P.P.S. (Post-Passover Seders)

Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive...
Edward Abbey

Interestingly, life always seems to take me where I had no idea I wanted to go. Sometimes to uncomfortable places - even scary places - so I can learn something I needed to learn in a way I wouldn't have otherwise. Sometimes to places of incredible grace and joy - a place where I grow and stretch, play and celebrate. And sometimes I am taken to a place of relaxtion and contemplation - joyous in its own way, bittersweet in another, and, most definitely filled with "aha's," and "oh, yeses," and questions.

The last place is where I was the past two evenings: at Passover seders. I am blessed with the good fortune of having met and befriended thoughtful, loving, mirthful friends since I moved to Arizona almost two years ago. I am grateful that a few of them have been Jews, with whom I can share a seder table with.

I am not a religious Jew, but Passover has always been my favorite of the holidays. Perhaps it is because it holds such universal meaning and, within that, an underlying sense of gratitude and hope for a better life for all. Maybe it's also because of the tradition and ritual involved with the seder (which means "order" or "sequence") and the retelling of story that makes me feel connected to my Jewish ancestors and entrusted with a sense of "tikkun olam" - a responsibility to do my part in healing the world. And it also may be that I like this holiday so much because it asks that we ask - that we seek, that we wonder, that we dig a little bit deeper...into our selves and who we are in this world: what our purpose is, and why this night - this Passover night - is different from any other night.

Auspicious...serendipitous...call it what you will - but I find it fascinating that I spent two evenings practicing a time-honored ritual that I have partaken in since childhood, whilst in the middle of my thesis...about ritual! That I took time out from my crazy schedule to just sit, just be, and be a part of something bigger than me, and yet something that connects my past and present, connects me to others, and connects me to the greater world.

I wrote about the "Passover questions" in my paper last week, in trying to get at the essence of what makes something a ritual, "How is this activity different from any other activity? Why is it different and set apart? What is it this activity does that no other activity can do?" The problem was, my thesis advisor said this evening, is I haven't answered them. Aha! And that's why we have thesis advisors: to point us in the direction of asking ourselves more questions...and attempting to answer them...or at least, to go forth and seek the answers...and probably run into some more questions.

Funny, too, that I was thinking this afternoon how nice it was to take time out from my schedule to be fully present at these two special dinners - and my thesis advisor pointed out that what I need in my thesis is a bit more Buddha energy - more space energy - within the paper itself. Like my life, my thesis is cluttered. Lots of good thoughts and ideas, my advisor said, just so many that the essence of the sacred is lost in the busy-ness.

Another co-inky-dink: Before my morning meditation on Sunday, I read the following Zen parable:

A man walking across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger chasing after him. Coming to a cliff, he caught hold of a wild vine and swung himself over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Terrified, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger had come, waiting to eat him. Two mice, one white, one black, little by little began to gnaw away at the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!

This story is about letting go of attachment and being present for everything; acknowledging that the sweetness comes with the challenges and difficulties. That all of life is in just one moment.

I read the parable in Pema Chodron's book, Uncomfortable with Uncertainty. My friend, Miles, who created his own Haggadah (special book we read at the Passover dinner), put that very same parable in the book on Sunday for Monday's seder.

That is one big Dayenu ("it would have been enough") right there!

Why is This Night Different From Last Night?

This would be my "fifth" Passover question...if there was such a thing!

For those of you unfamiliar with the Passover holiday, one of the things I appreciate about the seder is the idea that we are asked to question - to dig deeper.

The thing is, that tonight - not quite so different from last night - I am extremely tired, full, AND must attend to prepping some work for tomorrow. So, once again, I am only "checking in," simply to say that I was, again, delighted with tonight's dinner - with the Passover seder - and am very grateful to have the opportunity to remember why we celebrate this holiday, to be encouraged to question and to think, and to have the chance to spend another night amongst people who are so caring, generous, and thoughtful.

Dayenu ("It would have been enough")!

Don't Want to Pass Over this Night...

...but I am going to postpone this evening's post.

Tonight marks the beginning of Passover and I have just returned home from a seder - overstuffed (with really great food) and exhausted. I am far too tired to think about posting, and I really want to give this holiday its due: it's history, meaning, and the implication of the seder as a traditional and timeless ritual.

I will be attending a second seder tomorrw night and, I have no doubt, it will give me more food for fodder.

L'Chaim!

Rhyme & Reason

Perhaps it is because of my studies through Naropa that I have taken to seeing things with a new eye. Or perhaps it is because I am reading books with my students that I first read as a child, and I have a whole new perspective on the words and the story as I am re-reading the books as an adult. Or, perhaps, it is because I keep searching for the connections between literature and life that I keep finding priceless lessons within the pages. Whatever it is, it is exciting and wonderous, and I am always so thrilled when my students "get it" too (sometimes I point it out, but often they see beyond the black ink as well).

We just finished reading Norton Juster's The Phantom Tollbooth this week, as our read-aloud book during homeroom. In the story, Milo, a boy who finds his life to be a complete bore, happens upon a car and a tollbooth in his bedroom one afternoon, and is whisked away on a grand adventure. With a Humbug and a "Watch" dog as companions, Milo is determined to rescue two captive princesses, Rhyme and Reason, and restore them to their thrones. Along the way, Milo becomes "curiouser and curiouser." After finding the princesses, Milo returns to his bedroom realizing that life isn't boring at all - that it's actually, a wonderous journey where there is much to experience along the way.

