Keeping it Simple

I haven't written anything in a long time and this morning I read an article on the Huffington Post that was simple and to the point and I thought I would get back into things by posting it.

Losing Weight: What They Won't Tell You On TV

by Tara Stiles
The question most people ask me on YouTube and in person is "What should I eat to be skinny?" It is the main thing on America's mind, or at least the media seems to want it to be. Between images of Americas Biggest Loser glaring at us from our TV's, constant updates about eating disorders, weight gains and losses of all our favorite celebrities, and the surge of "diets" including Dr. Atkins' coronary artery disease, heart attack and death, we're suffocated so much that it makes us want to gorge on Doritos and Ben and Jerry's while we stare at the boob toob in horror at famous people's cellulite!

That is one of the reasons why I unplugged my cable TV for a year to detox. There is no escape from our obsession with weight though. I had zero to contribute to any conversation about reality TV and I had no idea who Brittany was dating for an entire year, but I could tell you all about her weight gain because pasted on every newsstand were those images of her clutching a liter of Mountain Dew and a bag of McDonalds with the grease stain leaking through. I also kept up on Angelina's troubling weight loss because of "exhaustion" and I saw most of the traumatic pictures of Nicole Richie's lollipop head barely balancing atop her tiny skeletal frame.

Recently I leaped back into the game and reunited with the cable company. It was only to watch the Olympics of course, but I couldn't escape the commercials for heart attack pills, new exercise systems, McDonald's new salad choices, and low-calorie hot pockets.

So my thing is yoga. I've been practicing since I was a teenager with a bunch of master teachers, and teaching for a few years myself now because I feel there is a big gap between the people that already practice yoga, and everyone else. I grew up in the Midwest where a lot of people think yoga is an exclusive club for the spiritually elite (or just plain weird). I think Yoga should be for everyone, not just the folks who change their name to something Hindu.

They won't tell you this on TV or in the magazines, because it's not selling much besides a healthy lifestyle (no special meals delivered to your door, no fancy exercise machines). It's the hidden secret to the last diet and health plan you'll ever need. It doesn't come in a bottle and you don't even have to go on a payment plan.

When you practice yoga regularly you get more then you will from jogging on the treadmill catching up on the last season of Lost. When you practice yoga you use your body and your mind, and you're gaining awareness and intuition. Not by thinking really hard "I'm gaining awareness and intuition," but because it just works that way. And when you have more in that department, you make better choices. You'll notice things slightly shifting, from the awareness that you have when you wake up in the morning, to how you walk around and get your work done during the day, to the choices you make for dinner. There's nothing mystical about the new insights you're gaining; it just happens. You'll start to feel happier and healthier, more grounded, stronger, flexible, in your body and in how you feel psychologically. Little moments of clarity start coming more frequently. Sounds are richer, food even tastes better.

Your body is smart. It doesn't want to be filled with crap all the time. It will let you know what it needs and you won't have to follow diets. You'll start to see where you may have been psychologically hungry or craving or tired, when your body may have been just fine and ready to do its job for you. Your awareness and intuition have been with you all along, they just may have needed some dusting off. As long as you are listening to your body's needs, and being clear about your psychological needs, you should be able to figure it out with a little practice.

In the meantime here is my short list.

High-fructose corn syrup: Bad. Don't eat it. Read labels carefully, it's in a lot of products. High-fructose corn syrup is the last thing to leave your body so go ahead and add it as fat. If you are hiking for miles and your body is totally out of fuel it just may start to eat away on its storage of high-fructose corn syrup if you're lucky. Best bet is to stay away. Find products that use natural unprocessed (or at least less processed) sweeteners like cane juice or raw organic sugar.

Greens: Good. Green things are good for your body. Find organic greens and you're all set for your salad. Squeeze a little lemon, add a few walnuts and an avocado and you've got a great meal.

Long ingredient lists: Bad. Read labels in your favorite products. Look for short lists of simple, less-processed ingredients with names you recognize as food. If you find some of the same ingredients in your cereal as your shampoo maybe it's time to switch to something simpler.

Water: Good. It's hard to believe that qater is still underrated. It arrives out of our taps (get a filter if you want), and is free for now . . . although I am anxiously anticipating Irena Salina's new award winning documentary Flow to see how that may change. Drink water. Drink it often. Carry it with you. Drink it all day. Have it by your bed to take care of midnight thirst.

Bozo the Clown, dies at 83

Larry Harmon, longtime Bozo the Clown, dead at 83

My condolences to Mr Harmon's family and friends, I'm sure it was a great loss.
Someone who was able to maintain this type of persona for all these years has certainly perfected an art.

I always found the name "Bozo" amusing, but I know I'm not the only one that finds the actual clowns themselves a bit terrifying. My kids are not amused by them. So what is it about their big fake painted smile, blood shot eyes and pancake makeup that would make anyone laugh?

Here are some quotes from the article that was written by JOHN ROGERS of the Associate Press, in it he quotes Harmon saying:

"Bozo is a combination of the wonderful wisdom of the adult and the childlike ways in all of us," Harmon told The Associated Press in a 1996 interview.

"I'm looking for that sparkle in the eyes, that emotion, feeling, directness, warmth. That is so important," he said of his criteria for becoming a Bozo."

"Bozo is a star, an entertainer, bigger than life," Harmon once said. "People see him as Mr. Bozo, somebody you can relate to, touch and laugh with."

I never really understood the attraction to clowns. I happen to considered it a bit tragic to have a permanent smile painted on a fully feeling adult. Children are very perceptive and it seems to imply that this "being" has only one singular feeling, doesn't that seem odd, a deception? I can't help thinking it all seems a bit deranged.

A Toast To Hillary

I don’t see myself as someone who is easily moved to tears, especially in matters concerning politics. I have been an avid follower of this presidential race from the beginning, I have been watching, listening and reading all about the candidates the last 16 months. I started out with the idea of supporting Hillary and then early on, as I was exposed to the other candidates, I became intrigued by the number of democrats I thought had valid and worthy things to say about our country. I decided to hold off deciding to choose until after I had gotten to know them and their policies a bit better. It became clearer that there were a few in the bunch, besides Clinton, ie; Kucinich, Obama, Edwards, and Biden, etc…that had some interesting ideas.

