I remember the wonder of learning to read. While I don’t remember the mechanics of how I learned, I do recall when I knew enough to start intuitively figuring words out. Suddenly, it was as if my world went from black and white to technicolor. I went from being single to being madly in love.

I haven’t felt that kind of intellectual ecstasy for some thirty-seven years but the other day while doing Hebrew homework, I realized I knew enough to fairly rapidly translate some very fundamental phrases from Genesis. “The Lord God commanded the man, saying, ‘From any tree of the garden you may eat freely; but from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat from it you will surely die.’” I stared at these words – words that even in English made no sense to me until a year ago. And it was as if God was saying them to me. I felt an almost eerie sense of the Divine as I realized the power of words. The sacredness of words. And the link to the Divine through words. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. Wow.

For years I thought of Shakespeare as the Bible and so it has always pained me that others typically despise Shakespeare. Yet I know this is because most people had a bogus high school teacher for English who did not understand the words of the Bard let alone how to teach the texts to teens. Most people have never been told that theatre is meant to be seen and heard more than read and that the characters are flesh and blood people who ache and orgasm and despair. They are people we can identify with and learn from.

The Bible is similar – often misunderstood and taken for granted as archaic and boring. But oh it is so alive. The text breathes and pulses. It can come alive before your very eyes. Yet so much gets lost in translation literally and figuratively. Therefore, I wonder, are we humans still like those in Babel? Unable to communicate? Unable to comprehend or connect meaning with words and with each other? Yes, we are and as long as we are, there is power in story.

For the record I am claustrophobic and my claustrophobia has gotten worse in the last few years. I’ve dwelt a little too much on what could happen to a person if he or she got stuck in an elevator or trapped underground in a tunnel. So when visiting the Gateway Arch in St. Louis this weekend, I realized I was confronted with my fear of confinement head-on. If I wanted to go up to the top of the arch, I was going to have to endure a four minute ride in a tiny cramped car that jutted about making clicking sounds while navigating up the structure. I turned to my traveling companion and said, “The only way I’m going to make it up without having a panic attack is if I close my eyes and can hold your hand the entire way. Seriously. I will wig out otherwise.” So as we settled into our car, I closed my eyes, took his hand and let him talk to the other people in the car. Anytime someone started to comment on how cramped the car was, I asked them to please change the subject.

I nestled closer into my companion and listened to him rattle on with the strangers about where they were from and heard their response that they were in town for a wedding. They had never been to St. Louis nor visited the arch. Click. Click. Click. The car adjusted itself into a new position. I breathed. And continued to listen to them talk. Before I knew it we reached the landing and disembarked. We repeated the same procedure on the three minute descent down.

What I realized is that I had renegotiated with my fear. I had found a way to see what felt like a potential trap into an experience of being soothed and comforted. By the time we made it back to solid ground, I had begun to conceptualize the cable-tram as a ride at Disneyland. By changing my approach and focusing on the non-fear as opposed to the fear, my experience was radically different than what it could have been. And because of the support, I was able to transcend and transform panic.

I doubt the visionaries who created the arch obsessed on how the thing could collapse. Instead I bet they fantasized about the potential glory of their architectural feat. Here’s to reaching towards the sky while maintaining a steel structure of support.

I never quite understood the incredible success of Malcolm Gladwell’s book “Blink”, a NY Times bestseller. People seemed blown away by his assertion that some of our best thinking comes from rapid cognition or the conclusions we make within a few seconds of an encounter or situation. This to me seemed like a no brainer. While Gladwell doesn’t define this instant thought process as intuition nonetheless the premise felt rudimentary to me. For those in tune, some of the best and most life transforming points in our lives occur in the blink of an eye if we’re perceptive enough to pay attention and act according to what is unfolding.

As I walked along the point today I couldn’t help but think about how a few decisions created such important shifts in my life. A decision made many years ago to connect with strangers, to move to strange places and to study strange things.

Thank God I didn’t deliberate.

I’m convinced certain souls gravitate towards one another as part of some bigger cosmic plan but we must hear the Lord beckoning to us as to how he wants things to unfold for our optimum healing and redemption.

Perhaps what we term “blink” is actually an answer to our prayers for guidance.

Yes Lord, I will try to pay attention to the rapid fire cognition you gave us all. Embedded in this tool you have revealed to me how your hand has constantly been guiding my life.

