Seat Dancing

As I was driving to pick up my dogs from the daycare yesterday, a great song came on the radio, and I started singing along and seat dancing while waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

Then I thought about how I have been rocking with the radio and seat dancing ever since I learned to drive.  It is an activity I only engage in when by myself, or with my daughter or dogs.  When with others, I tone it down.

But I love to seat dance.  I love to sing at the top of my lungs in my car.

And then I had the thought, "Do I look ridiculous?  Are people in other cars looking and thinking that old woman is too weird for words?"  And then I thought, "Well, actually, I don't care if I look ridiculous.  Or if people think I'm weird."

And then I remembered multiple times in my life, rocking it out in my car by myself, when I looked at the person in the next car, and they were doing the same thing.  And you would smile face-splitting grins at each other, in a shared moment of divine weirdness and connection.

I thought about how my teenage self would have felt if I had seen a fifty-six year old woman rocking out in her car, and I probably would have not only smiled, but given a thumbs' up and it would have made my day.

So, at the next red light, I looked around.  I was the only one singing and dancing.  People were on their phones, or looking in their laps or passenger seats.  And no one was smiling.

It made me sad.

It seems like we are losing the simple pleasures of life because we are always engaged in something that doesn't make us smile.

I don't do the singing and dancing thing when I'm actually driving.  I may sing, but driving and dancing?  Remember the klutz who is typing here.  But at a red light, what is the harm?

I can't count the number of times I arrived at my destination with a huge smile on my face because of the last song I heard before I got out of the car.

I think we all need the mental escape of rocking it out in the car.  Of singing at the top of our lungs.  Of seat dancing like we really have talent.

So, I have one more reason to not text and drive, or talk on my cell phone while driving.  I need my little vacation with the music.  Time to remember the simple pleasure of singing and dancing with no one watching, and no need to care how silly I may look and sound.

And I'll keep looking around at red lights to see if anyone else out there is having as much fun as I am.  Because I miss the moment of shared weirdness and divine connection.  So put down your phone, put away your worries, and turn up the music.

We have a date in the future at a red light near you.

Flight is usually still an option

As humans evolved, we developed a mechanism in response to threats.  Our adrenal gland produces a rush of adrenaline, and we experience what many physiologists refer to as a "fight or flight" response.

But I'm starting to wonder if we aren't in the midst of another evolution of our species.  Where the rush of adrenaline produces only a fight response.

What ever happened to backing away from a conflict?  What ever happened to running away from a threat?  What ever happened to conflict resolution?  To agreeing to disagree?

Daily, the news is full of tragic loss of life brought about by violence.  And in many cases, the victim was caught in crossfire they had no control over.

But many times, the victim, and the perpetrator, had decided fight was a better option than flight.

In keeping with my illusion of control, I try to avoid situations where fight or flight may be necessary.

I carefully choose the times I go places, opting to be home between 10 pm and 8 am every time I can help it.

When I go to the store, or to the mall, I try to have a clear line of sight to my vehicle, and look around the parking lot before leaving the apron of the store.  I also carefully choose which stores and malls I go to.

And with all that, I still look for where I could run to, and where I could hide if I needed to.

And I know that only luck is protecting me from the violence in society, because there are no absolutes.

I try to drive very cautiously and courteously, and that in and of itself angers people.  But I still drive as I was taught to drive, doing my best to leave an escape route.  I want to always have the option to choose flight.

I believe the "Stand your ground" laws that have been passed in many states in the United States of America have led to a more pronounced fight mentality.

There is no longer a duty to retreat.  No duty to stay away from trouble and call the police.  You feel threatened?  Go ahead and pull out your gun and shoot away.

And in the crazy way my mind makes connections, I see a relationship with the obstructionism in Congress and the Senate as part of the same problem.

When highly educated, elected officials refuse mature debate and compromise and instead cling to ideological principles and refuse to do the jobs they were elected to do, a whole bunch of people see stubborn refusal to listen and compromise as a worthy goal.

The United States of America is an immature nation at only two hundred and forty years old.  I believe we are at a pivotal point in our national maturation process.

It is time to go back to valuing peace, and compromise, and flight, or to continue the escalation of violence, and obstruction, and fight.

I'm afraid many Americans are choosing the latter, and that our nation will not be salvageable if we continue down this path much further.

As for me, I will continue to seek compromise.  I will agree to disagree.  I will try to avoid situations where fight or flight is necessary, and I will choose flight whenever it is an option.

I will use my voice and my written words to encourage others to do the same.  I hope I can have some influence.

Because I used to hardly ever be afraid just because I was driving or going out to dinner.  And I want that world back.

The Second Amendment supporters often use the quote "Those that would sacrifice liberty for security soon will have neither" as the justification for no gun control laws.