What use to be a lean steady diet of Jon Stewart and Bill Maher had now become a veritable smorgasbord with the likes of Chris Matthews, Keith Olbermann, Chuck Todd, Tim Russert, Maureen Dowd, Arianna Huffington (just to name a few) invading my home at all hours of the day and night.
Armed with information, I chose to support Barack Obama. I felt intuitively that he was the change that our country needed and that he was someone who, through it all, displayed great confidence and integrity, even the way he would say “we” and “our” as opposed to “I” and “my”, it always seemed like he was more connected to the rest of us. For these, and other reasons, I chose to support Barack Obama over all the other candidates. I watched as it came down to just the two of them: Barack and Hillary. I watched as the endorsements unfolded, the delegates were counted (and recounted) and the mud was slung. I watched as she and her campaign lied, exaggerated and insisted that they were winning even when the numbers never added up. I watched as the Democratic Party became more divided and looked as if it was becoming fractured beyond repair. I began to lose all respect for her and her campaign managers. Until finally last Tuesday night arrived and it happened, right after Montana’s numbers were in: Barack Obama was named the presumptive nominee. Now, I thought, if only Hillary would just accept this reality and help the party reunite.
After what seemed an eternity, yesterday afternoon Hillary Clinton endorsed Barack Obama for President. An event I had been waiting to see happen for what seemed like years, all the while anticipating a feeling of victory and great satisfaction.
As she approached the podium, my partner and I sat on the sofa, celebratory drinks in hand, we turned up the volume on the TV with rapt attention… that’s when it happened… as I watched her approach the mike with her mother, husband, and daughter in tow I began to cry, I couldn’t contain my tears, I just wept. I was extremely moved. It wasn’t the words she used or how she delivered it, they weren’t tears of happiness that Barack had won, or a great relief that finally this part of it was over. No, there was something more basic about it, the human element, the frailty of it, the realness of what was happening in that very moment and how big it all really was, the awesome reality of what she had tried to do, the work she had put into it, it all struck me in that instance and my tears continued to flow throughout the speech, I felt like I was seeing her for the first time: real, humble, an American, a person, a woman.

All We Know Of Love

Emily Dickinson once wrote, “All we know of Love, is Love is all there is”

Today Love is on my mind, specifically the difference between Real Love and all the rest.
As the fifth child of six, I often struggled to get “my share” of the love, but what I never understood was that my share could not be gotten.
I looked to get, what I thought then was love, by giving, doing and being what others wanted me to be. At a very young age, before I was even five, I became an excellent listener with a sympathetic ear; I learned how to clean the kitchen and bathroom (the jobs nobody else wanted) until they shined. For a time I remember singing a Shirley Temple song to my mother before I went to bed at night because it made her smile. I derived great pleasure from making my parents breakfast in bed and when I was old enough I even made muffins for my mother’s friends who came to visit. I remember a friend of my mother’s once complaining about stains in her toilet and my mother telling her to ask me what I used to get the toilets so clean, (I also remember feeling embarrassed by this). I remember routinely scratching my older brother’s back, and drinking wine I didn’t like, just to make my Sicilian Grandmother happy. I recall doing these things and many more, all to get what I thought was love.
During these years I received many substitutes for love; there was some brief recognition, occasional praise and appreciation. The special perks were temporary companionship, smiles and laughs, but all too often I was just simply overlooked. The message seemed clear to me: Love must be earned.

Predictably, I grew up believing that love is something that is earned through deeds and the self-imposed contortions of my very being. I honestly believed that in order to be loved I had to be and do what others wanted. Over time I came to the very painful and profound realization that I had abandoned myself and denied large parts of who I really was in order to be loved. As I evolved and grew to understand the truth about love, I was often struck by the clear and heartbreaking fact that many of my family members were much happier having me in their lives on those prior terms.

Today, many years and some confusing, frustrating and ungratifying relationships later, I have finally come to the painful yet magnificent realization: that love can only be given and received free of charge. If who I am is insufficient for another to love me then no matter what I may do, regardless of whether or not it is at great expense to my soul, I will never attain what is simply unattainable through deeds…Real Love.

After I had my children I realized so vividly how my love for them was contingent upon nothing. I knew that nothing they could do could affect the love I had for them. I’ll never forget the look on my son’s face when I explained to him that even though there may be times when I don’t like what he does, I never stop loving him, even for a moment, at this realization he beamed with delight. For myself, now armed with a broader understanding of love, this marked a very significant moment in my life.

Today I still occasionally grapple with the demons of my past, the guilt for not doing something someone else thinks I should, the missed birthdays and holidays we are overtly or covertly summoned to acknowledge… only to once again be reminded that real love is not about the obligatory rules set by those who don’t understand that love is not a thing that can be quantified by deeds or words. It cannot be served up to relatives or old friends just because they require it to be. Love is simply there, sitting quietly, serenely flowing freely without strings and demands. The only thing one can do with their love is to feel it and be, just be.

Pitch In and Get Some

On March 6, 2008 I read an article on the Huffington Post entitled “Housework Gets You Laid” by David Crary. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/03/06/housework-gets-you-laid_n_90213.html

In it he writes:

American men still don't pull their weight when it comes to housework and child care, but collectively they're not the slackers they used to be. The average dad has gradually been getting better about picking himself up off the sofa and pitching in, according to a new report in which a psychologist suggests the payoff for doing more chores could be more sex.

If a guy does housework, it looks to the woman like he really cares about her _ he's not treating her like a servant," said Coleman, who is affiliated with the Council on Contemporary Families. "And if a woman feels stressed out because the house is a mess and the guy's sitting on the couch while she's vacuuming, that's not going to put her in the mood."

Pamela Smock, a University of Michigan sociologist who also works with the council, said a persistent gender gap remains for what she called "invisible" household work _ scheduling children's medical appointments, buying the gifts they take to birthday parties, arranging holiday gatherings, for example.

I’ve been contemplating this whole concept for quite some time now, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there is actually some very real truth to this statement.
I can’t tell you how many times I have commiserated with family and numerous friends around this very subject, specifically about MEN doing housework .
I have heard everything from “ He does the laundry but then it just sits in the basket until it’s so wrinkled you can’t possibly wear it.” Or “ He never washes the dishes or empties the dishwasher, he has never given the kids baths, or changed the sheets…” The list goes on and on…many women feel worn down and resentful about the lack of partnership in these areas. So resentful in fact, that it can’t help but have a big effect on their sex drives.

I must admit, it certainly is a huge drag and yes, a turn off, to arrive home after being out, whether from work, errands, appointments etc. and find that the sink is filled with dirty dishes so you can’t even start to cook dinner; or something smells in the garbage and has now permeated the entire house because it wasn’t taken out; or when you go to fill the dishwasher it’s full but hasn’t been run; or your clothes, that were in the dryer, are now wrinkled to the point of being unrecognizable; or you find out that you’re having guests at the last minute and you have to decide between showering or cleaning up because there’s not enough time for both. These are just a few of the complaints I have heard from (mostly women and gay male friends) about what bothers them about their mates. I feel I can safely say that not having the help one would like to have maintaining a home, does in fact greatly diminish the desire for sex.

And why wouldn’t it? Can you really say that having to clean up after people is a turn on? I mean really…who wants to slide into a bed full of crumbs, or slip into something wrinkled, or have to wash out a glass (if you can get to the faucet over the dirty dishes) every time you go to pour yourself a drink? Who likes to smell something rotting every time you open the fridge or realize you have no dry towels as you’re stepping out of the shower? Last time I checked, none of these things were considered to be aphrodisiacs.

Look, even if you are lucky enough to be able to afford a cleaning person on a regular basis, which most of my friends are not, you still have a great deal of maintenance: as in: daily dishwashing, laundry, garbage removal, making beds, sorting junk mail, recycling…and if you’re one of us that are blessed with children, triple that.

