Well Done, Grasshopper

Photo: Petr Kratchovil

Today a friend sent me an e-mail with a good list of 45 things some 90 year old woman had learned and was passing along for the greater good. I'm a few years shy of 90, but it did get me thinking about what I've learned, through experience . . .

I decided to share a few random gems here. They're in no particular order, but many date back to my childhood on the farm -- a great place to learn! And, as my friends and family have often been my greatest teachers, I figured I'd credit them where appropriate.

1) Don't grab onto an electric fence with a wet mitten. (Learned this one myself . . . the hard way. Threw me backward into a snowbank and knocked me out cold.)

2) Likewise, if you are a boy, it is a bad idea to pee on an electric fence. (I think it was Tim who taught me this one. Talk about "get the sensation!")

3) And one more electric fence lesson -- if the big boys want to pass the current through them, don't let them put you at the end of the line. (The boys did these. We girls knew better instinctively.)

4) If you're at the end of the line playing crack the whip, don't let them let go of you! (I cracked my front teeth this way. Bore a striking resemblance to a beaver until the dentist corrected it.)

5) Just because you can ride the tricycle with no hands OR no feet, doesn't mean you can ride it with no hands AND no feet. (Learned this one in Alaska when I was three. That's why Carolyn should have listened to me about No. 6.)

6) Don't ride a boys bike down the very steep lane unless you know the brakes are in good working order so that you won't land in the barbed wire fence. (Learned this one from Carolyn's experiment. Aunt Daisy put Lysol in her bath water. Ouch.)

7) Try not to be the person on the BACK of the tobaggon. Especially if the hill is covered with ice. (Sherril's back was a mess for weeks.)

8) Don't lay a trail of gunpowder to the burn barrel and then light it while you're still holding the gunpowder. (Learned this one from my cousin Dominic. Think I might have figured it out without him, though. And not needed to test the theory. Dustin, had that bag been just an inch or two higher, you wouldn't be here.)

9) Don't spit tobacco juice into the wind. (Again, think I would never have needed to test this, especially as I've never had any need to spit tobacco juice. But my friend Calvin kindly demonstrated the lesson on a boat in Antigua. The tobacco juice flew into my face. I was not happy.)

10) Learn to forge at least one parent's signature well. This makes skipping school relatively easy, especially once your reputation as a "good student" is firmly entrenched.

11) If a boy throws a soccer ball at your head and gives you a concussion, it's a pretty sure guess he likes you. Ditto if he drags you into the boy's bathroom. Also if he throws spitballs at you on the schoolbus.

12) If your father finds a love note that Spitball Boy wrote you, it's a pretty sure bet he's going to tease you.

13) Sometimes, it's good to be proactive and sit on a boy until he kisses you. (My sister taught me this one. She was seven. The boy was a neighborhood bully. He never bothered her again.)

14) Don't let your friend fold you into her sofa bed. (Ronda learned this one the hard way . . . and was kind enough to share her wisdom with me.)

15) If you wear your new shoes when you're "brakeman" on the merry-go-round, your Mom is going to be REALLY mad! (Judy shared this one with me.)

I'm sure I've left out many . . . feel free to send along a few of your own favorite lessons from childhood. Collective wisdom really is best . . .

Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

Photo: Anna Cervova

Things have been busy here IDW. For the most part, good busy. Lots of new projects at work, lots of movies to see before the Academy Awards broadcast, lots of dinners with friends new and old. I've discovered -- during this busy time -- that blog posts are best composed on-line, at least, IDW. This surprises me because I'm very old-fashioned about writing in general . . . I prefer to write on a yellow legal pad with a black Pilot pen. But, when I tried to compose blog posts this way it didn't work. Apparently, for this medium, I need to be at the keyboard, watching the words pop up on the screen in front of me. Who knew? (And yes, who cares? But I'm among friends so I can muse a little, right?)

And here's another blogging surprise . . . almost every day I log onto my own blog to see if anyone has posted a comment. (And as most of you know, most days I am sadly disappointed. Alas! Comments are few are far between. More than one of you has told me you "can't figure out how to leave a comment." Ummmmm . . . I'm thinking if I can figure it out, anyone can! And that includes you. But putting aside my disappointment for a moment. Trust me . . . we'll get back to it. Because I REALLY, REALLY wish you'd comment, dammit!!) But putting all of this aside for a moment, what never ceases to take me by surprise a little is that I am so often SURPRISED to see my last post at the top of the screen . . . as though I expect the blogging elves to have visited the site in my absent. (Remember The Shoemaker's Elves? Like that . . . only, you know, with words.) But no. No elves. Just the last thing I wrote. And somehow, I'm a little surprised. And the tiniest bit disappointed.

