Saturday Speaks: A handful of goodness

This was a good week sprinkled with several little moments that all add up to the best part of my week: My friend who has moved away has stayed in touch, the sicko down the street now feels better, a decent crowd came out for my new candlelit yoga class, I had a chance to see a movie with Mom, my gdbaby finally started to feel better after a week-long fever, I had a quiet night in watching movies and sipping wine with my lovely cousin, I got a pedicure this afternoon after teaching a calm, non-sweaty pre-natal yoga class, and dear Stacy continues to lift my spirit with her kindness and understanding (Thank you for your recent email...).

Dumbest part of my week? Letting my blood sugar drop on a work day and driving with people on the road who can't seem to pick a lane and stay in it while if there's moisture in the air...

Friday Sabbath: After Amen

For some reason I was thinking today about the way I used to pray as a little girl...

Raised in the Lutheran church, it's not like I had not been shown the proper way to pray. Address "the Lord," say what's on your mind, sign off with a firm "Amen." Towards the end of most regular services, the pastor opens up a prayer to the congregation during which people name out loud those they wish the church to remember in the prayer. I took this idea home and felt paranoid about listing every single person I knew and/or cared about when praying at bedtime. I remember feeling terribly guilty if I realized in the morning that I forgot someone or if I fell asleep while recalling my acquaintances, friends, and family (and their acquaintances, friends, and family). I'm not sure what worried me most... I think I was concerned that, if I did not name all these people, Gd might leave someone out when doling out blessings.

I always took on a peculiar responsibility when it came to spirituality. I have never blamed the church for my Jesus-complex. I got it in my head when I was young that I had some sort of job to do, a method to protect my loved ones. I didn't want to leave it to Gd... if things didn't go the way I felt were best, I didn't want to blame Gd. It was easier to take on these failures myself. I should have prayed more, I should have said something else, I should have done more, etc.

I haven't grown out of this idea completely... I just leave Gd out of it.

Also, people bow their heads in prayer. I never seemed to understand that. I heard that it was respectful, homage to the king... but for some reason, I figured, if Gd lived in the clouds or somewhere high above us, I should look up. My mother would get quite cross with me if I didn't look her in the eye when we were talking... so, if I was going to stand there and ask for a favor, I probably ought to look in Gd's direction.

I was also concerned about the word "Amen." Even in church, while everyone else felt comfortable with it, I would not say "Amen" at the end of a prayer. I think I felt as though, if I said the word, then Gd would stop listening. Gd would disappear and go elsewhere. I was not willing to think that Gd was omnipresent... I couldn't wrap my head around Gd being both here on the Virginia peninsula and in the middle east or Africa or Japan at the same time.

I guess I was selfish. I wanted Gd's full attention. I was like that boy in Lady Hawk... Matthew Broderick plays the part of this person who talks to Gd constantly, in between other conversations. If I did not say, "Amen," and end the transmission, maybe Gd could listen to me all the time.

I don't know what put this idea in my head. You'd think, since I knew that the word meant "So be it," that I would think of it as my "wish-granting" magic spell. Other people seemed to... I heard all sorts of jargon about "Ask and it shall be given." I was under the impression that most people believed that, if you believed hard enough when you prayed, that Gd answered your requests.

That was always a little too "I believe in fairies" for me. I thought of Gd as a person. Someone who deserved the same consideration and respect as anyone else. Surely Gd gets tired, Gd gets busy, Gd gets overwhelmed... one must be compassionate for such an insane schedule, for the demands on Gd's time and energy. I have no idea why I thought this way... I can't think of anything that might have influenced me.

As I became older, I confronted the idea of prayer being my responsibility to grant wishes for other people. After fighting back and forth with the idea that Gd exists at all, I still see prayer as a valuable exercise. Time to focus your thoughts... and often answer your questions yourself. There's probably no way to safeguard ourselves through this sort of meditation, or our loved ones. It would be nice to believe that, by thinking of one another, our good thoughts emit a good energy, putting us all in a better place to protect ourselves.

I hope to hear other stories of things people used to believe in their youth... Perhaps someone thought tithing went towards Gd's "school of angels" or that Gd looks like George Burns...?

Thursday Kitchen: Life is not like a cake walk...

