Free fall and trust

Image from Samma Samadhi

I will admit it.  I have a problem with trust.

No, not with the little things, like trusting someone else to make the dinner reservations or drive the car pool.  But with the big things.  Like trusting friends to be around when they say they will, or trusting in the universe to provide.

But most of all, I have a problem in the whole idea of trusting someone to take care of me, when I need help.

I won't go into the reasons why.  There are several, and they have left me shaky in many ways. But the why is not important.  It's the effect that matters now.

I am about to leap into a free fall.  And it will involve trusting someone to be there, to take care of me, until I can get my bearings, and find a new direction.  And I am scared.  Really scared.

I love the man I am trusting to catch me.  My husband is an amazing person, a strong, gentle, loving, caring man.

And yet....it's freefall.

I'm scared.

Midnight in Paris -- ahhhhhhhhhh

This weekend, I took myself to a movie. Now before you feel sorry for me, let me tell you, I love going to a movie by myself.  It's relaxing, I can focus entirely on the film, and I don't have to worry about whether anyone else liked it, or it wasn't their kind of film, etc.

A lot of the movies I've seen lately have been "okay, but..." kind of films.  As in "It was okay, but it kind of dragged a bit..." or "It was good, but they showed all the really great scenes in the previews..."  You understand, right?

Saturday night, I went to see Midnight in Paris.  This movie was NOT an "okay, but...." film!  It was not the stupid, trite romantic comedy the preview made it seem.  It was a "Wow, can I see it again, because it was so rich, I am sure I missed things" kind of film.

It was Paris (and better than that, part of it was Paris in the rain!)

• It was the 1920's
• It was Hemingway and Stein and Picasso and Dos Passos and the Fitzgeralds (especially loved Zelda) and...the list went on and on
• It had a message that resonated - really resonated
• It had dialog that WAS dialog, the way people really talk, with interruptions and  hesitation and misstatements -- rather than a script where lines are delivered (writer/director Woody Allen is a master at that....even if you hate his films --- and this is NOT a Woody Allen film in any way you would expect -- you have to give him credit for that)
• The cinematography was beautiful 

Can you tell I kind of liked it????  

 It came out of the film festivals -- Cannes, to be exact, which explains the quality.   But in a world where movies so often mean violence and more attention paid to special effects than content, this movie was a wonderful treat. 

And I am so ready for a walk on a rainy Paris night, at midnight.....soon!  Soon!

Okay,.so here's the questions for you...
1) Do you like going to the movies alone?
2) What is the best film you've seen in the last 3 months?

And there is a give away!  A randomly selected commenter will receive a Paris gift basket (Unfortunately, sent from Florida, unless someone want to send me a ticket to Paris, so I can be really authentic and mail it from there!)

Ready to play? 

The need to share

Let me say, I am not an eavesdropper. But sometimes you can't help but hear something....

I overheard a man telling another about some sad news he had just received...a member of his extended family had been killed in a car accident.  I wasn't trying to listen, but from where I was sitting, it was impossible to not hear.  After he shared the news, he explained his relationship, shared a couple of memories of the person. The other man listened, and said he was sorry to hear, and that he understood how hard it is to get news like that.  And then they parted.

The whole exchange took maybe 2 minutes.  But it reminded me how very much that kind of sharing is hard-wired into our lives as humans.  For as long as we can go back in history, there have been funeral rites of one kind of another.  And mourning.  And however it's couched in terms of the next world, the fact is the process is really for living.  It's a way to share and to be comforted in that sharing.

Decades ago in our culture, the exchange I overheard would have been unnecessary. People in his community/town/neighborhood would have known the relative.  And they would have gone to him, to express their sympathy.  Odds are, they would have known the relative who died, too, so everyone would have shared their stories and memories.

It's much harder now.  We have to find someone to share with...a coworker, a friend, an acquaintance.  Our blog readers. Or even a stranger, like I did when I started to cry in a restaurant a couple of weeks after my mom passed and the waitress sat down and listened.