Who has the energy to come home from work, cook, get organized, clean up after everybody and then have a rollicking good time in the hay? I have yet to meet a couple that feel like they are equals in this area.
I knew things were serious when my girlfriend, who was always energetic and sexually vibrant, was teaching me how to give a “lazy man’s” blowjob, she said “It’s really good, just put your head on a pillow at the right height and let him do the work…” I later thought… things must be bad…but mainly because, for a moment, I was actually considering it!
I once lived with a man who said to me, “I don’t clean, I don’t like to clean and I’m not good at it.” Later I thought...who the hell likes to clean and what would happen if I took the same stand? A girlfriend of mine once gave the advice to “just don’t do it and eventually he will be compelled to”. I can tell you this, it eventually came down to these choices: living in squalor or doing it myself, being resentful but having a clean house, I chose the latter. Today we are no longer together.
I’m not sure if this is a coincidence or not, but today I am living with a man who cleans, cooks and shares in all the household chores and sex (for both of us) has never been better!
If you men really want more sex, why not try it, start by asking what you can do to pitch in around the house…things may start to change, you’ll never know unless you try.

Great comment on "Writings on Art..."

Christine said...
I love the last line of your post because it says it all.
"But most often I think it is because we have been discouraged into thinking what we feel about the sky is not important."
In my life I have seen this be the main reason that many creative people are reluctant to express themselves. It is a sad thing to see but I know a little boy close to four years old who has started to change in his behavior for the worst. He's gone from being carefree and expressive to suddenly very aware of the people around him and their opinions of his playful actions. Instead of doing things for the pure joy of it his expressiveness has started to be inhibited by his need to please.

"Imagination is the Divine Body in Every Man"
-William Blake

Writings about Art, Independence and Spirit

I was perusing my book shelf recently and pulled out a book entitled “If You Want To Write” by Brenda Ueland, I always love reading this book, it was written in 1938, but it is timeless in it’s message. I remember giving this book to my father after I had first read it, back in the 80’s, he also loved it, it was a good feeling to know it had touched him the way it had me, I was grateful to have been able to share it with him.
In it she writes not just about writing, but about all creative endeavors and how our imagination and creativity is our god given right, each of us possessing unique talents and originality.
Here’s an excerpt:

Everybody is original, if he tells the truth, if he speaks from himself. But it must be from his true self and not from the self he thinks it should be. Jennings at John Hopkins, who knows more about heredity and the genes and chromosomes than any man in the world says that no individual is exactly like any other individual, that no two identical persons ever existed. Consequently, if you speak or write from yourself you cannot help being original.
So remember these two things: you are talented and you are original. Be sure of that. I say this because self-trust is one of the most important things in any creative expression.
This creative power and imagination is in everyone and so is the need to express it, i.e., to share it with others. But what happens to it?
It is very tender and sensitive, and it is usually drummed out of people early in life by criticism (so called “helpful criticism” is often the worst kind) by all those unloving people who forget that the letter killeth and the spirit giveth life. Sometimes I think of life as a process where everybody is discouraging and taking everybody else down a peg or two.
You know how all children have this creative power. You have all seen children working hard at something they love just for the joy of it… they were working for nothing but fun, for that glorious inner excitement. It was the creative power working within them. It was hard work but there was no pleasure or excitement like it and it was something never forgotten.

But this joyful, imaginative, impassioned energy dies out of us very young. Why? Because we do not see that it is great and important. Because we let dry obligation take its place. Because we don’t respect it in ourselves and keep it alive by using it. And because we don’t keep it alive in others by listening to them.
For when you come to think of it the only way to love a person is by listening to them and seeing and believing in the god, in the poet, in them. For by doing this, you keep the god and the poet alive and make it flourish.

She goes on to tell a story about the painter Van Gogh:

When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. He sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lamp post, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “It is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it.
When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of art. Before I had thought that to produce a work of painting or literature
You scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were. And so on and so on.
But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it.
The difference between Van Gogh and you and me is, that while we may look at the sky and think it is beautiful, we don’t go so far as to show someone else how it looks. One reason may be that we do not care enough about the sky or other people. But most often I think it is because we have been discouraged into thinking what we feel about the sky is not important.

Food for thought

we shall not cease from exploration
and the end of our exploring
will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time...
T.S.Eliot

The Dressing Room Saga

It's comforting to commiserate, here's a special comment from Lori on the joys of new motherhood:

I couldn't agree more with the horror of the dressing room and the every angle view of myself, pasty winter white, glowing in the lights. Ugh! Add to that a 5 month postpartum belly dangling as I bend over to pull my sweatpants back on, sweating, crying baby, and then leave the dressing room red-faced, dishevelled, and pissed. Very uplifting. For the first time in my life I thought-will I have to wear a skirted bathing suit?? Because I'm sure not going to wear the bikini I bought on my honeymoon in Italy! I have to say, the one time in all my life I loved shopping was when I was pregnant. When something didn't fit, it was exciting-my baby is growing! Not, your flabby fat ass is growing. After I gave birth, about a month, I never felt so THIN! I thought my god! this is fantastic, the weight just fell off......until I tried on a pair of prepregnancy jeans. I couldn't even get them up over my hips, let alone try to button them. Astounding. So, here I see, five months after birth, nothing to wear, bathing suit season around the corner-AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I just have one question: How long can I legitimately say my extra weight is post pregnancy? Is there a statute of limitations on this claim? Anybody? Is six years over the limit?

A Close Call at the Mall

I hated to do it, go to the mall that is, but then I remembered the torturous time I had last summer…while desperately trying to find a cotton skirt in the sweltering July heat. It was like, I don’t know… like trying to find a real life Waldo in the mall. I learned that looking for something summery light and cotton to purchase after May is a joke, (not to mention being the butt of other people’s); especially if your criteria are to like it AND have it actually fit you. There it was…early July and every store I visited was already stocked with winter clothing. I remember the small shops I visited… the sales person always looking at me with a “you poor pathetic thing” smile as if I had just asked them for loose change and they told me begging is not allowed in their stores.
Eventually, after way too much effort, I did find one skirt that fit: a muddy brownish green rayon skirt, I bought it out of desperation, overpaid, wore it once and stuffed it in my closet, where it will now stay until I give it away, but only after the allotted amount of years pass, so as to assuaged any guilty feelings I may have about wastefulness.

I’d like to believe I learned something from that ordeal and so I did it…yesterday I ventured out to the mall.
I hate going to the mall, any mall. I get a sick, light-headed feeling even before I open that big glass door to the front entrance and that Body Shop mixture of toxic scents come wafting out at me, I’m on sensory overload just thinking about it.

There I was… a fisherman faced with an ocean full of fish, not knowing which one to catch first. I filled my arms with all I could carry of summer skirts, blouses, pants and bathing suits, determine to make this event as fruitful as possible: if only to avoid having to return any time soon.
Realizing I could only ever take 6 items at a time into the dressing room, I started to remember how this process is not without pain, but how much pain, I never fully anticipated.
Just being naked under those fluorescent lights with mirrors all around is traumatic enough, but as I started to squeeze into clothing that was too small or just too tight in all the wrong places, I began to realize that this winter, like many others, hadn’t gone by without leaving it’s mark. It all came crashing down on me, I’m in my late 40’s, I haven’t been working out much, haven’t shopped for clothes in quite a while, have gained weight (the word flabby keeps popping in my head, ugh!) and now I’m trying on summer clothes that don’t fit, all in all a recipe for disaster. Then the infamous bathing suit scene threw me over the edge. I was mortified.