My schedule (and my attitude problem) leave little room for cooking dinner regularly lately. What seemed to work this week was cooking a lot on Sunday and Monday evening... enough meals to last the rest of the week. There is still enough for today and tomorrow's lunch and we were even able to give some away to friends who also have little time to cook.

Therefore, my adventures with food are limited to seeing what I can get made for the week and learning about weird and wacky things. In the same vein as last week's post on food, today's comes from cake screw-ups. There's a popular blog written by a lady named Jen Yates that includes photos of professional cakes gone wrong (Here's the link to her blog if you're interested in pictures other than what I have below: Cake Wrecks).

The New York Times has taken an interest in her collection of disasters and included some pictures in a review. The photos below, some of my favorites, come from the following link: NYT

Disaster One

Aside from the fact that I have no idea what those brown chunks are, that mauve-y or -pink-y colored icing sort of... um... scares me. Not to mention, with colors like this, I don't want anyone to "lave" me... No, I do not.

Disaster Two

If you get off the phone with the young voice at the cake counter of the grocery store with a worried feeling, maybe you have good reason. People taking things too literally or people with less-than-stellar English skills cause cakes like this... not to mention, what happened to that "s" in "Congratulations"? Wonder what was supposed to be "as small as possible"... the cake? The lettering? Maybe the person wanted to write something on the cake with their own icing?

Disaster Three

Hmm... I guess they were going for "cute"... but all I see is a terrified new mother wondering what the heck happened to the poor baby...

Disaster Four

No matter how you slice it... NOT appetizing.

Disaster Five

Whether you were the crazed bride and groom obsessing over every detail, or if you were just having a small, informal affair with friends and family... I don't see any happy faces gazing upon this wedding cake.

Anyway, there are a lot more funny (and a few amazing) cakes on Jen Yates' blog. Go and at least look at the very first cakes... They are holiday desserts. There's a Halloween cake and Frankenstein is probably getting arrested for indecent exposure... So is the Thanksgiving Turkey... and Rudolph...

Eew.

Wednesday Valuables: "This reminded me of you."

Dear Jing-Wei,
How have you been? I'm sure you've been busy with school and work. I just wanted to send you this necklace- I thought of you while I was running errands the other day. I came across this delicate bird pendant and it reminded me of our conversation at lunch last week (That was so much fun! Hope we can do it again sometime soon!). You said that your name meant "small bird" and this pretty thing just jumped out at me. If you don't like it, maybe you can just hold on to it if you need a reminder that, while you're busy and overwhelmed, someone is thinking about you.
Your friend,
Lana


To Carl-
Enclosed is that pen your grandfather used to write out his drafts with and ink some of his rough drawings. You obviously have his gift, even if you never met him. I wanted you to have it.
-Robert



Dear Molly,
I was sorry to hear that you weren't well... that things have gotten out of control. I don't have any words of wisdom for you, but I have this book that I'd like to pass along to you. There are no answers in it, but I think the main character went through something similar to your situation. Just thought you might like to see that you're not alone.
Love,
Tina



Hey Steve!
Well, you said you ran out of golf balls. Here's a new case. Who else is going to terrorize the neighbors' cats?
-Tim


Happy Anniversary, Sam and Christine!
We were just going to send you this card and a gift certificate, but we saw this picture and thought of you. We thought you'd find it pretty funny after what you did to celebrate your fourth wedding anniversary! Two crazy people jumping out of a plane together- we love you, but we think you're totally insane!
Your friends,
Greg and Delores



Hey Dad,
I hope you're doing okay. I hope work is good. I just thought you might like this postcard. I was at the museum here at school and I recognized the photograph. O. Winston Link, right? Anyway, I know you already have the print, but, here's a copy just in case.
-Pete



Dear Julie,
You're the one who collects rocks, right? I was asked to chaperon for this evil preschool class on a field trip to a science museum. Anyway, they were showing the kids how to polish rocks and handing out some of the pretty ones. They gave me this purple one with white rings... I thought maybe you ought to have it.
From Nathan



Harry,
Hey! I'm down here with Lisa in Charleston hanging out in downtown. I saw this sign outside one of the bars that said: Harry's Tavern. Thought it was funny! Here's a picture! See you in a week, buddy!
-Chris



