Integrating...

I just completed the book Sybil, which is 450 pages of intense.  This is not a book; it is a relationship.  It's content is of such a highly personal nature that I had to plan appropriate times to read it.  I don't mean that I blubbered through it, just that it gets inside you and makes you think and feel differently.  At least it did for me, which is why I plowed right through it. 

Driving around today, enjoying the Rhode Island-esque air, I couldn't get the book out of my mind.  In it, a woman with 16 different personalities works with a psychoanalyst to "integrate" all of her selves into one whole person.  She has personalities who are afraid, who are confident, who are angry, who play piano, who excel in math, who are social, and who are religious fanatics.  In the end, she recognizes that each one offers a specific strength that separate allowed for her survival as a child, but that now, if rallied together, could help Sybil function as a complete and content person.  In my mind, I applied all of this to the world as a whole.  Anytime I read a newspaper article, a forward, or watch the news, I am sickened at how dissociative our society is.  Each person has a different fear, a different passion, all working at odds against the others.  When Sybil's personalities were at odds, they went out of their ways to impede her goals, to create obstacles for her, thereby making Sybil- and the rest of them- miserable.  And, not only miserable, but ill.  Seriously ill.  That is our society.  We all have fears; we all have strengths.  If pulled together, those fears would be allayed.  The strengths together would function for each other and not against each other.  Until then, our world will be stricken with the psychosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder, also known as Multiple Personality Disorder.   

Different colors of the same.

Fearing life...

I believe that our brains have the magnificent capacity to hold everything- every little detail we have ever encountered.  The only problem is finding our way to each hidden piece.  That is the idea, at least, behind the book I started today- Sybil.  It is the story of a woman with 16 personalities, one of whom is responsible for Sybil's memories because they are too painful for Sybil herself to remember.  And, so it is with all of us.  Our memories are hidden back in some corner, some dark and dusty attic that every once in a while we are lucky enough to reach into, but that most of the time remains elusive, locked to our present consciousness.  What brings this to mind is an experience I had yesterday.

I was at a meeting for work.  My boss was showing us a presentation on her computer concerning a program that provides audio versions of books for students.  As I looked at the screen, I quickly glanced over all of the books she has downloaded over the years.  I'm always on the lookout for new material, but really I was looking for anything I might find familiar.  My eyes stopped on Tuck Everlasting.  I vaguely remembered the story.  I must've read it in school or something.  And, immediately a picture of the movie version's poster jumped into my brain, and I thought, Alexis Bledel is in that movie!

The movie came out in 2002, which must've been when I saw that poster.  I, however, lame as I am, came into the Gilmore Girls late in life, circa last year.  So, back in '02, I had no clue who Alexis Bledel was, nor did I have any intention on watching the movie.  But somewhere back in a corner of my mental attic that image was waiting for me, waiting for the day that the name Alexis Bledel would mean something to me, waiting for yesterday.  As quickly as that image appeared, I decided I wanted to see the movie.  Anything with Alexis in it is prize-winning material, in my opinion.     

Luckily, it was on Netflix Instant Play, so I watched it.  Wow.  Not only is Alexis Bledel the main character, but she has my name!  Winnie.  Well, my nickname.  The one my family has called me since birth.  It made me realize how much I love that name.  The scenery in the movie is just gorgeous, and the storyline is amazing.  It's stories like these that make me want to be a writer.  The author, Natalie Babbitt, takes a common human fear and turns it into beautiful empowerment.  I will not give away the plot here, but I will include the most powerful line in the story.  As I heard Tuck speak it, I felt as though he were speaking directly to me.  It helped that he was using my name.


"Don't fear death, Winnie.  Fear the unlived life."

Speaking of death, this dead banana spider was dropped on my hammock's doorstep this afternoon by  a much smaller flying insect.  I tried to snap a shot of the tiny bug carrying it around.  It was pretty amazing.  But anytime I got near them, he became defensive and guarded his kill by staring me down.  He won.

Acting a fool...

I learned an important lesson today: Anger is stupid.  You get yourself all worked up over some thing that you have convinced yourself you are right about- which you never are- and then you just end up making a fool of yourself.  I was angry today that a student cancelled a session after I'd already driven all the way to the office.  All I could think about was how this inconvenienced me and my little life.  Later I find out it was because a classmate of hers died and she went to the funeral instead.
                       
Recently I got angry at my husband for something lame.  I was so mad I called him bad names to my friends.  I normally would never disrespect him like that.  Turns out the horrible scheme I had concocted him doing in my head hadn't even occurred to him.  Instead of realizing my worst fear- that he didn't love me and had hurt me intentionally, I realized my unrecognized hope- that he is so crazy about me he doesn't even notice random stupid things that I somehow turn into huge ridiculously out of proportion freak-outs.

Although I swear I don't usually fall prey to anger in this way, I have lately.  And, it's done.  Today I mentally stepped out of that shell, and into the world.  The world I want to be a part of.  Instead of expecting the worst of people, I will raise my expectations.  Instead of focusing on my tiny life, I will expand my view.  Instead of making myself look like a total turd bomber, I will accept that maybe everyone is not out to get me.