I started fantasizing about stabbing myself with a plastic hanger, if only I could kill myself just to let everyone understand the depths of my horror and depression. I started imagining blood seeping out of the dressing room into the corridor, and the news headlines that night: “Women in her 40’s devastated-unable to find any clothes that fit, looked fat in everything she tried on… kills herself under fluorescent lights at the Mall today-Tonight on Eyewitness news at 11."

I felt betrayed…how could my mate be so adoring of me? How can he be so attracted to me, hot for me all the time? Didn’t he notice how much weight I’ve gained? Couldn’t he see the cellulite developing on all parts of my body? My body seems to have deceived me, or have I deceived my body? I couldn’t think straight. I had to do something immediately.

I regrouped; I went back out there and replaced all the clothes I had with larger sizes, some much larger, so that they were so big I started to feel thinner, the trick worked, at least temporarily to get me through this ordeal. I started trying on clothes that made me feel thinner, I ignored the size and went for what I felt and looked good in. Once I realized that a major part of the devastation was about not fitting in the clothes I wanted to fit in, partly because I simply refused to even look at larger sizes, things started to calm down a bit. I took a deep breath and kept looking. After many hours of talking (and dressing) myself out of suicide, I eventually found some things I actually liked. I once again made a vow to start exercising more and eating lighter…luckily I made it through this time.
Sorry 11’oclock news, you’ll have to stick with the political sex scandals for now.
P.S I found this picture as I was cleaning up today, it was done by my 6 year old daughter a few months ago. I don't know exactly what she meant to convey but it is amazing how it illustrates just what I was feeling yesterday at the mall...the universe has a sense of humor afterall.

Deal Breakers

This subject of “deal breakers”, something we just couldn’t tolerate in our mates, is fascinating to me. I have been having an ongoing discussion with my mate about these, and how we both define them.
They can be extremely subjective, and say so much about a person. They can be anything: from not wanting to tongue kiss, being over involved in one’s family of origin, to rage issues. Then there’s the added decision about what stage in the relationship these things would actually “break the deal.” Presumably, the early stages of a relationship are when they all surface and deals are broken left and right...I guess that’s called “dating”.
For the sake of clarity, let’s jump ahead to being with a person a few years or more…maybe even after having a few children.
What about someone unwillingly to do any work on themselves and rejects the whole idea of therapy, someone who becomes a religious zealot, or who doesn’t communicate directly, someone who is no longer interested in making love? We each have our own personal thresholds of tolerance for other people’s shortcomings. Some people even consider gaining a little weight to be a deal breaker. Whew! That’s clearly not one of ours!
The Spitzer case brings up one of the more obvious questions; a romp or two (or 20…) in the hay, or an affair with the added in-love feelings attached. There is no question in my mind that the latter is more the deal breaker. Now, I know I wouldn’t be thrilled if I was Mrs. Spitzer, in fact, that 8 year prostitution foray is more of an indication of a pathology than anything to do with love or real sex. Bill Clinton also had (has) one of those impulse disorders’ that’s not really about what it seems to be.
Circumstances can really play a part in all of this, too. If my mate told me he had a fling while he was traveling and away from me for a while, that would be cause for a different level of upset than if he said he was having an ongoing affair with our neighbor.I don’t believe any of us are without issues. We all have disorders of one type or another, but those are not the deal breakers in and of themselves. For me, the real deal breaker has always been when someone is unwilling to see themselves, and can’t or won’t work on their issues. When a person is ready, willing and able to change, there’s always hope.
They can be extremely subjective, and say so much about a person. They can be anything: from not wanting to tongue kiss, being over involved in one’s family of origin, to rage issues. Then there’s the added decision about what stage in the relationship these things would actually “break the deal.” Presumably, the early stages of a relationship are when they all surface and deals are broken left and right. I guess that’s called “dating”.
For the sake of clarity, let’s jump ahead to being with a person a few years or more…maybe even after having a few children.
What about someone unwillingly to do any work on themselves and rejects the whole idea of therapy, someone who becomes a religious zealot, or who doesn’t communicate directly, someone who is no longer interested in making love? We each have our own personal thresholds of tolerance for other people’s shortcomings. Some people even consider gaining a little weight to be a deal breaker. Whew! That’s clearly not one of ours!

The Spitzer case brings up one of the more obvious questions; a romp or two (or 20…) in the hay, or an affair with the added in-love feelings attached. There is no question in my mind that the latter is more the deal breaker. Now, I know I wouldn’t be thrilled if I was Mrs. Spitzer, in fact, that 8 year prostitution foray is more of an indication of a pathology than anything to do with love or real sex. Bill Clinton also had (has) one of those impulse disorders’ that’s not really about what it seems to be.

Circumstances can really play a part in all of this, too. If my mate told me he had a fling while he was traveling and away from me for a while, that would be cause for a different level of upset than if he said he was having an ongoing affair with our neighbor.I don’t believe any of us are without issues. We all have disorders of one type or another, but those are not the deal breakers in and of themselves. For me, the real deal breaker has always been when someone is unwilling to see themselves, and can’t or won’t work on their issues. When a person is ready, willing and able to change, there’s always hope.

For more on this subject read the article entitled "What Are the Dealbreakers?" http://www.brooklynpaper.com/stories/31/11/31_11_what_are_smartmoms.html

A Beautiful Piece from "Full Permission Living"

Fear Versus Love
I watched a funny movie last night that I haven't seen in a long time - "Defending Your Life," starring Albert Brooks and Merryl Streep. It's about two people who recently died and had to make their cases to the heavenly powers that be as to whether they would be allowed to stay in Heaven, or needed to be returned once again to live another lifetime on Earth. The determining factor on which the two would be judged was how well they learned to manage and overcome fear.I found this quite fascinating. Fear. Not anger or greed or selfishness, but fear as the mortal sin that could prevent one from moving on to eternal bliss. I got it. Yes, fear. Why? Because fear, not hate, is the true opposite of love. In all disciplines of true understanding, be they spiritual or psychological, fear is understood to be the antithesis of love. Hate is an ugly, distorted expression, to be sure, but fear is what prevents love its expression and therefore leads to hate. Love and hate are both based upon self-identification. In other words, you do not bother to love or hate someone you cannot identify with at all. In fact, you often love or hate another individual because the person evokes in you glimpses of yourself. And in the other person, you sense your own potential. In his or her eyes you see what you can be. But... you must first love yourself before you can love another. You cannot hate yourself and love anyone else, and as I discussed in my recent blog entry, "Full Permission Loving," love is the thing we all fear the most. (See that entry for the reason why we fear love so intensely.)Lately, I am struck by how much hatred has begun to infuse our public discourse around the presidential campaign, and in particular, how much hatred is being directed at the least hateful candidate, Barack Obama. Spewing so much less vitriol than either Hillary Clinton or John McCain, Obama is spreading a message of unity and hope, and yet to watch the two other candidates and the far right pundits and talking heads, you'd think he was the devil incarnate. Why do they fear him, and therefore hate him, so much? Is there something so insidious about Mr. Obama that I am somehow missing, even after thirty years of studying the nature of human beings as a psychotherapist and sociologist? Is Barack Obama really the Antichrist? Or could it be that perhaps those individuals who hate him have become so fearful of facing how separated they've become from their own best potential, so unable to inspire anything but negativity, anger and despair in others, and so removed from their genuine capacity to love, except abstractly of course, like loving the flag or the cross or the "troops," that they must seek to denigrate and destroy anyone who puts forth a message that is positive and loving? We've been here before haven't we? Martin Luther King, the Kennedy's, Ghandi, and of course, Jesus himself, all messengers of hope and unity, all brutally murdered for delivering that message. King himself once said this: "Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true."I can't predict what will happen in the public square as this election year progresses. As a species, the human race seems to barely be in its adolescence developmentally, and we know how that goes so often. Maybe these more optimistic words by MLK can offer us some solace: "I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality.