Ginny,
I saw this top and thought, 'Now that's so Ginny!' I know you like your blues and grays, but trust me - red is your color! Send me a picture if you like it. Tell your mother I said, 'Hi' and I'll see you around Christmas time! I hope you'll go caroling with me and your Uncle Ted again and we'll make some of that hot Christmas punch to stay warm!
Love and kisses,
Aunt Louise



Hey Sis,
I know. I'm a jerk-face brother. Sorry about that. I didn't forget your birthday. I've just been busy. As usual. Anyway, I know it's late, but this card had a bunch of different languages on it. Made me think of you since you speak about three of them. Well, I'll call you. Let me take you to lunch or something next week.
Your brother



Scottie!
Don't worry- it's not what you think! I just can't help it... when I see blue flowers, it reminds me of you when we played Jim and Laura in The Glass Menagerie. Can you believe it? That was nearly fourteen years ago! Thanks for being a good friend for so long.
Love, Jade

Tuesday Favorites: Getting a haircut

Anya and I went out to try a new salon yesterday. I've trusted one man to cut my hair for years now, but, when I move, I'll have to seek out someone new. So, I'm trying to get used to talking to new hairdressers now. I could walk in and ask my regular guy to just do something different... he understood my hair and my attitude problem. Some of the best cuts I've had, I was sitting in his chair.

I have a funny relationship with my hair. It's one of the few vanities on which I'm really willing to spend some money (Okay, and the twice or thrice per year pedicure, but my toes are seen all the time in my line of work... need to have pretty feet). I have been cutting my hair short since the end of high school...

The very first time I cut my hair, I was probably 9. I had the occasional trim, but my hair was always down to my hips until I got the idea in my head to ask the neighbor lady next door to cut my hair shoulder-length. I took one picture that day after the haircut... I'm sure Mom has it. I see a brave face, but I cried myself to sleep that night. I didn't cut it again until after high school...

...and I've been hacking it to pieces ever since. I had a boyfriend or two who really liked long hair... so a natural reaction to those break-ups was to cut my hair off. You know. Like in Sliding Doors when Gweneth Paltrow goes from long stringy blond to very short, pixie styled hair. You need a change... to look in the mirror and not see the person who would stand beside that guy she dated for years... but, instead, to see a new girl ready for a new adventure.

It just became habit after that. One of the most glorious sounds to me is hearing shears sing and hairs tap my cape or the floor. I got so used to liking the short look that I try new short cuts every chance I get. I've had asymmetrical cuts, pixie cuts, bobs, etc. It just matches my personality to keep changing it... to not look like everyone else. Once I disassociated cutting my hair with break-ups, I saw it as time to be myself.

The place Anya and I went to yesterday was one of those nice Aveda salons where the receptionist offers you tea or coffee when you walk in. My hairdresser massaged my scalp with some sort of... well, she called it "beautifying oil" or something. Smelled pretty anyway. They have this great smelling shampoo... in fact, all their products have this lovely, natural, wild flower sort of scent. I'm not a product sort of girl... I was trained by my French friend to be a wash-and-go gal. She says it's more natural.

In my experience, she's generally right. I know there have been improvements in the last few years, but I still remember the hairspray of the 80s and 90s that turned your hair into a paper maché project that bounced back even if it was hit by a volley ball. Even those hair pastes of the early 2000s were a little stiff. I'm not converted yet, but the Aveda products are tempting. When she was done with my hair, it felt like my hair, but it was fuller than it ever is on its own. We'll see.

The cut I got yesterday basically looks like this:


Now, her hair is thicker and heavier than mine, but the general style is what I have. I'm still getting used to it... and the beauty of it is, I know it grows out, so I won't have to go back to the age of 9 and cry my eyes out whenever I get a cut I can't get used to. Also, if I really hate it, I just go get a pixie cut and wait. So far, I think this cut is going to be fun... even when I let it air dry, it pretty much looks styled. Since I wash and go all the time from the studio, I need my hair to be able to look presentable whether or not I blow dry it.

I've worked since yesterday and have washed my hair twice between then and now... and I can still smell the flowery and spicy scents of the Aveda products.

I think I'm going to like it here.