B&W Study: Phase 4- The Living Room

Celebrating...

Wow, so thanks to a comment left by Nicole- my fave fellow blogger- the other day, I was prepared to post the ugliest, meanest, darkest blog tonight.  To release all of my negativity in one shot, complete with GDs and JCs.  In fact, I began writing it in my head during my jog tonight.  It got me so pumped full of fury, I finished in record time.  But then I sign on here to write it, and lo and behold, she has given me an award.  And not just any award, a "fabulous" one, apparently.  Never in my life have I been called a Sugar Doll before; I'm speechless.  And, all the anger seeps out of my veins.  Oh well, I guess there's always another day to be angry.  Today is for celebrating!  I won an award!!  (I may have no clue what it means, but hey, it's nice to be appreciated!) Thanks Nicole!!!  (Check out her rad blog Destination Unknown to the right ---->)

In honor of the South- at least I assume a Sugar Doll is a Southern thing, my favorite photo of my trip to Georgia last weekend.  I'd say it's postcard worthy material.  Man, I love the South. 

Learning a new language...

I've been thinking a lot since my posting last night, and I think that I have had some thoughts that maybe I want to write about but am afraid to.  I have been, for whatever reason, feeling extremely cynical lately, which leads me to the urge to lock myself up into a hole somewhere and declare myself a hermit.  But such things are usually frowned upon, even looked at by some as insane.  I'm always blogging about my life-affirming moments, so I guess I felt these angry rantings wouldn't fit in here, much like I myself feel like I don't fit in anywhere.  Don't worry, I'm not about to pull the old adolescent "no-one-understands-me" bit.  It's more that I'm back where I was when I started this blog.  And the many times when I have switched jobs.  And when I graduated college.  And when I decided to change my major.  The old "how can I not know what I myself want out of life" phase.  If my father is reading this, now is the point where his eyes will be rolling.

The difference this time is I still want all the things I did before.  I still want a creative life, in photography and writing.  I still want to travel quite a bit, which I am.  I still want to hike and explore Florida, which thanks to quitting my hotel job, I am again.  But still something is missing.  I thought now that I am old I would be settled and this feeling would die right along with my "I can eat anything" figure.  I was wrong.

This feeling- and I'll warn you ahead of time, Dad- makes me want to run out and get a huge tattoo.  Or sell everything I own and live in a shack.  Or quit my job and go live in Liberia or something.  So I guess stuck is what you would call it.  But nothing is wrong.  It's like John Mayer said: "Friends- check.  Money- check.  A well slept opposite sex- check."  Yet still, "It doesn't help the hunger pains and a thirst I'd have to drown first to ever satiate."

A thirst for life.  Last night as I lie in bed, a familiar anger consumed me.  The anger that of all the people in the world, shouldn't I know what I want to do?  Then something new occurred to me.  Maybe it's not what I want that I'm looking for.  Hell, if it were up to me, I'd want a bunch of stupid shit that money could buy.  What I am looking for is what the world wants of me.  Not the world in a popular sense but in a universal sense.  I guess what was I put here for, to put it in cliched language.  But the challenge here is that the world does not speak English.  It speaks through Being.  And, after too many years on this planet, I feel like a native whose land was overtaken by white people.  I have had English forced down my throat for so long that I no longer understand my native tongue.  At this point, I am probably no longer making any sense, another reason why I have ceased to blog about this stuff til now.  But I am getting somewhere- I hope.

So this brings me to my current challenge: to learn how to speak the language of the cosmos.   No I'm not going to go out and pick up a copy of A Brief History of Time, although that is on my other list of challenges, along with War and Peace and Crime and Punishment.  I think my first step is one I have mentioned before and since accomplished- that of accepting silence.  Usually, when my husband is on tour, I have a habit of leaving the tv on whether I am watching it or not just for the lame company of noise.  But these past few trips and since I have gotten rather accustomed to sitting with my thoughts or a book as my only companions.  It's not so bad.  Just wish I had a front porch to do it on still.


How else am I going to hear what I am supposed to do unless I sit still and listen?  This is where my cynical side rears it angry head.  American life is all about jumping in your car, grabbing something quick to eat, rushing to do this for that person and that for this person, and trying to sneak in some sleep in between.  This is the absolute definition of "speaking English".  And I want no part of it.  But how to exist in a sphere that you are not a part of?  Again, this makes me want to apply for my Visa and try Australia or even England.  Sure they speak English there, but they don't speak our dialect of rush, hurry, and worry.  Again, my motivation behind all of this is to be closer to life.  I have a habit of trying too hard for things like this, and making my challenges more difficult than need be.  In fact, my husband said something extremely eye-opening to me the other day.  He said, "you find more ways to make yourself miserable than anyone else I know."  He's so right.  Hopefully that stops some day in the near future.  I am going to see the new movie, Eat, Pray, Love today and I am hoping it will be of some inspiration.  The book sure was, and adding Julia Roberts into the mix can only bring about positive results! 