Look Who's Talking

When I heard the news yesterday about Elliot Spitzer, the governor of New York, being caught in a “sex ring” scandal I thought he was more deeply involved: running it, pimping women, making large sums of money, etc. Then when I heard he was just a customer I thought, oh so what…isn’t this the oldest profession known to man? Do we all need to know about this man’s intimate life, let alone persecute him for these offenses?

But then it dawned on me: this was Eliot Spitzer, the same New York attorney general that was busting prostitution rings and running a campaign about what's "right and wrong" not too long ago. Why is it that we can now bet on these politicians, the ones that “dost protest too much” to break the rules they so adamantly defend?

To quote Nora Ephron from her article in the Huffington Post Eliot Spitzer: The Short Goodbye:

“This is the problem these guys get into: they're so morally rigid and puritanical in real life (and on some level, so responsible for this priggish world we now live in) that when they get caught committing victimless crimes, everyone thinks they should be punished for sheer hypocrisy.”

After the likes of Larry Craig, Mark Foley, Pastor Ted Haggard et al, the next time we hear a politician, or anyone for that matter, going on a little too emphatically about “immoral” behaviour, we should look a little more closely at who's doing the talking.

Regarding the recent comments on "Drugs vs Therapy " dated 2/24/08

I want to respond by posting them outright, and saying that your comments are all appreciated and well taken. I do understand that there are those circumstances in which psychotropic drugs are useful, if not necessary, to work through debilitating pain and possible suicidal or homicidal tendencies, although I do believe that these situations are more the exception than the rule.

Larry David on Hillary

Everyone needs to read this article by Larry David written on the Huffington post about Hillary entitled "On The Red Phone"
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/larry-david/on-the-red-phone_b_90338.html
He sums it up beautifully;

Here's an idea for an Obama ad: a montage of Clinton's Sybillish personalities that have surfaced during the campaign with a solemn voiceover at the end saying, "Does anyone want this nut answering the phone?"

How is it that she became the one who's perceived as more equipped to answer that 3 a.m. call than the unflappable Obama? He, with the ice in his veins, who doesn't panic when he's losing or get too giddy when he's winning, who's as comfortable in his own skin as she's uncomfortable in hers. There have been times in this campaign when she seemed so unhinged that I worried she'd actually kill herself if she lost. Every day, she reminds me more and more of Adele H., who also had an obsession that drove her insane.

A few weeks ago, I started to feel sorry for her. Oh Christ, let her win already...Who cares...It's not worth it. There's not that much difference between them. She can have it. Anything to avoid watching her descend into madness. So I switched. I started rooting for her. It wasn't that hard. Compromise comes easy to me. I was on board.

And then I saw the ad.

I watched, transfixed, as she took the 3 a.m. call...and I was afraid...very afraid. Suddenly, I realized the last thing this country needs is that woman anywhere near a phone. I don't care if it's 3 a.m. or 10 p.m. or any other time. I don't want her talking to Putin, I don't want her talking to Kim Jong Il, I don't want her talking to my nephew. She needs a long rest. She needs to put on a sarong and some sun block and get away from things for a while, a nice beach somewhere -- somewhere far away, where there are...no phones.

The Primary Fear Factor

I suppose if I were just getting involved in this presidential race, just starting to listen to the political debates, hearing the speeches and information from the media for the first time, I might have a different view.
It's too late for that; I have been a groupie since "day one", not the one Hillary so often speaks of, but the one back in early 2007 when we started to hear the nascent rumblings of Hillary Clinton intentions to run for President.
Since then I have watched, read and listened, to practically every word uttered regarding this race for presidency.
Although I have respect and admiration for Hillary, with the added pride of possibly having our first women president, I eventually chose to support Barack Obama. This choice was based on what I saw as his "holistic" approach to politics, his ability to inspire, and the fact that he brings more of a change to politics and has fewer entanglements with "special interests".
I happen to believe these special interests are the biggest culprits of all and the reason this country is where it is today. President Bush's et al involvement with special interest groups is the largest barrier to any real change. A real change can only come about if we are not wedded to big business, special interests and cronyism.

Which brings me to this moment and how I see the current state of the democratic race unraveling.

Tonight Barack still leads in delegates and the popular vote overall although his momentum has slowed with Hillary winning Ohio and Texas. I believe the main reason Barack Obama's momentum has been stunted at all is because of the negative ads and campaigning by Hillary Clinton, in short: her manipulation of our emotions. Most of the attacks (if not all) made were unfounded yet hurt Obama, these ads were based on fear and a way of denigrating him, it's said that she has "thrown all but the kitchen sink" at her opponent.
What’s interesting is: that at the same time Barack is just now starting to position himself as the anti John McCain candidate, Hillary is running as the anti Barack Obama candidate even aligning herself with John McCain against Barack. I believe this will weaken the democrat’s chance of winning the presidency.

It looks as if Hillary Clinton has no interest in turning away from the attack she has waged against her democratic opponent. In our society if you are on the attack you look like the fighter, a large number of voters who made up their minds in the last week were influenced by these ads, not for their truths, but for what they invoked: fear.

It’s frustrating to think that we can be so easily manipulated, that fear is such a motivator in this country, even after we’ve all seen what damage can be done, i.e. the Iraq war, when we let it influence our decisions. Sadly, it seems that he or she who stirs up the most doubt and fear seems to gain the most control. I don't believe Obama should need, or even wants, to start upping the attack on Hillary Clinton, that is partly why I am supporting him, but will this hurt him?

Whether or not Obama or Clinton become the nominee, we should never lose sight of the fact that the world is paying attention to what we do and how we conduct ourselves with one another, is this really the message we want to send?
Could we please rise above the name-calling, fear invoking, unfounded attacks and start to focus on the real issues that affect all of us?

Superdelegates? Is that one word?

If you're anything like me, it's been vague and confusing trying to understand this process of how the "superdelegate" thing works, but the more I understand the more ridiculous it sounds. These SD's are elected officials that actually end up deciding who will be the democratic nominee if neither canidate wins enough (at least 2,025) "regular" delegates in the primary election. This scenrio seems all too inevitable in the Clinton-Obama democratic primary. The problem I see with this process is that SD's don't have to vote the poplular vote so it's possible that special interests may once again take control of our decisions.
Here's some interesting articles I thought I'd share;

In the Wasington Post today Dan Balz wrote in response to the question;

Will Obama Catch Clinton Among Superdelegates?

