Wiggle Worm

I’ve been a little preoccupied with my future again as of late. I think it might have something to do with being so energetic and happy most of the time these days and wanting to hold onto that.

Beware attachment! My Buddhist training warns. I heed it. . .

I also hear the resounding bells of discovering several of my passions over the last few months. Along with them is an urge I’m not used to, to go deeper into some things rather than skimming lightly across their surfaces.

The clock reads 5:55 as I type. For the past few weeks I’ve noticed repeating 5′s on a daily basis. Call me cuckoo, but I take the clock as a sign that there is truth in what I’m writing.

Until recently, I pretty fully embodied the tendency of Twos and Sevens to jump from one topic, experience, or area of focus to another, without really delving into any of them. Both enneatypes like the freshness of newness and fairly dislike the tedium and strain of sticking with what’s familiar.

The tendency, like any, has both positive and negative sides. For me, the positive side of skipping rocks has been that I have been exposed to a variety of people, places and things; I have a plethora of experiences under my belt to make myself and my life more interesting. Further, all my skimming has helped me decide which oceans I don’t need to cross . . . as well as, I suppose, which ones I do.

This is the hard part. Although I say I’m feeling the urge to go deeper, as I contemplate what step to take next into my future, I am made to recognize the way I’ve been fly fishing all over this great big world and that it might not be easy to stop. It feels like each time I verge on making a decision and beginning to let that lure sink, I change my mind.

I’m lucky to believe it’s all part of the [perfect] process. Even though over the course of the last two years I have had enough extravagant ideas to write a million blogs, I really have been narrowing the scope and becoming less interested in trying to see and study it all.

Now, I’m paying attention to the places in my life where the passion flows upward. I’m beginning to recognize my personal Old Faithfuls–spirituality, dance, guitar, singing, writing, language, laughing, friends and family–as well as the fact that they can only shower me with their joyous flows as long as I’m standing beneath them and not running amuck somewhere else.

Although I could probably dance beneath them too, because there’s always a little wiggle room!

All Hail Mitch Hedberg

. . . O.k., what to blog about tonight?

I considered dogs. . . I took two, plus myself and Mom, for a walk this afternoon and reaped sustainable joy from the experience . . . I considered the archetypal journey I went on today . . . but then again, maybe I should steer clear of that because of the potential woo-woo element. . . like it’s time for me to re-establish (or just EStablish, drop the “re”) myself as a legitimate thinker. . .

Or maybe I should blog about blogging?

I have a couple of questions for any seasoned blog readers–or newbies, for that matter. I value a beginner’s mind like any good Almost-Buddhist would.

For one, how does one appropriately blog about other people in their lives without crossing privacy boundaries? Do I need to get permission from every person I mention?

My approach to this problem so far has been to use the method I employ in attempt not to gossip: I try to only say things about other people that I wouldn’t mind them hearing, whether from me directly or through the gold ol’ grapevine. But now there’s a whole new element to the situation, in that these posts are actually intended to reach a large audience (come on, let me dream big). So, I suppose in the case of blogging I have to take my rationale a step further and not only ask myself the question, “Would Aunt Judy mind if she heard me say this?” but also, “Do I think Aunt Judy would mind if lots of other people heard me say this, too?”

For the record, I do have an Aunt Judy. I was not, however, trying to make any specific reference to her. “Judy” just felt like an appropriate name to follow “aunt.”

I also have an Aunt Sue. At my big brother Tyler’s wedding this summer, Aunt Sue helped with a lot of the preparations and decorations. So did a lot of other people, namely friends of my brother and his betrothed, and they all started to refer to our Aunt Sue as Aunt Sue. O.k., so maybe it doesn’t seem funny; but when I mostly call her Pue (which is logical because we call her son Nic, Pic) and Ty calls her Pue-berry, Aunt Sue sounds just plain funny!

