It Started Out So Well...

I woke up this morning with a mission. Two weeks ago another bracket popped off and I was sure that I was going to tell my orthodontist to put it back on—as well as the one that came off six months ago that he didn’t replace. Those teeth have been giving me the most trouble as they feel the most out of whack. I can’t chew on my left side. I haven’t been able to for months. And one of my bottom teeth is tucked over the bracket missing tooth on the right side. I started to feel compression on my ear. This was, to say it lightly, not going well.

I bumped into my friend Brett and his dog Quincy in the street on the way to the doctor. Brett has lovely teeth. I took this as a good sign that things would go well with my conversation with the ortho.

I wrote out about four paragraphs in preparation for this conversation, as I express myself better when I write than when I talk. I get emotional and distracted and I seem to lose my point. But when I write, it’s all there in front of me. I feel comforted by bullet points. I can always just give the page to someone if I’m not getting my ideas across, like a lost and bewildered tourist gives a slip of paper with a destination written on it to a cab driver in a foreign city. Somehow I know I’ll get to where I need to go, if I can just hand over that piece of paper, the written word.

My little list was in my lap when I spoke to the ortho about the missing brackets. He took a look, and started to do more work on me than he has since I first got the braces on. As he, and one of the assistants were working on me, I saw his eyes wander to my list, reading. And then I saw his jaw stiffen. I had a feeling it was going to be downhill from here.

A half an hour later, when I looked in the mirror, I saw that he didn’t replace the clear ceramic brackets, but instead left those teeth untouched and added thick metal brackets with tubes on them to the teeth next those, behind them. When I asked him why he didn’t replace the brackets, he rather testily says that those teeth are “not your problem” but that the ones next to them are at a 90 degree angle, and he can’t put brackets on the other teeth if is going to fix that with the metal tubes. (Which leads me to wonder why these metal tubes weren’t put on in the first place 16 months ago! I mean, hello? ) I said that I haven’t been able to chew or grind for 16 months and I’m concerned about this going forward, because I need to know if I will be able to chew in the end!

It would have been very simple for him to just say, “of course you’ll be able to chew.” But he didn’t. He started pontificating about how he wants a correct bite for me—and for all the “thousands of patients I see.” And that “anyone who saw where you were when you started and sees where you are now would think the change and progress was nothing short of miraculous.” (Way to pay himself on the back there!) But the kicker was, and he was still testy and defensive as he said it, “It might be the case that this may take longer than originally stated.”

He was so unreassuringly unsympathetic that I just didn’t want to push the issue because he clearly was not in a place where we could have a calm conversation about this. I told him that I wanted a plan, to know what we are doing next, and he told me that we’re closing up the spaces on the bottom and now turning the premolars in the back on the top, with the metal tubes on them, which sounds like a good short term plan, but chewing is a long term plan that’s closer to my heart.

Needless to say, I left his office and cried in the street.

I’m depressed. I’m dejected. I had been so looking forward to 2011 because it meant that I was getting my braces off at some point during the year, and now, maybe that is not the case. I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of building my confidence only to have it shot down every month or two. It's awkward to talk with all this new metal in my mouth.

But I don’t want you to be down in the mouth. So watch this video instead. It will make you laugh. We'll return to your regularly scheduled program soon.

Luxury

Today's word of the day from Dictionary.com was fletcherize--a word I will admit that I have never heard before. It means "to chew food slowly and thoroughly." Apparently the term was coined in honor of the American dietitian Fletcher Horace who advocated chewing each bite of food 32 times in order to truly enjoy it.

Ah chewing. Such luxury. You have no idea how tedious it is to chew food 32, 64, 100 times and not make a dent in its digestibility. Who the heck has time for this? I've found that swallowing things practically whole makes it go a lot faster.

This process with teeth has caused me to reorganize my relationship to time in more than one way--I've touched upon this in past entries--whether its living within the confines of two years, or a lunch hour. What was "before" is not "now" and I have to shift outside of what "was" into what "is." I still like the person I was a year and four months ago more than I like what I am now. I understood that person. I was grounded into that person. This person changes month to month, like bargain rent. This person can't get a foothold. This person wants space and time alone to process the process. This person is worried that blind faith in my orthodontist might be a big mistake. I mean, geez, shouldn't I be able to chew food after 16 months? Is that too much to ask?

I read this today: "Zen Master Jizo said that not knowing is the most intimate thing. Not knowing means to be open to all eventualities, to not prejudge a person or a situation. If your mind is full of preconceived notions, there is no room for an unbiased view. It is like when your hands are full of objects, you cannot pick up anything new. A closed mind causes separation and suspicion. Like an umbrella, a mind is only useful when it is open." --Gerry Shinsin Wick, Roshi, "Zen in the Workplace," Tricycle

So, ok, I get it. I've got my hands full of the old me, when I really should just drop that and pick up the new me. And stop being so suspicious of my orthodontist's abilities. For some reason, that sounds a lot easier than it has been.

In the latest Lonny Magazine, there was an interview with interior decorator Miles Redd, and he said that luxury today means "not rushing." I was so struck by this because truer words were never spoken. There are ads, one after another these days, for luxurious holiday gifts such as diamonds, cars and cellphones. These items don't touch me at all as luxury--I wear fake diamonds, I don't know how to drive--let alone desire a car, and my cellphone came free with my contract. (It has been called "the disco Barbie phone" because it's pink and really no frills.) But to not rush, to have time and space and a place to sit and breathe and think is truly my most coveted gift. It's the Tickle Me Elmo, the Furby, the iPad of my era.

And by the same token, maybe as much as I want to, I have to not rush the teeth. This blog has allowed me to take my time and space and sit and breathe with all that is unsolved in my mind and body. This is a gift in its own way, and my unfettered mouth will be a gift I'll enjoy in nine months. (Make all the comparisons you want to that timeframe.)

I hope Santa gets you your most coveted gift this year. And luxurious amounts of time to enjoy it.

Witty, Sweet, Grand...

I am remembering my dad. We used to sing this.

Yeah. He was pretty swell.

Catching Up

It has been a shamefully long time since I've posted, but things have been both so busy that I haven't had a moment to write. I spent a fantastic long weekend in North Carolina visiting my dear friend Emma. It was so cozy in the wonderful home that she built with her husband. She was preparing for an open house studio tour which is taking place this weekend and next weekend, so her walls were filled with her phenomenal drawings. I am always left breathless by Emma's artwork, not only because it's so very good, but because her home seems to be made to house it. I always want to purchase pieces from here when I'm there (which I did, and you can too, here) because I want to take a little piece of that perfect fitting together puzzle back to Brooklyn with me. But somehow, as lovely as they are on my walls, they do not have the same the same cohesiveness here as they do in Emma's handmade home, with the North Carolina sun streaming through her many windows, and her glorious garden just outside. But when I look at the print I chose, of a deer with morning glories and birds taking refuge in the deer's antlers, I think of her, and the many mugs of coffee (laced with eggnog during this last visit) and tea, and the dishes of homemade coconut lime ice cream and that we savored and her art is infused with those memories. (Thank you Miss Emma, for more than you know.)

I got my braces tightened right after that weekend and I think my ortho took pity on me because he didn't tighten it too much, which would allow for Thanksgiving gorging two days later. I make a new kind of pumpkin soup every year ( Shiitake Pumpkin Soup, drizzled with sesame oil was on the menu this time) and I live to hear my brother say, every year, "This is the best soup you ever made!" We had a huge feast and spending time with my nieces and nephew makes ever so thankful. (But of course!)

