Screen Time Woes

I made a commitment to writing every day for 30 days. That shouldn't be too difficult. I simply place it at the top of my to-do list and I make it non-negotiable. If I can fritter away hours of my time looking at Facebook posts, I can certainly carve out a short period of time to express myself, right? I suffer no shortage of opinions, observations, thought or ideas. I can simply pluck one from the air and then riff, just like a blues guitarist. It's past 2:30 in the a.m., and I'd like to feel my head against my pillow, but I'm determined to keep my word. 

The most recent thing I read, by Paula Poundstone and posted on Facebook, was a piece about how screen time (on video games, computers, televisions, et al.) is not good for developing brains. She jokes about how screen time is as addictive as heroin, only there is more societal awareness of heroin as a health hazard. I think she's on the right track, although I would also like to find the original sources for this information. 

I've seen my own nearly nine year-old become a zombie after playing on a computer or smart phone for hours. I try to limit his screen time but it feels like a losing battle. Just telling him, over and over again that I don't want him to be on the devices all the time, that it hinders is intellectual development and so on, is not enough. I need to show him proof, show him the various articles about the effects of digital exposure or find the original studies upon which these articles are based and more. 

I need to lay off my own cell. phone and ask Daddy to do the same. Daddy also plays a game on his phone a lot.  I need to enforce the rules vociferously and without wavering. I yell a lot, reminding him that he needs to finish more important things before he is allowed on a game. I tell him he needs to ask for permission before playing games on a phone or on the computer. Sometimes he asks for it, but many times he doesn't. He sneaks onto the computer or phone anyway.  To be continued...

Fly Like an Eagle

My son is at a wonderful age; he's nearly nine. I secretly wish he would stay this age forever. He still enjoys hanging out with me and appreciates the things I do for him, for the most part. 

People tell me to enjoy this time because things will change. As he reaches puberty, he will be embarrassed to hang out with Mom, and even take Mom for granted. Actually, he is already embarrassed by some of the things I say and do, and sometimes takes things for granted. 

These things, however, pale in comparison to how much fun we have together. His personality is entertaining, to say the least. He likes to make people laugh and often refers to himself as a comedian. He's definitely funny. Much of his humor is of the slapstick variety, although, increasingly, his intellect plays a role. 

Speaking of which, He says some incredible things that showcase his budding intellect. Yesterday, for example, he told me that he wants to return to Earth as an animal after he dies. More specifically, he wants to come back as a bald eagle so he can fly and enjoy a greater perspective. I remind him that man can fly. It doesn't count, he explains, because man needs machinery to do it. Birds just do it naturally.  

Express Text Yourself!

Quote of the day: Achieving one's personal goals has never been accomplished by liking Facebook and Instagram posts or otherwise frittering away one's time. 

This is my take on the quote attributed to Annie Dillard: "How we spend our days, is, of course, how we spend our lives." I heard this quote a very long time ago and it crossed paths with something I was reading at the time by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Only recently did I get it through my head that the quote doesn't belong to Lindbergh. I love it nonetheless. It's funny that I wanted to write "Doh!" after the first sentence above ending in Lindbergh, and put a smiley face after the second sentence above ending in Lindbergh. This tells me that texting is taking its toll on how I write even when I'm not trying to communicate quickly via cellular phone. Right now, I'm confused when I think about what it means to write outside of the digital box. Is texting a legitimate form of writing as in it requires some knowledge of the conventions of writing or command of the rules of grammar? It's easy to say "No, absolutely not!" Texting is in no way "real" writing because it does not require such knowledge. However, I'm not certain that things are so black and white. 

I was incredibly annoyed when I made my first attempts at texting, on a flip phone, back in 2007. It was painstaking to hold down number keys until the right letters appeared. Not only did it take too much time to convey my wonderfully nuanced thoughts in this manner, but also, to my mind, texting spelled the end of clear communication in a civilized society! I still maintain that now that we have emoticons, GIFs and more to communicate what we mean in place of actual words, we will soon be reduced to communicating in short, largely monosyllabic grunts and moans. :-)

I no longer detest texting, not only because it's much easier than it used to be as far as the technology is concerned, but also because everyone's doing it! It's the communication du jour. Texting elicits timely responses from the individuals with whom I am communicate. When I text, I get a response; when I leave a voicemail, not so much. Texting, however, has devolved from something I once paid real attention to in terms of proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation to something I can spit out quickly and with only a cursory regard for grammar. The latter is largely reserved for the friends and family I text most often. I suppose the sheer volume of texts I send and receive has lowered my resistance to grammatical errors. 

