OGT Biweekly Week 3. SHOES

Here it is three weeks into the return of my former daily habit, in which the true nature of my soul shall be revealed.  In which you will learn all about the way in which I handle existential anxiety; my own personal stress management strategy. 

It all comes down to ritual and the need to maintain some sameness - as the earth spins ever on in its axis of change and the world we knew a month ago might not ever really be the same again.

I get up each morning and make the bed.   Without the bed made, I feel unsettled and there's not a sheet to turn down when I need to go back to sleep.  So I make the bed no matter what war is waging, no matter who is dying.  I make the bed. 


And even though I can attend most meetings in my slippers and pajamas, I also at least try to be dressed by noon. 


I have been enjoying doing so.

 Dressing up gives me the semblance of going somewhere and helps me feel more organized in an endless round of Zoom meetings. 

A big part of dressing up is my footwear.  For months my go-to comfort shoes were these Steve Madden boots:

I truly lived in these shoes because they are so comfortable and make me feel like I'm still an art student.   That was until I realized a pair of pumps might be a bit more professorial for a graduate student instructor; that I should not be dressing like my twenty something students - In other words act my age. 

These blue suede Cole & Haan pumps are gorgeous and work with jeans or dress up.  The only problem is they are truly for dress up only!   Not for walking.  With my bunions I can wear these for class, but then need to jump back in the Maddens to get home. 

I guess by now you can tell I'm obsessed with shoes.   I am particularly vulnerable to online shoe sales and now you know my secret COVID stress addiction.   When the virus hit full force I became active helping others, helping my students, cleaning my house etc....   My little escape was to look at shoes ads.   Then I started buying them - nothing over $35 mind you. But what a rush it was to find a great deal: like these casual mules (here modeled with hand knit garnet colored socks from my friend Sara.).  I feel very sophisticated when I wear these and can pretend I'm on my way to eat sushi down the street at a place which is now closed (for good??)

The real binge buying began the second week of March when it became clear that we were not in this thing for two weeks, but rather for two months or more with no end in sight.   An existential abyss.  When these Dr. Scholl's slip-ons came across the pike, they spoke to me of comfort and ease at a time when life was turning into a science fiction nightmare.

 I awaited the box in the mail like a treasure.   When it arrived I sprayed it down with Clorox and left it outside for three days before putting them on.  Suddenly it was Spring, almost Easter, and I had a new pair of sneakers.  I was no longer thinking about my friend who works the frontline in a Bronx ER, or my children isolated in their apartments in a city surrounded by death and dying. 

I had a little spring in my step as I walked the dog among the budding daffodils.









These Aquatherme boots were on deep discount because winter is long over.   They zip up, are super comfortable and made entirely of pleather.  Rain boots!   I have actually worn them numerous times.  They are the most practical of my new $35 finds and have been on one of our safari expeditions to the Food Town.   A little event that took four hours from front door to Clorox wiped boxes, cans and apples stored on our shelves.












By far my favorite purchase has been my new Dr. Scholl's platform sandals; somewhat retro but also super comfortable.   These are not your grandmother's Dr. Scholls.   Love them with a pair of jeans or a dress.  I've put them on up just to walk around the house from front yard to back.

These black suede Marco Sarto loafers are pure vanity.  Complete with buckles and fringe. More imaginings that I'm a sophisticated dresser.  I have worn them for one of my online classes, but like the blue suede pumps they are also bunions busters.  But also just fun to look at, especially with my special heart socks from friend Ruby Joan. There is nothing realistic here.  Pure fantasy like I'm set to walk across the Seine to visit the Cezannes at the Jeu de Paumes.

Clearly altruism and conservation have flown the coop in favor of a creature who craves new things to wear.   Even though I might only be commuting to the kitchen for my cup of morning tea before fighting the traffic back upstairs to my office for another session or Zoom meeting, I just don't feel right unless I've dressed the part.  In fact I think I'm dressing better now than when I actually had to go out in public.

