Obsessed

I’m obsessed....

....with TV.








Seriously.

And I’m in a total uproar about this whole digital transition thing. We have the old fashioned rabbit ears antenna









So now we have to buy one of those digital boxes or else we won’t get any channels. None! And it messes with my Tivo…so rude and sad!









And even though this is a very real concern, I can’t help but acknowledge that there are lots of people on the planet with real problems.









I went to the Republic of Georgia last summer







to do research for a screenplay I was hired to write,









and returned home three days before the Russian invasion.







While there I had some amazing experiences – I spoke with ex-president Shevardnadze, who helped them through their last civil war.















I spent time with a high priest of the Armenian church.










I also spent time in an Orphanage.





While I was in Georgia, I got one of those nesting doll things…you know what I’m talking about. You open it up and inside the woman is a smaller woman and a smaller woman…








Well that’s the exact opposite of what happened to me when I walked into that orphanage, my heart broke open. And to surprise, the heart inside was bigger than the one I thought I had. I met hundreds of very real children in need in a very real place, called Georgia. I fell in love with one of them and have been trying to adopt her, but the government makes it more than difficult and we lack the funds to take the case to court.




















Yes, this would be a perfect time to give in to world cynicism, or to be obsessed with how scary things are. Or how difficult. But I’d rather not.








I’d rather be obsessed with learning how to open my heart even wider. With learning how to handle painful challenges in a new, more healthy, more supported way. Because while I know challenges will not stop coming throughout life, I know that I have a choice about how I respond to them.

Obsess on staying open....what do you say?

Done

I am celebrating.









If you were looking at me right now, sitting here on the couch, you would not be able to tell that I am celebrating...







but I am.

I just finished the first draft of a screenplay that I've been working on for 7 months. This is the one I was hired to write that took me to the Republic of Georgia last summer for research. That is where I fell in love with the orphan that Jose and I are trying to adopt.




















This project been a very challenging process because it is based on a true story and truth, while stranger than fiction, is not in any was as easy to write or make compelling.

So I breathe in right now and sigh.



I am done.





For this moment, before the dude who hired me reads it, before I am required to dive back in and re-write based on his feelings about it(it's his life, after all) before the ticking time bomb of all that.....








I can relax into the done-ness of it all.



Done. Done. Done.

Halle-fucking-lujah!


This is today's happiness.

Scaling Down

It's a given that many of us are plagued with self-image issues. weight issues.






It doesn't seem to matter how lean or curvy, almost everyone I know has or has had in the past some kind of judgment about their body.



For me, historically it goes like this: I'm certain I am beyond overweight. I look at pictures from last year or years before that and think: if only I was as slim as I was then. Of course, back then, I was certain that I was beyond overweight and was romanticizing pictures from previous incarnations. And so it goes. In the moment I have had a low success rate of accepting my physical self. However I have been practicing. I have been re-training towards becoming as accepting of myself as I am of others. Seeing myself rather than as not good enough, as pure potential.








And then, a month ago something surprising happened. A friend told me to throw away my scale. MY SCALE. Without a scale, how do I prove to my inner critic that I am succeeding or failing? Without the scale, how can I sabotage a perfectly delightful day?

The thing is, I had been visiting this wise friend and did not have access to a scale. (she threw hers out 26 years ago) And....I felt fabulous.




All week. Every day.

And it became clear to me in a way that I had never fully understood before...that when I was 'trying to lose weight' I'd check myself on the scale to see if it was 'working'. if it was, my crafty inner critic would say ( in the sweetest voice ever) you deserve to celebrate! Dessert! Pasta! Wahoooo! Or conversely, if i stepped up and the scale told me nothing had changed or worse, I'd gained a pound, My nasty inner critic would drag me into the dark abyss of 'what good does it do to try and work out and eat healthy?' This sucks! You deserve some comfort. Dessert! Pasta! Boohooo!

After a week of feeling fabulous and not hearing that stanky-ass critic voice AT ALL, I got home and promptly threw my scale away. A satisfying action in and of itself. But what's more astonishing is that it's been a month now, and I haven't heard that cranky voice AT ALL. A successful eviction, it seems.

I can't prove that anything has changed physically...but everything has changed. You know?

Analyze this

There are two types of people that I’d like you to consider; those who analyze






and those who don’t.







Yes, I’m an analyzer. I prefer the term investigator. Either way, I enjoy thinking about why people do what they do, and why I do what I do.






