Gussy the Gecko




August 29th, 2008, a Friday


There is another world all around us that you may not be aware of.  I know that some of you won't believe what I am saying and that's ok with me (the Dutchman taught me that.....you know.....personal freedom and responsibility for our choices).  So if you choose not to believe in the other world, the consequences are that you don't get the spectacular pleasure of experiencing it.  Your choice. 

The other world is full of spirits and energy that are not immediately obvious.  Some are though.  All you have to do is be visited by a dragonfly while sitting at the water's edge to know that their world is strange and wonderful.  Scientists would say that they have typical lives, a place in the insect world, with certain duties that fit into the natural scheme of things.  But they are a lot more than that in the other world.  In European culture, dragonflies are considered sinister, known as the devils darning needle or Hell's mare.  They believe the devil uses dragonflies to weigh people's souls.  There is also the notion that dragonflies follow snakes around and stitch them back together when injured.  While these are not flattering images of the dragonfly, they are other world images. 

The Native Americans have a different view of the dragonfly believing them to represent swiftness and activity.  My favorite is they believe the dragonfly is a symbol of renewal after great hardship.  Japan sees them as symbolic of courage, strength and happiness.  Vietnam uses them to forecast rain.  Flying at low level means rainy, high level means sunny and medium level means shadowy.  Notice they don't say cloudy.  Shadowy, a condition of the other world. 

Haven't you ever watched a hummingbird hover close by and wonder how they must experience the world?  Or how about the adorable tiny gecko lizards that you sometimes find in the house if you live in the desert?  They have suction cups on their little feet, look transparent, are nocturnal with immovable eyelids and completely harmless.  I always ask the Dutchman to carry them outside when I see them in the house but he says they are house lizards and find plenty to eat.  You know, the little creatures we can't even see because they exist in the other world.

And don't forget about the spirits that are everywhere around us.  People who are moving from one life to the next.  Or just that whiff you sometimes get of something you can't explain that makes you feel a certain way.  A premonition or a peace when you know everything is as it should be. 

If you want, you can decide to live in the regular world all the time.  The world in which we work, stress out, pay the bills, love and play.  But if I were you, I would tune in to the other world as well.  It is a wonderful place to be if you just allow yourself to go there.  If you are not sure how, just ask a child.  They will show you. 

GR

I'm exhausted.  So much has happened just since Monday.  The fam took the Dutchman on a surprise overnighter to Las Vegas for the big birthday.  I was, of course, invited but in an uncharacteristic move, opted to stay home with my own family, about a dozen of them, to watch the first night of the Democratic Convention and help Nicky get started on his promise to provide counseling to them.  You remember how he decided he could do more good out in the world rather than in the hills of Santa Monica at the monkery. 

The littlest Dutch boy is always saying how "messed up" my family is.  Well, it's true that over the years I have collected quite a menagerie of little ones who have experienced at least some degree of misfortune in their mysterious lives.  Remember, we don't all have one stable, loving home.  I mean sometimes mean, little kids outgrow us and toss us to the goodwill or even throw us away.  Sometimes their moms do it thinking we get too dirty and dusty for their precious little ones when all they have to do is clean us up a little.  Sometimes the family dog attacks us and shreds us to death.  And do we even get a funeral?  Not usually.  Everyone fusses over the child who is heartbroken over the loss of little Boffo or Pinky or BooBoo but who really thinks about us?  Who really takes the time to put us back together?  (May Papa Harry rest in heaven for his surgery on Fluffy's neck.)  We can get stuck in corporate gift baskets and end up being the only part of the basket that isn't edible or drinkable which is all those office dopes care about.  Or we are put up for sale in a store with literally hundreds of others who look exactly like us.  Don't they know that we may look alike, but we each have our own souls?  No wonder we're all messed up?  Nicky's got his hands full.  He is already starting to show the wear and tear.  No amount of meditation and prayer can protect him from the knowledge of what we have all been through.  I just hope he can help us make sense of it.  At least he cares.  That's worth a lot.

So we pulled an all nighter because there wasn't really anyone around to turn off the tv when we were ready to go to sleep.  In fact, we left it on so long that the screen finally went to some default setting of grey with instructions as to what buttons to push to get the picture back.  Nicky took us through a group therapy, in the dark, in the middle of the night, with no one home but us, just by the dim light of that grey default screen.  There were a lot of tears but it felt good to talk about our pain and suffering and fear and hurt.  It may have been a little more than poor Nicky bargained for, but he hung in there pretty darned well.  I think he learned more in one long, dark rainy evening about the human condition than he could have in a lifetime at the monkery.  (OK, we think of ourselves as human.  What constitutes human is similar to the conception or birth argument.  Only difference is we can't get enough people excited over it to get it on the political radar so we can even argue about it.  You humans have a lot to learn about life.)