There's always more to see below the surface.

Getting lost...

I am sad to say that the word bug has not yet returned.  I'm beginning to wonder if I have outgrown this blog.  Writing just seems to be too much of a struggle.  I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be this hard.  And if it is, I'm pretty sure I want no part of it.  As another option to pounding my head against the wall any further (I rather like my head), I fear it may be best to step away for a while.  This is very sad for me.  Maybe it's just a phase that will pass.  But I'm feeling pretty lost tonight.  However, in honor of my B&W Study- no matter how tempting it can be to hang up my camera when I am faced with someone more talented than I, I will NEVER outgrow photography- here is Phase 3.


B&W Study: Phase 3- The Dining Room/Kitchen

Finding my motivation...

Tonight I got into a discussion with my husband about volunteerism and general good will.  Ever since reading The Upside of Rationality, I question the motivation behind all human action.  Dan Ariely would be so proud.  I wondered aloud: what drives people to generate good will, from a simple smile to moving across the world to care for others in a foreign nation?  And, does the reason matter, or only the action that results?

I have written before about how I feel religion regards the call to treat others as you wish to be treated as a rule, a guideline for entering heaven.  If this is the reason for performing any one action, isn't the action selfish, and even worse, contrived?  And, yet if we do something for the reason of making ourselves look better- to others or to ourselves, isn't that equally as contrived and selfish?   And, if we do it simply because we want to, then isn't that the definition of selfish?  So, are there any pure motives?

I started to think about what people can truly trust.  Often we regret our own decisions, and fault others for theirs.  So we cannot be trusted to follow our own motivation.  Even following black and white rules, such as those laid out by different religions, can lead to poor outcomes.  We all know life is nothing if not a tumble of grays and blues.

So life itself is the only thing that can truly be trusted.  In other words, if something happens that is out of our control, we are forced to accept it as the way the world should be, because it is, and there could be no other option.  So then life itself, or God, or the Universe, whatever you may call it, is the one pure driving force behind all action.  So how do we tap into that?  How do we know our decisions are governed by life and not our own nearsighted vision?

In order to find the answer I went to the only thing I know, and that is my own experience.  All decisions I have made, big and small, that have resulted in a successful outcome (at least as would seem by my own flawed intelligence) were made with the simple goal of coming closer to life.  What does this mean?  It is similar to that feeling when you're driving down an empty road listening to a super rockin' song with the windows down and the sun setting on the horizon.  That feeling when you know that you are experiencing the magic known as life.  All of my time here consists of the journey to find that feeling.  And the closer I come to it, the more at peace I feel, which is my personal sign of a well-lived life.

So, I have concluded that for me the sole goal must be to unite with life.  And anything that brings me closer to life is something to be trusted.  And that, to my mind, is the only pure motivation there can be.

Taking a quick sidestep from the B&W Study.  I visited Okefenokee Swamp this weekend, and hung out with the alligators.  This dude was definitely eyeing us like a velociraptor on the hunt.  Now that I have my weekends to myself, it is much easier for me to chill with life.  This weekend being out in the middle of the swamp, listening to rad old country tunes, hanging with my best friend after 6 months of not seeing her, listening to the thunder, taking photos, I definitely accomplished my goal.  Now, I just need to work on accomplishing it when I am at work and engaged in the seeming drudgery of the day to day.

Yogging...

People say that the thirties are the best time of your life, and I am inclined to agree.  The one negative thing I had found about it has now become a positive.  Since turning thirty, weight has been an issue.  So I have recently started back jogging again (or is it yogging?  It might be a soft J).  I noticed during my jaunt this evening that my jogging time is my time to appreciate all of the things around me and in my life.  Almost every jog lately I have found myself spontaneously smiling several different times.  If anyone happens to look out their window, they probably think I'm a loon, panting and puffing and smiling from ear to ear.

Before, when I was working every day, I was too busy to notice much of anything.  But now, as I jog, I notice the smells of the newly mown lawns, of people's laundry being cleaned, of the ocean air, and of dinner cooking on the grills in my neighbors' backyards.  And I notice the sounds of the birds, planes, and insects intermixed among Travis Tritt and Brooks n Dunn playing on my iPod.  It's funny because for so long I have wanted to set aside some meditation time to help me to be more relaxed throughout the day.  But getting myself to sit still seemed to cause more stress than good.  But now I realize that, though outward appearance may seem to contradict, jogging is my relaxation, my meditation.  It makes sense, as it is the one time I focus on my breathing.

My mom sent me a cheesy forward the other day.   One about a man on a deserted island who cried over his hut catching on fire, a fire that later brought him rescue.  Well, getting fat was my hut catching on fire.  It pointed me to a new outlet that helps me truly experience life.  What are your burning huts?

"It's a great day to be alive."- Travis Tritt

B&W Study: Phase 2- The Bedroom