February 25, 2011
Common Roots Cafe
Minneapolis, MN

It’s sunny and seven degrees outside.  Seven degrees.  It is within this despair, of living inside an urban tundra, that inspires us to strip our legs bare in 45-degree weather in March and run around thawing lakes in shorts.  The elation of spring and summer in Minneapolis are in equal proportion to the suffering incurred during these remaining weeks of winter. A bipolar existence we live up here in the northern latitudes.

We could hide inside, or we could walk the streets with a grimace on our faces and in our souls.  Or, we could, once again, yank up our chins and snowpants (hail to the invention of snowpants) or long underwear, three layers of clothes over our heads (I prefer the tank top/long-sleeved shirt/sweater or sweatshirt combo), fleece jacket under a down jacket, a hat, sunglasses against the blinding white of sun on snow, warm socks, boots, mittens, wrap a scarf around our neck and chin a few times, and find the beauty in this damn weather.

Not only can we do this, but I bet you a pack of grape Bubblicious gum and Adele’s new CD (amazing) that you would return rosy-cheeked, energized, and inspired by stepping into your discomfort to find the comfort of being outside, under the bright pale winter sky, amidst the naked, sleeping trees.

In fact, I am certain that if every human went outside for a 30-minute walk each and every day, the incidences of depression and anxiety in our culture would plummet. But that would be way too simple for us humans who want to complicate everything.

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in. ~John Muir, 1913, in L.M. Wolfe, ed., John Muir, John of the Mountains:  The Unpublished Journals of John Muir, 1938

Last week I was trapped inside petty irritations that were so petty, I can’t even recall.  But they were irritating enough that I knew I had to shove myself out the door or blow up and deal with regret.  It wasn’t five minutes later that the expanse of the outdoors shrunk my petty irritations into a distant memory.  The tall trees reaching toward the sun, their brown branches and twigs slumbering peacefully.  The sparkle of the sun off the snow.  The sound of robins and chickadees, singing their hearts out despite the cold.  The sound of quiet.

God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars. ~Martin Luther

In order to live in balance, we must honor these bodies that carry our minds and spirits through this life.  We must attend to our physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual lives to be at peace with our world.  But this is not easy, and it is almost impossible without some awareness, some tuning in to ourselves and our hearts.

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein

Going outside for a walk touches each of these aspects of ourselves and helps us achieve equanimity and balance within.

So today, go boldly into the cold, into the sun, into nature, and discover the gifts that belong only to today.

Word to your mother…

Friday, February 18, 2011
Spyhouse Coffee
Hennepin Ave.

I think Life talks to us.  We are just so damn busy, so set in our ways, so in our heads, we don’t hear It.

Unless we listen.  I mean really stop to listen.  I guess that is one of the prevailing reasons I write.  I have to sit down on a regular basis and listen to myself, to my life, to what others are trying to tell me.  Because Life talks.  It talks to us through our discontent, it talks to us through our joys, fears, frustrations, and questions. Life offers us constant feedback.  Do we listen?

Life sends us angels in the form of people.  Do we recognize them?

Life sends us messages in the form of print.  Do we see it in black and white?

Life talks to us through our children.  Do we really hear them?

Today, all bound up by the same crap I get bound up by, the same crap that spins wild circles in my head, I couldn’t wait to get here so I could pull it out of my head and pin it down with words.  Let it go so I can finish my Bush Fellowship application before the deadline next Friday.

But today I was unable to figure anything out, to fully let it go, because this crap I am bound up in is so deep, so elusive, I couldn’t get to its bottom.  So I closed my journal and opened a book of notes that I’ve been compiling for a few years, poking around for a bit of inspiration to get in the mode to finish my application.

I opened to a random page, and the first thing I read was exactly the thing I needed to hear.  What I’m saying is, when I thought I was alone to deal with this emotional albatross, I feel like Life slid in beside me in this booth where I am working and said these words:

“I believe now that, even at our most silent and despairing moments, we are preparing to act.  Our unconscious may torment us with bad dreams, anxiety, and depression, but it stands ready to help as soon as we start tending to an essential task.  Once we begin to move in the necessary direction, we inevitably meet the right people to assist us, and we discover that we know more than we think.”