I didn't even wake up last night when the big thunder storm rolled through.  It was good to have everyone back home.  Everything as it should be.  We don't even realize what it means to feel safe and cared for.  We sure get a big dose of what it means when we're not!  Ask Nicky.  He now knows more than he ever wanted to but he will tell you that it is good to be of service.

The little Dutch boy is opening a restaurant soon.  I see it as an opportunity to get my first real job.  I know I can't be a cook or a waitress or a cashier.  But I was thinking maybe a marketing specialist.  Once people realize that Gina Rose, of jabwab fame, works there, imagine what that could do for business.  I could chat and be charming and just let them get to know me.  And then they would tell their friends and bring in their kids and they wouldn't even have to admit that while they like the great food, they really enjoy spending time with me.  Yeah, I think it could work.  Maybe I will just let the little Dutch boy ask me on his own.  Like it was his idea.  Then he can get all the credit for it when I put his new place on the map.  This helping others thing is really fun. 

GR

Miss Sister 2008 Hopefuls



August 25th, 2008, a Monday

How 'bout that internet.  Seems you can get whatever you need or get rid of whatever you want on the internet.  I never see anything really bad on-line.  I wouldn't even know where to look.  But thank goodness the FBI does.  They arrested a couple who was trying to sell the woman's five year old using an ad that read:  "Nice piece 5 years old belongs to my gf and she wants to sell it".  The price was an apartment, a used car and child care for the 10 month old sister they were planning to sell later.  The mom thought the sexual encounter would be a positive experience for her daughter and that her boyfriend would receive sexual gratification from watching.  So, in other words, it was a good deal for everyone involved.  Don't worry, they were arrested before anything terrible happened to the kids (besides being born to that woman).  And they were just your local bartender and waitress at a Texas Cheesecake Factory.  Swell.  "What can I get you this evening?  A margarita, caesar salad, and for dessert, a 5 year old?"  I hope somebody gets those little girls a teddy bear.  They're going to need one.

But, you know, there's always the church to watch over and protect our little ones.  Well, now that the priests have pretty much been exposed, it seems safer.  But the latest is that an Italian priest has decided that nuns deserve more visibility within the church and he wants to fight the stereotype that nuns are old and dour.  So he has organized the Miss Sister 2008 beauty pageant, conducted on-line through his blog.  He will be posting their bios and photographs and they have the option to be photographed with or without their veil.  Then you can vote on-line for the nun of your choice after evaluating her assets, so to speak.  The well-meaning (?) priest believes that nuns are excluded and marginalized and that external beauty is a gift from God that we must not hide.  Now, the Association of Catholic Teachers isn't buying it.  No, sir.  they think this belittles the role of nuns.  Besides, what does this do to the scores of nuns who probably are ugly and dour.  I mean, historically it has practically been a requirement.  And now this.  I'm just glad the Italian priest is fighting against the marginalization of nuns.  Good job, father. 

Every day every person has to make choices.  Are we going to be good people making good choices, or good people making bad choices, or bad people making good choices or bad people making bad choices.  Think of the internet as the biggest practice field in the world.  Turn on the computer, fire up your high speed, and start choosing.  It's all there.  What sites you visit, what you look at, what you google and even how you respond says a lot about you.  Just remember, and we all know this from watching tv, the FBI and other agencies can find out everything about your on-line life if need be.  And it will paint a picture of you.  How you will be remembered.  What choices you made.  In fact, with the right software, anyone (husbands, wives, parents, boyfriends) can see pretty much everything you are up to.  And you thought you were alone when you were surfing.

I know this can all be pretty depressing.  But I am a big fan of confronting the bad things, not avoiding them because they are too hard to know.  The more you know, the more you understand.  Every little tiny good thing done or even just thought of by a person matters.  Throw some good energy into the universe and you will have done enough for a single day. 

And speaking of today, it's a pretty big birthday for the Dutchman.  We are going to make a fuss over him, a big fuss, in spite of his usual preference to let it go by as just another day.  This morning I woke him up asking how he felt at his new age.  He said, predictably, that he felt pretty much the same as yesterday.  A good man is hard to find.  That is worth celebrating.