Monday Review: Bedtime Books

I like to have something by the bed to read as I fall asleep... it's a distraction until I can actually get to sleep. I'm one of those people who will just lay there in her agenda for the next day and never get to sleep without a little help.

The current book by the bed is one of the best I've chosen in a while. It reminds me of THE VERY USEFUL BOOK from Neil Gaiman's Mirrormask. The girl wandering through this wacky dream world goes to a library to find "a useful book," that might guide her to the object she seeks to save the sleeping queen. These pages have one to two sentences on them and she periodically tears out the pages to feed to the sphinxes (Guess you would have to see the movie for that to make sense... it's a dark Alice in Wonderland sort of story with Gaiman's passion for morals and lessons). Whenever she's lost or needing a hint, she opens the book randomly and finds something... well, useful.

I have a similar book at my bedside. Thich Naht Hahn's TAMING THE TIGER WITHIN; Meditations on Transforming Difficult Emotions has been my "very useful book." There is very little written on each page. Just a little dose each turn of Buddhist wisdom.

I like these bite-sized helpings. I turn to a random page or two every night and have something to think about that focuses my thoughts as I sleep. Hahn's advice is simple, but profound. It doesn't matter if I hit the same page again later... it might mean something different for me by then. It's a remarkable work appropriately speaking to the reader for each new moment... just like good Buddhism strives to demonstrate. Hahn's whole mission is to make this form of spirituality more accessible to the West and this particular book works pretty well.

This book also had the benefit of a decent translator. For my birthday this year, I was given a handful of his books and one or two of them read a little strangely. It's invaluable to have a translator who can do more than look things up word by word. I feel that TIGER's translator captures the meaning of the book which was originally written in Vietnamese. This is no easy feat, so I'm still grateful for my other books featuring less talented translators (THE MIRACLE OF MINDFULNESS was a long letter to Brother Quang of a school in South Vietnam in 1974; it is a valuable work though the translation to English is weak).

Below are some random pages for today:

All the suffering of living beings is our own suffering. We have to see that we are they and they are us. When we see their suffering, an arrow of compassion and love enters our hearts. We can love them, embrace them, and find a way to help. Only then will we not be overwhelmed by despair at their situation. Or our own.
(Page 271)

I find this to be a simple reminder of our habit of separatism. Most of us are in our own world. We interact with a number of people everyday, but we do this from the constraints of our bubbles. Do you actually ask the barista how she's doing or are you following the script? Could you tell that your server at the restaurant was exhausted and desperately trying to keep it together or did you just get annoyed that your water glass was not always full? Do you have compassion for a confused tourist on the road or do you start honking and cursing with the protection of four walls around you to muffle what negativity you're imposing on that motorist?

I know I have an impressive lack of compassion for other drivers until I'm the one who makes a mistake. On a groggy morning, I've been known to make a few last minute moves that are less than considerate to others on the road. Once in a while, that causes a honking fest making me that much more nervous. Other days, people don't honk but nod to me with a sigh rising and falling in the chest; then I feel better and drive better for having been confronted peaceably.

Don't misunderstand- some people on the road are doing some remarkably inconsiderate things (no turn signal, cutting you off, highway weaving at a dangerous speed, etc). Still, I think those things are obvious and honking probably won't change anything... in fact, for some of those muscle-headed drivers, it encourages them.

So, as Hahn encourages us, a mindfulness will inform better actions and reactions... after all, you've probably done or been whatever the person annoying you has done or been at some point. Give them a little space and you'll learn to give yourself some wiggle room, too.

Just like our organs, our anger is part of us. When we are angry, we have to go back to ourselves and take good care of our anger. We cannot say, Go away, anger, I don’t want you.’ When you have a stomachache, you don’t say, ‘I don’t want you stomach, go away.’ No, you take care of it. In the same way, we have to embrace and take good care of our anger.

(Page 59)

I like this concept of seeing anger as a component of ourselves... or maybe one of the many people we become on and off during the course of our lives. It's someone/something to care for... it has the need to be acknowledged, understood, soothed. I think this quote asks that we have compassion for ourselves. He does not suggest we reject our anger, admonish ourselves, or just snap out of it. He requests that we treat ourselves fairly and tend to our anger... to repair ourselves. So, we're still entitled to these feelings... but we have a calling to be constructive with those emotions.

