Neilson’s 2009 data showed that the average American watches approximately 153 hours of television every month. That’s about 5 hours a day! How is that even possible? That equates to about 2 months of nonstop TV-watching per year. No wonder we are all overweight and depressed with distorted views of reality. If that fat, disillusioned, average American lives until 65, that person will have spent about 9 years on their couch watching a blinking box.
I’m almost positive that number has gone up in the last year thanks to mind-blowing shows like the Jersey Shore.
I was stunned with this number until I considered my own television habits. A year ago, I didn’t have cable and I didn’t miss it. I was a full time student working a full time job who absolutely did not have time for television. Comcast Cable apparently didn’t like the fact that I wasn’t paying for 200 channels, so they offered me a deal. I accepted, and the rest is history. Consider me a full blown television junkie.
Television Shows I’m currently watching on a regular basis and my short rationalizations for each:
Modern Family-ABC: Hands down the best/funniest/smartest show on television right now. The writing and characterizations are spot on. Steven Levitan and Christopher Lloyd.. you are genuises.
Community- NBC: I have a soft spot in my heart for Chevy Chase. Plus it’s a little snarky. I like snarky.
United States of Tara- Showtime: Amy = Psychologist; Plot Base = Dissociative Identity Disorder; Psychologist + Dissociative Identity Disorder = happy happy joy joy
Real Housewives of New York City-Bravo: Oh the drama. I love watching grown women act like teenagers. It’s a train wreck and I can’t look away.
Lost- ABC: I told myself I wasn’t going to do it. It seemed overwhelming and complicated with a crazy involved fan base. But I jumped in with DVDs while the show was in its 4th season. Now I’m all caught up. And I'm a part of that crazy/involved fan base.
The Big Bang Theory- CBS: Jim Parsons plays one of my favorite characters on television. How you not cringe and embrace the wonderful awkwardness that is Sheldon?
How I Met Your Mother- CBS: This is just a great cast. The next Friends, anyone?
Project Runway-Lifetime: I like fashion. And I like creative people. I like watching creative people create fashion.
The runners up: I watch these on occasion, when I catch them.
Biggest Loser-NBC: I actually enjoyed this show until it turned into one big product placement. But I continue to watch every so often. Why? Whyyyy?
Glee-Fox: I absolutely love musicals. And I love that this show doesn’t take itself too seriously. Ryan Murphy created Nip/Tuck and Popular. Both were shows that I enjoyed. He does ‘over the top’ well. I watch Glee when I’m not overly embarrassed by the horrible lipsynching. The fact the Jonathan Groff is now on the show, will probably keep me watching.
Hoarders- A&E- This generates a mild case of schadenfreude. I wouldn’t say I’m actually taking delight in the hoarders’ misfortunes, but I’m damn glad that any level of mess that’s in my house is not nearly as bad as the mess in their houses. In related news, it also motivates me to clean and purge.
That’s a steady 9 hours a week of television watching for me. That’s a little embarrassing. I try to make a conscious effort to limit my tv time (if you can consider 9 hours a week “limiting”). But then there’s the occasional special or nightly news, and the shows that are on either before or after the show I am attempting to watch. So that 9 can actually turn into 10 or 12 by the end of the week.
It’s so easy to come home after a stressful day and zone-out in front of the tube. I have to constantly remind myself that the zoning-out disguises itself as a stress-reliever. When in reality, for me, it’s a stress delayer. I don’t need 12 hours of television in my week. Sure, it’s mildly entertaining (except for Modern Family which is ridiculously entertaining), but what is it really adding to my life?
Can you possibly live a fulfilled life if you’re watching someone else’s fake television life for 5 hours a day? I guess I’ll continue to be a conscious television watcher and stick to the shows I really enjoy. As long as I’m not scheduling my life around television shows, I’m ok, right?
[I don’t know what’s more disturbing: those people who watch 35 hours of television a week. Or those people who spend an hour reflecting and rationalizing the 8-10 hours of television that they watch.]
What’s your television-watching data? Can you defend your television choices? Enlighten me.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
On Journaling
I’m going through massive early-spring cleaning/discarding in an attempt to simplify my life and I stumbled upon this journal:
I found it at half-price books early last year. Check out the bottom right hand corner. (That’s the only reason I bought it.)
