Dark & Complex

I have to admit something.  Though I see myself as a "good girl" and have never been a fan of the horror genre per-se, for some reason I found myself wishing for the recent film version of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.  And, when for Christmas my darling husband presented it to me, I was faced with yet another dilemma: do I actually open it?  Should I really, watch it? Gasp!  I had heard it was violent.  Bloody and full of gore.  

I was familiar with the story and music thanks to my sister's love of musical theater.  It doesn't get much more way out than Sweeney's quest for vengeance carried out by his army of razors. At his side, the ever resourceful Mrs. Lovett.  What a pair!  Yes, I knew the story.  But something inside me said, "If you open that and watch it, you're creepy.  I mean, he kills people and she bakes them into pies and serves them up!  Don't do it!  Get rid of it now!"

And still, I was intrigued.

What was it that had always drawn me toward dark music? As a pianist, what do I love to play? Beethoven, Rachmaninov, Brahms.  I was obsessed with the Phantom of the Opera and you couldn't pry my Mahler CDs out of my hands when I was in college.  The more dramatic and romantic, the better.  But Sweeney seemed different somehow.  More threatening.  Where as my other favorites leaned toward the dark side, Sweeney makes no attempt to hide it.  It's over the top.

And I loved it.  Yes, it was a good film.  I enjoyed watching the actors, loved the music and was pleasantly horrified by the story line.  The real victory for me came for me, though, in embracing my own inner dark side.  When we're caught up in seeing ourselves only as the "good girl" or "nice guy" we deny the complex reality of who we really are.  People think that by pushing the darker things in life away, that they will actually get rid of them.  Instead, like trying to hold a beach ball submerged, eventually and when you least expect it here it comes to smack you in the face.  Only when we embrace all of who we are - good and bad, light and dark - can we be free to choose how to be in the world.  

Wonder Woman

Back in mid-December, I had a break from the holiday crazies and took time for myself in the quiet of the country.  I spent two and a half days with strong, awesome, beautiful women from the Yoga Rasa tribe in Chappel Hill - and met Wonder Woman!  Literally.  We had the most beautiful time rediscovering our power as women - and on the last night of the retreat we had a visit from Wonder Woman.  I'm talking knee high red boots, the mini skirt and the hair. Wrist bands of power!  And all of the sudden we were no different than kids looking at a hero - stop and put yourself in that state of mind for a moment.  Think about your favorite hero - there's a part of you that knows that's you too.  You can't see their strength unless it is also your own.  And I just love how all the super heros have this nerdy "secret" identity.

So, what does Wonder Woman do in her everyday life? She goes to work. She cooks lasagna with her husband. She spills Dr. Pepper on her ivory turtleneck sweater.  In her everyday life, Wonder Woman does everyday things.  It's how she's being as she's doing these tasks that makes her Wonder Woman.  

She's present.  At least her intention is to be present with everyone and everything.  

"What do you mean, 'She's present'?" you ask? Well, whatever is her task at the moment, that's where her mind is. That's her power. The power of presence. She's not off thinking about what so-and-so said last week that was so out of line. Or worried about how she's going to lift the car that might possibly fall on Little Timmy and his dog Fuzzball three days from now. She knows that whatever she needs will be provided in the moment if she just shows up fully to receive it. She creates space for wonders to occur in her life.  And she accepts what is. If things aren't looking exactly wonderful at the moment, she knows there's more going on that she can't see.  

So, she trusts life. Like a child trusts - and like a child looks at the world through the eyes of wonder - that's Wonder Woman's vision.  

To close this post, a quote from Queen Hippolyte (played by Cloris Leachman in the TV series! ):

"Go in peace my daughter. And remember that, in a world of ordinary mortals, you are a Wonder Woman."

Games

Do you ever really stop to think about how dumb the rules are to most games?  Let's take football (I swear, totally random choice!).  So, as far as I can see at the simplest level, the rules of football are:

Run while holding an inflated piece of leather across a white line.  If you do this, you will score points.  Yay points!  Good stuff.  If running doesn't seem like a good idea, you can throw the piece of inflated leather from one person to another to try to score the points.  Or try to kick the piece of leather through two metal posts to score points.  But beware, big tough guys will try to stop you and your crew from scoring points.  

"Okay", you say.  "That seems pretty good.  Good game." 

Consider baseball, then:

Try to hit a round piece of rubber and leather that's coming at your at high velocity with a wooden stick.  Then, if you hit it and no other player catches it with a big piece of leather wrapped around his hand, you run around trying to touch three square pieces of cloth placed on the ground before touching a final piece of cloth to earn "runs". 