I met my friend Louise at Sala 19 earlier this week and had bread that was crustier than I should have attempted. Popped a bracket off and had to go back to the ortho to have it removed. He did not replace it, but I'm seeing him in another 2 weeks, so I'll take a harder line with him then.

Maybe I didn't push harder to have the bracket replaced because I'm tired of being in braces, and even if they pop off one by one then it feels in some way like a victory. I am no longer battling against it the way I've been for the last year, but just done with the process and ready for it to be over. I've likened this whole experience to being pregnant before and I feel like I'm in my last trimester, ready to move on to the next phase, and ready for the birth of the new me to finally occur. I'm "nesting" in a way, trying to prepare the rest of my body for the debutante ball which will happen when the braces are removed. I've been good about running and can go a full two miles without stopping. I feel so incredibly invincible when I run--that everything, everything, everything is possible. And I want the rest of me to feel that way too.

I realize that the readiness for this process to be over is just as important as the rebellion against the teeth. I've started focusing on images from magazines of people smiling with their wide open, toothy grins, and instead of wanting what they have and being angry that I am shackled rather than liberated, I am simply letting them smile at me.

Kinda reminds me of Ricardo Montalban on Fantasy Island (which I will admit, was one of my favorite shows as a child): "Smiles, everyone, Smiles!"

Yeah, boss!

Lucky

I've been trying to get my hair cut for the past two weeks, but Ali, my hair cutter, always seems to have a 3 hour wait in the chair, no matter what time I tell him I want to arrive. So after an impromptu dinner with Francoise on this blustery and cold day, where the tail end of the nor'easter whipped through the city, I knew I'd be able to finally get in there.

I didn't realize that the shop closed at 8pm, and I showed up at a quarter to eight. Ali was doing the finishing touches on a man's buzz cut, and said that he'd take me anyway, despite the hour. The other barbers were cleaning their stations, covering their scissors and combs, and they began to filter out one by one. Ali twisted my hair up into coils to separate out the layers of hair to trim them neatly. "I've always told you," he said, "you're lucky. I had another woman come in here and ask if I could take her, but I said no. When you come in, I said, oh, it's you. I'll take you. See? Lucky." I remembered the time that Ali looked at my hands a few years back and said that I was lucky. "Ali," I said, "is it because of this?" I said, pointing to a birthmark in the center of my right hand, which a Korean woman once told me was very lucky.

"No!" he barked, and turned my palms over, sprayed them with water from the water bottle he usually uses on scalps and looked at the lines. "This is why you are lucky," he declared as he drew his finger across a deep line on my right hand. This line has always troubled me, as it's a combination of a head and heart line that is perfectly straight across my palm. Most people have three lines on their palms, I only have two. I have always thought that this means something quite the opposite of lucky. But Ali had a different story: "This means you have the energy, and you are covered. This means that you have the force, you always have the force. You have...the puissance."

Ali has said this to me before--always using the word puissance. "In my country," he explained, "in Morocco, there are the people like you, the lucky ones. The ones who could find treasure and make the gold rise up from the ground. They would cut themselves across the palm, right where your line is, and make the blood flow to the ground. That's how they could find it. You have this. You have the force. You are covered."

Now you have to understand, that not everything that Ali says makes sense. I usually only understand every third word, and often don't understand when he's asking something simple like which side of my head I like to part my hair. But he was very insistent. "Lucky," he kept saying.

I stopped talking to Ali and took time to think about what he was saying. A few minutes later, I realized that there was no one else in the cavernous shop, and we both became aware of the silence. Ali went over to the radio and flipped it on. "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars began to play. As soon as the song finished he shut the radio to blow dry my hair. He handed me his iPod Touch and dialed up videos on Youtube of different instances of snowstorms in Morocco, and the fun that snowboarders had visiting the snow in North Africa. It took him a full hour to wash, cut and dry my hair.

When he finished he looked at me and said, "Yes. Lucky and beautiful."

Needless to say, I gave him an excellent tip.

Serendipity Soup

My friend Dana has told me many times that one of the things she loves most about me is how excited I get by the very small delights that I notice on the street. "Look!" I'll say. "Look at that sunset! That smiling child! The stitching on that coat!" She's said that I can get excited by the angle of light hitting a building and live of that high for hours. I felt kind of sheepish when she first pointed my sincere exuberance at these small things, but in the end, I can't argue. I really do get ridiculously happy by little pretties.

Case in point: I was supposed to deposit a check at the bank on my lunch hour. I left before the noontime rush, and I arrived triumphant at the bank to realize that I had left the check on my desk at work. Needing comfort for my stupidity, I walked down the street I was on towards 9th avenue to get some soup.

Well.

I didn't realize I was on 52nd Street, and the wonderful Totto Ramen was on my route. I've tried to go to this place many times, and the line for ramen lovers was always spilling out onto the street. In fact, I had attempted to introduce a friend to the hot deliciousness and chewy noodles yesterday, but the crowd was too thick, so we had to leave it be. But there I was, at 12:30 no less, peeking in the window to find plenty of open seats at the bar. (The restaurant probably seats about 20.) I seized my lunchtime prize and sat down to order.

Now, you have to understand, I usually hate eating alone in restaurants. I will gladly get takeout and eat the food a bit cold and a bit stale just so I can eat it without being surrounded by others or having to say "Table for one." But Totto Ramen doesn't do takeout, so the only way to eat it is right then and there. I ordered the Vegetarian Ramen, and it was amazing watching the men behind the bar put it together. It was as though they were doing some kind of Japanese pas de deux. One would add the broth, one would boil the handmade noodles. One would add a red pepper strip and then cross it with a yellow strip. One would shake out the noodles, ONE-TWO-THREE times to get all the boiling liquid off before adding it to the bowl. One lovingly tossed three asparagus spears into the broth, and the other added a scoop of onions, topped by slices of avocado. One placed in the bean sprouts and the other fitted a lime to the side of the bowl. I was utterly mesmerized by their teamwork, and how quickly and beautifully the soup came into being. You can see my soup maker here. And oh the teamwork, here.

Maybe it was because I was hungry, or because I was so excited to get a seat, but the soup was nothing short of divine. Every time I brought a noodle or a slurp of soup up to my lips, I was greeted with rich, layered smell and every texture created a unique experience. Perhaps it was because I was alone that I had no conversation to divide my attention, and all of my senses were engaged by the soup. And because I was alone, I never had to open my mouth for any reason other than eating more wonderful soup, so I didn't have to worry if there was noodle bits in my braces. I just didn't care, and it just didn't matter.

I lingered over my last bites, watching the men behind the counter fulfill orders for others who had come in--beefy men who opted for extra noodles and extra spice. I watched the soup maker take out a hand-held blow torch and with a large, blue flame "cook" the gorgeous cuts of meat until they had a fine, crispy sheen. I wish I had remembered to take a picture of this, but I was too mesmerized by it to even think twice.

So Dana, if you're reading. Soup! Look at the artistry to the soup! And the blowtorch! Oh my, the blowtorch! I've been quietly giddy all day!

Busy, Busy, Busy

October was an insane month, workwise. Was working trade shows most weekends and there never seemed to be a moment to rest. When I had downtime, sitting on my couch, watching Seinfeld reruns was pretty darn close to heaven.

At the last trade show, on the very last day, at the very last moment of the show, there was a lovely woman that came by our booth. "How long have you had your braces?" she asked. I was a bit taken aback, because it's rare for anyone to ask me about them point blank--especially strangers. And though I find it surprising, my curiosity is piqued by why they would ask.