"Yes -- if he keeps winning. Clinton has clear advantages in this battle for party insiders and has used them to build up an early lead. At this point, however, the superdelegates are likely to wait to see how the nomination battle unfolds, at least over the next month.

There are about 800 such delegates, and about half of them are still uncommitted. They may hold the balance of power in determining the nomination, given the fact that it will be difficult for either candidate to reach the 2,025-delegate threshold needed to win the nomination based on the results of remaining contests"

.

I found this article illuminating by Ari Emanuel, posted on the Hufington Post, in it he talks about the super delegates and how his brother happens to be one;

"My brother Rahm Emanuel is a superdelegate. I love my brother, and I trust my brother. But I gave up letting my brother dictate my life since he determined whether he got the top or bottom bunk in our bedroom back in Chicago.

So, as much as I love and respect him, I don't trust him and his fellow superdelegates to decide for me and the American people who should be the Democratic nominee -- and, therefore, most likely the next president of the United States.

I want voters to make that decision. The superdelegates, my brother included, have not been elected by anybody to name the nominee. They've either been appointed by the Party or, as in my brother's case, have automatically inherited the role simply because they are elected officials. This isn't the place to debate the entire history of superdelegates. Suffice it to say, however, they were created by the Party machine decades ago for the express purpose of giving Party insiders the ability to thwart the popular will.

After what Democrats went through in Florida in 2000, we should be the first to reject any such funny business. We should be as opposed to superdelegates changing the course of an election as we were to the Supreme Court appointing George W. Bush president.

The right thing for my brother, and all the other superdelegates to do, is to support the decision of the voters. Whichever candidate has won the most delegates going into the national convention should be granted the endorsement of the superdelegates. Period. And we should put pressure on them to agree to do so now -- before the jockeying, lobbying, and infighting get really ugly, as they inevitably will.

Likewise, Democrats must firmly oppose any shenanigans regarding delegates from Michigan and Florida. The party and the candidates all agreed that the delegates coming out of those states would not be seated. Unringing that bell after the fact and by fiat would be an outrage. We have only two legitimate options when it comes to Florida and Michigan: either we stick by the original agreement. Or we organize new elections in those states this summer in which both the Obama and Clinton campaigns can evenly compete.

After the democracy-snubbing arrogance of the Bush years, the last thing Democrats should be doing is wavering on our democratic principles on these issues. No super-power granted to superdelegates. And no backroom fudging on Florida and Michigan. Are you listening, bro?"

The Magic Power Of Words

I read an interesting article by Arianna Huffington entitled Clinton, Obama And The Belief In The Magic Power Of Words http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arianna-huffington/clinton-obama-and-the-be_b_88349.html
I happen to agree with this these sentiments whole heartedly, here are some excerpts:

Hillary Clinton's new favorite line of attack against Barack Obama is her charge that Obama is little more than a shallow speechifier -- he believes that words are all you need to lead. But if you look at how each of them uses words, you'll see that it's actually Clinton who believes that words are like a magic wand: you utter them and reality changes. Clinton's use of words is disturbingly reminiscent of the way the Bush administration has used words: just saying something is true is magically supposed to make it true. Call it Presto-change-o Politics. Obama never claims his words will somehow magically create change. Instead, he uses his words to ask the American people to demand change. It's why his constant invocation is "Yes we can" -- not "Yes I can.

The examples are so notorious they hardly bear repeating: "mission accomplished," "heckuva job," "last throes," the endless "turning the corner" in Iraq. They were all said with the arrogant belief that merely saying these words was all that was needed: reality would literally change to fit the rhetoric.

Now let's look at Hillary Clinton's rhetoric and what is says about the campaign she's run. It started with her absurd claim that her vote for the war was really a vote to send inspectors back in. The name of the bill? "The Joint Resolution To Authorize The Use Of United States Armed Forces Against Iraq." Saying it was about sending inspectors back in doesn't mean that it is true that it was about sending inspectors back in.

And then how about the endless spinning trying to diminish Obama victory after Obama victory? Here was Penn: "Could we possibly have a nominee who hasn't won any of the significant states -- outside of Illinois? That raises some serious questions about Sen. Obama." Mark Penn calling Virginia, Georgia, Missouri, and Colorado, among others, not "significant" does not make them insignificant.

Or Clinton's "35 years of experience." She has had a distinguished record of public service, but it's not in any way 35 years of government experience, unless you want to include her time at Yale Law school, or going door to door for George McGovern in Texas, or working at the Rose law firm in Arkansas as government experience. But her campaign seemed convinced that by repeating "35 years of experience" at every stop she would magically acquire that 35 years of experience.

So let's look at how Obama uses words. Contrary to Clinton's charges, Obama never claims his words will somehow magically create change. Instead, he uses his words to ask the American people to demand change. Very little change for the better happens in Washington unless it is demanded by the people. It's instructive that, back in New Hampshire, Clinton discounted the work Martin Luther King did in creating the political atmosphere that allowed LBJ to push though the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act.

Which is why Obama's constant invocation is "Yes we can" -- not "Yes I can." Obama uses words to persuade, to mobilize and to get people to imagine that reality can be changed. And based on how his campaign has been run, on the ground, in state after state, it's clear that he knows changing reality is not done through magic -- it's done through hard work.

It is Clinton who uses words to deny reality, and expects them to magically change it. Haven't we had enough of that over the last seven years?

Food for Thought

Even the fear of death is nothing compared to the fear of not having lived authentically and fully.
Frances Moore Lappe

Drugs vs. Therapy

Lately there has been an onslaught of articles and books written on the subject of the use of psychotropic drugs in our country and as Judith Warner states; "on the way the pharmaceutical industry is turning us into a nation of hypochondriacal pill-popping zombies"

Being a person who has participated in all types of psychotherapy for the better part of my adult life; and less significantly, has a degree in psychology, I feel I can shed some light on why so many people have started to rely on the "easy fix" rather than do the real work needed to become a functioning "whole' person with the ability to deal with this thing we call life.

The common belief is rather simple: it's just easier. But is it really?

I often find myself in conversations with family members and friends that involve repetitive problems, by which I mean issues in our lives that have been recurring in various degrees. No matter whether the names or places change, the problems are always essentially the same.

Some examples are; Sarah always ends up in a "bad" relationship with men that leave her, Brian always ends up hating his boss and thus his job, John always ends up broke even after making a good living in various careers, Linda always ends up gaining all her weight back plus some after years of trying every kind of diet...

When I hear they’re starting over again and I earnestly asked the question "What's different about this time?" What I often get in response are: long litanies of how the outside events or people have changed; how they’ve read a book or met someone; moved to a new location… inevitably to be told, by the same people, weeks, months or years later, that things are failing again.

