Sausalito

I miss ...

Going to The Pub and getting annoyed at the regulars, plus the fact that they don't have wifi, but enjoying the tobacco and the Guinness;

Going to Wrecking Ball despite the fact that I'd vowed never to set foot in there when they forced the change of the name from Gourmet Ghetto to something a little more ... boring;

Going to Manpuku for not-the-best, but perfectly serviceable sushi.

I can go on and on, damn it.

Ven. Viranani on contending with anger

It's like when you go swimming in the ocean, and it's cold. Some people dive right in, but a lot of people, first they get a foot wet and another one and another one ... and once you get in, it's comfortable. But getting in is a slow process. 

Brother Phap Hai on the sacredness of the everyday

But on a profound level, it's developing a capacity to befriend all different parts of ourselves: those things that we feel are unlovable, those things that we feel might be disgusting, those things that we feel might not have anything to do with our spiritual life, the absolutely everyday, to befriend all things. 

Amen

Prayers for Sunday March 29th, 2020

For the layers of comfort and convenience that surrounded our lives and that we never considered a blessing but always just took for granted, forgive us.

For we who must grieve in isolation and not in community, comfort us.

For we who care for the sick, protect us.

For the ability to turn off the fear-mongering and unhelpful commentary and worst-case scenario click bait, strengthen us.

For the times when we are all out of creative ideas for how to get through this with cooped up kids, inspire us. 

For we who are now cutting our own bangs at home, guide us.

For the grace to allow ourselves and others to just be less productive, shower us.

For the generosity needed from those of us who have more resources, empower us.

From our own selfish inclinations, deliver us.

For just being your children, none of whom have done a global pandemic before, love us.

For the days ahead, accompany us.

God unbound by time, help us to know that you are already present in the future we are fearing.

AMEN. 

-Nadia Bolz-Weber

Todd Parr said it best

Isolation

I'm so damn lucky to have my family. I don't know how I would make it through this thing on my own. I can get lonely very easily. That was especially true back in the day. Sometimes I get pissed off and need my space, but I'm damn lucky to have the people I do.

Disgusting

Zoom trolls hit The Racket's virtual event last night. I won't repeat the bullshit they said. I will only reiterate what my colleague Thea Matthews said afterward:

To my writers, my curators, my comrades, my people–– We must keep each other safe, especially now under these vulnerable times of challenge and uncertainty. Connection has gone mostly virtual, and what does virtual safety look like? How can we ensure and fight for our safety? We must be on guard. They are out here. Watching. Attacking with speech.

Daily OM on weeds

I've been surprised that Daily OM hasn't made mention of the whole coronavirus issue, but I definitely think they're referring to it here. Check it out.

Simply expressed, a weed is any plant that grows where it isn't wanted. Weeds are defined by their tendency to flourish at the expense of a gardener's overall vision, and we tend to battle their presence in our yards. It is interesting to consider, though, that a plant is a weed only within a certain context, which is to say that one person's weed is another person's wildflower. Most of us have pulled at least one dandelion up by its roots and disposed of it in the interest of preserving the look of a perfect green lawn, yet the dandelion is good medicine, packed with healing properties and vitamin-rich leaves that are a delicious, spicy surprise in a summer salad.

In the wild, there is no such thing as a weed because the overall vision is in the hands of Mother Nature, who accommodates and incorporates all forms of life. In nature, balance is achieved over the long term, without the aid, or interference, of a human supervisor. While one plant may prevail over others for a certain period of time, eventually it will reach an apex and then it will naturally decline, allowing for other forms to be born and survive. This self-regulating realm was the first garden of our ancestors, who learned the art of agriculture from studying the forests and fields of the as yet uncultivated earth. In a sense, weeds are harbingers of this wildness, pushing their way into our well-ordered plots, undermining more delicate flora, and flourishing in spite of us.

The next time you see a weed, you might want to look deeply into its roots, discover its name, its habits, and its possible uses. Instead of seeing an unwanted intruder, you might see a healer offering its leaves for a medicinal tea or its flowers for a colorful salad. At the very least, if you look long enough, you will see a messenger from the wilderness of Mother Earth, reminding you that, even in the most carefully controlled garden, she cannot be completely ruled out.