"14 months," I told her. She smiled broadly and said, "I just got mine off." I looked at her, less pleadingly than I might have a few months ago and said, "Tell me it's worth it!"

"It is," she said, "oh, it is." She then proceeded to tell me a story of bone implants, tooth implants, three years in braces and Invisalign for the rest of her life. But she never lost her smiling demeanor and reiterated over and over how worth it the process was. But she didn't need to tell me. Her wide, sincere, beautiful smile was all the proof I needed.

Fall is in the Air

It truly felt like fall today. Here, I have evidence!

A truck full of pumpkins in Brooklyn! And you should have seen the guy's house! I've never seen so many varieties of pumpkins lining his brownstone steps. All I can say, is that pie baking is going to be off the hook at his place!

The Someday-Coming Idea

I always find it interesting when a notion keeps nudging at me like a dog trying to get a nose under one's hand in order to be petted. A certain concept has been presenting itself to me in many ways over the past few weeks (months?) and it makes it hard to ignore when it gets louder and more prominent with time. The idea that one feels discomfort at certain points in one's life because some future person or occurrence is pulling you into his/her/its space and trying to bring you out of your present reality and into the next one is a compelling idea. Or put more simply, tomorrow is pulling you towards it, out of the circumstances of today.

The someday-coming person or circumstance is probably feeling your same discomfort and is just as sick of it as you are. This creates some sort of strange harmony, compelling you into action, even if it is something small like going to view the leaves outside, or deciding to drink cider in celebration of the season at a farmer's market. I feel very strongly that this is happening, that something outside of me, something future, something lovely, that is tired of seeing me in the space that I am in and wants me where he/she/it is.

I received the following Note From the Universe recently:

What if loneliness was simply a feeling of impatience, telepathically sent to you by friends you've yet to meet, urging you to go out more, do more, and get involved so that life's serendipities could bring you together...Would you still feel alone?

What if feelings of uncertainty and confusion were only reminders that you have options, that there's no hurry, and that everything is as it should be...Would you still feel disadvantaged?

What if mistakes and failures only ever happened when your life was about to get better than it's ever been before...Would you still call them mistakes and failures?

Yes, what if? What do you think?

All Together Now

I kid you not. This is a true story.

I'm on the train coming home from work, and due to a police investigation in Brooklyn, my F train is rerouted over the D line. So I turn to the guy next to me and ask if the train goes to Flatbush Ave. He says that he doesn't know.

He's wearing braces.

I turn to the woman across from me and ask her. She smiles and says, no it doesn't.

She's wearing braces. Ceramic ones like mine.

The guy standing next to me says not to worry, I can get off at the next stop and transfer for a train that will take me there.

He's wearing braces too.

Good God, everyone's doin' it! I almost held out my arms and exclaimed "My People!" just like Evita Peron. I might have to sing my own song: "Don't Cry for Me Orthodontia!"

Rainbow High

"You wouldn't tell a toddler to never hope to reach the sink. Why would you tell yourself that you could only achieve that which you've already experienced? You are still developing, aren't you?...Your heart is the compass between the landscape of what you currently know and what you can yet know in your lifetime." --Tama Kieves

I realized after I read this that I really have been trying, rather hard, to achieve that which I've already experienced. I've been bemoaning the fact that I have "failed" in many ways because I didn't achieve the pinnacle of--what I now realize--is what I have already experienced. I have teeth in need of tending. I'm a little softer around the middle. I'm not the picture perfect superwoman, or at least the 21st century's definition of it.

Maybe those "failures" are simply signs that whatever experience was to be had is now earned, and there is an entirely new experience waiting to challenge and delight. Maybe I actually have indeed achieved what I needed to achieve, whether or not it may look that way. Each new experience is built upon the one that came before. It has it's own meandering trajectory, but it's the experience that is important, not necessarily the accolades.

I am attracted to the idea of listening to one's body and feeling the truth in one's heart. It's only recently that I've begun to think this of as tool, a compass, my true North. I truly believe that great things are afoot, even if they take form in the shape of only very small miracles.

Here's an example. I was on the subway going to my brother's house. The train goes above ground right before I'm supposed to get off, so I put my book away and looked outside.

There was a rainbow outside the window, so brilliant that a surprised "Oh my God!" escaped my lips. The man sitting across from me looked up, concerned. I said to him, "Do you see the rainbow?" And not only did he turn around, but everyone in the subway car did too. It was intensely bright--it didn't even look real. This is a rarity in NYC, but the fact that it arced across the entire sky was something I had never seen before in my fair city. I tried to snap some photos before it washed out of the sky:

And a little closer:

My rainbow companion (who I would find out later was named Jim) told me that it was "a good sign, a very good sign" to have this rainbow in our midst. Between the butterflies that have been following me, and now this rainbow, I don't know exactly what the message is, but I really, really like it.

Ritual Dances of Cupcake Lust and Desire

I was out with two of my favorite foodies yesterday--TJ and Amanda--and we ate ourselves through Chelsea, the Meatpacking, the High Line and Soho. We had Colicchio donuts (hot pumpkin ones with cream cheese dipping sauce) and while on our way to the new Payard, (where we would split a chocolate almond croissant and a divine Gateau Basque) we passed the Magnolia Bakery with its signature long line and pooh poohed it. (Look, I've had my sugary share of Magnolias, but waiting on a line for an hour to get them is no longer cute.) However, as we waited for the light to change, out marched eight women in fuchsia satin dresses and black high heels, cupcakes in each hand with the precision of drum majors. Suddenly, they broke into song and dance, singing "God Bless Magnolia" (to the tune of God Bless America). We would later find out that they were the Cupcake Cadet Corps, with weekend performances in the street at 3pm and 5pm.

Here, have a look:

Now, when we watched this, I didn't realize all the political significance--it was just some impromptu performance art which quite frankly in the West Village isn't so weird. I love at the end of this video, when choreographer Sue Hogan explains what happens when people are distracted from what they really should be thinking about and instead become obsessed with a cupcake or some other pop cultural phenomenon to deal with the things that are too difficult to deal with. Look, those of you who read my blog are no strangers to the fact that I had my own little cupcake obsession over the course of the past year, but hey, I was an equal opportunity cupcake consumer! Magnolia, Billy's, Crumbs, Little Cupcake, Butter Lane--I had them all and I loved them all.

But after Gateau Basque my darlings, there's no returning to cupcakes. (Isn't that what they say? Once you go Basque, you never go back!)

CountDOWN

The countdown has begun.

This marks 11 months until the braces come off. I went into my ortho's office bright and early today and he was once again full of positive comments about the way my teeth have been moving. I, on the other hand, have felt that things really haven't been moving in the last 2-3 months, but heck, if he's pleased, then I'm giddy. This time my doctor had the dental assistant do the tightening, and I can't decide if it's a good thing that it hurts so damn much or not. I know that he did something profoundly different, because my molars ache, which they haven't done since we started this process. (And yet, in less than a day, I can already see that my teeth have moved, which is crazy!) The result is that this has once again rendered chewing to the category of Olympic sport.

This is to say I'm not sorry I ordered that extra drink AND had the extra helping of french fries last night at The Clover Club. According to the New York Times, such behavior just makes me American!

Parp?

My friend Amanda sent me this blog posting, which had me guffawing out loud at my desk. I thought this would be all about toothy solidarity, but oh, it gets so much better!:

Hyperbole and A Half: The Party

If you have teeth, or kids, or have ever been heavily sedated, oh my, this one's for you!

Hidden Gems

I love impromptu evenings.