Anyway, it’s a struggle, the whole question of what’s appropriate to write about other people and what isn’t. I’ve tried other filters besides the one I mentioned above. For example . . . you won’t believe this, I spaced out and cannot remember a singe other tactic! Well, besides “the Three Gatekeepers,” which feels soo involved to try and explain right now. . . but I will anyhow.

The idea is something like this: Before letting a statement about another person pass between your lips, first make sure it answers “Yes” to the questions of the three gatekeepers. With a “Yes,” your intended statement may proceed, with a “No,” turn it around and keep it to yourself (it’s kind of an extension on the old adage, “If you don’t have anything nice to say . . .”)

The first gatekeeper will ask of your statement, “Is it true?” If the answer if yes, your statement may walk on to the second keeper, who will ask, “Is it kind?” Again, if yes, your statement may proceed to the last and final gatekeeper, who will ask, “Is it necessary?”

A lovely sentiment, isn’t it? My mother came across that one in an Eknath Easwaran book called Words to Live By (I highly recommend this book as bathroom reading–meaning no disrespect to Mr. Easwaran, of course!). But just to play the devil’s advocate (well, actually “just” to speak as myself . . .) I have a couple of problems with this idealistic concept. First of all, being the lowly beings most of us still are, I believe that occasional venting to only the most trusted members of our circles can, in fact, be necessary! Even if the venting isn’t necessarily kind . . . but this kind of logic wouldn’t get me past the first gatekeeper. Do you see my dilemma?

The other problem this idealism poses is . . . would writing still be interesting if it were devoid of absolutely everything unkind?

This feels to me a bit like the question of whether good humor has to be at someone’s expense. I’ve answered “no” to this inquiry for years. I mean, consider Mitch Hedberg. Come on!

I suppose Easwaren does have a point. . . Is it true; Is it kind; Is it Necessary? . . .

Necessary’s going to be a tough one though. If I start following that guideline too closely, ya’ll may not have any blog of mine at all to read anymore . . .

Sunday Mornings

OMG, 6 views today and they weren’t my mother; I just asked her. Woohoo and thank you all!

We just arrived home from yet another of Mom’s birthday celebrations this evening. It was dinner with Terry and Happ, Mona and Bruce, Mom, Dad and myself. For a few of these birthday gatherings I had a date to bring along, but tonight we’re back to the good ol’ norm: three wise couples and . . . me. I tolerated it in good taste anyhow, comforting myself by sitting prettily in my green dress between Savannah and Shasta, the dogs. . .

Today is Sunday. I spent the early morning sipping coffee and making my Slovakian grandmother’s award winning pastry, “cheesies,” for dessert at the party. The experience was lovely and nostaligic, bittersweet only in that the gooey bites of deliciousness are prepared with premade Pillsbury dinner roll dough and therefore gave me no opportunity to show off my baking skills. Alas, I tolerated the convenience and popped the golden puffs in the oven with expectant glee anyway.

I spent most of the afternoon trying not to eat the cheesies. Thankfully, my friend Amy came over later and “Mmm’d” and ate some for me and then kept me good company. We talked about school and shopping and food and God.

The last fellow I dated nicknamed Amy “Bible Amy” for her love of the good Word. Although I think his intention in coining the nickname might have been slightly less than pure, it really is fitting. Amy is a “Good Christian” in every of the phrase. She does just what Jesus would and doesn’t what he wouldn’t; she’s never judged me even though I used to babble church like a brook in the Garden of Eden and now I burble enneagram instead and have nothing to say about church anymore because I haven’t been going . . .

For nearly an entire year I was infatuated with a church called Bethel. Each week, I drove 60 miles there and back, and sometimes attended three two-plus hour services in one day! But the year before that, it was the Buddhist Abbey that had my heart. I guess if I had to categorize myself, I’d say I was a Buddhist-Christian-Yogini . . .

. . . which is a musing I will have to indulge another day. For now, as first the Abbey’s and now Bethel’s tugs on me wane, I am simply grateful to be gifted again with the quiet pleasures of Sunday mornings unplanned.