in a struggle with eachother, whether that is an eating disorder, fear of being attractive, an absolute belief you are ugly, or just your average battle with your weight.

Let's operate from the assumption that you are beautiful right now, as you are, as you showed up, as you have become. You are beautiful. You are beautiful. I know you are. And I am too. What happens next?

Universe, your turn.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Wow

God wrote back (see comment 3)! At least, one of the faces of God. Still waiting on you, Morrissey.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Universe, I Need A Raise

Please know, dear blogosphere, that I've had a really strong cup of coffee.

I told my husband this morning that last night I gave up. I was up with our son for about an hour in the middle of the night helping him settle down after a nightmare. Drew (The Husband) thought when I said "I gave up" that I had somehow lost my parenting marbles at 3 in the morning and plunged Will (The Son)'s head into a hot fudge sundae and then built a ball pit in our bathroom.

"It's OK that you gave up. It was late and whatever you needed to do to get him to sleep, I support you."

"Oh, no," I said, "That was fine. I meant I gave up on all my hopes and dreams last night."

Short pause as he pours coffee, then "Ah. Way to go, Job."

And I did by the way actually lie in bed last night (after having helped my son rank the twenty-five different angles at which his feet could possibly be tucked under his blanket) and say, out loud, "Universe, I give up. I give up. I give up."

I'm not sad or depressed or despondent. I think life is pretty awesome. The people in my life are exceptional. Drew and I are happy. My son floats around on a tiny little motor-powered cloud and emits sunshine and I have to keep my mouth shut about how fabulous he is 90 percent of the time I'm thinking it so I don't sound nuts and so the women (or men, whatever works) in his life in the future have half a chance.

However, there's a lot of half-fixed stuff in my life that I thought I was going to complete through sheer willpower, or chutzpah, or by singing a song from Mary Poppins (and I do the most awesome Julie Andrews accent, which is all the better when it comes out of a Jewish-Puerto Rican person like myself). My apartment is half-nice, but then you open the door to our bedroom and the zombies fall out. Our kitchen cabinets are about to FALL OFF THE WALL (it's kooky) and we don't have the money to fix them. We're halfway out of an enormous debt. My current job is cool, but I'm still really broke, and it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I don't blog enough and I haven't finshed a big project for my dad's business that I promised him I would do. I got all the plants in on our deck but the deck itself looks like the opening credits of "Sanford and Son". My husband is sick right now, and just lost a big client, and I feel like we're blankly staring into the future, blinking occassionally, not really knowing how to pull it off.

I'm out of optimism. I need it all to come together already. I've spent ten years saying it will, and some of it plain hasn't and just might not. I need a clean, completed house, I need a rollicking career. I need, it seems like, a hundred thousand dollars to politely climb up my yoga pants leg and into my pocket. And Universe, you know me, I'll pay this jazz back tenfold, but really, I give up.

Help, please. You know where to find me. Still love you, Universe.

Jen

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Guest Post: Faith With No Fear, Please

A guest post from the lovely and talented JP! With an addendum, no less! Because I should have posted this like a month ago and lost the original email! Yay!:

"I have been thinking hard about what I would ask for from the universe. I have been surprised because the answer does not automatically come.

"In giving it so much thought I have made an alarming discovery. I am smart. I have a wonderful husband, a delightful dog, remarkably talented and supportive friends, I am close to finishing my master's degree (something I have wanted for a long time), The people in my inner circle are, for the most part, happy, healthy and free, and yet, I am often at a loss for faith.

"I realized that I don't know what to ask the universe for because I don't feel like I deserve to ask for anything. Isn't that just the worst thing you have ever heard? I am so lucky in my life and yet I am so scared of the future. I want so much and yet I worry that I haven't earned the right to ask for any of it. Somewhere along the way I learned that life is supposed to be difficult and challenging and that blood, sweat and tears is the only way to get results. I have spent a lot of my adult life not trying because if you never try you can't really fail.

"So here it is.

"I want to ask the Universe for faith in my own future.

"I don't want to be scared of what comes next because I don't want to find myself too scared to pursue my dreams fully. I want children. I want to make a living doing what I love. I don't want to make compromises that give me excuses for settling for less. I don't want to look back in ten years and have regrets about what I did with my time. And most importantly, I don't want to waste any more time worrying that I might not achieve all of the things I just listed.

"So there you go, my friend with the ear of the universe...... faith with no fear please."