It never fails to amaze me how much children yearn to play and need to play. It is not to be underestimated. The therapeutic benefits of play are profound which is why some of us psychotherapists use it as a central part of our work. But it isn’t just children who need to play. We all do. Animals. Children. Adults. All of us benefit from the intimate contact that comes through play as we enter the portals of our imaginations with another. So in a way, those five innocent words – “Will you play with me?” are like a secret password that if taken seriously initiate us into a very specific form of delight, exploration and experience of each other’s company.

In the psychoanalytic classic, “The Many Uses of Enchantment”, child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim counters some of these claims by making an ardent case for fairy tales as a vehicle for children to explore the trials and tribulations of life. Yes, fairy tales are written on a simplistic level. Duh! They are written for children. Yet that does not mean that their content is simplistic. Take for example the topic of sexual power, seduction, betrayal and desire. Not quite easy subject matter and yet when woven into a story of a big bad wolf lurking around to eat Grandma and Little Red, children on some level respond to the story’s themes subconsciously. And while children in these stories, (and particularly the female ones) are often cast in the victim role, this is not to reinforce a stereotype but instead to help children explore and transcend an all too common phenomenon in our society. How does one overcome adversity without becoming bitter? How does one prevail despite hardship and find some modicum of happiness? And how does one attain wholeness in both love and within oneself?

One of the plot devices in the fairy tales is the introduction of a helper to the hero or heroine. Often we see this individual cast in the role of Fairy Godmother. Regardless, the helper character is a wise and loving elder who can help mentor and assist the young prince or princess. And maybe I relate to fairy tales because in my own life I have had many fairy godmothers along the way.

On Friday, I’ll board a plane to visit one of them because this is a modern story after all. Fairy Godmother Lynn stepped in at a time in my life when both of my parents were succumbing to addictions and simply couldn’t be there for me. I was in college trying to navigate my way through the initial stages of adulthood and in swooped Lynn and her husband Vernon, hovering near to protect and nurture me for the next twenty years. Initially, this was hard on my mother who in some ways felt jealous of the bond I had with Lynn and the awareness that Lynn could fulfill me in ways she was incapable of. Yet ultimately my mother was grateful to Lynn, which tells you something about the tender heart and soul of my mother.

So here’s to the many uses of enchantment. I do believe in fairy tales and happily ever after and yes I am a feminist and no I’m not yet on the horse with the prince. But I believe in all of it anyway. And is not God’s story, the ultimate one of restoration and magic? So, yes, I am a princess and my father is the King of Kings.

For me, FB is like candy. It’s a treat and I find it enjoyable. However, if I eat too much of it, I start to feel sick. Thankfully, I don’t really have issues with chocolate and sweets. I can take a few nibbles and then move on with life. I prefer more substantial calories found in the real foods of meat, potatoes and vegetables. FB is similar. I like it but if I have serious writing to do, I don’t do anything but write. The phone is off. Likewise, at work the phone just isn’t part of the equation.

So is FB really so evil? Is it damaging us? Changing us? Destroying us? I think it all comes down to whether or not FB has become an idol. Any idol does reflect evil, damages us, changes us and has the potential to destroy us. I think more important, we have to ask, who and what is at the center of my life?

When I’m good with God, I’m good with FB and social media. When I’m off center and not as dialed in to God, FB starts to make me a little sick. T.V. is the same. Some of it is nice but most of it just leaves me feeling yuck so I choose a different diet.

I also think we must be realistic about what kinds of connections and “friends” we have on FB. Just because we post a lot on someone’s thread doesn’t mean we necessarily know him/her – on the other hand – we can develop and/or enhance pre-existing relationships through social media. But can we really be “friends” with everybody and have quality relationships plus time to take care of ourselves too? Of course not. In real time, the people who get my time, are those of my heart’s inner circle.

I will say though that for better or worse, social media is changing us. The other day, I was at a busy lunch place. I was sitting at a table waiting for a friend to come back from ordering food and as I looked around everyone in line (including my friend) was checking their phones. Likewise, a number of guests at the tables were too even if someone was sitting next to them. And for a minute I felt dismay that so many people could not bear a moment to just sit and stare, people watch or contemplate one’s navel – or talk to one another. Now this is not a judgment for if in a long line I too will often pull out my phone. Why not answer an email so that when I get home, I don’t have to? Or why not read the FB newsfeed as it can be entertaining and informative. But I do think we need to be conscious of whether we’re using social media or if it is using us. Is the tail wagging the dog or the dog wagging the tail?