I would hypothesize that the lack of gun control laws is the Second Amendment supporters perception of security taking away my liberties.

The gun violence archive has tallied 3,589 deaths from guns in the United States as of April 13, 2016.  And 14,162 incidents.

Flight is usually still an option.  But the numbers are very real and very frightening that if something doesn't turn the tide, that option may just disappear.

Why?

On Monday, a young couple were shot and murdered in their bed, as their 2 week old baby slept with them.  On Friday, a man began ramming another vehicle with his vehicle on a bridge.  The person doing the ramming eventually lost control of his vehicle, spun out of control and crashed over the side of the bridge. As of the last report, he lived.   On Saturday, a man was shot and killed, and his wife shot, after another car hit them from the rear, and pushed their car into the vehicle in front of them.  The person causing the accident exited his vehicle, exchanged words with the driver of the vehicle he hit, then took out a gun and started shooting.

Why on earth are people so angry that they risk their lives and take other people's lives? What in the world can someone do while driving that provokes such murderous rage?  What is beneath all this?

I just don't understand.  And my heart hurts.  And I find myself close to tears, or tearing up.

Those who read my blog regularly know that I desperately try to preserve the illusion of control.  You also know that I am an anxious and fearful person who is always battling my fears just to do silly things like drive across a bridge.

I try to structure my life to stay out of scary and dangerous situations.  I use the treadmill rather than walk alone in a strange place, or in the dark.  I hardly ever go out at night.  I pay attention to my surroundings.  But with the increasing violence that has become American society's normal, I realize there is no place to hide from the violence.

And that makes me very sad, and very anxious.

And I have no idea how to re-establish my illusion of control.  Because there are too many angry people, and too many cars, and too many guns.  I still think I have a fair shot of running away from a knife or a bow and arrow or fists.  But cars and guns are too big and too fast.  I want to hide in my house.  With the doors locked.

I keep trying to figure out how I can help make it better.  I support Moms Demand Gun Sense in America, and The Sandy Hook Promise.  I try hard to meet anger with sympathy and understanding, and to not escalate situations.

I pray.  I love.  I don't know what else I can do.

At Mass this morning, I tried to pay attention, but I kept thinking about the families of the victims of violence, and the families of the perpetrators of violence.

Families were destroyed this week.  I opened this piece with three examples, that destroyed at least three families.  But the perpetrators families are destroyed too.  And the parents of the victims' families, and the extended families of both victims and perpetrators.

And some of those people will choose violence of their own as an answer.  And the cycle continues.

I long believed that the violence in American society was the outgrowth of economic inequality, and a lack of opportunity.  But I'm doubting myself now.

Violence is glorified in American society as an answer.  And it is never an answer.

There is so much that needs to change if society is going to change.  We need more peaceful dialogue.  We need to teach negotiating skills in school.  We need to offer real opportunity to people, so that they have something to aspire to.

We all need to look inside ourselves and determine when enough is enough.  When we are willing to sacrifice for the greater good to start a different conversation, one that examines how to re-establish the sanctity and value of human life in American society.

Because I don't want to have to hide in my house.  And unless something changes, that will be the only option left for those of us who value peaceful resolution over violent retribution.

What I had for breakfast

I saw a post on Facebook the other day, it was a picture of eggs and bacon on a plate, with a cup of coffee and a short stack of pancakes in the background.  The caption was "Remember before Facebook when no one cared what you had for breakfast?" And then at the bottom of the picture the caption finished with "They still don't".

I didn't find it funny, because it was kind of mean.  People post on Facebook to connect, and mocking anyone's attempt to connect with other people is not what I think is funny.

But it spurred another thought for me.   I care less about your negative political opinions than I care about what you had for breakfast.  And religious bigotry actually hurts me.  Physically makes me feel bad.  I get a big lump in my chest when I see hate clothed in religion.

I have my own political beliefs, loyalties and positions.  Everyone has a right to their own political beliefs, loyalties and positions.  I have my own religious and spiritual beliefs.  Everyone has a right to their own religious and spiritual beliefs.

I don't mind when people post positive messages that convey their politics or religion, even if I don't share their beliefs.  Everyone is allowed to believe what they believe, and if I have an open mind and an open heart, I may learn something from a positive statement about politics or religion.

What bothers me is the negativity and meanness.  If the only thing your religion provokes you to do is criticize, demean and denigrate others, I don't want to hear it.   I don't want to see it.  It is actively mean to post things like that on a public forum like Facebook.

The same with politics.  If you believe in something or someone, if you believe some policy is good, and you say so, I may not agree, but I don't really care that you believe differently than me.  It takes lots of different kinds of people to make a world.

What I do care about is when people post mean or hateful things about a person or a policy because they disagree with that person or policy.