GR

Shakespeare, emotion hero

Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service.
(The Tempest, 3.1.60-3)


August 22nd, 2008, a Monday

After careful thought, I have concluded that emotion makes the world go round.  The other day a girlfriend of mine told me about a study that actually concluded that the male sex organ really makes the world go round since men seem to base so many of their decisions on its mood.  And obviously men rule the world.  But, even allowing for the possible veracity of her statement, let's still consider the organ's mood an emotion and leave it at that.  Eeeewwww.

What is really hilarious is observing all the left brainers, who have an overwhelming need to categorize and scientifically account for everything, try to push and force and mash emotion into charts and graphs and easily understood explanations for the one thing we have been given in our DNA that cannot actually be categorized or explained in such ways.  How silly that the most unemotional people dare to take on the task of scientizing emotion.  That's something better left to artists such as Shakespeare and other standouts of the right brain community.  For heaven's sake, go look at a painting, see a play, go to the movies, or read a masterpiece.  It's all there.  When a DNA test matches physical evidence to a rapist, it doesn't tell us what that person is like, or what experiences he has had, or how he could do such a thing.  It just tells us he was there.

The problem is that as I said before, emotions make the world go round.  And to be honest, we are all subject to the enormous impact of emotion.  Whether we like it or not, or whether we understand it.  Doesn't matter.  I would guess that some who are really motivated can train themselves to avoid experiencing emotion completely, but that doesn't mean that emotion does not come up or is not present.  It just means it gets stuck somewhere between your brain, your heart and realizing the expression of that feeling. 

Just for fun, I have provided for you below a chart with basic emotions, basic opposites and then the cool equations which involve addition problems to further explain "advanced" emotion.  If you believe that fear is the basic opposite of anger, and vice versa, then this chart's for you.

Basic emotion	Basic opposite
Joy	Sadness
Acceptance	Disgust
Fear	Anger
Surprise	Anticipation
Sadness	Joy
Disgust	Acceptance
Anger	Fear
Anticipation	Surprise

Advanced emotion	Composed of...	Advanced opposite
Optimism	Anticipation + Joy	Disappointment
Love	Joy + Acceptance	Remorse
Submission	Acceptance + Fear	Contempt
Awe	Fear + Surprise	Aggressiveness
Disappointment	Surprise + Sadness	Optimism
Remorse	Sadness + Disgust	Love
Contempt	Disgust + Anger	Submission
Aggressiveness	Anger + Anticipation	Awe

In our society, stoicism is a valued male trait, believed to be beneficial in leadership and dependability and strength of character.  The stoic emotion chart defines most everything as an "irrational" something.  Distress is an irrational contraction that something bad is present.  Lust is an irrational desire. Delight is an irrational swelling that something good is present.  I swear!  If you are standing in your corn field in Iowa and you see a funnel cloud headed your way, I doubt that the distress you would feel as to the safety of your crops and your family and your home would be all that irrational.  Geez.

To make my point, the Dutchman's father was a wonderful physician and dealt with the life and death nature of his job in a very stoic, appropriately professional way.  Heck, he sewed up Fluffy, best childhood friend of the littlest Dutch Boy, when Fluffy's head was about to fall off.  He treated Fluffy with great care, respect and dignity even though she was a stuffed rabbit (don't tell the littlest Dutch Boy I said that, whatever you do).  The very act of a surgeon operating on a rabbit was less than stoical even though he showed Fluffy the respect of seriousness to the task.  Doc felt a lot of emotion, I know that, but he didn't let on so much.  But when he was in his 90's and got to feeling poorly himself, he changed.  He held people's hands and expressed his love for them and was scared.  I always loved him but he was especially lovable when he became more emotional.  His real sweetness came out and it was a joy.  How wonderful that he let us see it and feel it before he went.

You may have guessed by now that I am a very emotional bear.  And proud of it.  In fact, I may start a club or society or something to celebrate and honor the art of emotion.  I know that sometimes it can get away from you and if emotion rules your life, that can be bad.  Too much of anything can be a bad thing.  Then you have to go to a doctor who gives you a pill to scientifically change or even eliminate your emotions.  There they go again.  The left brainers think they know everything. 

GR

Tiny Gymnasts



August 20th, 2008, a Wednesday

I pretty much made up my mind I wasn't going to write about the Olympics.  You have probably heard enough about Michael Phelps and Chinese gymnasts and so forth.  I didn't want to pile on.  I'm not that kind of bear.  Even though watching the Olympics hasn't been all that stimulating or exciting this year, I admit that I got caught up in the tears we have seen in the past few days.  Now that is worth writing about.  And it is barely about the Olympics.  Tears are a different story.  But you have to put it in perspective.