I debated about keeping it. My mind was saying if you haven’t used it in a year, give it away. You don’t need it. You won’t miss it. But after about approximately 26 seconds of internal debate, I decided that maybe I could put it to use. I think it could be a good aide in my mission: organization plan.
Now I haven’t kept a “journal” since the 10th grade- a simple flowery hardback filled with teen angst and ramblings about cute boys. I remember writing in it and thinking, wow this is going to be so cool to read when I’m like 30. I think a lot of people are like me- They keep journals to reflect on the past. They document their present with intentions of reading it in the future.
Now maybe some people use journals resourcefully: to learn from their past mistakes, or to find patterns in destructive behavior etc. But that hasn’t been my experience. Each time I open up one of those old books I find myself cringing and thinking things like wow my writing was horrible and dramatic and wow I can’t believe how many people I made out with and wow this is really embarrassing. It’s generally not a good/fulfilling/positive experience.
I’m taking a different approach with this bad boy. A strictly here and now/present acting toward future approach. It’s going to be full of lists and goals and reminders. My objective is for it to help me stay organized. Kind of like a more grown-up and self-reflective trapper keeper.
cue trapper keeper commercial
I found it at half-price books early last year. Check out the bottom right hand corner. (That’s the only reason I bought it.)
I debated about keeping it. My mind was saying if you haven’t used it in a year, give it away. You don’t need it. You won’t miss it. But after about approximately 26 seconds of internal debate, I decided that maybe I could put it to use. I think it could be a good aide in my mission: organization plan.
Now I haven’t kept a “journal” since the 10th grade- a simple flowery hardback filled with teen angst and ramblings about cute boys. I remember writing in it and thinking, wow this is going to be so cool to read when I’m like 30. I think a lot of people are like me- They keep journals to reflect on the past. They document their present with intentions of reading it in the future.
Now maybe some people use journals resourcefully: to learn from their past mistakes, or to find patterns in destructive behavior etc. But that hasn’t been my experience. Each time I open up one of those old books I find myself cringing and thinking things like wow my writing was horrible and dramatic and wow I can’t believe how many people I made out with and wow this is really embarrassing. It’s generally not a good/fulfilling/positive experience.
I’m taking a different approach with this bad boy. A strictly here and now/present acting toward future approach. It’s going to be full of lists and goals and reminders. My objective is for it to help me stay organized. Kind of like a more grown-up and self-reflective trapper keeper.
cue trapper keeper commercial
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
What You Love: Is it What You Do?
I have a Rumi quote that hangs above my desk, it says: let the beauty of what you love be what you do.
Sure, sometimes we have to engage in things we don’t actually love. I don’t love going to the dentist. But I really enjoy my teeth. So it’s kind of a trade-off. We don't love everything we do all the time.
I think Rumi would agree that we should spend a significant amount of time doing what we love. Your life’s work should be something you love. When you love something, you are more connected to it. You put your best energy into it. And you get more out of it. The essence of what you love is that “beauty” and that essence should be in your daily work. It will naturally spill into what you do, and if you’re lucky other people will benefit from what you are doing.
To do something truly well, you have to enjoy it on some level. Paul Graham wrote an interesting essay on How To Do What You Love.
He poses the question:
I remember when I asked myself this question when I was trying to decide on graduate school. Do most people actually enjoy their jobs? During this point in my life, I was really driven by what I thought was “rational”. What am I good at? What do I like to do or what can I tolerate doing? What will pay me enough to enable me to do things that I love? (notice I never considered work to be something that I could “love”. It was something I had to do in order to support myself so I could do all the things that I love).
This 22 year old rational Amy was having a much harder time deciding what to “do” than any other form of impulsive Amy. Take 6 year old Amy for example: In the first grade, our class was asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. That profession was printed next to our names in the yearbook. It didn’t take me more than 3 seconds to decide on my future profession. I was going to be a triple threat: model/actress/writer. I loved writing plays for my Barbie dolls, I loved acting, and I loved modeling in church fashion shows. So the only thing that made sense to me was to be a model/actress/writer. There. Settled. As I flip through that yearbook, I notice it is full of aspiring astronauts, ballerinas, nurses, and teachers. (Surprisingly not a single venture capitalist or lawyer in the bunch.)