While I've largely lowered my standards, at least for ordinary communication via text, I have not reverted to using the talk to text function on my phone because it is notoriously prone to errors. On more than one occasion, I have been miffed by texts that make no sense or sound unintentionally sinister from others using the talk to text function. If I'm not worth the time it takes to glance at your gobbledygook before you send it, then perhaps you don't need to communicate with me at all. 

Since texting lends itself by design to short communiques, it is easy to dismiss it as a "throw away" form of communication. However, for me, texting increasingly lends itself to more heartfelt communication. I am inspired by the brevity of the format to express my feelings in a single text, 160 characters or less, or a couple of texts in succession. (It should be noted here that I've tried, but have not been enamored with Twitter for this purpose). Sure, a heartfelt text does not replace a face-to-face, heart-to-heart conversation, but it does often start such a conversation. I express my feelings and thoughts to a friend via text, and, seconds later, either that person calls me or I stop, drop and pick up the phone to call that person. The text, therefore, functions as a build up or gateway to a more personal connection. For me, this is a breakthrough. 

My tendency has been to think big when I want to express myself. What comes to mind when I want to to show my gratitude for what someone has done or said or simply for that person's presence in my life is usually a big production. I plan to write a letter or a card that perfectly captures my feelings and thoughts about the object of my desire, to deliver flowers or some other nonsense. That card or letter never gets written. Those flowers are never purchased. Now, I give myself permission to text my feelings. I have concluded that is better to express myself, however briefly, than to add to my never-ending to-do list. For this realization, I am very grateful!

Just Say "Yes!"

I was deeply moved by the music I experienced a few days ago at the Disney Concert Hall. My friend called me with only a couple of hours to spare before the start time. She was stuck with unused tickets to the first performance in the jazz series at the Disney Concert Hall and needed my help. After a few seconds of hesitation (making sure my spouse would be home to sit with our child), I said "Yes!" 

I am so glad I did! I had no expectations of the evening's performers, a jazz trio and a jazz/classical orchestra, so I was pleasantly surprised. The music opened up something in me, which continues to vibrate and buzz. I love it when incredible forms of artistic expression enter my life unexpectedly!

The Brad Mehldau trio, comprising bass, drum and piano, took a moment to get started, but once they found their groove, the music cast a spell. My friend invited me to close my eyes and listen.

"It feels like swimming," she declared.

As my friend grooved on the sounds, she occasionally exclaimed "Yeah!", an "Amen" to the captivating music. The trio of talented musicians moved through covers and their own compositions in a variety of styles from bossanova (as my friend noticed) to straight-ahead jazz. I’m not musically educated, as in I can’t call out the proper names of composers, styles or genres, et al., but I do know what stirs my soul, and it did!

This rich and deep music laid a solid foundation for the phenomenal group that appeared as the second act, Billy Childs and Company. They offered incredible re-interpretations of the music of Laura Nyro. I had heard of Nyro before but knew only vaguely about her immense talent as well as her influence on more well-known artists. I knew of her way-back-when association with David Geffin from a documentary I watched on PBS. Nyro broke Geffin’s heart when she didn’t sign with his newly formed Asylum records back in the late ‘60s. (Why do I remember such random factoids?)

Childs and Company was unlike anything I had heard before. Up to 13 musicians including a string quartet, drummer, pianist (Childs), guest cellist (for the first couple of numbers), stand-up bassist, acoustic guitarist, some brass players, and, finally, two amazing singers, knocked me out! The music painted entire landscapes, which I inhabited unreservedly. One number, in particular, stirred me to tears. It was a piece Nyro wrote about her lover who died of a heroin overdose. Words cannot describe the combination of soaring voice and soul-stirring instrumentation that induced the tears. The group brought Nyro’s stories to life beautifully.