Of course all of this is framed by people who spend at the very least their last several years training for that one moment, and in some cases, less than a moment.  So when it all comes crashing down around them, it must be pretty devastating.  It's good to remember though that if they are even medal contenders, they have probably had a pretty good career at other events such as national and world championships.  We tend to think that they only compete this one time and if they screw it up, all is lost.  But still expectations can be stressful.  Take the pretty American lady who was supposed to win the hurdles last night.  She came out looking mighty confident with lots of make-up, expensive shades, and quite the hairdo.  Problem is she was leading right up to the ninth hurdle and then knocked it down, throwing her off her stride and causing her to finish out of the medals.  She dropped to her knees in disbelief, and I think I saw a tear at some point.  But you gotta wonder if that may be because she really wanted the gold, or how much that gold would mean to her in sunglasses endorsements and other such things.  You should have seen the nice house the American lady sprinter lives in.  I am old enough to remember when they were really amateurs, not pros who make a good, sometimes great, living on the circuit.  (Is that the Olympic circuit?)  I heard where the International Olympic Committee wants more and more professionals in the Games.  The flashier and more famous and more endorsed the better.  What's happening here?  Where's the struggle and the sacrifice?  The part that actually brings us to tears?

There was a story on Shawn Johnson's Chinese coach that began with his tremendous struggle.  Trouble is that the first image was of him and Shawn bopping through the Iowa countryside in his Porsche convertible.  Quite a juxtaposition there.  (Is that the right word?)  I don't think Shawn's family is worrying about that third mortgage they love to tell us about so Shawn could stay in the gym.  I think she had an agent and a PR person and lots of people paying her to use their stuff before the Games even opened.  That last minute gold on balance beam won't hurt her one bit.  What is really cool to me though is what a great sport she is.  Always happy for the one who finished ahead of her.  It seems genuine and when she valiantly holds back the tears of disappointment behind those big lashes, she could be an animated Disney character. 

But how painful was it to watch that male gymnast we've never heard of who had a chance for gold in the floor exercise finals and was having a great routine and fell on his bottom at the end of his last tumbling run.  He was stunned by his own mistake, covered his face with his hands, and cried (I'm pretty sure).  We see something like that and imagine that he will relive that one mistake forever.  Or our poor Ms. Sacramone who fell off the balance beam and then fell on her bottom on floor exercise during the team competition which probably cost the USA the gold.  She was devastated and cried.  She cried again when they gave a medal to the Chinese star who landed on her knees off the vault when Ms. Sacramone landed both hers and got fourth.  Funny though.  I heard that behind Michael Phelps, she got the most hits on the website after that.  I'm tellin' you guys, the people want to see adversity, they want to feel something.  They don't just want to see someone keep winning and getting richer.

But the saddest of all is the Chinese story.  Maybe its ok that they gave that medal to the girl who landed on her knees.  She was identified at 3 years old as a prospect, taken from her family, and sent to the national training facility where she has been all her life.  They say she hated it and wanted to go home.  She called her parents and begged them to come get her but they refused, saying they would all have a better life through her gymnastic success.  Her father used to ride five hours on a boat to visit her and watch her train.  But only once a year.  We should all cry about that story.  I mean its nice that she won medals and got so good at what she does.  But what about the thousands of little girls who are "identified" and never make it.  What happens to them?  I have heard how China abandons their potential elite athletes if they get injured because they are of no use if not healthy and these people have absolutely no other skills and get forgotten and end up impoverished in their society.  No medal count is worth that.  You can't help thinking about the little girl (was any of the Chinese girls actually 16?) who was groomed to be the balance beam specialist and put on the team just so she could medal on the beam.  Last night, final competitor, she fell off.  I wonder what will happen to her now that she has failed.  Maybe that's why she was crying.

Some said that China should not have the games because of these types of problems and many that are worse, no doubt.  But I don't agree.  I am glad we know about it, that it has seen the light of day.  But I would much rather just be a Shawn Johnson or Michael Phelps, struggling in my sport, hoping for a gold or two or eight.  I am sure they can find some way to make a living after the Games are over.

GR

Aegeus, a mythical king of Athens
consults with Pythia, who sits on a tripod.



August 18th, 2008, a Monday

I had a reading with a psychic.  Marissa was her name.  Oh, for heaven's sake!  She didn't dress like a gypsy or anything.  It was at her house and it was a perfectly normal house, except maybe she was waiting for the spirits to come and clean it and they hadn't arrived in the last fifteen years or so.  She awakened her kids when a bell rang and they knew not to bother us during our session.  They just slipped out the door, off to wherever psychic's kids go, with that "there goes Mom again telling someone about their past lives" look. 