I know there are lots of people on the planet who don’t analyze things. Maybe they don’t know how. Maybe they just don’t see the point. And I get that, I really do.
I mean, why try to figure out why somebody does something or doesn’t do something?
Or what statistics prove? No matter how much we analyze, in the end we do what we do, period. End of story. Or... maybe beginning of story.






People spend a lot of time trying to figure out 'what it all means'.









And as much as I like me some analyzin', it seems like a waste of time when you could be out there living. Being.
The thing is, people can get stuck in the figuring out, and never actually get out and try.






So, when it comes down to it, even though I enjoy the detective work of analyzing, when all is said and done I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants.





And I practice not caring what other people think about that.







Those people (whoever they are) should be busy living their lives, not analyzing mine, right?

Deep breath while we take a left turn on the subject to:

Flying. Falling.







These are similar yet deeply different experiences.
Falling is such a strange sensation.
It’s something we seek or avoid at all costs.
So many ways to fall:
You fall out of a tree.
You fall in love.
You fall out of favor with someone.
You fall asleep.

When you fall, there is always a landing of some sort.








But when you take a leap of faith, there’s always a chance you won’t make it to your destination.








That you’ll fall and fall into an abyss that you may never recover from.









But the thrill and promise of a true leap of faith can fill you with the kind of adrenaline that emerges only in the extreme moments of your life like when you fall out of a tree or when you fall in love.

Some people never leap. Perhaps the safety or comfort of the life they have with all its disappointments,








is a better bet than what might happen when they push off with their feet into the unknown.







For me, leaping is the only choice.




Even if I land on my ass.

Goldfish Man

Last night in the middle of a dream about something else, I noticed a bright orange, goldfish circling a drain. (bathtub? Sink? not sure.)

I caught it in my hands and put it in a tall glass of water.






It was so beautiful.

And suddenly it transformed into a man. He began talking to me through the glass and we began an amazing conversation.

He said I was the first person he was able to talk with...



Then we went for a walk.

It Is What It Is (Isn't It?)

Yesterday I saw a bumper sticker on a ukulele that read:

Don't believe everything you think.







Let's add to that, the lesser known gem:

Don't believe everything you feel.









WHAT THE?!

Oh, it's a pisser alright.

It turns out that just because we think or feel it doesn't mean it's fact.
How can that be? Aren't thoughts and feelings legitimate?
YES.
But legitimate doesn't make them facts.





I think to myself: 'Things aren't going the way I need them to. I'm scared.' Instantly it's as if my inner little girl starts to cry...and scream.






I've got to soothe and quiet that little girl, right? It would be horribly mean to let her be in such misery. She says she wants a cookie. better yet, 10 cookies. (Let's use cookies as a metaphor for whatever escape hatch we use, okay?)






Over the years I've learned which foods will put me in that instant coma I desperately seek. the coma where I can't hear the little girl and I'm not overwhelmed by today's circumstance. The thing is, the cookie sedative only lasts about 15 minutes. then self-loathing sets in. 'You ate 10 cookies, you loser!'







Nothing quiets self-loathing better than 10 more cookies. or some other mind-number of some sort.

And so it goes.

While digging around in my emotional basement today

I came across a shocking discover:

That crying,screaming voice doesn't belong to my inner little girl!

Nope.

It's my super smart, super tricky inner critic.






My inner critic really hates when I discover things that make me more whole and more able, so it takes any chance it can get to slip in through the cracks to derail me. Any moment that I am over stimulated with the stuff of life, it pretends to be the voice of my inner little girl, and it says 'I am in pain! Only a cookie will help me!'

Well I call bullshit, Mr. Critic. Bull. Shit.

So I am now on an adventure of trying to catch him in the act. When I walked in to the grocery store and found myself inexplicably drawn to this huge hunk of chocolate, I picked it up and considered who was asking for it. it was not painful to set that hunk back down and move along.

Please don't discount this concept just because I'm using food as an example. I am not on a diet nor trying to be on one. It's not about cutting out certain things that are 'bad'...it's about challenging the inner voice that is shouting.

Deal with it, Mr. Critic, I am NOT broken beyond repair, as you'd like me to think.
I am NOT frozen by fear, as you sometimes try to convince me.
I am NOT doomed to be stuck in old patterns and beliefs.

I AM in the process of dusting off those old, worn out thoughts and feelings and trading them in for fresh new ones that fit me.

This IS my truth.

okay...enough for now...consider it food for thought.