Rarely, do I ever hear people talk about how they themselves have changed or how they have been working through issues around these recurring problems in their lives. Why? Because, the belief is, it takes too long to do that, it's too hard to look that deep at oneself, having to face the possibility that you have been off track all these years. Realizing that you have been under a false belief(s) most of your life, and facing that your childhood was devoid of at least good enough parenting, and that you have been chasing after an illusion your entire life would be devastating.

I have seen many of these people decide to take drugs for their "depression" and I can tell you that the only real difference is now they don't care as much. "The lows are not so low and the highs are not so high." They haven't really cleaned their houses; they just stopped looking at the mess.

Yes, it's sometimes extremely difficult to face these things, but isn't it much more difficult to live a life NOT facing it? Having half a life, where you've resigned yourself to not being fully gratified in love and work; to not feeling vibrant in your body, not feeling like you're expressing yourself creatively, not being who you came here to be? Living a life that is only deteriorating as we get older?

That half-life, compared to one that is working towards self-truth, no matter how painful, is one of the biggest ongoing crimes we are committing, a crime against ourselves. Someday, when you've opened your eyes to the mess again, it will be much worse, realizing it doesn't ever go away on it's own, only now you have less time to do anything about it.

By taking these drugs you have succeeded in numbing yourself of feelings, yet the pills don't erase the pain or the impetus beneath the repetition compulsions that exist in our daily lives, they don't make up for bad parenting, and they don't allow us to feel the feelings that are a vital part of the human condition, the feelings that could heal us. Feelings are what alert us to what is really happening in our lives, they are our compasses; if we remove them we are lost.

Food for Thought

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

Henry David Thoreau, Walden, Conclusion, 1854

Play Is Child's Work- PART I

In Today's New York Times Magazine there is an article entitled; Taking Play Seriously ; What can science tell us about why kids run and jump? by Robin Marantz Henig. Although I found this article interesting, regarding the subject of “play”, what I took from it was a strong validation of how powerful and accurate a mother’s intuition really can be.

It all started about 9½ years ago, when my son was about 15 months old and we were in a playground nearby our apartment on 76th St, while I watched all the other children running, jumping, climbing and yelling, there was my son; methodically reading off the letters on the side of the slide and staring open mouthed at the chaos around him, consistently interested, but never desiring to join in on the action. I noted this behavior and although I wasn’t very concerned about it being a problem, I would occasionally bring it up to various experts and family members, all the while unanimously observing that he was an intelligent, very articulate and “serene” child. It was regularly chalked it up to differences in personalities. Frankly, speaking for all the adults present in his life and the fact that we resided in Manhattan, it was significantly easier having a child who loved books and story time over rough and tumble activities. He was a pleasure to be around, had a sweet personality, smart, funny, hardly ever cried and practically never had a tantrum of any kind, basically- a caretakers dream.

Around this time I remember being told by our pediatrician about how physical movement ie: crawling before walking, was extremely important for cognitive development. Child development books were including these findings- A quote from one such study was “Educational kinesiologists believe creeping on the tummy and then crawling are particularly crucial because they get both sides of the brain working in concert, creating pathways that can transmit messages from one side of the brain to the other. This integration of the physical and the neurological, helps to establish our learning profile."
This information was of particular interest to me because I was acutely aware that my son was not a very physical child and although he had “tummy time” and had crawled somewhat before walking, I knew that he wasn’t the norm as far as his activity level was concerned.
By the time my son was in preschool, at age 3, it was clear that he was more of a spectator than an active participating member in most situations with other children. Again, there were never many complaints about any of this because he was sweet and easy to get along with, intelligent and always kind to other children. It wasn’t until first grade really that this began to pose a problem, before this he just seem to make life a bit easier for the people around him.

From that point on 1st thru 4th grade is when teachers/school advisors/”learning specialists” started to complain, label and become intolerant of my son’s limited ability to participate in a traditional classroom environment ie; day dreaming,not responding when called on because of a preoccupation with something else, taking an inordinate amount of time to write and finish exams, being in "his own world"... During these years, we had him tested by a Doctors, Therapists, Learning specialists, Occupational therapists, Board of Ed, he saw a psychotherapist every week and had an in depth Neuropsychological evaluation done, in addition to being left back a grade, (in a very traumatic thoughtless manner on the part of the teachers.) We had numerous suggestions and some inconclusive diagnoses, spanning the full spectrum; from “he’s a smart competent boy who just walks to the beat of his own drum”, “it’s just maturation…” problems with “executive functioning” to ADD and suggestions to putting him on psychotropic drugs.

As these issues were being tossed around, I suspected that this was, to some degree, related to those early years. The years when all the adults around him couldn’t do enough for him, anticipated his every move, tried to eliminate every little frustration and made sure there were few, if any, hurdles to climb. He was carried from place to place, hand fed and often was the full focus of our attentions, way beyond what was necessary or appropriate.

Which brings me back to this illuminating article that I read in the NY times today.
In it Ms. Henig talks about brain development and how the act of using the body, all five senses, in the act of playing is mandatory for a child to fully develop cognitively. It goes on to state that if this type of play and movement is absent or lessened it will have long term affects on certain cognitive abilities, specifically in relation to the production and pruning of synapses which allow for communication between neurons in the development of the prefrontal cortex which is particularly interesting to scientists because it acts as the CEO of the brain, controlling planning, working memory, organization, and modulating mood; in short; executive functions.
It’s mentioned how in the past few decades learning how and why physical play evolved in animals, has "generated insights that can inform our understanding of its evolution in humans, studying, from an evolutionary perspective, to what extent play is a luxury that can be dispensed with when there are too many other competing claims on the growing brain, and to what extent it is central to how that brain grows in the first place."

“The synchrony suggested that play might be related to growth of the cerebellum, since they both peak at about the same time; that there is a sensitive period in brain growth, during which time it’s important for an animal to get the brain-growth stimulation of play; and that the cerebellum needs the whole-body movements of play to achieve its ultimate configuration.”
“This opened up new lines of research, as neuroscientists tried to pinpoint just where in the brain play had its most prominent effects — the prefrontal cortex. Which gets to the heart of the question of what might be lost when children do not get enough play.”

It sites experiments that were conducted on mammals and how the results (in layman’s terms) showed a correlation between play activity and how the brain developed in those early years of childhood, specifically that part of the brain which helps in our learning and organizing processes.

“In a set of experiments conducted last year, Pellis and his colleagues raised 12 female rats from the time they were weaned until puberty under one of two conditions. In the control group, each rat was caged with three other female juveniles. In the experimental group, each rat was caged with three female adults. Pellis knew from previous studies that the rats caged with adults would not play, since adult rats rarely play with juveniles, even their own offspring. They would get all the other normal social experiences the control rats had — grooming, nuzzling, touching, sniffing — but they would not get play. His hypothesis was that the brains in the experimental rats would reflect their play-deprived youth, especially in the region known as the prefrontal cortex.
At puberty the rats were euthanized so the scientists could look at their brains. What Pellis and his collaborators found was the first direct evidence of a neurological effect of play deprivation. In the experimental group — the rats raised in a play-deprived environment — they found a more immature pattern of neuronal connections in the medial prefrontal cortex.”