Just wrote this to a friend

Jazz is playing, Adam's in his shitty bathrobe, and the dogs are being assholes. Business as usual here too.

Phillip Moffitt, "Self-Soothing During Difficult Times"

I found this very helpful.

THE RACKET is going virtual!

Check it out on Thursday at 7 p.m.!

Baumann on friendship

I would say that friendship is almost as indispensable as is food. ... In ancient times, in Greek and Roman antiquity, friendship was considered to be something very important and at that time was even considered to be an important part of the political life, but as a restriction, this was only true for men. ... There was no talk of women. For example, Aristotle wrote that the mark of a friend was to do good, and that is why everyone needed friends. So then, does this mean that women cannot do good? ...

We all want to be happy and we all do not want to suffer. This is ultimately the connection between living beings. ... We as living beings are dependent on others, whether we like it or not. 

Ariya B. Baumann, dharma talk

I do the practice of forgiveness for myself. Forgiveness is an act of healing myself which gives me a lot of power. I call it a miraculous remedy. It does not cost anything, it works, and there are no harmful side effects. ... 

The first step of forgiveness is to see the other person as a human being, a human being like me, like you. It's important to recognize that, just like me, the other person can also make mistakes or just like me, sometimes other persons are also weak or are overcome with a negative emotion or just like me, sometimes other people are insensitive and confused, or just like me, other persons feel lonely or abandoned. 

So this recognition that other people are just like me helps in the process of forgiveness. We see that they too are on a journey with ups and downs. They are on a journey of having likes and dislikes. Often it's easier to forgive others than to forgive ourselves. We can be so hard on ourselves. We can be so stuck on simply seeing our weak points, our bad sides, and with that, blame ourselves, judge ourselves.

A riding lesson with my brother a long time ago

Who knows?

Last month, Adam and I got into it. I wanted to attend Joyce Maynard's writing retreat in Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. It's going on right now, in fact. He wasn't exactly keen on the time or expense, though he supports what I'm doing. I chose not to go.

What would have happened if I had?

From my Awakening Joy materials

Definitely something to keep in mind:

A “recasting” exercise from the Foster/Hicks book can help shift your relationship to difficult experiences you may be going through. Here’s a modified version: 

1. Bring to mind a difficult situation you are dealing with in your life right now.

2. What are the emotions that you’re feeling? Have you allowed yourself to feel all the feelings?

3. What are the lessons you’re learning from this situation? How can you find meaning as you go through this difficulty?

From Deborah

Always helpful, but now even more relevant, the Dhamma. I've been into vipassana meditation for quite a while now. I find this works best for me, better than, say, Zen.

From the liberation dharma talk I'm listening to now:

Long time ago she had been practicing metta meditation for about one week but then for some reason she had to urgently leave the retreat. And this retreat was actually the very first time that she had engaged in the practice of metta meditation and during that week to her it seemed as if she was only repeating the phrases. She said she didn't feel anything but she kept repeating the phrases. And she thought she did not make any progress. But then yes, she had to leave. So she hurriedly packed her things in a bag and as she put things in her bag, a glass container dropped on the floor and split into a thousand pieces and her first reaction was, you're such a failure, you're such a dummy. Then immediately after, the thought arose, but I love you anyway. She realized she had made progress. Something had actually happened, transformed in her heart, mind. 

Monterey Bay Aquarium live cams

This shit is going to get me through just fine, thank you.

And in Marketplace

Here.

Quoted in Good Housekeeping

Here!

Adam to me, 7 a.m.

"You are fucking Marilyn Chambers over there."

Locked down

Well, it's official -- the Bay Area has been told to shelter in place. I love my family -- lord knows I do -- but there are times that we are all like:

Santana, 1970

We're hunkering down during this shelter in place watching a 50-year-old concert. This is gonna get interesting.

Watching the debates

Both Biden and Sanders seem stiff right now. Maybe they're just trying to seem somber. Maybe we all should. But fuck that. I hate somber. You gotta find a way to laugh no matter what's going on. I may be not so good at lots of things, but I'm good at that.