And the addendum:

While reading your return to the blogoverse, I dug up my "ask the universe" piece to re-send you. I have attached it below..... BUT interestingly.... in the world of sort-of-success-stories, I think it would be prudent to also include that the following things have happened to me since I came to California three weeks ago (now the proud holder of a masters degree)..... I received a letter from the chair of the Brooklyn College Theatre Department telling me that I have been recommended by the department to be an Adjunct Lecturer in Theatre for the fall semester... AND it looks like I will be teaching two or three workshop classes in period acting styles for a summer theatre program for teens run out of Queensborough Community College when I get back to NYC in July. Way to go Universe!

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Exclamation point mine. I love you, JP.

Peace,

Jen

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Interverse, Keep Listening

I have a very large and swirling essay taking shape that may take awhile to work out so my posts are going to be short right now.

There was a horrible story over the weekend here in Brooklyn that made the national press. A three year old boy was apparently so horribly abused by his guardians that they killed him. It also seems that people in the neighborhood were aware of the abuse and did not report it. My son is three. My first thought was, I would have taken in this child.

My husband and I have spoken in vague terms over the years about becoming foster parents somewhere down the line. We've now agreed to find out what that would entail and if we could make it work. If we can't, we will then find out what form our desire to personally affect children's lives in a positive and nourishing way would take.

Here's what I want, Interverse.

I want to have a direct effect, through direct action, on changing the horror out there in the world. One tiny piece. Whatever I can handle. Give me the thing I can change, whether it is an action I can take or a person I can love. I'll know it when I see it.

And if you can work it, I'd like to see the horrible stories in the news affect others this way too. I'm tired of hearing people sigh and gasp over things that are horrible; I'm tired of reading blog rants that make the ranter feel like an activist when all they've actually done is relieve themselves of their rage.

Action. Action. Action.

Be well,

Jen

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Do You Really Want To Live Forever. . .

It's simmering outside here and my son is home sick from school. So I'm linking today to this nice bit of synchroncity and thoughtfulness from Peter Shankman's blog:

An Open Letter To The Two Kids On The M11 Bus This Morning

I especially like that the piece contains shout-outs to both karma and Marlon Wayans, not to mention an Alphaville reference. This is much of what I wish I'd known at 18, had I been willing or able to hear it. Go find an 18 year old and show this to them, even if they roll their eyes at you, and ask who the hell Alphaville is.

--Jen

Monday, June 9, 2008

Hey Universe, et al

I walked out of this dark, warm friendly place about two and a half months ago into the glaring sun and tried to figure out exactly what I wanted when I came back here. I didn't. But I missed writing, and thank you to the people who wrote me to say the writing was missed.

Blogs are puzzling. You either chronicle your every waking moment, or comment snidely on someone else's every waking moment. Or you write about a broad obsession (food) or a narrow one (your adventures in becoming an expert in making, I don't know, vegan sausage, that then becomes a crazy trend in your tiny town and suddenly there's a 200 person waitlist to get into the monthly tempeh-casing-stuffing meet-up being held on your back porch). The word "I" makes many appearances. You only have to have opinions, or be a smarty-pants about something in an effort to be read by all the lesser smarty-pantses.

I started this blog with one intent: to trick myself into doing something (writing) that I feel guilty about not doing enough by setting a constraint (make a wish every day! piece of cake!). As tends to happen when you are me (just wait til you are me, you'll be glad I gave you these instructions), the simple trick unfolded into an endless moibus strip. Because now I don't just want to write every day to appease my sense of guilt*. I want to write my way out of a corner and into the everything. I want to write my way into understanding what we want as individuals, as members of the American family and as a planet. I want to be one window into understanding the meaning of life and what our purpose can be -- and I know there are already many windows out there, but it looks to me like many more are needed.

My hope, Universe, is to become one more window into you. And to write the word "I" alot less. And for this to eventually be what I do all day long.

I know this is vague, but like everybody else, I'm struggling to find the words to describe the mystery. In the meantime, send a postcard. A care package would be nice too. If you sent me a query for the universe and don't see it here, resend it. My computer died and is being revived in Memphis, TN. Hopefully it will get to visit Graceland when it's feeling better. If you want something and think God 2.0 might hear you if you yawp it out in cyberspace, send that here too.

With love for everyone, everything,

Jen

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*And I could cop out here and say it's Jewish guilt, which for me would be more like culutral quarter-Jewish guilt, but really it's not. It's the guilt of a native New Yorker, the guilt of not having as much ambition as everyone else who came here to get themselves on every square of the Monopoly board. As a result you berate yourself about not having the ambition, or you fake the ambition, or you move to the suburbs. EOM.