I'm not sure if we have all had past lives but it seems I have had a few.  It is not surprising that I was once a mermaid queen in the City of Atlantis.  (Well, maybe the mermaid part was a little surprising but not the queen part.)  The thing about past lives is that you don't necessarily remember them but when you hear about them it gives you this slight feeling of familiarity.  Like, "oh, yeah, life in Atlantis was pretty cool".  And I was a hand maiden to the court in ancient Greece, hanging around the Acropolis in Athens with the other hand maidens.  Seems I had a thing with the court jester (who may or may not be Nicky in a past life).  It is natural that you are drawn in a later life to someone you were close to in a previous life.  Just something that you sense.  But nothing can compare to my life as a wife and mom in Italy where we ran a family winery.  The children would run and play in the fields and we would stomp the grapes just like in the I Love Lucy episode.  Our old house had stone floors and big windows with blue wood shutters.  They were open all summer long and the thunder storms filled the house.  Ah, those were the days.  We were happy.

But for now, we have this life to live.  The one we are in now.  Marissa said she saw something like a letter, or a message to people.  I told her I write a blog and she said, "oh yes, that's it!"  She said more and more people will read my blog and to keep writing.  Not only will it be good for people to read it, by writing it I keep myself from becoming a stark, raving lunatic.  (OK, she didn't put it quite like that but she let me know that it is essential to my continuing health and well being to have an outlet for all the many things that cross my mind in a day.  That's true of all of us, isn't it?  If we leave all that stuff swirling around inside, no good can come of it.  Think of the many ways you could come up with to continually clean out your brain.  And then, go ahead and do it.  On a regular basis.) 

She said that my mother, Babia the Solar Queen, was a mistake mother.  She was never meant to be one but there was a big foul-up in the universe one day where everything went haywire and out of that came the unlikely event of my birth.  Despite it leaving me with a bad mother, because I was created by this amazing event, I have a special soul and am plenty strong to be a good, valuable person without a good, valuable mother.  It is my special fate.  I don't recommend it but it has forced me to become myself on my own.  And what a journey that has been.  Screw Babia.  She doesn't know what she missed when she didn't love me.  I would have been a great daughter with just the slightest bit of love and encouragement.  I would have made her proud. 

A lot of stuff she had to say I already knew which was kind of surprising.  But not to Marissa.  She said I had the power to feel energy and was very intuitive.  She said I could do her job.  At first, she thought she was just a good guesser.  Who knows, maybe that's all she is. 

I am not sure I recommend going to a psychic.  And I am pretty sure I wouldn't want to be the one to sit with people all day and tell them things about their lives.  And past lives.  And whatever.  If you're wrong, it could be pretty disappointing.  If you're right, wouldn't it be better if they figured it out themselves?  The problem is, some never do. 

As a possibly psychic, intuitive, energy reading bear, I urge you to save your money.  Do your own reading.  It's all there if you just take the time to do it.  Marissa doesn't actually have a set fee for the reading.  She asks you to just leave whatever you feel is right.  I would say feel free to do the same with today's reading.  But no, I can't take your money.  It would be best if you did something special with whatever it's worth to you, out of the ordinary.  You'll know what it is.  Intuitively.

GR

August 15th, 2008, a Friday

Ok, so I missed a day.  I've never done that before and it's not like me.  But I am practicing being imperfect and then forgiving myself.  After all, I have written 79 blogs in the last 5 months.  And I have a lot on my mind.  So let's move on already!

As you know, Dominic was being called back to the monkery in the hills of Santa Monica last we spoke.  On Monday, my Nicky, who I thought I was everything to, did leave to go back.  He said it was for evaluation and contemplation.  I guess he just couldn't think straight with me around.  You know, because he loves me so much.  So I tried to be cool and calm about it.  Not like it didn't matter, but not like I was going to throw myself into the lake even though I can't swim.  (You don't know how close I came.)  I just watched him go.  I put on a fabulous outfit to remind myself that I am Gina Rose.  But I just felt silly in that outfit with Nicky gone.

I've never completely committed to Nicky, you know.  The love I have been waiting for has always been more romantic, passionate, wildly exciting, unpredictable, up and down.  So you feel unbelievably great.  Well, you can't really feel that great all the time, can you?  When you are not feeling that great, you are actually feeling pretty awful.  Deep inside.  But then you always want that wildly exciting thing back, always searching for it.  And then you want and need it more and more and the time in between having it gets longer and longer.  Not to mention that life isn't supposed to be all about you and one guy.  Surely there is more than that.  Like blogging and getting involved in things that matter in this world. 