A friend shared this

Nadia Bolz-Weber on self-revelation

Recently I was talking with a friend about the practice of keeping a diary – she’s always written down the things that have happened in her life, what she really feels about her lovers, things she’s done and thought that no one else knows. She has a place where she puts all of it and I said that, to me, keeping a diary feels way too risky – because I’d always be afraid of someone else getting ahold of it and then knowing the things about myself I would rather keep hidden.

To which she was like, “Are you kidding me? You’ve published way worse things about yourself in your memoirs than I write in my diary - anyone in the whole world can read about your damage!”

True. But not the wholetruth. I mean that’s the dirty secret of people who are self-revealing – on some level it’s like voluntarily pleading to a misdemeanor so there’s no felony on your record.  It’s really just a tightly controlled PR campaign that on the surface lookslike it’s the whole truth. But of course it’s not.

So I’ve been thinking about the hidden things in me–– the stuff where I’d rather die than have it come to light….the damage and sin and shame that I can’t admit to – and how that stuff is such a powerful force in my life, that it’s like a propeller. 

It also happens to be what makes great characters in fiction.  

I think I am not alone. I mean, the wounded parts of me –whether those wounds were inflicted by the sin others or by my own sin, are what keep me in motion – because I have to try and make up for them, or try and convince myself and everyone else that they aren’t there, or I have to try and get them healed by the love and attention of other people even though none of that ever works….. but wow, it sure does keep me in motion.

The hard right hook

That's often how I'll describe getting pregnant. God knows I didn't expect or even think I wanted it, though Adam would tell me later that he wondered: Did she do this deliberately? I didn't have a problem that he asked the question; I asked it of myself as well. Did I deliberately skip the birth control or did it just happen because I can be lazy and forgetful? It would be so neat to say that I'm looking at Baz right now, sleeping on the couch as he likes to do even though he has a room of his own, and that the question doesn't matter, but it still does.

The hard right hook. The punch that slams you, spins you around. It's addictive. And it's far from over. 

Cabin fever

Holy shit. It's already starting to hit. I'm used to going out all the time -- bars, cafes, restaurants, you name it. This whole staying home stuff is already getting a little old. Cozy? Cozy this, motherfucker! I want to go out into the world. But I fear it'll get worse before it improves.

Friday night

Work-from-home advantages

Kiss me, you sexy thing

Hot Chocolate for a morning in crazy times.



In other news, WRITING FROM THE EDGE has gone online, as has the rest of Writing Salon. I totally understand and support that, and yet it was really sad to see my students' reaction. We've worked hard together to create a safe space and supportive environment, and I'm hoping we can continue this through Google Hangouts, but man, it's tough. I keep telling them fuck this virus, we're going to rock this. We'd better.

Compliments

I just gotta say, in all seriousness: Your parents made a lot of mistakes; birthing you wasn't one of them.

For someone I used to love

The Cure, "Pictures of You"

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures
Are all I can feel

Remembering you standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering you running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go

Remembering you fallen into my arms
Crying for the death of your heart
You were stone white
So delicate
Lost in the cold
You were always so lost in the dark
Remembering you how you used to be
Slow drowned
You were angels
So much more than everything
Hold for the last time then slip away quietly
Open my eyes
But I never see anything

If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart
All my pictures of you

Looking so long at these pictures of you
But I never hold on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
But always just breaking apart
My pictures of you

There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
All my pictures of you

Got engaged to this song

FRIGID Festival, right around this time in 2007, Under St. Mark's theater, East Village, NYC. Then we went to Brooklyn because of course.

Morning jam

Telegraph Beer Garden, five years ago

Hair and eyebrows on point. And very, very pregnant.

This morning

Innocence and goodness seem more important to me than normal. It seems imperative that the people around me are wholesome, as they say in Buddhism, not bereft of flaws but not overly taken by them. I need sweetness around me, rightness. I need peace.

2018

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I'm in Parents Magazine!

Check it out!

Love this note from a student!

I love this class and am relieved to have found you, Allison! Your open embrace of each writer seemed to reflect awareness of the spectre of judgment and stigma hanging over much of our human experience.