My friend Jim called me towards the end of the day yesterday, and I was delighted to hear that he happened to be in town. Not wanting to spend another moment in my office, I gladly met him to catch up. We found ourselves walking towards Grand Central and I got it in my head to try and find the Campbell Apartment which is one of New York's many hidden bars, and one I had not yet been to. At the six o'clock hour it was filled with suits and finance types, leather banquettes and low light. Very 1920s. Very men's club. Very strong drinks.

I consider Jim to be a mentor in many ways, and his opinions mean much to me. I mentioned to him that I was done struggling so very hard with the braces. He told me that most people adapt to the things that they encounter in their every day existence, but there was awesomeness in the fact that I was undertaking a true and fundamental change. It was a good moment, because I consider Jim to have a very clear perspective on things, and I was put in a position where I had to listen and take it to heart. (Or maybe it was the drink. As I said, it was very strong...)

You may have noticed in the last few posts that I've said that I'm done fussing, grieving and punishing myself. I really mean it. There are too many other better, sweeter, more enticing ideas to have in my head. The negative ones are simply getting crowded out, crying in their beer.

And seriously, why have beer, when you can have a Roaring Twenties?

Toto, We Might Be In Kansas

Holy Tornado, Batman!

We've had ourselves a bona fide tornado here in Brooklyn, and my street is covered in uprooted trees and cars that have been abandoned in the middle of the street. Utterly nuts! Here, have a look:

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/09/16/nyregion/20100917_READER_STORM.html?hp

I happened to be in Manhattan at the time, at Barnes and Noble watching the wonderful Patti Lupone dish about her illustrious career and sing four (four!) numbers in support of her new book. When asked why she never peforms "I Dreamed A Dream" Patty said it's "because it's such a sad song, but hey, if you want me to sing it, I'll sing it!" An eager fan produced the libretto, enabling her pianist to accompany her. It was so off the cuff, so genuine that the crowd simply roared with delighted appreciation.

Forget the weather service, there was a tornado of the musical theater kind taking place at Lincoln Center!

Picturing Power and Potential

My friend Amanda gave me the biggest compliment today. She said that this made her think of me:

http://www.imow.org/economica/projects/story?key=4160

I can only hope that when I'm that age, I am that super sassy! Go Jeju Grannies!

Happy New Year

God and I have a little agreement.

I consecrate and keep Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year and in return s/he blesses me with a good year--one that is filled with both triumphs to revel in and failures to learn from. Joys, and friends, travels and time to reflect upon it all. Cupcakes too.

I learned the hard way, that this was our agreement. The one year I decided to shack up with my German boyfriend (the one who, in very veiled terms, tried to tell me that his grandmother had been a Nazi by casually revealing that she had lived for many years in Argentina following the war, and "wasn't very nice") rather than going to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah, I experienced one of the worst years of my life. So now, I look forward to this holiday every year, and I must say, that it has turned into my favorite Jewish holiday.

Rosh Hashanah marks the start of the new year, and it is one where newness and sweetness are supposed to be everywhere your senses take you. Wear new clothes, eat apples dipped in honey to signify a sweet year, listen to the sound of the shofar to herald the start of something entirely new. There are kisses and well wishing for everyone you meet (even if it's just once a year) at the service.

I felt so centered this year during all the prayers and I truly understood that something new was beginning. I had all the sensory experiences that absolutely put me in the right state of mind. I loved up on my nieces and nephew. I ate my sister in law's wonderful cooking. I had my mom's inimitable brisket. I sang bright and clear during the service. My mother and I received an aliyah (an honor) to open the ark before the blowing of the shofar. Normally I get shy to go up to the bimah, but this year, I marched right up there, opened the ark and I was happy to do it.

It made me feel that I am utterly in the right time and place, something I haven't felt lately with all the changes in my job, and the daily negotiations with my shifty teeth. Something has finally rooted--quite literally--and all the worrying I've been doing for the past few months seems to be unimportant and utterly unnecessary when compared with this newly firm--and affirmed sensation. The gift of stillness over the course of this holiday was all I needed to simply find my balance and my bearings.

Goodness, can the teeth be far behind?

The Manifesto of Encouragement

My friend Linda turned me on to this blog. Loved this post. Made me smile and feel all ooey gooey happy inside:

http://whitehottruth.com/white-hot/the-manifesto-of-encouragement/

Hope it makes you feel all ooey gooey happy too. :)

Losing My Senses

I've been a little out of control.

I think I have been eating everything in sight. My friend Kristin says that this isn't really a problem since I only seem to eat every 3 days--but if that were really true, then how do I explain these extra 10 pounds that I carry like a hula girl's skirt? Huh?

I am back to wanting sensual experience in the ways I used to have them, but if I can't bite and ingest what I want, I'm over-compensating in other ways. I'm wearing silks and vibrant hot pinks, I'm showing lots of skin. I've started eating meat again. (Very small portions--and in meatball textured forms--but still.) I consider it my right to eat one pizza, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for braces wearers. I want richness and gooeyness and drippy, saucy, tongue tingling delights.

People Magazine recently interviewed Bonnie Blodgett about her book, Remembering Smell. It chronicles the nine month time period where she lost her sense of smell. She said that the loss of her olfactory sense made her "lose weight because you don't want to eat, then gain it because you want the satisfaction that food gives you. But you never feel satisfied."

As Anne of Green Gables would say, I think I have a bosom friend in Miss Blodgett.

I read a great article called Finding Patience by Michele McDonald in Tricycle Magazine and I was particularly struck by this:

Any time we want life to be different than it is we are caught in impatience. We lose our sense of humor; and self-pity, despair, and blame seep into the heart...The practice of forgiveness happens when we are able to realize the underlying cause of our anger and impatience, and this allows us to distinguish between someone's unskillful behavior and essential goodness. Serenity and calm develop as we learn to accept imperfection in others and ourselves.

When we discuss humor, we always say, "the sense of humor" as though it were indeed a sixth (or seventh?) sense. Similar to smell or taste, it also can be lost--and then regained. I also like the phrase "the practice of forgiveness," meaning that forgiveness is not a one shot deal, but that you have to do it every day, like calisthenics or face washing or commuting to work. The body has to be reminded of its purpose, usefulness, and pride, and so does the psyche, I suppose.

Hmmm. Maybe I'll start the practice of steamed veggies as a peace offering for my body--and see if it will forgive me for the Bahn Mi sandwich, the split pea soup, the mac and cheese, the macaroons de paris and the tres leches cupcake I traveled over 100 miles to eat this afternoon...

(Forgive me, but baby, it was oh so good!)

Be, Do, Have

I went on a blind date recently, and had the opportunity to talk with my suitor on the phone before we met. He was bravely guarded about his past divorces, and I was bravely guarded about the braces. I told him, in the spirit of full disclosure what to expect when I smiled. He said, "Of all that could have followed the phrase 'in the spirit of full disclosure,' braces are pretty minor." It was of course, the right answer, and one that shouldn't have surprised me, but kinda did. I'm not entirely certain what I thought he was going to respond, but that was our survey's #1 answer.

Now, the date wasn't all that, but it wasn't because he was twice divorced, or because I had braces. That realization provided a very slight, very lovely paradigm shift for me. We all hold these secret reasons why we can't do, or have, or be the things that we want to do, or have or be. The great irony is, no one knows these little secrets except us, so they're entirely unreal--just these extravagant stories we create to hold ourselves back and hold ourselves up. Usually Jesse James-like, at gunpoint.

There is this great New Yorker cartoon that my mom showed me when I was a teenager--it was the image of a man tightly grasping prison bars in front of his face, with a very sad, defeated look. But there was no jail surrounding him, just the bars in front of his face, which he held so tightly. Illustrates what I'm talking about here.