I've found myself in that "stranger who listens" role a lot lately.  I've been giving away some furniture using Freecycle, and people are sharing their stories of why they need the items I have to offer.  I haven't asked...but I hear that they need to share, even though we are complete strangers. So I listen, because I can tell that these are stories they need to tell. And I am touched that they are trusting me with these pieces of their lives.

A few years ago, I wrote a post about how isolated we've become, and how most Americans have on average only about 2 people in their lives they can really talk to about important, soul-touching things.
So we share our sorrows -- and our joys -- in little pieces with whomever we find who will listen.

The question is, is it enough?

When we're together again.....

Image that was on the
candy bar favors at our wedding 

As some of you know, my new husband and I have been apart for the past 6 months.  That's a very difficult way to spend most of your first year together, and I won't pretend it's been easy.

But our time apart is drawing to a close, so I can finally allow myself to think about all the little things (and big things) I can't wait to do together again...here are a few, in no particular order...

• Talking about our day, face to face instead of on cell phones that make it hard to hear, and often drop calls at the worst possible moment
• Taking a walk together in the evening, holding hands and looking at the stars
• Cooking dinner together...and eatting together, instead of talking about what each of us had for dinner
• Showing each other an article, a picture, or some other tidbit by saying, "Hey, come look at this!" instead of having to send it and hoping you remember why it mattered by the time they get it 
• Seeing the expressions on each others' faces and the body language instead of having to guess what a tone of voice or a word omitted or chosen means in a late-night-and-we're-so-over-tired phone conversation
• Getting back to learning how to live together, instead of putting that on hold when we had only just started
• Making plans together with friends, rather than each of us trying to keep busy far apart
• Getting into long discussions about our favourite geek-topics without worrying about phone batteries dying
• Good night and good morning kisses
• Spotting that great festival or annual event in the newspaper and go to it together now, instead of making a mental note to do that "next year"
• Having birthday parties and anniversary celebrations and date nights on the calendar, instead of flight times and countdowns
• Seeing a movie together, instead of just talking about it after we each saw it separately
• Laughing together at something silly we see or hear 
• Cuddling on the couch 
• Starting to see plane flights as something WE take to go somewhere, rather than something one of us needs to book to see the other one

...Building a marriage and life together, instead of trying to imagine it while  1,357 miles apart

Speaking of oranges ....

Suppose you selected a nice bright orange from the stand at the farmer's market.  When you cut it open, you'd expect to see juicy orange sections inside?  You might wonder if it would be sweet or sour, but otherwise, you'd feel pretty confident about what you'd see.

Even if you had never seen an orange inside, the match between the outside and inside would make it a pretty un-surprising experience. A no-brainer, so to speak.

Now take the kiwi.  Its fuzzy, rough, exterior gives no hint of the sweet, juicy, bright green interior.  Someone seeing a kiwi cut open for the very first time would be understandably surprised. But we're all kiwi sophisticates here, right?  We know about the secret green interior, so we're not fooled at all. We have experienced kiwis before. It may have taken a few times, but we're ready for it now.

Now suppose for a moment, that you went to that farmer's market, and you selected a big orange.  And you cut it open, only to find that instead of the orange segments, there was a soft green interior.   A kiwi center in an orange wrapper. Even a sophisticated, in-the-know kiwi pro would be shocked at this point, right?

I was thinking about oranges and kiwis after I stopped for a snack at a neighborhood fast food place the other day.  Ahead of me, heading for the entrance door was a young man wearing what most people would consider gang or street attire.  His pants were half way down his behind, with his underwear showing.  The hat, shoes, shirt and jewelry were all what we have come to expect from young men in what are called "economically challenged" neighborhoods if we're PC or "slums" if we're not. And truth be told, the neighborhood where I had stopped would fit either description. 

As I approached the door behind this young man, he stopped, waited for me, and held open the door.  I thanked him, and he replied "You're welcome, ma'am" and smiled. 

And that got me thinking.  

If I was to look at this young man like the orange, I would have expected his insides to resemble his outside.  I might even have been afraid or at least nervous when he stopped just ahead of me, expecting an action to match his attire and his surroundings. Many people are afraid to stop in or even drive through poorer neighborhoods, because they are absolutely sure the inside and outside are the same. 