Live your life daily in a way that you never lose yourself.
(Page 183)

I'm certain he means all parts of yourself. To hear something like this... especially as you are trying to get to sleep, is so comforting and feels like a loving gift from a stranger. You can let the day go after such selfless love is expressed...

It works better to read this book cover to cover. I'm enjoying skipping around in a VERY USEFUL BOOK fashion, but the thoughts link together. The book would probably be a good hundred pages shorter if he placed the thoughts in typical prose format. He has designed it to take one page at a time (very Buddhist... be here, not in the thought ahead) but the process is still linear.

I enjoy a regular novel to take to bed, too, but for now, it's been nice to have these understanding and compassionate thoughts swimming in my brain as I drift into slumber... I am grateful for the work and effort of Thich Naht Hahn...

(from www.ineedmotivation.com)

Sunday Reflections + A Review: Gds and Monsters

Ah... the Academy Awards. Such a busted system...

I'll be reviewing a movie to make up for Monday after I reflect briefly on film culture...

I haven't been consistently impressed with American film since the 90s. Within the decade in which The Matrix came out, I felt like a number of other decent films could easily be included. During that time, I had a better chance of choosing a film I had not heard of prior to arriving at the theater and enjoying it than I have lately. I am not saying that there have been absolutely no good movies since then... just significantly fewer. The past few years can hardly compete with the time of American Beauty... but, this is my impression.

I feel as though we tried harder in the 90s. With the bloom of CG just barely peeking through the bud of the industry, filmmakers did not lean on their technology. It was a tool to enhance the experience. Nowadays, it's everywhere... and they're getting lazy about it. Using CG anywhere they can't be bothered to conjure any pure creativity. I'm proud of filmmakers like Peter Jackson who used every trick in the book so that his audience does not fixate on hocus pocus of The Lord of the Rings but rather the saga, the drama. The tale is the thing.

Anyway, I have to wonder what it is the Academy really requests from film... Obviously there are categories to designed to acknowledge all hands on deck, but what about the one we sit up late to hear about...? How does one choose the very Best Picture of the year?

Because last year's...? I don't know. Considering what Slumdog Millionaire was up against, I suppose it was the only one that should have walked away with the prize. I heard decent talk about most of the other movies, but the winner spoke the loudest to the times, to the now. Slumdog Millionaire manages to acknowledge a paradigm while educating an audience that, by majority, likely knows very little about Indian culture or history. Using the show Who Wants to be a Millionaire was just a contemporary vehicle to tell a story we all love: rags to riches, boy gets the girl, good wins the day after tremendous struggle. No-brainer against war stories, fantasy/sci-fi stories about a reverse aging process, and dynamic politicians. All compelling ideas... but Slumdog has trapped a specific moment in time that no one else has made into a decent film... this, our early 21st century.

Now, I don't know if I would have picked any of the films selected for Best Picture in 2008... but I'm a sucker for space (WALL-E), Batman, and Indiana Jones. It's all subjective, I guess, and I can still see how the nominations and awards were dealt out the way the were...

...this is not the case for the films of the year 1998 (Academy Awards 1999). The nominees were Saving Private Ryan, A Thin Red Line, Elizabeth, La vita e bella (Life is Beautiful), and Shakespeare in Love. Remember who won? Because I do... and I was unimpressed. In the face of other great films like American History X (guess they don't like picking downers), What Dreams May Come, or even The Truman Show, it's obnoxious that it was nominated at all. For those of you who enjoyed the film, maybe you get something I don't because I found it disappointing and cheaply sensational.

The disappointment of this specific year drew my eye to movies that I had neglected though meant to see when they were in theaters... among them, Gds and Monsters...

Here comes the review portion:

(from www.geraldpeary.com)

I walked into this screening with no idea about the story whatever. All I knew was the cast who earned nominations for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actress (I think they both deserved their nominations). The film did win an Oscar for Best Writing; Screenplay Based on Material from another Medium...

Gds and Monsters is based on Christopher Bram's novel THE FATHER OF FRANKENSTEIN. His novel is derived from the details left behind of the tortured and twisted life of James Whale, the creator and director of the monster we all know as Frankenstein. His portrayals of what defines monsters and humans likely mirrored his own experiences and the disappointments of his poor family, his unintelligent father, the horrors of war, etc. The movie is one of many mirrors bringing us back to the original tableau of the life of director James Whale.

