Celebrity divorces

There are some people you follow,  and after a while,  they've been in your life so long,  they feel like old acquaintances - someone you went to college with,  someone who was in a group you were in once...  You don't even have to like them,  you just sort of keep tabs on them.   I don't love Jennifer Lopez.  And I really don't love Ben Affleck.  But I sort of liked them getting back together again,  after all these years.   Little facts tweaked me,  like that they didn't sign a prenup.  I really hoped they would make it this time. 

But as they song says,  everywhere you go,  you take the weather with you (Crowded House)  And Ben took the weather with him.  Him looking despairing at yet another awards ceremony,  so awkward,  so not wanting to be there.  Her looking impeccable,  as always.  And I sighed.  I knew that they were on different trajectories and unless he really pulled hard,  they wouldn't make it.  It's okay for one half of the couple to be more social and appearance driven,  especially if it's the woman and if she can leave her other half at home.  But if all she does is get 20 questions about where is he,  and 20 articles about the state of her marriage every time she goes out without him,  well then she starts dragging him along. And boy did he look dragged.  

So I wasn't surprised at the news that she filed for divorced,  or that she was the proactive one to do the filing.  But I was sad for both of them.  They were honestly fighting for the dream and I was honestly hoping it would work,  and I'm on no one's team here (ok,  I'm a little more on Jennifer's team,  but not 100% more like 55/45) and I wish them both well in the future...  

Read this article in the New York times,  comparing J.Lo to Elizabeth Taylor - and wishing for her to be remembered not for her relationships,  but how she wanted to change the world,  and fought so hard for a cause that she made a real difference.  Now that's a blessing to take with you. 

Your Brain Under Pressure

Sometimes things build to a crescendo in our lives,  the list is too long,  the noise is too loud,  and we can't get it done.  

If the pressure is too much,  I can literally feel my brain fill with fog,  and I find it hard to think.  I really advocate taking a moment for a time out,  just to give your brain a chance to reset.  

My go to is the beach - I go to Maroubra and watch the waves crash and catch my breath. 

Of course,  if you are in NYC,  there are fewer waves to watch,  but find your corner,  whether walking by the river,  or watching the dogs at the dog park,  where you can just let go for a minute and let yourself reset.   It can make such a difference... You can always try these places

David Whyte, poet

 A friend recently introduced me to a new (to me) poet.

I really loved this one:

Sweet darkness

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

From The house of Belonging,  poems by David Whyte

Boy Sober

Read this article in the Washington Post about going 'boy sober'.   Such an interesting and I thought hopeful spin.  Celibate as a word and a concept  has odd overtones,  and even Incels (short for involuntary celibate) don't want it.  But sometimes,  taking a pause from relationships to see where you are,  what you are doing in the mix,  can be so helpful. Help you get clean and clear. 

So if you feel you are getting addicted/drunk on relationships/drama, or that dating is toxic at the moment,  maybe think about a period of being boy sober,  see what comes out of that... 

There's a Hole in my Sidewalk

I was reminded of this poem during a recent reading.  I've been reading it for over 20 years now.  It still really speaks to me.  

Chapter I
I walk down the street.
   There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
      I fall in.
          I am lost ... I am helpless.
            It isn't my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

Chapter II
I walk down the same street.
   There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
      I pretend I don't see it.
         I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
                But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter III
I walk down the same street.
   There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
      I see it is there.
         I still fall in ... it's a habit.
            My eyes are open.
               I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter IV
I walk down the same street.
   There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
      I walk around it.

Chapter V
I walk down another street.

Portia Nelson, There's a Hole in My Sidewalk: The Romance of Self-Discovery

Just looked this up and it was written in 1988.  Still resonates,  like the note of a clear bell...  Such a relief when you start walking down another street! 

Olympics

I used to love watching the Olympics,  the spectacle of it all,  the astounding efforts.  And then one day, a friend said,  we're not even giving a minute to the guy who came 9th,  best in his country,  9th in the world,  and he's not even on our radar.  

Then I started to look at the Olympics differently.  There are always the heartwarming stories,  but there is a bigger message about the cost of perfection.  The sheer courage it takes to see where you stand in the world - anyone ever measure the best lawyer in the country?  How would we measure the best doctor? in the entire world?  Sports is wonderful because you can quantify it - they ran this fast and now someone ran .1 seconds faster and they are now better.  

But as someone who frequently tells people,  you are good enough,  don't let the perfect get in the way of the good... I think this person just ran faster than you and I could imagine, and surely is fast enough. Why are we pushing these fine folk to ever higher heights/endeavors.  Let's not pretend that this doesn't damage their bodies long term.   

I far prefer Olympics to war,  and countries want to strut their stuff and increase their world stature via sport,  I say go for it.  But on a personal level,  I want to give them all a hug and tell them they are wonderful,  and to enjoy the sheer thrill of being there,  and not to let those tiny medals be the way they measure their souls. 

Such a powerful song!

One, two, three

Why are you hanging on so tight
To the rope that I'm hanging from?
Off this island, this was an escape plan (this was an escape plan)
Carefully timed it, so let me go
And dive into the waves below

Who tends the orchards? Who fixes up the gables?
Emotional torture from the head of your high table
Who fetches the water from the rocky mountain spring?
And walk back down again to feel your words and their sharp sting
And I'm getting fucking tired

The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
For somebody I thought was my saviour
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour

The calloused skin on my hands is cracking
If our love ended, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
You make me do too much labour

Apologies from my tongue, and never yours
Busy lapping from flowing cup and stabbing with your fork
I know you're a smart man (I know you're a smart man), and weaponise
The false incompetence, it's dominance under a guise

If we had a daughter, I'd watch and could not save her
The emotional torture, from the head of your high table
She'd do what you taught her, she'd meet the same cruel fate
So now I've gotta run, so I can undo this mistake
At least I've gotta try

The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
For somebody I thought was my saviour
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour

The calloused skin on my hands is cracking
If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour

All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid
Nymph then a virgin, nurse then a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
24∕7, baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of love if you make her
You make me do too much labour

All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid
Nymph then virgin, nurse and a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
24∕7, baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of love if you make her
You make me do too much labour

The capillaries in my eyes (all day, every day)
Are bursting (therapist, mother, maid)
If our love died (nymph then virgin)
Would that be the worst thing? (Nurse then a servant)
For somebody (just an appendage)
I thought was my saviour (live to attend him)
You sure make me do (so that)
A whole lot of labour (he never lifts a finger)

The calloused skin on my hands (24∕7)
Is cracking (baby machine)
If our love ends (so he can live out)
Would that be a bad thing? (His picket fence dreams)
And the silence (it's not an act of love)
Haunts our bed chamber (if you make her)
You make me do too much labour

I've been playing this all weekend.  It's an amazing song,  made better by the chilling video.  I just love the lyrics and the rage behind them.  You make me do too much labour indeed!