-Agate Nesaule from Poets and Writers mag, Nov/Dec 2004

Is there a question that has been eluding you about your life, about your self that you cannot figure out?  Try this: Open your journal (or your mind) to a blank page and write whatever question you hold in large letters.  Let that question sit and breathe.  In the subsequent moments, attune yourself–to the people you meet, to the things you read, to the conversations you overhear.  I would bet, if you listen within the deepest knowing of yourself, Life will come and speak to you.  Don’t waste time doubting it when it does.

Just listen, dammit.

February 11, 2011
Spyhouse Coffee
Hennepin Ave.

I have been here for over 20 minutes, and my feet are still cold.  Why?  I was sitting in my truck talking to my aunt on my cellphone for a half hour, microwaving my brain.  Meanwhile, the cold that won’t go away crept into the floorboards of the truck and soaked into my feet.

I am officially sick of cold weather.  Even the beauty of skiing can’t beckon me.

Anyway.

As always, after teaching a wonderful class this morning at South, I began to think about this blog, what I would write.  I never know until I get here.  I have been thinking and talking a lot about technology’s kidnapping of the human race, turning us into androids.  I know it sounds fanatical, and I know I’m going to sound like I’m 80, but…

When I was a kid, the phone was stuck to the end of the cabinets in our orange-striped kitchen.  If the phone rang, we had to stand within eight feet of it.  I remember my mom talking on the phone and walking back and forth on her tippy toes (she was 5’2″ and always on her tippy toes), the cord stretching and coiling, stretching and coiling.

When I was a kid, there was still a busy signal if we were on the phone.  I remember the advent of call-waiting, and then the advent of caller ID.  Eureka!  I even remember driving in my friend Sarah’s dad’s car, and he had a mobile phone–a large, heavy rectangular box that had bad reception–and calling my parents all excited because I was calling from a car!

When I was a kid, I walked along Minnehaha creek for hours, and sat up in my room listening to UB40 and taping Duran Duran posters to my walls.  When I was a kid I left my house, the screen door banging behind me, and was gone the whole day to the park, to the creek, to my friend Meghan’s house to eat all of the food in her cabinets, to Don’s Superette and then back to the park to eat my bag of candy while sitting on the swings.

I remember being bored.  I remember having nothing to do but just sitting or walking around my neighborhood.  I remember biking all day long around the lakes, blaring my walkman.  I remember people who were my age now telling me that if I kept listening to that damn thing, I would be deaf by the time I was their age.  They were right.

(Here’s when I sound like I’m 80): When I see kids these days, I see them with their attention pinpointed onto a little screen.  They break up with boyfriends and girlfriends via text.  Instead of calling names or planning a mini-rumble after school, kids these days can ruin lives in a single sentence delivered to a huge tech-audience.

I feel sorry for Oliver and Lucy, coming up in this virtual world that is far bigger than the actual world.  I wonder how I can protect them from bullying, from predators, from losing the simple and sensory things of life that make memories and deepen our connection to others and the natural world.

I listened to myself say to a friend, “Boredom is the mother of invention,” and realized how true it is!  We are so funny, racing to our yoga and meditation classes to be “mindful,” and then getting back home to sit and dream into the bright screen of Facebook. Yet, we barely have time to get together and shoot the breeze.  Even the saying, “shoot the breeze,” is becoming archaic.

Hey.  I live in a glass house, so I’m not throwing stones.  I’m just saying.  And since part of my vocation is provoking thought, I am compelled to share my inner dialogue about this issue that is so big and so unregulated.  I believe we as adults need to reign this thing in and draw some boundaries, not only for ourselves, but for our children.  I know one thing I can do: turn the phone off when I am spending time with my children and family.  Especially since what we do is what we teach.

Right before I began writing this, I opened my email and read the quote of the day from Tiny Bhudda.  I find it awfully serendipitous in light of what I was planning to write about:

“When we get too caught up in the busyness of the world, we lose connection with one another–and
ourselves.” -Jack Kornfield

So here’s your writing exercise (or thought-exercise): How much time of your day are you plugged in (not including work)?  How much time do you spend alone, walking or cooking or doing art or writing or just having a cup of tea and sitting?  What do you think would happen to your life if you gave yourself one hour of “screen time,” and then unplugged for the remainder of your non-working day?

I’m curious.  We turned off the comment thingy because of all of the spam I was receiving.  But I would love to hear from you if you want to send and email and let me know how you manage the technological craze.

Until then, peace and tranquility to you and yours.

Love, Janna.