Ian McKellan stars as James Whale... it takes subtly and a streak of wickedness to pull off a role of this complexity. James Whale, as portrayed by McKellan, is a brilliant and troubled artist who made a film to work through the pain in his life, went on to making other films including some lovely movies (like Show Boat), but would never be able to step out of the shadow of his work in horror. Frankenstein and his bride became major icons of horror and they remain recognizable and somewhat revered today... these monsters are fused with our sympathy... they are like children lost in the world with little to no guidance, so they naturally fall off the deep end now and again... appearing to be the monsters of the piece. McKellan's portrayal of the disturbed director most certainly has an intimate understanding of playing both roles... the child and the monster.

McKellan comes off as a dirty old man immediately. He sees his new gardener and feels the need to offer his swimming pool to him... purposefully mentioning that it's okay if he doesn't have a suit. No one here will mind. The gardener tries to shake off the comment but later finds himself asked to pose for a sketch... the director, after all, drew the very first concept drawing of Frankenstein, paints copies of great works as a hobby, and is brimming with talent within visual medium. During these sessions, the director tells his gardener stories from his life. These stories bring about painful flashbacks and horrendous headaches (his condition already aggravated by a stroke he suffers earlier in the film).

The gardener is played by Brendan Fraser... who is the best man for the job despite our exposure to him as a goofy surfer moron from films like Encino Man or Airheads. I feel that they needed someone beautiful enough to lead you on but square enough, bulky enough, to be reminiscent of the actor who played Frankenstein. The director has this inexplicable sense of comfort with the gardener as though he could tell him everything... in my mind, the director saw the outline of his first creation, his first method of working through the pain of his past. He can't help but open up to the man... all the while, after setting the dirty old man precedent, one believes that his intentions with his gardener are more than someone to talk to...

...right up to the end, that's what the filmmakers want you to think. It hearkens to the original Frankenstein... Who is the monster? Is it the gay, predatory artist? The semi-belligerent ex-Marine gardener? The snooty Hollywood fanfare who won't appreciate James Whale for anything other than his horror films? Or is it you for thinking what you're thinking as you watch the movie?

I had to chew on it, but I think this is a great film. It's complex and graceful in its execution. I also admire filmmakers unafraid to play with the audience's heads. There are a few pieces missing... it's hard to buy the director's urgency to be taken from this world towards the end. Yes, you see he's frustrated, but you also see, no matter where your own dirty mind took you, that he has a friend. I think one more scene might have helped... something that uses more than a series of flashback moments to demonstrate how much pain and suffering has worn the director down.

Lynn Redgrave plays the director's maid... and I think she's amazing. She complicates everything just by being there. Since you've been lead to dislike the old horny toad gay artist, the text includes a very devoted maid who suspects the gardener will hurt her employer. She knows all about the director's habits, but she's concerned about him, not the young handsome man coming to model for a sketch. (If you're as behind as me, the next few sentences will spoil the movie for you, so, skip to the next paragraph.) She is devastated to find the director dead in the end and weeps as though it were her husband dead before her eyes. Wanting to avoid incriminating her employer's friend, she waits to alert the police and asks the gardener replace the body where they found it after they say their goodbyes to James Whale.

The desire for companionship is pure. It's so very moving. It's just as moving as that scene we've all watched in the original Frankenstein movie (If not, please catch up here: Most popular scene) when the "monster" finally makes a friend with a blind man. Raw, simple, and universal. In the end, the director longs to be reunited with his first love... the gardener wants to move on and find a woman with whom he can build a family, settle down, and provide something better than the poor life he had survived. In a sense, the gardener becomes the director's monster (Know that saying, "I've created a monster?" The gardener took the director's honesty and ran with his own feelings towards the same goal) and the director, who the audience probably saw as a monster much of the time, becomes the gd that gave this particular monster life.

And I liked it better than that wretched, saccharin Shakespeare in Love...

(I apologize for the abnormal amount of technical difficulties that went into this posting... Cox had some issues last night right about the time I was trying to publish...)