My friend related, “This is who I really am,” during the concert, referring to the opening herself to experiencing the music. “It’s art,” she added as we headed for the exit. “It’s more than art,” I responded, but knew not what to call it instead. Life?

I am so grateful my friend offered me the opportunity to experience this music. It was magic! I needed it much more than I knew. The work shocked me into recognizing I had been caught up in a cycle of “soul neglect”.

The only remedy for soul neglect is to create space in one’s soul to be moved by art. It’s very easy to neglect one’s inner life, the life of the soul, by focusing only on one’s exterior life, which, more often than not, numbs the mind and crushes the soul. When my friend called on me to accompany her to the concert, my soul knew to say “yes!”  

The spectacular music removed the dust and debris from my neglected soul. I am refreshed, renewed and so very grateful.  

The Truth Will Set You Free

The truth will set you free. I love this. It’s simple. It’s true. And it’s open to so much interpretation. Just what is the truth? Is it my truth? Is it someone else’s truth? Is what is true for me the same as what is true for you? Is there only one truth, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God?! How, exactly, will the truth set me free? Will the truth deliver me from encumbrances, delusions and falsehoods of my own making? How do I know what the truth is? Will I recognize it when I see it? Just how brave must I be to recognize the truth and to express it?

I interpret this expression as an invitation to live in your own truth, to live as your true self or to live your true story. Is this an easy task? Hardly. Living in truth requires knowing the truth of who you are. Knowing the truth often involves a painstaking, multi-layered process of self-discovery. Even when we know the truth of who we are, it is often easier and more convenient to keep the truth at arm’s length, Living, walking and talking in truth takes effort. Sidestepping the truth is the lazy man’s way out, even if it means remaining in bondage.

Knowing and embracing the truth of who you are is akin to the Buddhist practice of accepting that all life is suffering. Once you accept that all life is suffering - once you know and embrace the truth of who you are - you are free to live your life fully. You are free from suffering and free from the illusion of duality (up/down, good/bad, black/white). Once freed, you have no choice but to go with the flow and your life unfolds exactly the way it is meant to.

Certainly, knowing and embracing the truth of who you are, like grasping the concept that all life is suffering, requires openness, patience, commitment and even a sense of humor. Compassion and gratitude compliment and expand these essential qualities. I can grasp this concept as well as know and embrace my truth for brief, shining moments. The trick is to keep these moments fresh in my mind when a situation or circumstance gets the best of me and I am once again caught up in the illusion and impeded from going with the flow.   

Crossroads

I am at such an interesting crossroads in my life. I am nearly 50 years old, and I'm satisfied on the one hand with my life, with my core relationship, my close friends and my son, and dissatisfied, on the other hand, about everything I haven’t accomplished yet.

On the dissatisfied side of the equation, I’m not sure how things got to be the way they are. “How did your life get to be the way it is?” That’s the question we started with in my training as a spiritual practitioner. We examined the how and the why of our lives from all sides, so to speak, recognizing first a tendency to play the victim. “My life is the way it is because things happen to me” – that’s the victim perspective.

Through our training, we begin to accept that we are the masters of our own fate, and that, when we connect with spirit, that positive, creative life force euphemistically referred to as God, we actually co-create our reality. We practice connecting with spirit and co-creating our reality until we surrender altogether and allow spirit, or God, to be in charge. In other words, spirit flows through us and directs our thoughts and actions. Sounds a little “woo, woo”, I know. I certainly have a hard time with the concept of surrendering and putting spirit in charge, but I get it. To me, it works because spirit, that positive, creative life force, is not something outside of us, it is us. Going with the flow means totally trusting the divine within us – God in, around, through and as us – to guide our thoughts and actions.

Even though I have been through this training and I know I am not a victim – I am “at choice” as they say, about everything that occurs (not happens) in my life – the question remain unanswered for the most part. How did my life get to be the way it is and why? 