Staring to sound a little random?

And then, there's golf:

Try to hit small white balls with L-shaped pieces of metal, trying to get the round pieces into tiny shallow holes hundreds of yards away with the fewest possible hits or "strokes".

Who came up with this stuff?!?  When you really stop to think about it, the rules and regulations that make up our games and sports on the surface level appear quite arbitrary and random.  However, these games work.  We love them, don't we?  We know the rules, everyone agrees upon them and gosh darn it, they are fun.  Fun to play, and fun to watch others play.  

I wonder, what's behind those crazy sounding rules?  How did they come up with them anyway - it really actually took some planning and intelligence and intention.  Here's something else I know: games are not fun when you a) don't know the rules or b) the rules keep changing.  

The events of my day caused me to ponder why I react to perceived stress in predicable ways.  We all do it.  It's like things around us are constantly changing and we don't know the rules...that makes us really uncomfortable.  But then, what if we had it all kind of turned around.  What if we were focused on the wrong stuff and missing out on the fun of the game?What would happen if I lightened up and saw life more like a game?  Not in the sense that it's all a game so nothing matters, but more in the sense that it's all good.  In the sense that joy is the juicy good stuff.  Don't you want the good stuff?  I do.  So why be content with mediocrity and only feeling joy some of the time?  Why not question your limits and bust loose from the games we play with ourselves into the freedom to play the game of life without limits?

What's stopping you?

Wanna know what's stopping me? Stay tuned.

Football Season

Football.  The word conjures up so much in my mind.  Fall nights spent in those oh so attractive Dobie Longhorn band uniforms watching our team either experience the thrill of victory (we had a few good years sandwiched in there!) or the dark depths of defeat.  You'd think spending years in a marching band, having a mother who can cheer for her team with the best of them, or being married into a family that bleeds green and gold - well, you'd think I'd have picked up an understanding of the game somewhere along the way.  Sadly, no.

I've come to the conclusion that I was born without the football gene.  When I look at a football play, I see the initial set up.  I know some random guy usually decides to run behind some of the other guys before everything gets going - maybe he forgot where he was supposed to be, you never know - then the ball is snapped and oshg arnd ti, heyt ookl ikel heyt rea oingd omethings mportanti.  Eckh fi I nowk hatw ti si, hought.  

And they stop.  This process is repeated many times, eliciting colorful responses from my dear husband.  Who, by the way, just found a game on.  I thought I was safe on a Wednesday evening.  Then came NFL network.

I find the entire football 'thing' amusing to no end.  Because as much as much as it's not my thing, the spark in David's eye and the energy in his voice when sharing about so-and-so's chance at being selected for the Pro-Bowl, who is tough in our division or how the Texans look like lobsters in all red - well, that's just incredibly endearing.  (I agree about the lobsters.  The rest...no comment).

So, football seems to be inextricably woven into the fabric of my life.  Because I love my husband, and he loves football - so I love football?  More like I love seeing him thriving and vital.  Football brings that out in him.  And that's a good thing.  Beautiful in fact.  

Haiku

I remember composing Haiku in elementary school.  Man, I loved those poems.  So simple, yet so...profound.

This evening, I found a most inspiring Haiku unexpectedly.  I share, with the knowledge that you too will be enlightened by its profundity.

Delicious

It never fails.  When an ice cream craving hits, it's forty-five degrees outside.  Yes, I can see my breath and all I can think is "frozen novelty".  Does anyone else experience this phenomenon?  And another interesting observation - this fact does not in any way negate warm weather ice cream cravings.  This proves what I have long known to be the case - ice cream is just good.  Period. The end.  Any time of day or night.  Hungry or not.  I will eat it (and likely feel guilty later, but that's a whole other post). 

But the focus tonight is on "delicious".  Not the nutritional specs of ice cream, not what emotional wounds I am avoiding or causing by indulging - what if none of that really even mattered?  If each day we took time to slow down and enjoy just one deeply delicious moment - how might things change?  And how often do I eat ice cream and not even taste it?

So, back to my original problem.  I am now not only cold on the outside, but have compounded the situation by putting frozen dairy on the inside.  If only it worked like a double negative - but no, I didn't do nothing to help my chilly predicament.  It was delicious.  Can't resist referencing the Latin root of the word 'delicious' - from the Latin deliciae - 'delight' or 'pleasure'.  Challenge yourself - just one delicious moment each day.  Fully appreciate it.  And see what happens.  

We all scream for ice cream.