When Nicky was gone, I missed him sitting next to me even though he is really quiet and just lets me do all the talking.  Actually I like to do the talking.  I missed the way I feel when he is sitting next to me, just letting me be me and smiling to himself.  I missed how safe and happy I feel when I go to sleep each night next to him.  Yeah, I didn't even write my blog, which is sacred to me, while he was gone. 

It is really hard to give up the things that give you the big hit, that make you feel alive in your fur for the short term.  It takes a lot of guts to admit that some things are more important than a quick fix.  That you are actually worth a lot more than that.  What is hard is giving up the one thing that feels good for sure.  Even though it's not good for you.  Even though it's hard, you should fight the feeling that you are settling for less if you do give it up because that is just an illusion.  You are fighting for more actually. 

Lots of people (and bears) like to show off love.  And then we look at them and say how great it must be.  But you can bet that all that showing off is hiding a lot of empty space.  And worse.  All that performance of love is left on stage and you still go home from the theatre alone.  Hold out for the real thing that is in place exactly 24 hours a day.

When Nicky went to California, a handsome bear, twice his size, came to him.  His problem was that he was very materialistic and even had a dollar sign stitched in bright kelly green on his chest.  He begged Nicky to help him so instead of heading for the monkery, Nicky holed up with Micky Money for three days and went to work.  You wouldn't believe the change in that guy.  It was like a monk miracle.  So Nicky realized that he doesn't have to go to the monkery to do his life's work.  There are plenty of bears out there who need his help who would never get to work with him if he were sequestered in the hills of Santa Monica with a bunch of guys.  (Makes you wonder what they're really doing up there.)  In fact, plenty of those possible clients live right here in this house in the dragonfly room.  They're lining up.  

And so my Nicky came back to me.  And I figured out that it isn't that great to just stand face to face with one person your whole life to the exclusion of other things.  You should establish that you love each other for sure, and then turn back to back facing out and do what you were put here to do.  Its ok to hold hands while you do it.  And sometimes more, of course.  We're just learning.

GR  

Can Yoga Help?



August 11th, 2008, a Monday

It's all so complicated.  There's a universe, our world, our country, our state, our neighborhood, our personal lives.  There's a moon, the sun, the stars.  There's water, air and land.  Maybe rather than worrying about all the little things in our tiny world (which can seem bigger than life), we should recognize what a little speck we are in the scheme of things.  That would be a start.  And then we have to figure out where we came from and where we are going when our life here is no longer.  Or do we have to figure it out?  Really smart people have been trying to do that for millions of years.  And for now, we really don't know if any of them got it right.  Some of them sure think they have.  It's all a mystery and maybe that is the way it is supposed to be. 

What I think is hard to figure out is how we are supposed to figure out how to exist within our speckdom.  You need money to survive, for food and shelter and clothing and utilities and cable and cell phones and cars and vacations to get away from how you make this increasingly demanding living that pays for all the above.  That seems to be a circular problem, with one thing feeding another.  It's hard to get off that merry-go-round. 

If you decide the merry-go-round makes you dizzy and isn't good for you, then you can choose the simple life.  I saw on CBS Sunday Morning about how former high powered executives are taking up residence in this northern California Buddhist commune where they don't need money.  They tend the land, eat together, have small dorm type rooms, and wear clothes that, believe me, have absolutely nothing to do with fashion.  They love to talk about how stressed out they used to be and how they don't miss so many e-mails that you can't get to all of them and long commutes and credit cards and materialistic goals.  We can all look at that and say, wouldn't that be great and quiet and peaceful and oh, so simple????  But seriously, would any of us actually do that and feel satisfied?  Not likely.  Wouldn't you miss stuff?  A lot? 

So is it bad to be a modern person, chasing the dream that does have some basis in materialism?  I guess that would depend on what is inside of you.  Take for example, Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.  He made his fortune destroying companies by piecing them out, costing people their jobs and their pride.  Obviously that's not all that honorable.  (Julia Roberts helped him see the light.  Who would have thought a good hooker could lead the way to redemption?)  But if you can see good in how you make your living, or if you do it with honor and treat those around you with respect, then can there be any harm in getting paid for that?  Take Bill Gates, for example.  His professional contribution to the world cannot be measured and he made more money that any of us can imagine.  And now he has retired to put that money to good use around the world, sharing it with others who have nothing.  Now that is a good story.  But how can we compete with that?  We are not Bill Gates. 