Now I’m not saying that my class of 6 year olds had some kind of deep insight that they somehow regrettably abandoned along the way. (We were a group of kids who used to put lemonade in sandwich bags and tell people that it was pee. Most of us were still afraid of the dark and a few of us liked the taste of our own boogers.) In short, I wouldn’t want 6 year old Amy making any major life decisions for 26 year old Amy. Through the years, we discovered more about our likes, dislikes, abilities, and what we are actually capable of doing. A lot of that simple I-know-it-in-my-gut passion got lost or discarded as childish/idealistic.
I think of my friends, and myself, as we enter the workforce. Maybe we like the money, or the prestige, or the benefits. Maybe we even like the people we work with or we like feeling “productive.” But I wonder how many of us actually love what we do.
How much do you love what you do? Do you work to live? Love to work? Or live to work?
Sure, sometimes we have to engage in things we don’t actually love. I don’t love going to the dentist. But I really enjoy my teeth. So it’s kind of a trade-off. We don't love everything we do all the time.
I think Rumi would agree that we should spend a significant amount of time doing what we love. Your life’s work should be something you love. When you love something, you are more connected to it. You put your best energy into it. And you get more out of it. The essence of what you love is that “beauty” and that essence should be in your daily work. It will naturally spill into what you do, and if you’re lucky other people will benefit from what you are doing.
To do something truly well, you have to enjoy it on some level. Paul Graham wrote an interesting essay on How To Do What You Love.
He poses the question:
How much are you supposed to like what you do? Unless you know that, you don't know when to stop searching. And if, like most people, you underestimate it, you'll tend to stop searching too early. You'll end up doing something chosen for you by your parents, or the desire to make money, or prestige—or sheer inertia.-
I remember when I asked myself this question when I was trying to decide on graduate school. Do most people actually enjoy their jobs? During this point in my life, I was really driven by what I thought was “rational”. What am I good at? What do I like to do or what can I tolerate doing? What will pay me enough to enable me to do things that I love? (notice I never considered work to be something that I could “love”. It was something I had to do in order to support myself so I could do all the things that I love).
This 22 year old rational Amy was having a much harder time deciding what to “do” than any other form of impulsive Amy. Take 6 year old Amy for example: In the first grade, our class was asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. That profession was printed next to our names in the yearbook. It didn’t take me more than 3 seconds to decide on my future profession. I was going to be a triple threat: model/actress/writer. I loved writing plays for my Barbie dolls, I loved acting, and I loved modeling in church fashion shows. So the only thing that made sense to me was to be a model/actress/writer. There. Settled. As I flip through that yearbook, I notice it is full of aspiring astronauts, ballerinas, nurses, and teachers. (Surprisingly not a single venture capitalist or lawyer in the bunch.)
Now I’m not saying that my class of 6 year olds had some kind of deep insight that they somehow regrettably abandoned along the way. (We were a group of kids who used to put lemonade in sandwich bags and tell people that it was pee. Most of us were still afraid of the dark and a few of us liked the taste of our own boogers.) In short, I wouldn’t want 6 year old Amy making any major life decisions for 26 year old Amy. Through the years, we discovered more about our likes, dislikes, abilities, and what we are actually capable of doing. A lot of that simple I-know-it-in-my-gut passion got lost or discarded as childish/idealistic.
I think of my friends, and myself, as we enter the workforce. Maybe we like the money, or the prestige, or the benefits. Maybe we even like the people we work with or we like feeling “productive.” But I wonder how many of us actually love what we do.
How much do you love what you do? Do you work to live? Love to work? Or live to work?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Random Acts of Kindness (for jerks).
This week is Random Acts of Kindness Week. The Random Acts of Kindness Foundation hopes to “inspire people to practice kindness and to pass it on to others.” Good ol’ wiki describes a random act of kindness as a “selfless act performed by a person or persons wishing to either assist or cheer up an individual…. There will generally be no reason other than to make people smile, or be happier.”