However, one could say that I have purchased an unreasonably large number of shoes since the beginning of March considering that I never really have to go anywhere.   My partner is beginning to get wise to the abundant $35 charges on the credit card and almost daily arrival of DSW boxes at our door. (Thank goodness I am working so I can support this habit!)   But if this quarantine lasts much longer things could really get out of hand and I'd have a pair of shoes to wear every day of the year.   

Really I am more socially responsible than that and am a frequent consumer of Eileen Fisher "gently worn" sales and ThredUp the largest online thrift store out there.   Clothing production in countries like China, India and Vietnam for an American market not only encourages exploitative consumerism, but is a major contributor to solid waste and land fill on the planet.

But shoes last longer right?   ...look at these:

Rock Candy sandals - candy for the feet....I mean one more pair can't hurt......

I Worry

Hello, Friends.

It's Tuesday. I was supposed to write to you on Saturday.  Welcome to the pandemic.

Each of us is walking our own path through this new reality.   Lives are lost, jobs are lost, homes are lost.  Any one person's anguish is unbearable.  Unimaginable.  Even for those of us who still have their homes and their jobs and thankfully, their lives, this time is full of fear and worry.

I have always been a worrier.  Since I was a small child.  It appears that my brain is wired to imagine the worst.

When I was growing up, I lived through the Cold War.  I was convinced that the bomb would fall at any moment and obliterate us all.  To combat this fear and dread, I read.  I read as many end-of-the-world books that I could find. I devoured dystopia. I read to replace my worry with hope, and my fear with strength.

The bomb didn't fall, the walls between countries were torn down, and the hovering dread slowly dissipated from my mind.  But living a life of worry has remained.  I still expect bad things to happen. My mind is my worst enemy. I like to think my favorite poet, Mary Oliver, traveled a similar path:

I Worried
by Mary Oliver

I worried a lot.  Will the garden grow, will the
rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to
nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

By Friday of last week, my worry had overtaken me.  I worried about my colleagues trying to find a way to teach 6 year olds remotely, rather than hug them each day. I worried about both of my parents. I worried about my intrepid son living in NYC through all of this. I couldn't sit and write. I couldn't read.

So I took my own body out and spent two straight days in my garden. I raked, and weeded and welcomed the emerging shoots and leaves on my perennials. I smiled at the daylilies that stood strong and resolute, despite the wind and the rain and the deer.  Those daylilies belonged to my grandmother. I have taken them with me to each new home.  Each winter, they wilt and die, or they are kept from blooming by hungry deer.  But each spring they return.  Those two days in the garden allowed me to wake up on Monday and start again.  I hope you can find that thing in your life that chases away worry.  We all need it right now. Go out and sing! - Laurie

OGT Biweekly FEAR and FRUSTRATION

I have been struggling all week with a comment from a young relative, which was very generally, "What's all this looking for the light?  How is that going to help people who can't pay their mortgage because they've lost their job due to the COVID19 pandemic?"   This comment hit me so that I have been thinking about it ever since.  It brings front and center the degree to which I am privileged and safe and have food and shelter and livelihood through a period of history that seems in surreal ways as extreme at the plagues of medieval Europe.   The divisions between the "haves" and "have nots", seem even greater with the strains on our society. 

The shadow of death has not directly crossed our doorstep.  Neither has the wide mouth of hunger and poverty,  but I know there are now families who where whole a month ago who may now be homeless, uprooted or starving due to the deaths and financial closures of the pandemic.

While grateful every day for the fortunes that keep me safe, healthy and occupied I have sought to contribute in ways that are within my means: making PPE for health care workers and holding weekly reiki healing circles on line.  I have also sought to share my gratitude practice with friends and family as a source of inspiration and comfort through this blog.  What I had not realized was how frustrating this might be for people who have had the twin wolves of poverty and death shadowing their doorstep.   How arrogant I must sound to those who might have to move in with relatives and don't know if they'll have job come Fall.