What was I expecting? And wouldn't I be alarmed if someone actually DID make a new post on my (supposedly) secure blog? Which would mean they'd cracked my password? Of COURSE that would alarm me!

There's no sweeping point to this. It's just something I find curious. And I wonder if other bloggers have experienced this?

Be Frank . . . Be Earnest . . . Or, You Know, Whoever You Were Born to Be

Photo: Petr Kratchovil

Last night I had dinner with a young friend who is perched like a cliff diver at the brink of her adult life. Already, she has accomplishments that others with decades more experience don't have. Success is a way of life for her. And therein lies the rub. My young friend is an artist. And the life she dreams of, the life she feels in her heart and knows in her gut she was meant to live, doesn't come with the same kind of blueprint, or offer the same predictable kudos, as success in academics or business. These come easily to her and, like the rest of us, she likes the recognition and the validation. As an artist, recognition and validation are not guaranteed.

Let me pause here for a bit of clarification: almost anything humans do can be a form of art. We're blessed to have doctors and nurses and massage therapists who are masters of the healing arts. We have gardners and farmers who are much more adept at growing things than most of the population. We have chefs and bakers who make edible art and vinters who create liquid symphonies. We have people who build companies and banks, pulling them from the ether and into this realm like magicians pulling rabbits and flowers from a top hat. Almost any skill that's practiced with love and intention can transcend from the mundane to the divine. This is why the Buddhists encourage mindfulness . . . why Kahlil Gibran's Prophet reminded us that "Work is love made visible." Everyone has a gift to offer the world.

But if you are an actor? A singer? A poet? A playwright? A painter? A filmmaker? A sculptor? What then? It's not quite the same as creating a perfect wedding cake or a beautiful public garden. Success is more difficult to quantify; appreciation more subjective. And if you measure it solely -- or even primarily -- in terms of dollars and cents, you're likely to feel like a failure.

Not everyone is destined to be Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts. But lacking superstar status doesn't make one less of an artist. And the truth is -- at least in my personal experience and observation -- that if you know yourself to be an actor, a singer, a poet, a painter, a filmmaker, etc. and neglect to honor that part of yourself in some tangible way, then regardless of what worldly success you garner or how big your bank balance may become, you will not feel like a success. You will feel like a fraud.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said it like this:

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."

and, before that, William Shakespeare said it like this:

"This above all; to thine own self be true. And it must follow as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man."

We've all heard it before. We know it. But living it? That's a moment by moment challenge, no matter who we are, what our age, or what field of endeavor we pursue. There are no guarantees for any of us. And where artists are concerned, the truth, which is not peculiar to our age, is that even great artists sometimes toil away for years, or even for a lifetime, in anonymity. But living a life that feels authentic is essential for true happiness. Living that life surrounded by others who are true to themselves brings joy.

So to my young friend I say, "Dive. Dive!" There are lots of others in the pool and the water's fine.

"Rest" Is Not A Four-Letter Word

Photo: Peter Griffin

Technically, "rest" IS a four-letter word. But not, you know, the way those OTHER words are four-letter words.

Still, far too often, in our hurly-burly, hustle-bustle, chop-chop world, it's treated as though it were a dirty word . . . something we shouldn't need or even want, really.

I struggle with this, as do most of the women I know. (And, notably, two of my dearest male friends . . . who shall remain nameless. But you know who you are.) There is so much to do it's difficult to cram it into the 24 hours allotted for each day.

And yet. Rest we must. It's imperative. Without adequate rest -- not just for our bodies, but for our minds and spirits, too -- we are grouchy at best and sick and tired at worst. Furthermore, (and more to the point here!) we are rendered incapable of writing any decent blog fodder.

So, tonight, in the wake of the January Birthday Season, which ended with a weekend of back to back parties and very little sleep, I think I'll rest. Relax. Rejeuvenate.

Hopefully, that will make for a more engaging post tomorrow!