Archive | October, 2015

I’m So Old School….

30 Oct

While bemoaning about my dislike of texting as a primary communication form, a friend of mine said, “I’m so old school, I actually answer the phone.” Taking the bait, the banter continued:

“I’m so old school, I actually answer the phone even when I don’t recognize the caller ID.”

“I’m so old school, I don’t text and drive.”

“I’m so old school, I actually turn off my phone in the car.”

“I’m so old school, I actually write letters.”

“I’m so old school, I actually have stamps.”

“I’m so old school, I actually read books.”

Well, here’s today’s addition to the list: “I’m so old school, I actually want to wait in line at the bank and talk to the teller while depositing a check.”

Every time I go into the bank to deposit a check, a clerk comes up to me and says, “I can help you outside at the ATM, Miss” (usually it’s the same employee). I always turn to the individual, smile and say, “Thank you, but I’d actually like to make an in-person deposit.” Then we get into a power struggle until I acquiesce and have the person show me what to do.

I know what to do. I just don’t like sending my checks off into a black hole. I also know how to deposit checks using my phone and the bank’s app. The thing is, “I’m so old school, about once a month, I like to cue up inside the bank, so I can stand at the teller’s window and deposit a check before the teller and the window are obsolete. It’s a nostalgia thing for me. I also want a few minutes to just vedge out while waiting for my turn.

You know what? I’m also so old school that I prefer to interact with a real check-out clerk at the grocery store before he or she no longer has a job. It makes no sense to me to hire someone to “assist” customers as they check themselves out. I also occasionally want to talk with a customer service rep instead of pressing 1, 2, & 3 on my phone’s keypad until I’m so frustrated I start screaming obscenities into the cell phone. (And yes, I miss my land line and preferred it to my crappy cell phone reception where everyone sounds like they’re mumbling).

I am old school. I miss human interaction. Yes, the modern way might be – and I repeat – MIGHT BE – more convenient and faster, and yes, the world is changing and I need to adapt, but gosh darnit, let me have a little bit of the old fashioned stuff before it is gone.

I actually prefer having a glass of wine with people in person vs. with strangers on the Internet or with folks far away via Skype.

I miss seeing movies in the theatre instead of streaming them.

I believe in practicing psychotherapy in person vs. on the phone.

I like children interacting with people and toys vs. I-pads and Game Boys.

I like looking out the window on an airplane instead of watching an in-flight movie.

I like sitting in front of a real fire feeling its heat and hearing the crackle of its flames vs. watching an image of a fire on screen (and I want real wood and newspapers vs. some Duraflame log).

Basically, I prefer real life intimacy in all its shapes, forms and delights vs. virtual reality.

While working with the bank clerk today, the ATM couldn’t read one of my checks because a signature was below a certain part of the check. Thus, we had to go back inside after already spending ten minutes at the machine. To finish the transaction, we had to do an old fashioned deposit. While waiting for the gentleman to finish helping me – help I hadn’t wanted in the first place – I glanced at the bank teller’s line. There was none. Had I stayed in the line, I would have finished five minutes earlier. It would have been faster and more pleasant to do it the old fashioned way.

“I’m so old school, I miss the old fashioned ways.”

I’m ready to ditch the cell phone and move to a remote village in Italy. I’m ready to eat pasta and dance and laugh morning, noon and night. No, I don’t want to be a slave to status updates or stat reports. The only selfie I want is one with loved ones printed out in a frame on my desk.

I’m so old school, I want to embrace and enjoy and squeeze every ounce of potential out of my life. I want photographs posted on my heart and soul and not necessarily on-line.

How old school are you?

 

Content to be Content

21 Oct

I have 15,000 things to do today but the sun streams in through the windows, bouncing off the hardwood floor, and I am content to sit here. I am content to be content.

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Autumn is a time of sweet reflection. The heat breaks. The days are shorter and darkness drops in earlier inviting in cozy and rest. As a young girl, I loved being huddled under the covers in the bliss of childhood slumber. My mom would have to rouse me for school in the morning and I’d slightly protest, wanting to stay in the cave of oblivion that we only really get when young, cared for fully, and unencumbered by the pressures of the adult world.