But what I do know from my training as a Somatic Experiencing therapist, is that meeting the fear and pain where they are in yourself and making plenty of room for them, can help to diffuse their intensity and loosen their grip on our brains.  Any thing is possible if we can imagine it.  And this        type of focus can help an individual get rid of these feeling states, empower them toward resilience and help them to find ways to survive these adverse times.                                                                                                                                                       
Pema Chodron, from her book When Things Fall Apart, tells the tale of spiritual seeker who wishes to be rid of certain emotions such as anger, jealousy and especially fear:

   

Fear is a universal experience. Even the smallest insect feels it. We wade in the tidal pools and put our finger near the soft, open bodies of sea anemones and they close up. Everything spontaneously does that. It’s not a terrible things that we feel fear when faced with the unknown. It is part of being alive, something we all share. We react against the possibility of loneliness, of death, of not having anything to hold on to. Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth.
...
I once attended a lecture about a man’s spiritual experiences in India in the 1960s. He said he was determined to get rid of his negative emotions. He struggled against anger and lust; he struggled against laziness and pride. But mostly he wanted to get rid of his fear. His meditation teacher kept telling him to stop struggling, but he took that as just another way of explaining how to overcome his obstacles.
Finally the teacher sent him off to meditate in a tiny hut in the foothills. He shut the door and settled down to practice, and when it got dark he lit three small candles. Around midnight he heard a noise in the corner of the room, and in the darkness he saw a very large snake. It looked to him like a king cobra. It was right in front of him, swaying. All night he stayed totally alert, keeping his eyes on the snake. He was so afraid that he couldn’t move. There was just the snake and himself and fear.
Just before dawn the last candle went out, and he began to cry. He cried not in despair but from tenderness. He felt the longing of all the animals and people in the world; he knew their alienation and their struggle. All his meditation had been nothing but further separation and struggle. He accepted — really accepted wholeheartedly — that he was angry and jealous, that he resisted and struggled, and that he was afraid. He accepted that he was also precious beyond measure - wise and foolish, rich and poor, and totally unfathomable. He felt so much gratitude that in the total darkness he stood up, walked toward the snake, and bowed. Then he fell sound asleep on the floor. When he awoke, the snake was gone. He never knew if it was his imagination or if it had really been there, and it didn’t seem to matter. As he put it at the end of the lecture, that much intimacy with fear caused his dramas to collapse, and the world around him finally got through.
...

So the next time you encounter fear, consider yourself lucky. This is where the courage comes in. Usually we think that brave people have no fear. The truth is that they are intimate with fear.     

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               In parting I offer this prayer from St. Theresa of Avila in Spain during the 1500's

Let nothing upset you,
let nothing afright you,
Everything is changing
God alone is changeless;
Patience obtains all things,
Who has God lacks nothing for nothing.
God alone fills all her needs. Amen.

Look Down

Hello, friends.  My name is Laurie.  I have known Mia for many years, as our sons grew up together.  We have been talking about collaborating for some time.  It took a pandemic to do it, but here we are. I am grateful for her invitation to join One Good Thing.

I am traveling with Mia on this gratitude journey because I have discovered how important it is to look for goodness and beauty in the world. Without this daily practice, I feel unmoored. I don't have any immediate control over politics, or other people's behavior, or even whether the people I love will come down with COVID.

But I can put one foot in front of the other, and walk.  And I can ground myself as I walk, by looking down. 

Looking down is a byproduct of injury. I have sprained my ankle so many times that I have to be vigilant and watch where I step. Looking down has kept me safe, but I have come to learn that it also brings me peace. 

Looking down grounds me with the earth. It helps me to focus on being present. It keeps me from the thoughts swirling in my mind. And most importantly, it helps me see what I would otherwise miss: passing moments of grace. 

On my walks,  I often find unexpected beauty in the smallest or oddest things. As I look down, I find bits of nature reminding me that the planet is alive, and the seasons are changing. I also find cast off objects from our lives, which, in their erosion, carry their own kind of message.