When I was growing up, I was taught that polite conversation should never include sex, politics or religion.  I still kind of feel that way.  Close relationships can bear the tension that conversations about sex, politics and religion can create.  A broadcast media like Facebook just creates a platform for hurt, and anger and isolation.

I don't often post what I had for breakfast.  I know most people don't care.

I do occasionally post pictures of food or projects, because I know some of my Facebook friends are really interested.

I post pictures of my dogs, because I love them, and so do many of my friends.

I occasionally post support for a position, or a community, or a person, or an ideal.

But I try very hard to not post hateful or derogatory things.  Because somebody cares about just about everybody and everything, and I don't want to throw hated and meanness into the world.

The old standard, "Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?"  is as applicable to posting on social media as it is to conversation.

If we could all learn to ask ourselves those three questions before sharing or posting something that may cause someone to feel isolated, to lose hope, to feel less than, wouldn't it be a much nicer world?

Social media has created a platform where we can all feel connected, where we can be less lonely and isolated, and yet, far too often, I see social media used to create more disconnects, more divisions, more loneliness, more isolation.

I know very few people care what I had for breakfast, but I care what you had for breakfast.

I care that you feel loved and supported.

I care that you are not lonely.

I care that you are not isolated.

Please think about all the people that care about you before you post something that may hurt them or make them feel isolated.

We all end up living in the world we create and support.  If we all stop supporting the hate, and the anger, and the meanness, it will die from lack of sustenance.

And I think that is more important than what I had for breakfast.

Everyday people

The biggest and most challenging adjustment for me as I have transitioned from an employee of The Dow Chemical Company to an independent author and blogger is the loss of everyday people.

When I talk about everyday people, I am referring to the people that you interact with on a daily basis.  Since I had converted to primarily working from home for the last four years of my career, my everyday people were voices and shared workspaces, but still, I had a number of everyday people.

The lack of everyday people creates a void that I haven't found a way to fill yet.  When you have everyday people, nothing is too small or too large to talk about.  You develop a comfort and a rhythm that is almost impossible to replicate with only occasional contact.

So I have become an initiator.  I call people.  I text people.  I email.  I blog.  But being an initiator is much harder when you have no everyday people.

At work, there was always a reason to initiate.  A project.  A deadline.  A question.

Now, if I'm not careful, I question initiation.  Are they busy?  Do they have time for me? Am I becoming a pain in the ass?

With everyday people, it is easy to say, "I'm really busy right now, can I call you back?" because you know you will talk to them later today or at least by tomorrow.

When you have no everyday people, and someone say's "I'm really busy right now, can I call you back?" it could be days or weeks.

The casual social interaction that precedes and closes every interaction is missed more than I thought it would be.

I'm still trying to figure out how to navigate my new world.  I think it is probably time for me to expand my volunteering efforts, but there is still so much work at home to be completed, that I feel obligated to finish that first.  But there is no catalyst to even start that work on many days.

It is easy to have a five minute conversation with everyday people.  When you have only occasional people, conversations tend to last for at least a half hour.  And then when the conversation is over, you remember everything you forgot to say.

If I lived in the same geography as my family, there would be more everyday people, or if I had different neighbors, maybe there would be more everyday people.

I think I lived in the work world for so many years so completely, I forgot how to have casual relationships not based on something, even something as superficial as work.

I'm not active enough in church to have everyday people there.  I'm afraid there would be too little common ground anyway.

When I attend a lot of road races, my walking and running friends become everyday people, but there seem to be large gaps between events sometimes, and the everydayness fades.

I was hoping this blog would help me create a virtual world of everyday people, so far, not so much.  Maybe that is the incentive to really get my books published.  Maybe that will introduce me to the everyday people that I'm missing so much right now.

I'll figure it out.  But for now, if you have everyday people in your world, even if they are currently getting on your last nerve, appreciate them.

They take you out of yourself.  They expand your worldview.  They entertain.

Many everyday people will pass through your life that never become your friends.  Some of them will fade from your memory when they are no longer part of your everyday life.

But trust me on this, they are bringing more value to you than you know.

Celebrate your everyday people.  Gift them with your time and attention.  Share your smile.  I promise, you will miss them when they are gone.

Empty Words

One of the expressions that has seemingly gained popularity in the last twenty years is the term "Playing the Race Card".

What in the world?  What does that even mean?  I googled the expression, the this is the first hit I got:

Playing the race card is an idiomatic phrase that refers to exploitation of either racist or anti-racist attitudes by accusing others of racism.

I still don't know what it means.  

It seems to me that part of being human is looking to belong.  And yet, we humans have come up with all sorts of ways to define ourselves and create separations.

We separate on age, on gender, on race, on economic status, on education level, on political affiliation, on religious affiliation; I could go on and on, and I imagine you could too.

And still, what we seem to desire most is to find a place where we are understood and accepted.  None of us can know what it is like to be someone else.