I recently saw the new movie, Brideshead Revisited.  For the record, I thought it was one long English bore.  The characters were all either very rich and self absorbed, or very not rich but desperately wanting to be, more than anything.  Lots of blah, blah, blah with English accents.  Lines like "did I want too much?".  As I was watching the elaborate balls and parties with the huge mansions with the big staff and the enormous amount of money that it took to live that way, I was thinking that when they were dead, it wasn't going to matter one bit about what they wore to the ball or who was there and who had the most money.  In fact, as the lady of the house was dying, all she really cared about was getting her son back who was also sick, mostly of the way he was raised with all that crap.  He never did come back before she died.  She should have thought of that, of the love that was overpowered by the crap, when they were both well.  Now that is the important stuff.

Do you think a child would like to have a bigger house in a neighborhood full of bigger houses with two parents who work and commute and are stressed out all the time leaving that child in day care so between school and after school care they are just as tired and stressed out as the mom and dad?  Or would a child rather have a smaller house with a mom who stays home most of the time and sees the child off to school and is waiting at home when that child returns to hear about his or her day?  The truth is actually, that sometimes the child raised mostly by the stay at home mom can turn out really messed up just as the child who learned to love and respect two hard working parents can be a great person.  Think of all those professional athletes who rave about their great moms who worked two jobs and still made loving, decent and devoted single parents. 

So I guess what I am saying is the questions just keep coming and the answers don't seem to keep up.  But that's ok.  It is good to seek the answers.  Sometimes just asking the question is enough.  It shows you get that these are things worth thinking about. 

I was talking about yoga with a friend of mine the other day.  I said that yoga was a workout for the outside and inside of your body.  It was like a massage for your organs.  He said he thought it was a silly scam.  And then I realized that he was such a young person.  His organs aren't really that worn out yet and are doing just fine still under warranty.  And he has a job he loves with no one besides himself to support and can kinda do what he wants when he wants.  So what stress does he really need to manage at this point?  Maybe one day he will just wake up and remember that lone yoga class he took long ago and dismissed so easily.  Suddenly he may get it.  He doesn't have to rush it.  Life gets more complicated as it goes along.  We are supposed to get wiser as it goes and develop more skills as the problems become more challenging.  I didn't try to convince him of his innocence.  Why should I?  We sure don't want him to lose it before it disappears all by itself. 

GR

Nicky and Gina



August 8th, 2008, a Friday

Today the Olympics begin.  Well, actually they have already begun.  You can read all about the Opening Ceremonies on-line because they have already happened but you won't see them on TV til tonight.  The pictures look unbelievable and they say it cost $100 million for the show.  I have been really looking forward to it but right now all I can think about is Nicky. 

You may remember from Wednesday that Nicky has been summoned by his former monkery to return to the religious life in the Santa Monica hills.  At first I didn't take it too seriously, foolishly assuming he would never leave me to go back to all that.  But he is considering it.  In fact, he is thinking about going back for a visit to continue to contemplate where he really belongs.  Do you believe that?

Don't get me wrong.  I adore Nicky but I guess I may have thought that he adored me more than he really does.  Isn't love supposed to conquer all?  Isn't it supposed to fulfill all our needs?  I know I am a handful.  High maintenance.  I know I can be cocky, and princessy, and self centered and absolutely certain that everyone is interested in absolutely everything I have to say.  But how could he leave me?  Even think about leaving me?

Wait a minute.  Just rereading that last paragraph, you can see that obviously all I care about is myself.  What about Nicky's needs?  Have I ever stopped to think about what I could do for him rather than worrying about myself all the time?  I have taken that wonderful bear for granted, I'm afraid, criticizing him for being kinda frumpy and quiet and not recognizing him for who he really is.  I assumed he would always be there no matter what.  I would say that he is just manipulating the situation to teach me a lesson, but my Nicky isn't even capable of such a thing.  He is too honest and unselfish and grounded for such nonsense.  He's a monk, for God's sake!

To be honest, I thought I would just keep him around until a flashier, younger, handsomer, more romantic guy would come and sweep me off my feet.  But now I'm thinking.....what is more romantic than a guy who knows you for exactly who you are, warts and all?  What is more valuable than a guy who quietly lets you fly out into the world and is always there for you when you come crashing back, full of disappointment and pain?  What is better than a guy who not only allows, but encourages you to fully realize yourself and will still love you no matter what you do because he knows who you are all the way to your heart?  He also knows that sometimes you act like someone you're not.  And he understands and accepts that without judging you. 

But I have judged him sometimes.  You know, for his little pot belly.  For not wanting to go out and explore the world and instead being happy to stay home quietly and meditate and pray and contemplate things.  I have tried to work so many things out in my blog, ask so many questions about puzzling things in life, and not once did I ask Nicky to help me understand.  That's messed up.  No wonder he is thinking about leaving.  I just wanted to do everything myself without even considering his value.