Perhaps this two-part question remains unanswered because I have taken little action to effect change that results in my life being different. Different in what way? Well, the most significant way in which my life could change concerns a lifelong dream I have not fulfilled. I have yet to commit myself to the practice of self-expression through writing or published a book. Even this blog, my second blog site (the first I did in 2014, then abandoned because I could only access it in "Read Only" format), is only a sporadic effort. I spend plenty of time dinking around on social media, volunteering for the PTA, parenting my awesome child, being there for my hubby and my fantastic girlfriends, and occasionally being paid as an editor and consultant on OTHER people's books. I spend far less time committing myself to my own writing. Rarely does anything move beyond my journals to the Internet or pieces I can put together into a book. Why not?

I can blame the adult attention deficit disorder that has been part of my life for more than a decade. I can blame my husband and my son. I can blame the psychological and emotional damage that accompanied my childhood. However, I must accept my own responsibility for my circumstances. Perhaps I remain stuck in the "how and why" question because I have found comfort in dissatisfaction and I don't really want things to be different in my life. As perverse as this may seem, it makes sense. Who would I be without my dissatisfaction with my life? Who would I be without complaining that I haven't accomplished my lifelong dream of publishing a book? In other words, dissatisfaction has been part of my identity. If I give it up, I won't know who I am or how to connect with others, because, let's face it, I'm not the only one who's dissatisfied with her life or who hasn't accomplished a lifelong dream.

Perhaps it is time to try a "new" me on for size. Perhaps it is time to set aside fear, laziness and the fact that I don't trust myself; I've let myself down so many times before. I'm forgetting that I can connect with spirit here, spirit in the form of a creative consciousness, which I can open to and allow to flow through me, and my pen or my flying fingers on a hot keyboard! This is a good place to start.

For the Love of Children

My son shared a story about his third grade teacher that brought tears to my eyes. Mrs. C., as he explained, teaches because she thinks children are geniuses. Children are creative, imaginative and filled with ideas. She wants to be present every day to their wisdom. She wants to hear and to treasure their ideas because they have the answers. She wants to go to her deathbed knowing she witnessed children in their creative and imaginative prime, especially since that creative capability lessens when children become teenagers and then adults.

I am not doing justice to his simpler and more elegant explanation, but I believe I’ve captured the essence. As the boy continued to describe his teacher’s worldview, I started to sniffle. I couldn’t help it. Amused, but not surprised, he witnessed my futile struggle to contain myself. Finally, the tears began to flow. I recognized love, plain and simple, at the heart of his teacher’s career. She goes to work everyday motivated by a deep, abiding love for children. She loves their minds! She sees them as imminently capable. She unabashedly supports and believes in them. 

What parent could possibly ask for anything more? I am filled with gratitude. She has already left an indelible mark on my son’s heart. 

What does it all mean @ 2:30 a.m.?

My son fell asleep in our bed. I tried to move him, not by lifting his 75-pound body, but by swinging his feet to the floor and standing him upright to walk across the hall and into his room. He flat-out refused. He hissed "No!" in his sleep!

This nearly nine year-old child has absolutely no business being in a queen-sized bed with two adults. It. Just. Doesn’t. Work. I tried in vain to get comfortable, curling myself around him. I couldn’t sleep anyway. In place of a normal dinner at normal hour, I satisfied my midnight munchies with a bag of trail mix labeled “Energy”. Apparently, the “energy” label represents truth in advertising. It’s nearly 2:30 a.m. and I’m wide awake.

Now a refugee from my own bedroom, I’ve retreated to the office to use this “energy” more productively. I’ve set up this blog, and entitled it “What Does It All Mean?” It comes from the De La Soul song “The Magic Number,” which in the song, is the number three. It brings a smile to my face when I think of the disembodied announcer’s voice sampled throughout the track asking that very question. I love how the repetition of “What does it all mean?” adds an existential element to this silly, classic hip-hop jam. Perhaps this thought-provoking question sparked my interest in finding out just what it all means. The “it” being life itself, or the Universe or my very existence.

My blog, accordingly, will explore what it all means day-by-day and moment-by- moment. As I inch closer to my own magic number, the big 5-0, I am especially thrilled and pleased to explore this topic. I invite you to join me.