If I refer to an experience I had as a young, single mother, am I playing the young, single mother card?

If I sympathize with someone who is working full time during the day and going to school full time at night, am I playing the worked while getting an education card?

If I am outraged by the treatment of someone with Alzheimer's or another form of dementia, am I playing the child of two parents with dementia card?

Why does anyone allow such an empty and ugly phrase to be part of their vocabulary?

I appreciate that we all have a different perspective, and many issues are too complex for simple answers.

But when someone has sympathy, or empathy, or righteous indignation on behalf of someone that they share characteristics with, or who someone they love shares characteristics with, why are so many people so eager to find words that will minimize the legitimacy of their emotions?

Why don't we instead listen to their feelings?  Why don't we see their desire to be part of something bigger than themselves, whatever that larger group happens to be? Why don't we appreciate that the person's acceptance of another person's pain is a sign of great strength and empathy?

Empathy is only possible when you can see yourself in the other person's position.  Sympathy is easy.  Empathy is hard.

It is easiest to have empathy with those we have the most in common with .  It is easiest to feel the pain of others if we have experienced similar pain.

The more distance we can put between ourselves and others, the less vulnerable we are to their pain.  Think of how easy it is to move on to the next news story when you read of a natural disaster in a place you couldn't find on a map if you tried.  Then think how that changes if the natural disaster is in the place you live, or a place you lived or visited in the past.

I don't mean to encourage people to walk around bleeding as they embrace all the potential pain in the universe.  What I do encourage however, is to see that all of the struggling souls on this planet want to belong to something larger than themselves.

We may not always choose wisely which group to align ourselves with.  Some of us see our alignment with more groups than others do.

But using empty words to separate ourselves from others and to belittle the legitimacy of people's emotions doesn't move us in the direction of goodness.

Words have power.  I'm trying very hard to not fall into the trap of easy catch phrases that when analyzed are very hurtful.

The more we seek common ground, the more we seek to find empathy, the more forward progress we can make as an evolving society.

There are no cards to play.  There are just flawed individuals, trying to belong, trying to express empathy and solidarity with the best words and actions they can find.

And that should never be mocked, belittled or dismissed.

Dag nab it!

Well, I wanted to have finished my novella by the end of March.  Dag nab it!  I missed my deadline.  I kind of knew that was going to happen when I went through a long dry spell this winter.  I knew where I wanted my story to go, but I couldn't figure out how to get it there.

And isn't that just life in a nutshell?  How often do you find yourself knowing what you want out of life and not knowing how to get it?

Jobs, relationships, finances, housing, there are so many places where it is easy to imagine the life you want, but seemingly impossible to see how to get to that life.

I've been very, very lucky.  My life isn't perfect, but it is pretty darn good.  I love my home, and my adopted home city of New Orleans.  I love my husband, my children, and my dogs.  I have great friends.

I have days when I can't help but focus on what I don't like.  I wish I had more friends close by.  I wish I could see my daughter more often.  I wish my mother wasn't lost to dementia.

But when it comes to imagining a better life than the one I have, all the imaginings are small.  And I have a plan, albeit not usually an executable plan, but a plan to make my life exactly how I want it to be.

My plans involve my books generating tremendous wealth when they are published.  This is a great imagining that will likely not be realized.  But that is perfectly OK.

My books have evolved since I started writing them.  I am making imaginary lives that I covet happen in my stories.  Some of you will recognize the imaginary lives as you read them, but many of you will not know where I am autobiographical in my books, and where I am simply creating worlds and lives that make me happy.

My blog post yesterday was about falling down the rabbit hole, and when my stories won't flow, I spend a lot of time clicking mindlessly around the internet.  I'm working on breaking that habit.

I cleaned out my email inbox today, that was a start to uncluttering my mind.

I can see the path to the end of my novella.  The second book in the series, which I will publish the last chapter of with my novella, I still am figuring out.  The characters are telling me where they will and will not go.

That was one of the big things that happened in my novella.  I imagined a character as not the nicest person.  But he wouldn't let me make him not nice, and now he is one of my absolute favorites.  I know I am making up stories, but my characters feel real to me.  They won't allow me to write them in a way not consistent with who they are.

I have a feeling that a lot of people will think my stories are too simplistic, or too good to be true.

I want the world that I am writing.  A world where people care about each other and demonstrate it.  A world where there is conflict, but conflict is settled in the kindest way possible.

So, I missed my deadline.  I hope to finish before May.  I'm excited to finish the novella so that I can have some people proofread it, while I finish the second book in the series so I can publish them together while working on the next installment.

And I want to get back to my historical novel.  Lots to do to keep me busy for as long as I can imagine.  Here's to busy days and forgiving yourself when you miss a deadline.

And to all the happy worlds you can imagine.