In her recent memoir, “M Train,” Patti Smith writes, “The transformation of the heart is a wondrous thing, no matter how you land there,” she writes. “Oh, to be reborn within the pages of a book.” Although I read voraciously year round, I associate books with Autumn and Winter and the start of a school year. I also think of holiday foods, the crisp in the air, and cherished television specials and films. It is a time of reunion with loved ones, past and present. The smell of a turkey and fragrant pines, reminding us of people no longer alive and memories yet to make with new players on the stage.

Our lives move in seasons – seasons of darkness and depth and seasons filled with the lightness of being. It is the light and the dark that provides perception, depth, and contour. That makes our lives a living, breathing piece of art in the process of becoming.

Harvest. Pumpkins. Leaves and fading sun. Lessons stored and drawn upon like a squirrel’s cache of nuts for Winter.

This is not a season to be glossed over and rushed through. It is time to sip the hot mulled cider, to put one’s feet up and to rest after a considerable amount of work and exertion. It is time to prosper and be content.

 

Swimming Upstream: Lessons from the Salmon’s Magic

20 Oct

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I was teaching in Alaska a few weeks ago and as a gift to my colleague and I, we both received bracelets with animal totems specific to our personalities. Our host selected the “Double Salmon” totem for me. Delighted by the bracelet, I nodded when she told me that she had picked the fish as my spirit guide. “That fits,” I thought. “I can eat salmon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” It was only when I was home that I looked up the symbology of the double salmon.

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Apparently, there is more entailed with this totem than a yummy tasting meal. One of the key traits is perseverance because salmon swim upstream, against the current. This isn’t the easiest way to journey, yet it is unique for the salmon. The fish transform from salt to fresh water conditions and then back again, if they manage to survive their arduous adventures. Although swimming against the current, they find a rhythm that enables them to do this with more ease than imagined.

I find this a lovely reminder to be faithful to our natures. When we embrace our paths, we fulfill our destinies. It’s not our job to tell salmon fish, “Hey, make things easier on yourself and swim downstream.” Instead, it’s our job to let salmon be salmon, allowing their unique encoding to unfold.

What if we were to fully embrace our natures instead of trying to fit into a mold of something else? What if swimming upstream is right for me and swimming downstream is right for you? What if we gave ourselves permission to simply be?

All my life I’ve wanted to be conventional. I suddenly realize there isn’t a conventional bone in my body. And that’s okay.

Double salmon also represent wealth and eternity. I like that.

Yet in Alaska, I was reminded of all the Great Spirits. While on a walk in the woods along the city, I actually saw a moose. Apparently, this isn’t so common. I was told I was lucky. Here was a huge male moose walking right across my path. Thankfully, he was somewhat calm. We watched in reverence, as the moose walked across the way and into the backyard of someone’s condominium with Denali as the backdrop. Moose are symbolic of many things: self esteem, mating, and a job well done and celebrated. I took note of this upon my return, when I did a bit of research on the moose spirit.

I’m reminded that there is magic everywhere in the air. All we have to do is dial into it and let it assist us. What a wonderful world it is, indeed!

Embracing Our Phantoms

3 Oct

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I’ve always thought of the “Phantom of the Opera” as a haunting and dark love story. Never did I see it from a Jungian perspective, i.e. that the Phantom represents a vital part of Christine, the heroine. But when viewed as such, the story reflects deeper power. And in a way, the story makes a hell of a lot more sense. It’s not just a gothic tale with plush costumes. Instead it’s a tale of cosmic beauty.

What would it be like if the very part of us that we despised, that lived in the bowls of a church, was also the part of ourselves that served as our angel of music? What if the deformed part of ourselves, hiding beneath a mask, was the part that inspired creativity? The part that drew out beauty, passion, and Divinity? Would it be possible to love this Phantom? Or would we run from him in fear?

The reality is that if we deny this part of ourselves, it will indeed possess us. It will keep us captive. It will haunt our dreams and wake us up at night. It will keep us prisoner from the Light of day and keep us forever victims. It will also bar those waiting to fully love us in a way we never imagined possible.

Perhaps meeting our Phantom side represents the greatest love story ever. Here is the epic tale of befriending him in the dark and delivering him a kiss. Maybe it’s about touching the deformed face under the mask with profound gentleness and compassion. And when we do that, perhaps we are finally liberated. Free to leave the basement of the church and free to stand in majesty. Uniting with the animus, we are finally whole.

Perhaps the world’s greatest lover is right here inside oneself, in the music of the night.

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