How can I tell him that?  It would sound like I was just manipulating the situation to get him to stay but in my case, it would probably be true.  I can't just transform completely overnight to being less self-centered and more aware of his feelings.  Can I?  Maybe he knows that if he leaves for a while, I will have some contemplating of my own to do.  And he would be right. 

It's best to figure these things out before you are about to lose them.  I have only myself to blame.  Maybe I am underestimating Nicky.  Maybe he loves me enough to stay and have faith in me.  I should have had a lot more faith in him.

GR

Monks in the Hills of Santa Monica



August 6th, 2008, a Wednesday

I don't get it.  You hear about these people who always get up to greet the day with a big smile and a warm heart, no matter what.  (This amazing view of life often seems to be noticed for the first time during the composing of the obituary but it is extremely impolite to question the traits described in an obituary because, after all, that person is dead so why argue?)  So does that mean that you can throw the book of life at such a person and they just keep smiling?  Like one of those blow up toys that you can punch and punch and it just keeps popping up for the next punch?  How do they know the absolute joy of a great day when every day is a great day anyway?  What about the generally accepted idea that you have to feel pain or you can never truly appreciate joy? 

Some people say that you can kinda talk yourself into believing that even bad days should be viewed as good days because you are luckier than some other guy.  For example, if you are in a bad mood because your car broke down on the way home from work and it is hot as blazes and there was too much traffic for the tow truck to reach you in a reasonable period of time leaving you on the side of the road for an hour and a half in rush hour traffic on the freeway, one could argue how lucky you are because there was that one person earlier in the week whose car broke down and a big truck slammed into the car and the tow truck and killed them both.  Or if you have a cold or the flu and feel miserable, you should be really glad that you don't have cancer.  Or if the love of your life divorces you for another woman, one could say that it is better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all.  I think it's a bunch of hooey.  It's ok to feel miserable if you are.  Isn't it?  It'll pass soon enough.  Feel it all.  We are built that way. 

I wonder if you can choose how you feel anyway.  I guess so because otherwise how would those people mentioned in paragraph one be able to be so sunny every day.  Surely no life is that good all the time.  They have to decide to be cheery as a policy.  Sorta like a dress code or which lane you drive in or stopping for the red light.  There are rules and you just live by them.  Every day you have to smile and be happy.  Period.

Speaking of life choices, Nicky is faced with one right now.  You may remember that Nicky is my boyfriend.  Grey, slightly frumpy, very quiet.  He used to be a Dominican monk before he left the monkery to find happiness in the ordinary world and ended up with me.  It's not a flashy romance at all.  Just solid.  He is a very powerful guy with a real talent for meditation and introspection.  Remember he now wears my green peace shirt, the one I had been wearing for months, one of the few things he has ever asked of me.  He spends hours each day praying for the safe return of the troops and I had to accept he would do it much better than me.  I have learned a lot from him about how not to be a little twit who cares about things that are not that important.  He doesn't try to convince me, but he is always there with his wise and knowing spirit in stark contrast to my more materialistic, silly pop culture ways. 

So anyway the monkery calls yesterday.  They have invited him back to live there, to resume his religious calling in the hills of Santa Monica.  It is quiet there.  You wouldn't believe how quiet.  And to think of the incessant chattering I subject him to every day.  It must drive him crazy.  Do you think that is why he is considering it?  Is it right for a guy like Nicky to be out of his element, in the brazen world the rest of us live in?  Or should he hang out with others like him, in complete isolation.  What would I do without him?  He is a huge influence on me and that influences my blog.  I am willing to bet that my readers are a lot like me and need quiet, soulful guidance on a daily basis.  What good does it really do for the powerful monks to stay holed up in the monkery with each other, all agreeing that silence and prayer and mindful dishwashing is where it's at?  I hate to think how my blog might deteriorate if I am left to my own devices without the influence of Nicky.  But he has to make his own decision.  And it will affect us all, dear readers. 

Maybe if we all tried to be a little more mindful, a little less bitchy, a lot less greedy, a lot more kind.  Then Nicky would see that someone is paying attention.  Maybe if we told him that while he may not feel one hundred percent comfortable in our hedonistic environment, it beats living with some spoiled child who doesn't even understand him or know that he is such a powerful monk thereby eliminating his free will to leave.  He should count his blessings for that every day.  (See paragraph two.)  Nah, I would never tell him that.  He has to choose for himself or it doesn't really count if he stays.

Don't go, Nicky.  We need you.

GR