For many of us, by the time we reach adulthood, we too experience visitations from the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future even if our souls aren’t as far gone as Scrooge’s. I know that as much as I enjoy aspects of Christmas, memories of my mother’s alcoholism will always break into the present, as well as her incarcerations for DUI’s and her first suicide attempt that took place on December 27th. But the Ghost of Christmas Past reveals a pastiche of memories many of which remind me of happier times. He shows me my mother when she was vibrant and healthy, lovingly creating a happy holiday for me to enjoy. He also shows me my father taking us to dinner on Christmas Eve, driving through Balboa Park to look at the decorations and then heading to midnight service. I see the plate of cookies left out for Santa and a little girl so mesmerized by the Nutcracker she eventually had to dance in it herself.

As the Ghost of Christmas Past steps aside leaving me to watch the montage of my life, I feel the angels draw near one of whom is my mother.

So, it came upon a midnight clear, that I heard that glorious song of old…

And still their heavenly music floats
O’er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o’er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.

And herein lies the present and future.

“Where have the great Christmas commercials gone?” I bemoaned the other day over Thanksgiving dinner/t.v. watching. “Have we become that secular and materialistic?” My step-father attributed the phenomenon more to the fact that the culture has become so anti-religion and/or politically correct that companies are trying to create commercials that reflect nothing of the holidays except the secular components of them. I don’t know if I buy that completely. While it’s true the holidays have been much more slated to a Christian audience leaving out Jewish representation, I don’t think the lack of meaningful holiday commercials result from an attempt at sensitivity to other religions or people of no faith. If the latter were true, there would be no holiday commercials on the air whatsoever. I think we’ve just become a gluttonous, materialistic monster and that we use this time of year to feed that animal.

No I don’t need another sweater from the Gap, thank you very much! And although it would be nice for Santa to bring me a new car, I don’t think it is likely that that will happen, nor does a car have anything to do with the baby Jesus or spending time with loved ones. I will say though that last year I loved the Honda commercial that showed a group of friends going surfing on Christmas morning but then again that commercial was more about the message of friendship than buying a Honda. I latched onto people doing something kind of cool on Christmas morning that created fellowship – as opposed to the message “gimme, gimme, gimme a car!”

These ads feed us a subliminal message to want more and more and more. Quite frankly, I think all of this would make Christ sick to his stomach. I know it makes me sick to my stomach.

There are no shortcuts when it comes to doing things well – be that learning a language, writing a book, dating or fostering relationships. The best things in life – the ones most worth while – require their own unique timing. They can’t be manufactured by pulling an all-nighter and they don’t sustain without a foundation built. And the older I get, the more I realize this.

Here’s to a great vintage and to sipping slowly enough to enjoy what we’re imbibing!

I also used to read the Oprah magazine when it first came out. Each month she had a column called “Breathing Space.” It wasn’t a column really. It was a featured photograph of somewhere breathtakingly beautiful strategically placed to make one pause and temporarily go there in one’s mind. It worked. All I had to do was look at the majestic mountain or river or field of flowers and suddenly I would feel calm.

We live in a world that is increasingly chaotic and where serenity seems threatened all the time. My latest beef is with the immediacy with which people expect others to answer a text or email or phone call (although the latter is becoming obsolete). People simply don’t phone each other any more. In fact the other day someone emailed me asking, “Would you like to do the old fashioned thing and talk on the phone?” How refreshing. I don’t mind texting for a quick basic exchange of information or sweet, “I’m thinking of you” but when did texting become the method of choice for long drawn out conversations and/or courtship with someone one doesn’t even know? Uggh. The other day I actually had to tell someone to please refrain from texting me. He seemed insulted. I kind of lied and said I had a limited texting plan (I don’t) but geez. I don’t want someone I barely know texting me at 6:30 in the morning. Likewise, when working at the hospital, I am away from both my phone and computer for hours at a time. Get a clue people. Not all of us have our smart phones wired to us as an appendage.

Yes. Today’s world makes many of us primed for a need for breathing space. Many of us long for a place where it’s quiet and still and there is room not only to think but to simply be.