If I knew the young man, over time I would have learned something about him.  And based on those experiences, I might have understood that the exterior concealed something entirely different inside. I might have, like the kiwi-experienced, known what to expect. 

But this was something entirely different.  This was the orange outside, with a surprising kiwi inside. And it was wonderful because it snapped me out of my complaisance. 

So now I'm wondering... how often do we act on the basis of our orange or kiwi experiences -- believing we know what's inside. And how often are we wrong, but don't stick around long enough to find out? 

I'm not sure it's even possible, but wouldn't it be wonderful if we could approach each exterior, whether it's a person or an experience or a challenge without being so darn sure we know what's inside?  If we could suspend our judgement, even for just a minute, and wait to see for ourselves with fresh eyes. 

Bloggers, a weekend and a wonderful lunch

This past weekend I went to a bloggers conference in Miami Beach (for those of you who might think this involved lots of travel, getting there consisted of a 23 mile drive each way.  Yes, I am blessed!)

At the conference I met some amazing people who are leading the way in blogging, online marketing, and community-building.  I have PAGES and PAGES of notes to go through, all filled with great ideas for making blogs, websites and social sites better, more appealing and more useful.  I have a stack of business cards to look at and wonderful women to connect with over the next few weeks.

One of the most inspiring speakers was Guy Kawasaki, who used his new book "Enchantment" to offer ideas on making a business truly speak to its customers.  He even gave out copies of his book (thank you Citrix for sponsoring that bonus!), so we could continue the conversation after the conference ended.

 It's amazing what a difference it makes to spend time with other people who are sharing a part of your path.  Talking with these women (it was a women's blogging conference, by the way, although there were a few brave men who defied the label and shared the event.  Bravo to them!) reminded me of goals I'd pushed aside or forgotten, opened my eyes to new possibilities for both my personal and company blogs and social sites, and inspired me to step outside the box and try some new tools and techniques.

It's that way in so much of life, I think.  We sometimes get so caught up in our own view of a project or a life event or even a spiritual practice that we forget that there are others out there traveling that same road.  A few days -- or even just a few hours -- with our fellow travelers can do wonders for opening up new possibilities.  Sometimes it even reminds you why you started on that path to begin with...a fact that can be easy to forget amid the details and struggles of any journey.

One more thing....I have seldom (maybe never?) endorsed a business on this blog, but I have to make an exception for the restaurant where I had lunch on Saturday.  Pasha, a delicious healthy Mediterranean cafe on Lincoln Road was one of the most delicious places I have ever tried.  I ordered a lentil yani (stew), and was presented with a bowl of fragrant, delicately seasoned vegetable and lentil stew, accompanied with perfectly cooked basmati rice.  I also ordered a side of hummus, and was delighted with the hot, puffy fresh pita bread that came with it. The only negative was when I asked for a refill on my iced tea, and then discovered that I had been changed another $2.00 for it -- and it was 90% ice.  Uncool, especially on a hot Florida afternoon!

But iced tea issue aside, I sat there, at a shady table under the palm trees, and ate incredible food, browsed through a magazine, and thanked my lucky stars for all of it.  The conference, the food, the weather, the setting...it just doesn't get any better than this.

The dance of every day life

I was leaving Panera this morning, my glass of half-iced-tea-and-half-seltzer in hand (yes, it is strange, I know!), when someone in front of me held the door for just an instant until I could reach out at hold it myself.  A common gesture.  One we do, or experience every day.

But today, the movement and the grace of that single act caught my eye.  Un -choreographed, unplanned.  It was a pas de deux between two strangers, but in its own way, as elegant and graceful as a moment in any ballet.

That instant, I realized that there is a dance of every day life.

I started to think about other examples....the cars moving among one another on the highway.  The way a family works together in the kitchen moving around one another, as they prepare dinner or do the washing up.  We move in and out, step around, turn and reach.  There is a beauty in that interaction, that interweaving of motion that we (or at least I) have missed until now.

When you go about your day tomorrow, pay attention to the dance.  It's there.  Notice the effortless way in which we move around one another, the ways our movements connect and separate.

See the dance.