Here is an excerpt:

“You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason..."but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. Why, when a housefly flaps his wings, a breeze goes round the world; when a speck of dust falls to the ground, the entire planet weighs a little more; and when you stamp your foot, the earth moves slightly off its course. Whenever you laugh, gladness spreads like the ripples in a pond; and whenever you’re sad, no one anywhere can be really happy. And it’s much the same thing with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.”

“And remember, also,” added the Princess of Sweet Rhyme, “that many places you would like to see are just off the map and many things you want to know are just out of sight or a little beyond your reach. But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.”

- From The Phantom Tollbooth, p. 233-234

A good reminder, I'd say, about trust, staying present, gratitude and perspective.

Is Procrastination a Ritual? (Revisited)

Back on January 7, I wrote a very short post in response to this entry title. I stated that I wasn't sure. That I was "waiting to find out."

In order to come to a conclusive answer to this title question, I had to do some experiential research. For almost three months now, I have observed myself procrastinating, and here are my results:

First of all, let me be clear: choosing to go to dinner or a movie or anything recreational isn't what I would deem "procrastinating." It is a conscious choice to do something other than what I really should be doing. Procrastination isn't truly conscious. However, it is a necessity. Let me explain:

I discovered that I practice three different means of procrastination. The first type I have named "productive procrastination." When I practice "productive procrastination," I am definitely procrastinating, but at the same time, I am attending to specific tasks that need to be accomplished at some point. These tasks range from household chores, such as washing the dishes, dusting, vacuuming, and folding laundry to focusing on work-related tasks, such as prepping for classes or grading. While these are worthwhile "to-do's," they are also a means of avoiding what I should be working on: namely, my thesis.

The second type of procrastination in which I engage is of the "couch potato" variety. This is procrastination by way of television, books, magazines, crossword puzzles, or suduko. My brain is "engaged," but I am by no means attending to the work I am supposed to be attending to: namely, my thesis.

The third type of procrastination I have explored is what I have dubbed "white fuzz" procrastination. This is where I completely zone out. I may not even be aware that I am avoiding my work, or not attending to it. I go into the "fuzz." This is where I sit, sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for an hour, and literally do nothing. I mean nothing. I am not even aware that I am doing nothing. It's a time warp. It is almost as if I am biologically procrastinating. My brain shuts down and sends an all-points bulletin to the rest of my body to stop. Completely. But not to sleep. To "fuzz."

I realize that it seems like the three types of procrastination I mentioned above could be choices, However, in my process, they are not. They are a necessity. They are a part of how I do my work. My brain needs to gear up. It needs a "running start" - even if that running start is "white fuzz." I need a respit built into my work bit.

Some people may not need such a thing. Other people might be conscientiously, consciously focused - able to see a task at hand and go at it. Others might say, "play time," like going to dinner or the movies is their "down time," and when they're done with that, they can get on with their work. However, that just isn't the case with me.

I need to procrastinate. I can't quite "pencil it in," or schedule it. My psyche doesn't work that way. But I do have to account for it. Maybe because when I know I need to go to it and focus, I need the urgency factor: the now-or-never kick to get on it...because I have procrastinated.

It used to be that I was embarrassed to admit that I procrastinate. But I am not embarrassed any longer. I am a procrastinator. See? I said it. "Hi, my name is Nicky, and I am a procrastinator." Admittance is the first step to dealing with this fact. And the fact is, that's who I am. That's what I do. But now - now that I have admitted that it's simply a part of my process, it's simply that: part of my process. And I can say that, shame-free.

And, yes: yes it is a ritual...of sorts. A preliminary ritual. Because it has meaning and value to me. It is how I begin. It is a necessary element of my process.

So if there are any other procrastinators out there who are feeling badly about being one: You are not alone. There is hope. Admit who you are and what you do. Turn your mind around to the idea that there is another way to look at it. Accept that procrastination is simply a part of your process, and go on from there.

Here I go...

Dog Depth Morning

We all know the phrase "keep your nose to the grindstone," but my dog thinks she needs to keep her nose to the sidewalk.

This morning, during our walk, I watched as Love kept her sense of smell completely focused on the pavement. She was like a hound on the hunt. A scientist on the verge of a great discovery. A detective who had a clue that could lead her to solving the big case she was on. Love moved forward with great purpose, intent on following whatever scent her nose picked up.

I was taken with Love's one-track focus, with her intent, with her ability to stay on task. "I want that kind of focus," I thought. I need that kind of focus.

I have so much to do on my thesis this week, and my focus and my energy are waning. I'm tired. I'm antsy. I'm in that I-just-don't-wanna-do-it-Calgon-take-me-away stage. I want what Love's got. I want that focus. I want that "nose-to-the-sidewalk" mentality.

I'm going to do my best this evening, dog-gone-it, as I attempt to complete the third chapter of my thesis. Who knows? - maybe I'll get a new leash on life tonight!

This is a Test of the Emergency Thesis System

For the next 24 hours this blog will be under a test.

If this were an actual emergency, I wouldn't be posting this here. I wouldn't instruct you where to go and I wouldn't instruct you what to do.

So relax, because this is only a test.

The blog will be up tomorrow with it's regularly scheduled post of whatever is on the mind (or fingertips) of its blogger.

Over and out.