Now that I've got the bars firmly on my teeth, I think I'll let go of the proverbial or metaphorical ones, and just do, and have and be absolutely everything--not only in spite of the braces, but maybe even because of them.

Cue sweeping epic movie soundtrack!

Full Circle

As you can see by the counter next to this post, I have 360 days to go with the braces. I am thinking of everything lately in terms of degrees, small nuances that bring me from one thought to the next, moving my body from one place to the next. If I have 360 degrees to move from this place to the next, then I really am, in a certain way of thinking, full circle. The past year seems a full entity on its own, and now, something new has begun.

Don't know what that is yet, exactly, but that's ok. My new mantra a la Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim is "Something's Coming":

Pie in the Park

It might seem that I'm a little pie obsessed lately. I don't know what's up with that, but maybe it's some sort of locovore movement because it seems that EVERYONE in Brooklyn is reveling in summer pies. Today was the 4th annual Pie in the Park event. You pay your $10 and you have the opportunity to taste all the entries. (Honestly, I think there were about 80) My good friend Alicia entered with two luscious pies and whole contingent of us went to stuff the ballot box. (She made a wonderful lavendar vanilla, honey-infused, honey-sweetened Greek yogurt pie with Morccan biscotti crust. Oh my!) Here have a look:

This won for best presentation:

And this is the lovely Alicia with her equally gorgeous pie:

Even Buster was licking his lips at the idea of pie!:
Here are some of the entries:

Brad had a fork at the ready!:
Dig in everyone!: This is what happens after eating 80 pies...Birds-eye view of perfect pie enjoyment...Ah, the circle of life: I suppose this was the best way to celebrate my one year anniversary with braces. Celebrations seem to be abounding!

Happy Toothday!

I want to acknowledge that today marks a full year that I've worn braces. The traditional gift for the one year anniversary is paper, and the contemporary gifts are clocks. In this instance, I think clocks are really appropriate. And in this moment, I'm a little proud of myself, so I think this pic is indicative of how I feel right about now:

One down, one to go!

Yeah, Pie.

This is life in a nutshell:

And then:

Lather, rinse, repeat. Mmmmm.

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

Ok, hands down this is the BEST POSTING I'VE EVER READ ON THE INTERNET! Click the link! Go on! Click it!

D is for Done

My good friend Brooklyn Fit Chick, wrote this fabulous post about Oprah and her up and down weight loss. I have to admit that I felt a little kinship with Oprah after reading this post, and not just because because I've lost 60 pounds in my time. I know what its like to reach a triumphant place with your body, only to lose that glorious feeling and have it tumble down into a well. I also know what it's like to sit mournfully at the edge of that well, teeth covered in braces, until one day you say to yourself, "Ok, I'm done. Let me go fetch that good feeling out." It takes work, and strategy and time, but eventually, you can see its glow coming closer and closer into your hands. And once you're holding it, you wonder how and why you ever let it go in the first place.

This is all to say, I'm done.

It's been almost a year (just three days shy!) and I'm done feeling bad--about this whole thing. I made the choice, and I can either live happily with it, or I can torture myself with it. Let me tell you, the torturing has gotten really boring.

Case in point: I had to go to a very swanky party last week, and I was expected to give a speech in front of a ton of people in the fashion industry. I have to tell you, there was nothing terrifying me more than the idea of giving this speech, being on display and wearing braces. I fretted about this for days. I was snappish with my loved ones. (I apologize!)

But mixing and mingling with the crowd, no one seemed to even notice the braces. In fact, no one even looked twice. And the models that I spoke to, who I expected to pass judgement the most, were just as sweet as they could be. Come to think of it, they probably have to deal with self scrutiny more than anyone else, as their bodies are their moneymakers, and so a few brackets don't frighten them!

My favorite quote from Anais Nin is: "The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

Blossoming sounds pretty good right about now.

More Fun Flash Mobs!

Especially for my Philadelphians, and for those like me who have spent many an hour enjoying a tasty treats at the Reading Terminal Market this is for you. I love that the Opera Company of Philadelphia made their own flash mob! Bravissiomo!

Time and Travel

Apologies! Lots of them! I know that I haven't written in almost a month, but things got crazy at work, and I went on vacation, and my new niece was born (Welcome, Abigael!) It took me a little while to catch my breath, but I am back! (Thanks to those of you who asked where the blog went--I feel loved!)

I don't even know where to start. Since everything begins and ends with the braces on this blog, let me start there. I had started to get to a place where I was ok with them, and then something shifted again. Maybe it's that whole one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind of thing. Every time I start to get insecure, something reminds me that really, it's not all that bad. As some of you know, I went to Alaska on vacation to escape our over 100-degree temperatures. There I was in a hotel in Anchorage sharing an elevator with a woman wearing a t-shirt that read, "Got Braces?" I looked at her and said, "Why yes, I do!" and smiled widely. She looked closely and said, "Where? Are those Invisalign?"

I almost choked on my own cackling.

As we got to know each other in the elevator, she told me that the t-shirt was given to her by her daughter's orthodontist and asked me what kind of newfangled braces they have in New York City that make them so unobtrusive. (Which made me cackle some more, because they are hardly unobtrusive!) Turns out the woman and her daughter were from Nome, AK and there are NO ORTHODONISTS AT ALL IN NOME. This means that her daughter has to take an airplane and FLY the 1,000 miles to Anchorage for tightenings each month. I mean, that's the distance of the Iditarod! I will hardly complain about going out of my way for my tightenings ever again! Needless to say things were put in perspective for me.

Wes Nisker wrote in his article, Evolution's Body that "We now have evidence that our bodies arise from the forces and elements that make up the entire universe, through a complex chain of interdependent events. Internalizing this understanding can help liberate us from the powerful sense of ownership and attachment we have to the body, which is a cause of tremendous suffering, especially as the body grows old and we must face its inevitable destiny."

I think we all inherently know that the body we have now is temporary. It will change and change again. My body now isn't what it was five years ago, ten years ago or even yesterday. How powerful we are to have the ability to make that change! As I near the one year mark with braces, I find that I am both amazed at how much has changed and disheartened by how much still needs to be done. But at least I don't have to fly to Anchorage for treatments!

The trip was nothing short of amazing, the highlight being the 26 Glaciers tour we took out of Whittier, AK. It was a shocking 43 degrees that day, but so many lovely things to see. This was my favorite shot:It was so quiet and cold and still near the glacier. We could only hear the cracking of the ice, and the occasional ruckus when a piece of the glacier splintered away from itself and fell into the water, leaving behind bright blue bits of debris. Even the body of the glacier is temporary--what seems so huge and solid, is actually more delicate than one could ever imagine.

And of course, the water is home to these cutie pies!:

I was so utterly charmed by the little baby sea otter on the mama's belly. They didn't look real! I kept checking the water to see if Jim Hensen was down there playing puppetry!

Heavens Eleven!

"You don’t have to meditate for the sake of attaining enlightenment. If you are not interested in enlightenment, you can practice samatha ["calm abiding" meditation] to be natural—to not be so swayed by circumstances. Most of the time we are not in control of ourselves; our mind is always attracted to, or distracted by, something—our enemies, our lovers, our friends, hope, fear, jealousy, pride, attachment, aggression. In other words, all these objects and these phenomena control our mind. Maybe we can control it for a split second, but when we are in an extreme emotional state, we lose it."

--Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse Rinpoche, Do Nothing, Tricycle

I have to say that my mind has been attracted to and distracted by something on a consistent basis for the past month. My job essentially doubled, and though I am really excited by and enjoying the new responsibility, I am still exhausted by the fact that it--in addition to my other work responsibilities--is taking up my every waking, thinking, doing, or quiet moment. And because of this constant stimulus (including coffee! I haven't consumed coffee on a regular basis in years!) I have felt, in many ways, not myself. I have in recent memory associated myself with a certain equilibrium--and proudly so as it was hard won through daily yoga and careful nourishment. I am not recognizing this woman who has let go of her practice, who eats dinner at 9pm, whose temper is aroused more easily than it used to be, who thinks only about all the things that need doing, that haven't yet been done. (The monkey-mind of late is always, always looking for a banana.)

I like the idea of samatha--calm abiding. This to me does not necessarily mean doing anything other than moving within and through one's circumstances, the way a tree bends with the wind but does not break. Just because the wind blows does not imply that the wind is mean or cruel. It means that the wind blows in that moment, and the tree, if it is able, will bend. Similarly, a tree does feel sorry for itself: "Woe is me! I have to bend!" It just bends.

And similarly, my teeth are not "bad" because they are moving through their circumstances at their own pace. They are calmly abiding the forces that are acting upon them, and doing what they need to do to accommodate.

Today marks the 11th month with braces. My orthodontist was once again pleased with my progress and is now trying to move my whole lower string of teeth over to the left. I told him that was fine as long as I wasn't going to tilt to starboard. (Or would that be port?) He said we've done a lot, but there's still a lot to do, which I found a bit disheartening. I asked him if it was normal that I still have so much trouble chewing and he said that there is so much shifting for me every day, that this is going to be an issue for me. And then in a rare moment of empathy he shook his head sadly and said, "The mechanics of this process are unfortunately very difficult for you."

For whatever reason, this made me feel better. Yes, the last 11 months have been very difficult, but I just thought I was being overly sensitive, and I wanted to keep a stiff upper lip. (Literally.) But hearing someone who can really gauge these things tell me that yes, this is a really rough journey made me get a little gentle with myself. I guess a little calm abiding was in order all along.

Countdowns

I really feel like Michael, this year's winner on The Biggest Loser, who started out at 530 pounds, and lost 200 in the course of the show. It's so gratifying to see that my number at the upper right corner of this blog now reads 399, which means I'm officially in the 300s!

Let me remind you--I started out at 730.

I never thought that this moment would happen. I'm a breath away from being halfway done with this process and in many ways it went so much more quickly than I ever could have imagined. I can see how much has been accomplished within this time period, how much has changed, and I am bewildered at how that has happened.

Slow and steady does win the race. It's a matter of never giving up, and diligently moving forward even when you'd rather just roll over and go to sleep. I got up this morning at 8am, leapt out of bed, got into my running gear and headed out to the park. The track was nice and shady at that hour, and the park was filled with joggers, bikers, speedwalkers and rollerbladers. I was determined to run a full mile, despite not training for the last two weeks. (It has been too darn hot to move, let alone run.) I imagined Jillian Michaels in my head, relentless and chastising me for the large amounts of pizza I had last night. I ran that full mile, and at the end of it, my heart and lungs were on fire and felt like they were going to burst right out of my chest. I began slowly walking the mile back to find my equilibrium again, and as I did, a very fit, very tan runner went past me and said into my ear, "Lookin' good, Mami!"

Now, I know for darn sure I was not lookin' good at that moment, but I've encountered this lovely code of runners on more than one occasion, where encouragement to keep going, even that extra step, is freely and generously given. It didn't matter that I was a beginner, or that I was struggling, or even that I was a stranger--it was the showing up that counted. Being present in the moment. Doing what you came to do, and knowing that tomorrow it can be better.

As I came back to my apartment, I passed a restaurant with this quote in the window:

"Skill to do comes from doing"--Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Yeah, Ralphie Boy!

Get Large!

"Understanding that there is no solid, singular or permanent "me" makes it possible to accommodate whatever arises in life without feeling so intimidated by our experience, without rolling over like a defeated dog in a dogfight. We can see that things arise due to our karma playing itself out and that it does not necessarily have to be so personal. In this way we can identify with something greater--which is our nature itself."

--Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche "Realizing Guiltlessness" Tricycle, 2004

I had a conversation earlier tonight, where I told a friend struggling with a difficult work situation to "stop being so small, and get large." Perhaps when we are faced with challenges, we tend to shrink back, pull back enough to give ourselves some perspective and create distance to get a better view of the situation. But the problem is that we usually linger too long in that small, shrunken space. (Speaking for myself, I've been guilty of this too--shoot, it took me what, 9 months to get used to braces? Am I really used to them yet?) What then, if getting large serves a similar purpose: creates distance and offers a greater perspective? What if you reach out for help rather than disconnect? What if you're real with your desires? What if you feel the fear and do it anyway?

G'wan. I dare ya!

Happy Holiday Weekend!

Forgive the lapse in writing--things have gotten a little crazy at work, and that seems to have taken up my every thinking minute, but this long holiday weekend has felt like one life affirming, restorative exhale. I've had some time to do some grinworthy things, like yoga at Jaya, pie at Four & Twenty Blackbirds (Strawberry Balsamic, and Buttermilk Chess pie to be deliciously exact), time with Katina and Alicia, a fabulous pool party at Caroline's snazzy new home, watching fireworks with mom, and brunches with excellent company at Prune and Cafe Gitane, which is my new favorite place. We had this lovely appetizer of Egyptian Dukkah, which is a nut and spice mixture. You dip your bread into olive oil and then into the mixture and pop it oh so happily into your mouth. I found a recipe here, and I'll have to try it out as soon as the weather dips below 95 and I can turn the oven on. (Seriously--high of 100 tomorrow? Mother Nature, I feel your ire about the oil spill, but send this weather over to England! It's their fault!)

It feels so luxurious to have time and mental spaciousness. It is a true vacation to be simple, tending to the house, reading (The 19th Wife is quite the page turner!), or just being present. Thomas Mann said, "Space, like time, engenders forgetfulness; but it does so by setting us bodily free from our surroundings and giving us back our primitive, unattached state." How wonderful that feels! Independence celebration indeed!

Heliolatry and Butterflies

Happy Summer Solstice, everyone. I've got a great story for you!

First of all, heliolatry was the word of the day today from Dictionary.com, and most appropriate on this longest day of the year. Sun worshippers everywhere rejoiced! I was no different, waking up at an ungodly hour to get to Times Square at 6:45 am to participate in the Solstice in Times Square Mind Over Madness Yoga Event. Every year the Times Square Alliance hosts hundreds of yogis all day long to practice and welcome the solstice. I was thrilled to find my friend Christy in the crowd, and we were able to catch up with each other, mat to mat.

We reached our hands up to the sky

and our instructor invited us to keep bringing in the light, and drinking in the light. The sun had not yet risen above the skyscrapers and the jumbotrons, and the day still had the feeling of sleepy predawn, despite our poses, our twists and our balancing.

A double decker tour bus passed by and tourists of all stripes cheered us on. Our instructor yelled out "Hello, Tourists! Wish you were with us!" and they just cheered louder, which made everyone involved laugh. At that moment, the sun hit the horizon of the buildings and spread across us all with a tremendous glow, heralding the fact that the day had finally arrived.

I looked down at the top of my mat to find that a Red Admiral butterfly had settled itself right on top of my yoga bag, right in front of my face, and stayed there, for a good minute or two. It was utter absurdity to be face down in the middle of the street in Times Square doing yoga. It was equally absurd to be staring right into the beautiful wings of a Red Admiral butterfly, and yet, it was there, and all possible, and it really happened.