This is insinuating that we perform these random acts of kindness because it makes the recipient “feel good.” And hey— when we make others feel good, we feel good, right? Well the truth is there are many other emotions that the recipient of a random act of kindness may feel other than “good”: suspicious, weirded out, and embarrassed come to mind. For example: One of the most common suggestions for a random act of kindness is to write a letter of gratitude to someone. I personally love handwritten letters. There’s nothing more romantic or exciting than a handwritten letter. But if I received a letter of gratitude from a friend out of the blue, my first thought would be Why are they thanking me and telling me that I’m a good friend? I should perform a suicide assessment just to be safe… Call me a cynic. Or a Jerk.
I’m generally kind to people. I say please and thank you. I smile at strangers. Sometimes during the holidays, I pay for the person behind me in the Dunkin Donuts drive thru. But I’m not kind enough to bake cookies for all of my neighbors or visit the elderly in a nursing home. Not yet anyway.
So in honor of Random Acts of Kindness week, I’ve compiled a list of “acts” for those people who aren’t used to going out of their way to be kind. If you’re a jerk the other 51 weeks out of the year, it might be hard for you to dive head-first into the random acts of kindness schtick. I understand. Here are some ideas to help you ease into the kindness.
Buy a beer/shot for someone at the bar
When was the last time you bought a beer for a stranger who you weren’t trying to pick up (and make-out with)? Go ahead. Buy a beer for the lonely old man at the end of the bar. Don’t worry about promoting alcoholism. You don’t even have to acknowledge that it was you. You’ll either make his day, or make him extremely suspicious. Either way, you win.
Let someone merge in front of you in traffic. During rush hour
If you experience moderate to severe road rage like me, this is going to be a tough one. But in reality, letting one car merge in front of you takes little to no effort. Just take a deep breath. You’ll be home soon. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get a thank you wave.
Be a parking meter fairy
Put a quarter in an almost expired meter. This is for you rebellious types. I think it’s illegal to do this in most cities. Australia seems to have the right idea though.
Leave some reading material in the public bathroom
Admit it--You’d be so pumped if someone left you a little dose of entertainment in the office bathroom. Leave a newspaper or magazine draped over the stall. Heck, if you’re the creative type you can even write a poem and tape it to the door. Nobody will have to know it was you and you can sleep easy knowing you made someone’s public bathroom excursion a little more enjoyable.
Share your awesome taste in music
Remember all of those mixed CDs you made back when illegally downloading music was all the rage? If you’re like me, all of that music is now on an iPod. No use for those old discs? Leave one in a favorite spot: coffee shop, library, etc. Label it with a sharpie or attach a post-it stating: For someone interested in really good music, or For someone who’s heart just got stomped on or For someone who just can’t get enough of 90s boy bands. Ya know- depending what’s on the CD.
Being kind is easy. And who cares if the recipient is suspicious or freaked out by your random act. More than likely, he’ll forget about it in a couple of days.
Happy Random Acts of Kindness Week. Let’s spread the love and attempted un-jerkiness
This is insinuating that we perform these random acts of kindness because it makes the recipient “feel good.” And hey— when we make others feel good, we feel good, right? Well the truth is there are many other emotions that the recipient of a random act of kindness may feel other than “good”: suspicious, weirded out, and embarrassed come to mind. For example: One of the most common suggestions for a random act of kindness is to write a letter of gratitude to someone. I personally love handwritten letters. There’s nothing more romantic or exciting than a handwritten letter. But if I received a letter of gratitude from a friend out of the blue, my first thought would be Why are they thanking me and telling me that I’m a good friend? I should perform a suicide assessment just to be safe… Call me a cynic. Or a Jerk.
I’m generally kind to people. I say please and thank you. I smile at strangers. Sometimes during the holidays, I pay for the person behind me in the Dunkin Donuts drive thru. But I’m not kind enough to bake cookies for all of my neighbors or visit the elderly in a nursing home. Not yet anyway.
