meditation

Quite often I feel myself tossed around by this world. Grounded and inspiring friends are the markers that steer me back to the path.

I started meditating again, after a long, long, long hiatus. Just one conversation with an old and sacred friend did it. She is so committed to herself and to her life. Just hearing the peace in her voice, and uttering my own intention to reconnect to self - that was enough to get me back on the cushion.

These are the kinds of people we need.

grateful

This weekend wasn't all that fun. I had a cold that made me feel like my face was melting off my skull and then there was a snowstorm and then we got stuck in New York, a city I've recently determined that I hate.

So there were some upsets. But when I finally got home somewhere around 1:00 pm on Monday, I was so grateful to see my house. I was so grateful to shovel out my car. I was so grateful to wash dishes and cut vegetables and make soup. Because even though I became utterly unglued in the City That Never Shuts Up, I saw clearly what kind of life I don't want - and what kind of life makes my heart sing.

unreasonable

Nicholas Kristof is a top-tier hero of mine. He is a writer but equally an activist, and "one ounce of action beats a ton of words." His book with wife Sheryl WuDunn called Half the Sky is one of the bravest books I have ever read.

I bow deeply to Nick and Sheryl.

And have to lift this quote from George Bernard Shaw:

Reasonable people adapt themselves to the world. Unreasonable people attempt to adapt the world to themselves. All progress, therefore, depends on unreasonable people.

Amen.

paramount

Bisogna volersi bene. You must love yourself.

It really is paramount.

dreams

Maira Kalman's Opinion in the New York Times dreams of Americans standing on the right side of (food) justice. Everyone who cares about food and the planet and our health as a species should read it. Especially Kristin. Kristin must read it... To clean, fresh, fair food. Salute.

liberty

Today is the first day of freedom. I woke at 9 - having been utterly unaffected by C clanking around, making breakfast, talking to Sita, washing dishes, showering and dressing. I didn't even hear the door shut. I was dead to the world - dreaming a mosiac of movies I've seen, incorrect faces put to significant names, MBA formulas, latent fears and desires, and other limbic burps.

I am drinking coffee now... I might go for a run later... There is nothing that I have to do.

It is waking up in a land of Technicolor after enduring black and white tornado-ravaged Kansas. Not only has it felt like a century since there was nothing I had to do, but recently - the last three weeks or so - there has been way too much to have to do.

Today is quiet inside. Today is slow. Today I start to feel myself again.

romance

Romance is really pretty deranged when you think about it. I mean, what is it in humans that makes them crave drama and uncertainty and passionate disfunctionality? A woman says she is miserable when she is waiting to see if he'll call, but part of her loves it. Because the heart is pounding and the world is tipping and it all feels so deliciously desperate.

But think about this: Has anyone ever said, "Gee, life would be more fulfilling if my friendships and family relationships were just a tad more fucked up. If they were just a splash less communicative and a splash more volatile."

Yet for some unknown and unquantifiable reason, we want a splash of volatility in our love lives. We want chase scenes and vampires and wind-swept Cliffs of Dover. We want period costumes and horses and final heart-wrenching reunions with bad guys on the way. We want the one we're with (sometimes) and we want a few dozen others who scratch certain itchy places on our thumpin' bumpin' egos.

If all this is left over from mating rituals on the savannah, we have a long way to go as a species -- and we should admit it.