If you'll recall from a few posts back, my friend Diana said that when an animal shows up out of the blue, they have a message for you. So I looked up the symbolism of butterflies and time and time again, I came across the fact that cultural myth and lore honor the butterfly as a symbol of transformation and change. I also read that when a butterfly shows up, it means that change does not have to be traumatic, but that it can occur gently, sweetly and joyfully.

I had purchased a piece of artwork from my friend Emma a few months ago, of North Carolina butterflies. With the piece, she included this note:

Is your new found interest in butterflies based in any way in the concept of metamorphosis? They're pretty amazing creatures, and the more you look into how they do it, the more otherworldly they get. Did you know that they have two completely different sets of cells...and DNA...that live side by side: caterpillar cells and butterfly cells? While the caterpillar is being born and growing up, the butterfly cells just lie there, tiny and quiet and waiting. When metamorphosis time comes, they grow and grow and grow and change everything about the animal. The caterpillar cells aren't discarded though--its all of the energy and strength that they have collected over the butterfly's lifetime that give the creature the power to make the change. Hallelujah, butterfly.

Hallelujah, indeed!

Poem for Diana

Poem For Diana

(Written tonight on the F train)

The streets are scattered with men in djellaba and gandoras

heads covered

speaking languages originating in

Morocco, Ghana, India, Pakistan

Some scold small children

Others orchestrate business stealthily

into cellphones

Brooklyn is holy in this way;

bringing together multitudes

Making things possible that seem impossible

Inside, where it is quiet

Diana tells me to breathe

And breathe some more.

I ask,

Shouldn't all this longing and sadness have left me by now?

She says,

Oh honey

Look at your hands.

Even fingernails take months to grow.

Running Class

Tonight was my very first running class! There were about 25 people who showed up for the class and we were divided into two groups--true beginners and slightly more advanced beginners. My trainer Shane (a lively and handsome triathlete) had us walk a mile and then alternate two minutes running with four minutes walking. It was a gorgeous evening and the smell of gardenias and magnolias was so strong in the air--a perfect runner's perfume. At first, the running wasn't nearly as hard as I thought, but for the last two minute run, I felt all this heat rise to my skin, as though my body was trying to get rid of something. My arms turned red, and I started to scratch like crazy, as I tried to help whatever it was that was coming to the surface, to get out, and leave me. I imagine that this is what a snake feels like when it's shedding its skin. It was a heady, primal moment, and it took me a while to cool down.

In the past, I've turned to running as a last resort to rid myself of unpleasant emotions--I've only run when I've been at my most depressed. I can remember running in Binghamton's nature preserve, listening to Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" over and over and sprinting until my lungs hurt. But now, this need to run comes from such a different place--strong place, a determined place. I was so proud of myself when I was finished, and I found that I wanted to run more. I realize that this might be a beginner's high but I'll take it. I can't wait to run a real 5K race!

Mother Teresa said, "We can do no great things, only small things with great love. Do not wait for leaders. Do it alone, person to person."

Or step by step, as the case may be.

Perfect 10

We're at the 10 month mark and my orthodontist put a wire AND an elastic chain across the top left side of my teeth and another chain across almost all of my bottom teeth. This is all in an effort to move the entire lower string of teeth over to the left, and bring my top teeth towards the middle. It seems like a colossal task, quite frankly. But the fact that my doctor is always so very happy with my progress inspires confidence, and the fortitude to continue for another month.

The teeth hurt, but I'm used to this. It will be fine in a few days. I'm learning to push beyond the boundaries of discomfort lately--something I was never able to do before. I've started doing this with my running, and I am amazed to find a reserve of energy when I think I just can't move forward for one more step. It's not the same kind of energy--it comes from a different place, and has a different feeling--kind of like a backup generator. I never knew that this existed within me before, and I'm just starting to get acquainted with it. It feels somewhat magical to tap into.

I read this in O Magazine recently:

Find Comfort in Discomfort: "Remember it's supposed to hurt, you're supposed to feel sore," says Debbie Ford. She's not talking about just the physical aches and pains of the couch potato turned triathlon competitor, but also the mental and emotional uneasiness of the would-be CEO or aspiring artist. "Accept that you'll never get rid of self-doubt," Todd Kashdan says. "An adventurous person will always have moments of feeling like a fraud--it's a sign that you're creating new roles for yourself, that you're evolving. It means that you're doing great, passionate work."

I don't know if my running constitutes great, passionate work, but it is a new and uncertain role. I'm just as hesitant to call myself a blogger as I am to call myself a runner. It's just something I'm doing right now, rather than something I am basing my identity upon. I do believe in doing things right, getting the proper tools, and making it as pleasurable a pursuit as possible. (I'm still reading My Life In France by Julia Child--this sums up her approach to life to a "T". I find her so charmingly inspirational! And I might have to buy copper cooking pots in solidarity!) I signed up for a 10-week running class and I'm looking forward to meeting people who are interested as I am in trying out something new and going boldly where they haven't gone before.

My friend Kristin joined me for dinner tonight, at a restaurant appropriated called Alchemy. As I walked down my street to come home, I saw so many gorgeous fireflies, giving off their green glow in the sultry evening. It made me think of this quote:

"Fireflies signal here and there. The sky is a color of neither blue nor black, and there is nothing in it to be acknowledged beyond the occasional flicker of a star. Only just now, a longing like love bears upon the vast, clear indifference of this night." --N. Scott Momaday

It's good to be home from Ohio. I missed Kristin and the fireflies and the Chocolate Room for dessert. It was a perfect 10 of a way to be welcomed home.

Science Lesson

I've always been a big fan Newton’s Law of Motion—the concept that “a body at rest tends to stay at rest / a body in motion tends to stay in motion.” According to the Encarta Encyclopedia, inertia is the state by which "an object…not subject to any...external force moves at a constant velocity. In even simpler terms, inertia means that an object will always continue moving at its current speed and in its current direction until some (other) force causes its speed or direction to change." There is some comfort in realizing that inertia doesn't mean stillness, but simply keeping the status quo.

I realize that I have constant force upon my teeth, and because of this, I am trying very hard to create a state of equilibrium. That constant force is very strong, but undetectable to anyone but me, and so I fear that it looks as though I am in a state of stillness or that I'm not trying hard enough to achieve the goals that I should have achieved by now, large or small. The novel is still sitting there. I haven't gotten to Japan. My niece and nephew speak better French than I do.

Maybe this is why I am so attracted to running these days. I am exerting my own force upon me, one that is visible to the outside world, and one that certainly matches the force that is exerted upon my interior. I had the day off today and for the first time I really ran--intervals of a 1/2 mile walking with 1/4 of a mile running. (Aren't you proud of me, J-Bird??) It felt good to work that hard, and to have a goal of not only running a 5K, but to getting rid of the last vestiges of my cupcake depression.

I saw a woman on the street today wearing a neck brace, and she looked so tall and elegant with the aid of the brace--placing her feet carefully as she walked. I wondered if she was self conscious of the brace, but as soon as I had that thought, it was replaced by another: "What does it matter? She needs the brace and it will soon be off, when the problem is corrected." I stopped cold in my tracks. I mean, if that's the honest, compassionate and instant train of thought that ran through my head, then why am I still continuing to convince myself that compassion is unavailable to me with my own plight with braces? Maybe someone is even thinking that I look tall and elegant with them. Wouldn't that be a hoot?

What a lovely thought/force to push me out of my state of inertia!