So in honor of Random Acts of Kindness week, I’ve compiled a list of “acts” for those people who aren’t used to going out of their way to be kind. If you’re a jerk the other 51 weeks out of the year, it might be hard for you to dive head-first into the random acts of kindness schtick. I understand. Here are some ideas to help you ease into the kindness.
Buy a beer/shot for someone at the bar
When was the last time you bought a beer for a stranger who you weren’t trying to pick up (and make-out with)? Go ahead. Buy a beer for the lonely old man at the end of the bar. Don’t worry about promoting alcoholism. You don’t even have to acknowledge that it was you. You’ll either make his day, or make him extremely suspicious. Either way, you win.
Let someone merge in front of you in traffic. During rush hour
If you experience moderate to severe road rage like me, this is going to be a tough one. But in reality, letting one car merge in front of you takes little to no effort. Just take a deep breath. You’ll be home soon. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get a thank you wave.
Be a parking meter fairy
Put a quarter in an almost expired meter. This is for you rebellious types. I think it’s illegal to do this in most cities. Australia seems to have the right idea though.
Leave some reading material in the public bathroom
Admit it--You’d be so pumped if someone left you a little dose of entertainment in the office bathroom. Leave a newspaper or magazine draped over the stall. Heck, if you’re the creative type you can even write a poem and tape it to the door. Nobody will have to know it was you and you can sleep easy knowing you made someone’s public bathroom excursion a little more enjoyable.
Share your awesome taste in music
Remember all of those mixed CDs you made back when illegally downloading music was all the rage? If you’re like me, all of that music is now on an iPod. No use for those old discs? Leave one in a favorite spot: coffee shop, library, etc. Label it with a sharpie or attach a post-it stating: For someone interested in really good music, or For someone who’s heart just got stomped on or For someone who just can’t get enough of 90s boy bands. Ya know- depending what’s on the CD.
Being kind is easy. And who cares if the recipient is suspicious or freaked out by your random act. More than likely, he’ll forget about it in a couple of days.
Happy Random Acts of Kindness Week. Let’s spread the love and attempted un-jerkiness
Friday, February 12, 2010
More Ramblings on Authenticity
I need to get this out in the open: I’m a worrier. I worry about the world around me. I worry about other people’s problems. I worry about my problems. I worry about what other people think of me. Because I worry so much, I can’t turn my mind off. It’s constantly racing: Will-I-find-a-job-do-i-even-like-what-I’m-doing-am-i-making-a-difference-does-he-like-me-ohmygoddiditurnoffthestove?!
So in an attempt to organize my thoughts, I’m writing it all down. Streamlining. Trying to simplify: Authenticity. Creativity. Mindfulness/Deliberate Living. Gratitude. Joy. That’s what I’m striving for.
Let’s start with this idea of authenticity. I throw around the term a hell of a lot lately, so I feel like I need to explain myself. To me, authenticity means, living as truly and as honestly as you can in relation to your desires, hopes, likes, interests, and character. In other words, it’s a kind of congruence between what you hold within you (your values, talents, passions) and your outer world (your relationships, jobs, interactions, community).
Side note: Authenticity as a philosophy stems from an existential term (shout out to Duquesne’s existential phenomenology program woot woot you crazy people). Wiki does a nice job in explaining it if you’re more interested in authenticity in relation to existentialism: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Authenticity_(philosophy)
Even bigger side-note: I like Heidegger. He would be one of the 3 people I invite to dinner if I could invite 3 people to dinner either alive or dead. Heidegger challenges that existential authenticity is experience-oriented. The “self” is ephemeral and changes from moment to moment. Therefore, there is no authentic self only momentary authenticity within a certain situation. I wish could go on, but my head might explode.
So what’s the problem here? Shouldn’t you just do what you love when you love it and be done with it?
I’ve been struggling a bit with it. First of all, for many, it’s kind of damn hard to find what you love and then have that love supported in the “outside world”. We have therapists, we have self-help books, we have society, family, church, non-churchy things, organizations, media, friends. We have all of these options for “support systems”. Although some have better intentions than others, they can make it hard for us to distinguish our own “truth” from what people are telling us should be true.