Walking today is one of the only things we can do safely out in the world. I invite you to do your own walking meditation. Instead of looking ahead at what may come, or looking back at what we have lost, try looking down and finding your own moment of grace.

 "Sometimes the desire to be lost again, as long ago, comes over me like a vapor. With growth into adulthood, responsibilities claimed me, so many heavy coats. I didn’t choose them, I don’t fault them, but it took time to reject them. Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.”

― Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays

The Return of ONE GOOD THING

So here we are at the beginning of a new month.  April Fool's - I said I would return and so I have with a twist.   Instead of ONE GOOD THING Daily it will be biweekly and I welcome a co-editor who will premier this weekend.  I will let said author introduce them self. 

Never has there seemed a better time to return with a biweekly gratitude practice.  And I will be honest with you dear reader; the days when I could devote myself to this blog daily are long over.
But I did miss it and you my loyal audience.   I have been thinking that this practice of gratitude and small recognition in positive thinking was probably a useful practice for myself and the world.  I meant to premier on MLK day as I did with the very first OGT Daily....but life, politics, pandemics, little things like that sort of got in the way.   So here it April first - 4-1-20- an auspicious time to begin as we here in NY dive into what could be very dark times ahead.

This is my theme then, darkness and what comes out of it.   I've heard many say, "There's a silver lining to this......" Fill in the blank.  And yet others who say, "People are dying, how can we be happy about anything?"

About a month and a half ago I was cleaning the house, something I rarely do anymore and suddenly from behind a cabinet in our dining room, I saw an amaryllis with four perfect flowers beaming at me in the darkness.  This is a bulb I tuck away each winter in some lonely spot so it can hibernate and eventually  bloom again in summer.  I don't water it for 6 months or more.  There is another one in the front hallway which looks a dried out onion. 

Yet here it was in full glory startling me like a harbinger of something to come.


I pulled it out and put it on the kitchen table where we enjoyed it for an entire week or more.
But it was not finished because it bloomed again two weeks later, around my birthday, on another stalk with four more blooms.

Then at the beginning of March we became aware that COVID19 had hit our shores and NY began to shutter down.  About this time I noticed that the dried out onion in the front hall had started to make a stalk of its own and gradually formed a flower head which just bloomed this week.  So a third coming with not just four blooms but five perfect flowers like a star. 

Nature is always startling me with its beauty and messages of hope and growth.   And this is not the first time that an amaryllis has been a harbinger of hope and future in my life.  Amaryllis as a symbol signifies pride, beauty and determination.  Its name comes from the Greek and means, "to sparkle." About 30 years ago, when in my twenties, I introduced a friend in the film business to one of the  editors I worked with and she was so positive about this connection that she sent me an amaryllis for my birthday in February. I put it on top of my film editing machine at work and it proceeded to bloom over and over again into the Spring, producing not just 4 or 5 flowers but eventually something like 22 in an explosion of fecund excitement.  I would look up from my work editing footage of bombing runs over London during WWII and there would be another one unfurling itself. I took this as some kind of omen and sure enough, my friends were married a few years later.

Now I can't help but feel these new blooms are an omen of the future; of a need to listen to nature and allow the cycle of darkness to come back into light.

One of my favorite readings is from the 53 ancient 2nd century Christian scrolls, the Coptic bibles, discovered in Egypt  in 1954.  It is called "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" and it has the voice of a feminine wisdom according to spiritual teacher Joan Boryshenko: 

For I am the first and the last,

I am the honored one and the scorned one,

I am the whore and the holy one,

I am strength and I am fear,

I am war and I am peace.

It is similar to the song Jesus sang at the last supper where he claimed to be both war and peace, betrayer and betrayed.   This speaks beautifully to the duality of life in balance.   The need for darkness in order for there to be light.  We must remember this as we descend into long dark days ahead even as the skies of April shine with sun.

It is good to be back.