Grinworthy Flash Mob

Say what you will about flash mobs. I love this one which celebrates the birthday of a bus-driver in Copenhagen named Mukhtar. He had no idea that a large group of people had planned to celebrate him...Watch through to the end!

The Artist Is Present

I went to the MoMA this weekend to see the Marina Abramovic exhibit, "The Artist Is Present." I have to admit that I am not a big fan of performance art, but everyone seemed to be buzzing about this one so I went to see it for myself before it closed today. Basically, Marina sits in a chair, wearing a white outfit that makes her look an awful lot like Princess Leia, facing an empty chair. All day, spectators line up and wait to take their turn sitting across from her. They can sit as long as they like, and do whatever they wish, from simply sitting, to confessing their deepest secrets. There are flickr pages dedicated to the images of those who sat, and even to those who cried. I was not quite so moved by the exhibit, but I did like the concept of it, and how it was so quietly powerful for so many.

The sixth floor of the museum housed a retrospective of Abramovic's earlier work, which was expressed through a lot of self-inflicted pain (screaming until she lost her voice, brushing her hair violently, saying "Art must be beautiful" over and over until her scalp bled). It was unpleasant to watch, but her message was certainly clear.

There was one piece that I found particularly moving. Abramovic's lover and partner in performance art, Ulay Laysiepen, walked across the Great Wall of China towards each other. This is what was written on the wall placard:

During their travels in Australia, Abramovic and Ulay read that the only human constructions visible from outer space are The Great Wall of China and the Pyramids at Giza in Egypt. They originally planned to walk towards each other from opposite ends of the Great Wall, meet at the middle, and get married. Over the 8 years it took to obtain permission from the Chinese government, the relationship dissolved. In 1988 the artists performed the work, which was their final collaboration. After meeting, they went their separate ways, having walked a thousand miles to say goodbye.

I found this heartbreaking. It made me cry to write down the last sentence, and my voice cracked and faltered every time I retold this story to friends. It occured to me that "The Artist is Present" is in some way a recreation of this moment in Abramovic's life--of having to face someone and really see them before letting them go. It could be someone she knows very well, or not at all. (And sometimes, those are one in the same.) She has a very intimate moment, looks them in the eye and then inevitably has to say goodbye to this person and the experience she's had with him or her. Perhaps when you say goodbye over and over for four months, you get a little desensitized to it. (Or perhaps not...)

I read this today:

"...no human life or experience is to be wasted or forgotten, but all should be transformed into a source of wisdom and compassionate living...On the everyday level of experience, Shin Buddhists speak of this transformation as "bits of rubble turn into gold." -Taitetsu Unno, "Number One Fool" (Tricycle, Spring 2008)

I don't have a pithy ending for this entry. I'm just still mulling it over. Still moved.

Let's just say, art wins.

Mouse Medicine

I've spent the better part of this week terrorized by rodents.

On Sunday, I had my family over for brunch to celebrate my mom's birthday. Everything was great, including the Double Chocolate Orange Torte, which I will definitely bake again. After all the presents were opened, and everyone went home happy and full, I cleaned up, putting the garbage into trash bags, and vacuumed. As my family can attest, I even sprayed down all surfaces and wiped them clean while they were still here.

My one mistake was leaving the bags inside the kitchen instead of putting them outside in the trash bins. I woke up Monday morning to find a mouse tail industriously waggling from the top of one of the bags.

Now, when faced with something I really don't like, and really don't know how to handle, I know of go into this odd "This isn't happening" mode, which I'm not proud of, but it's a good coping mechanism. I tried to ignore it, but then reality set in and I took my empty trash can and swooped it over the trash bag. Looking for the closest heavy thing to put on top of it, I found my mega-bottle of Tanqueray gin, leftover from a party 3 years ago and put it on top of the can.

The gin was remarkably appropriate.

I dragged the bag, with the can on top, and the gin on top of that outside to the trash cans and managed to get the bag into the can with a modicum of freak-out. It was early in the morning and a girl's got to go to work!

So imagine my surprise when that evening, after midnight, I was awoken out of a sound sleep to some sort of rustling of conclave of rodents, which SCARED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF ME. I've never had a problem with mice, or rats before and as a good New Yorker, I always keep any open container in the refrigerator, whether it needs to be refrigerated or not. (I still have friends who make fun of me for putting cereal in there. Hey, there's a reason I've never had a problem with roaches or rodents!)

So there I was at 12:30 am faced with cold, hard fear, running all the way down from my throat into my belly, and I had no idea what to do except lay there, terrified. It's very rare that I can't tap into my inner Mafiosi Vinny, who you met in an earlier post, but he was nowhere to be found. So, not only was I scared out of my skin, but I was feeling mad at myself to boot because I should be able to handle this sort of thing. After a half an hour of deliberating with myself (and adrenaline rushing like a junky in heat) I finally called my landlord, who was reassuring, so kind, and well, awake. He said he would take care of it the next day, which he did, in the form of traps, a sonic deterrent, and a really nice voicemail which left me feeling better.

Except for the fact that I haven't slept all week. I haven't felt quite safe in the apartment, and I'm a little mad at myself for feeling so vulnerable. I mean, the last time I felt this kind of fear in the middle of the night, was about 8 years ago when I heard what I am sure was gunshots in the middle of the night. Even in my slumber, I knew get the hell out of bed and hit the floor. (My preservation instinct is usually quite keen.)

My dear friend Diana said that animals often cross our paths to tell us something, and we should pay particular attention if its an animal that we usually don't see--case in point, the mouse. So I looked up the symbolism of the mouse, and here is what www.zimbio.com had to say:

Humans have long had a love-hate relationship with tiny Mouse. On the love side, we have Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, Stuart Little, etc. On the hate side, we have traps, science experiments, carrying disease, and eating holes in walls and bags of food.

Why does mouse affect us so? Why do we see pictures of people standing on chairs trying to get away from Mouse? More than anything, people that are scared of Mouse are really scared of Mouse's power. This tiny animal is a great example of "small package contains big power".

I also read this on www.linsdomain.com:

Mouse medicine is both a great power and a great weakness.

It is good to pay attention to all details, but bad to over-analyze every little thing.

They will make the simplest task fraught with difficulty.

Everything must be in order in a Mouse's house.

Often, Mouse people are fearful of life. You should try to see the larger picture

Even if you live in a small house in Los Angeles,

you are also part of the Earth, galaxy and universe.

If a Mouse totem has recently entered your life,

ask yourself Have you become too focused on one or two activities

and neglecting opportunities around you?

Or are you trying to do too many things at the same time?

Mouse medicine can show how to focus

and how to attain the big things by working on the little things.

l have to admit, I found this all very useful. One could say I've been a bit too focused on my teeth, and all of the heavy connotations that they have had for me in the last nine months. (And all the things that I have convinced myself that are off limits because of them.) But maybe the beliefs that I hold on to so tightly aren't quite true, and slowly I'm starting to see that. More and more I've been smiling as an act of defiance, daring anyone to react to these braces, and as I've begun to forget about then, I've also noticed that less and less people are paying attention to them. Quite frankly, the braces are such a small part of what I could be paying attention to--and perhaps should be paying attention to. As I said in my last post, I'm feeling more and more of a need to make goals, and attain them, and though I'm not entirely sure how to go about that, at least I'm tilting my head in a different direction. Maybe this little mouse came around to quite literally shake me out of my slumber and start making things happen, even if it happens slowly but surely.

Thanks, Mouse, for the wisdom. Much appreciated. Now get the hell out of my kitchen so I can get some sleep!