It’s all really a multi-step process: You have to first have a sense of identity and then live in accordance to your sense of self. In order to live that way you also have to be careful not to interpret the world through institutionalized concepts and abstractions.
Then there’s the issue of selfishness. Is living this way selfish? Disregarding what other people say you should do? Yes. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe working on authenticity is the most selfish thing we can do. I’m not saying we owe the world anything, but… if we did… wouldn’t putting our best selves out into it be the greatest act we could hope to accomplish?
So in an attempt to organize my thoughts, I’m writing it all down. Streamlining. Trying to simplify: Authenticity. Creativity. Mindfulness/Deliberate Living. Gratitude. Joy. That’s what I’m striving for.
Let’s start with this idea of authenticity. I throw around the term a hell of a lot lately, so I feel like I need to explain myself. To me, authenticity means, living as truly and as honestly as you can in relation to your desires, hopes, likes, interests, and character. In other words, it’s a kind of congruence between what you hold within you (your values, talents, passions) and your outer world (your relationships, jobs, interactions, community).
Side note: Authenticity as a philosophy stems from an existential term (shout out to Duquesne’s existential phenomenology program woot woot you crazy people). Wiki does a nice job in explaining it if you’re more interested in authenticity in relation to existentialism: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Authenticity_(philosophy)
Even bigger side-note: I like Heidegger. He would be one of the 3 people I invite to dinner if I could invite 3 people to dinner either alive or dead. Heidegger challenges that existential authenticity is experience-oriented. The “self” is ephemeral and changes from moment to moment. Therefore, there is no authentic self only momentary authenticity within a certain situation. I wish could go on, but my head might explode.
So what’s the problem here? Shouldn’t you just do what you love when you love it and be done with it?
I’ve been struggling a bit with it. First of all, for many, it’s kind of damn hard to find what you love and then have that love supported in the “outside world”. We have therapists, we have self-help books, we have society, family, church, non-churchy things, organizations, media, friends. We have all of these options for “support systems”. Although some have better intentions than others, they can make it hard for us to distinguish our own “truth” from what people are telling us should be true.
It’s all really a multi-step process: You have to first have a sense of identity and then live in accordance to your sense of self. In order to live that way you also have to be careful not to interpret the world through institutionalized concepts and abstractions.
Then there’s the issue of selfishness. Is living this way selfish? Disregarding what other people say you should do? Yes. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe working on authenticity is the most selfish thing we can do. I’m not saying we owe the world anything, but… if we did… wouldn’t putting our best selves out into it be the greatest act we could hope to accomplish?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The 1st Impossible Thing: The Authenticity Project (not to be confused with The Happiness Project which I've never read)
Some overly happy/overly nice people make me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit. You know the type I’m talking about: the bubbly girl with the permanent smile on her face. She likes to touch people a lot and tell them how pretty they are. She also seems super-concerned about your small misfortunes. She will demonstrate this by nodding her head over-empathetically and exclaiming, “Oh no, that’s so unfortunate that you didn’t have time to get your coffee this morning. If there’s anything I can do, or if you need to talk about it, I’m here.” You never quite know if she’s serious. I’m suspicious of you, overly happy/nice girl. Have you figured out some secret to life? Are you blissfully ignorant? Or are you full of shit? If you’re not full of shit, where can I get a pair of these rose colored glasses?
Now I’m not saying that people can’t be nice or can’t be happy (I like nice people. If there weren’t nice people in the world I would never be able to cut across the 4 lanes of traffic I need to cut across to get to my exit for work. Thank you nice people for letting me cut ahead of you). But there’s a difference between being a happy person and being a “happy” person.
Am I rambling?
I’ve always been drawn to authentic people. Through my training as a psychologist, I’ve learned to rely a lot on feelings. I can feel the depression when I sit across from someone who is depressed; and I can certainly feel psychosis. This feeling exists outside of words, or rating scales, or personality assessments. It’s a subtle discomfort and intuition that’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it. Do you know people who can change the feeling of a room by simply walking into it?
Similarly I can feel when someone is living an authentic or intentional life. There’s a way they carry themselves. They often say what they mean and mean what they say. There’s an unadulterated feeling to their happiness. There’s a genuineness to their niceness. And there’s a certain way that I feel when I’m talking to these people: in the most generic word, I feel GOOD. I want to be you, authentic person.
Awhile ago, when asked about my goals for the new year, I spit out the words: mindfulness, intentionality, and authenticity. I’m not even sure what these words mean to me in my life right now (other than they seem like philosophies/tactics that might be tremendously helpful while simultaneously being “hippie” enough to make my parents uncomfortable). But I’m going to try to uncover ‘what’ and the ‘how’ of those pretty little words. Additionally, I want to document my experiences as I research, reflect, and practice living intentionally, authentically, and mindfully.
Those of you who know me know that I can be cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic, and vulgar. This is going to be hard for me. I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m not really sure what I’m doing. But I’m pretty sure that whatever it is, it's going to be interesting.
Now I’m not saying that people can’t be nice or can’t be happy (I like nice people. If there weren’t nice people in the world I would never be able to cut across the 4 lanes of traffic I need to cut across to get to my exit for work. Thank you nice people for letting me cut ahead of you). But there’s a difference between being a happy person and being a “happy” person.
Am I rambling?
I’ve always been drawn to authentic people. Through my training as a psychologist, I’ve learned to rely a lot on feelings. I can feel the depression when I sit across from someone who is depressed; and I can certainly feel psychosis. This feeling exists outside of words, or rating scales, or personality assessments. It’s a subtle discomfort and intuition that’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it. Do you know people who can change the feeling of a room by simply walking into it?
Similarly I can feel when someone is living an authentic or intentional life. There’s a way they carry themselves. They often say what they mean and mean what they say. There’s an unadulterated feeling to their happiness. There’s a genuineness to their niceness. And there’s a certain way that I feel when I’m talking to these people: in the most generic word, I feel GOOD. I want to be you, authentic person.
Awhile ago, when asked about my goals for the new year, I spit out the words: mindfulness, intentionality, and authenticity. I’m not even sure what these words mean to me in my life right now (other than they seem like philosophies/tactics that might be tremendously helpful while simultaneously being “hippie” enough to make my parents uncomfortable). But I’m going to try to uncover ‘what’ and the ‘how’ of those pretty little words. Additionally, I want to document my experiences as I research, reflect, and practice living intentionally, authentically, and mindfully.
Those of you who know me know that I can be cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic, and vulgar. This is going to be hard for me. I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m not really sure what I’m doing. But I’m pretty sure that whatever it is, it's going to be interesting.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Nature as a Writing Prompt
Variegated brushstrokes on canvas
And should we know the painter?
She drew an asylum with no bars
A staircase with no cause
A welcome mat speckled with greens and blues.
Phonographs play ‘birds’ –chirpchirp—
With ‘wind’ its baseline, footsteps keep rhythm,
Going always going.
Characters are molded. Stories are penned.
It's choreography at its best—
A performance piece where every leaf knows his place and every blade of grass bends on cue. The sun plays curtain and we laugh at the right moments.
But he doesn’t feel it.
“Beauty is nothing,” he says “A construct.”
A plastic mannequin.
A fairytale’s daughter, preservatives and fillers.
But she knows better. And with a perfect Fibonacci finger, she presses her lips, “Shhh.”
There are things that he may never understand
Like
Somehow there are 13 petals on a daisy
And that’s why he always loves her
Rather than not.
And should we know the painter?
She drew an asylum with no bars
A staircase with no cause
A welcome mat speckled with greens and blues.
Phonographs play ‘birds’ –chirpchirp—
With ‘wind’ its baseline, footsteps keep rhythm,
Going always going.
Characters are molded. Stories are penned.
It's choreography at its best—
A performance piece where every leaf knows his place and every blade of grass bends on cue. The sun plays curtain and we laugh at the right moments.
But he doesn’t feel it.
“Beauty is nothing,” he says “A construct.”
A plastic mannequin.
A fairytale’s daughter, preservatives and fillers.
But she knows better. And with a perfect Fibonacci finger, she presses her lips, “Shhh.”
There are things that he may never understand
Like
Somehow there are 13 petals on a daisy
And that’s why he always loves her
Rather than not.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