I found this study particularly interesting because in the experimental group the rats caged with adults received “grooming, nuzzling, touching” etc. but it was the play deprivation that seemed to affect the neurological development. Therefore it seems, our children need to play, and specifically, play with other children, not with us, by the way. Adults are so advanced in comparison with children that when an adult is “playing” with an child, the child is only being played to, not with. So, the brain is not challenged to grow through negotiating, practicing, and yes, through frustration and conflict.


In conclusion, I must say that although this “scientific evidence” regarding play and the development of the prefrontal cortex is fascinating, it is only a small part of an issue. The larger and more significant issue is; that even without “experts,” documentation, and scientific results, we as parents intuitively know infinitely more about our children and how and why they develop certain characteristics then we let on, and if we were to follow our intuitive/instinctual selves and step away from our preconcieved notions and desire to defer to the experts we could really make all the difference.

Bad Cop-Good Parent

I read an article by Louise Crawford posted on “Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn” website entitled SMARTMOM: WHEN HEPCAT'S AWAY, TEEN SPIRIT TRIES TO PLAY http://onlytheblogknowsbrooklyn.typepad.com/

After reading about her "good cop, bad cop" scenario, it got me thinking about our roles as parents.

It’s so true; us “good cops” haven’t really been getting away with anything all these years have we? I too have often played the role of good cop, unable to tolerate my kids leaving the house in a huff (or in my case teary eyed), but like Smartmom, any time my partner wasn’t around I would rise to the occasion and get tough. The amazing part was that the energy I was putting out as “bad cop” was so clear and determined that I often had the kids fed and in bed earlier than usual with extra time for myself, sans tears. I’ve also heard other mothers say it’s easier when they’re alone with the kids, and that when Dad gets home things are more complicated.
What, then, is this phenomenon that leaves us all feeling a bit better?

So much of trying to be the good cop is really what Freud called “transference,” which is what occurs when parents relate to their children as if the children were their parents (poetically described in a quote Freud once used, and as the title of the first album by Blood, Sweat & Tears: “Child is Father to the Man.”) Parents stuck in such a transference, not wanting to feel their own sadness or fear of losing the overt love and acceptance of their children, bargain away their parental role.
Being a loving parent means being able to discipline with love because that’s what our role is, it’s not to be their best friend, buddy, sweetheart …no, we have chosen the toughest job there is; to be a parent. The anger and frustration a child may feel from the word “no” is nothing compared to the feelings of abandonment and loss of control they feel when a parent refuses to take the role of loving disciplinarian.
Over the last ten years I have seen children (mine and others) transform right before my eyes after being disciplined with love. It’s truly amazing. I have seen acting out, fighting, screaming tantrums all stopped cold in their tracks, only to be replaced with loving affection, hugs and a centered calmness after a parent has acted as a parent.
Unfortunately, as I look around I see too many parents acting out their transferences, and so, many children are feeling abandon. This only leads to the kids becoming more demanding and more out of control, ultimately, or to becoming withdrawn and insecure later on when the surges of adolescence hit.
I have often thought that this is just a case of the pendulum swinging in the opposite direction, our parents were more repressive i.e.; Children should be seen and not heard…” so now we are going to let our children be themselves without restrictions… only to realize that both these scenarios are devoid of REAL parenting, which is; Really seeing the child and setting clear boundaries - all with love.
Why this is so hard for us to conquer, of course, is that so many of us are still looking for the parenting we never had, while trying to be the best parents we can be. Whew!

The Lazy Man's Day

Today we had what my son refers to as a “Lazy Man’s Day”. They happen occasionally, maybe twice a month, more often in cold weather.
It looks something like this; we get up later than usual, hang around in our pajamas, and basically spend the day reading, writing, playing games and watching movies, without ever leaving the house. What you might hear are siblings engaged in sibling rivalry, the spin cycle on the washer, the clicking of the keyboard, the TV and the word “Mommy” tossed around ad nauseam. What you might smell would be coffee, pancakes, and lots of clean (unfolded) laundry.
This could sound like a typical Sunday back in the sixties, but I have to admit that’s not my experience of most other families today. Since I’ve had children, these type of days often come with one looming added element- guilt.
While other families are going away for the weekend, visiting museums, having scheduled play dates, puppet shows, music lessons, or some other cultural event,
I haven’t even gotten my kids dressed and out for some fresh air.
Sometimes my 10-year-old son looks at me and says, “Why haven’t you set up a play date?” my answer is usually the same “I tried but no one was around, maybe I called too late in the week.” When will I get that these other kids are scheduled well in advance? I’m sure they could have put me in their Blackberrry if only I had thought to call sooner.
It seemed so much easier for my parents. I don’t remember them ever scheduling anything really… except the occasional dreaded dentist appointment.
The main issue here is my guilt, why I feel like I have to do or be like these other families. The voices in my head ask: “Can my kids learn and grow in this 1200 sq ft apt? Are they getting enough exercise or fresh air or overall stimulation? Are they being exposed to enough culture and rich experiences? Am I depriving them of something?”
My voice of reason, the Love of My Life, asks the obvious: “Why don’t you do these things with the kids if you think they’re so important?” My answer: “Because I don’t really want to, and the kids would know that and that’s NOT the message I want to send to them.” I.E. - Just do things you don’t want to do, because you think it’s the right thing and not the thing your heart moves you to do.
The LOMF nods knowingly, adding: “The kids get plenty of history, culturalization (including the dreaded museum trips), and running around time at school. What’s wrong with home being the oasis where they can have some needed down time, while occasionally basking in the wisdom and loving energy of their parents.”
So there you have it, it’s the guilt here that’s the problem, not whether or not we have a lazy man’s day. I’ll have to work on it.

NY Times article by Nora Ephron

I happen to think soup is healing and breast feeding doesn't cause allergies, but her conclusions are humorous and it really makes me think about how many ways we can connect the dots.

The Chicken Soup Chronicles
By NORA EPHRON
Published: January 13, 2008

THE other day I felt a cold coming on. So I decided to have chicken soup to ward off the cold. Nonetheless I got the cold. This happens all the time: you think you’re getting a cold; you have chicken soup; you get the cold anyway. So: is it possible that chicken soup gives you a cold?


I will confess a bias: I’ve never understood the religious fervor that surrounds breast-feeding. There are fanatics out there who believe you should breast-feed your child until he or she is old enough to unbutton your blouse. Their success in conning a huge number of women into believing this is one of the truly grim things about modern life. Anyway, one of the main reasons given for breast-feeding is that breast-fed children are less prone to allergies. But children today are far more allergic than they were when I was growing up, when far fewer women breast-fed their children. I mean, what is it with all these children dropping dead from sniffing a peanut? This is new, friends, it’s brand-new new, and don’t believe anyone who says otherwise. So: is it possible that breast-feeding causes allergies?

It’s much easier to write a screenplay on a computer than on a typewriter. Years ago, when you wrote a screenplay on a typewriter, you had to retype the entire page just to make the smallest change; now, on the computer, you can make large and small changes effortlessly, you can fiddle with dialogue, you can change names and places with a keystroke. And yet movies are nowhere near as good as they used to be. In 1939, when screenwriters were practically still using quill pens, the following movies were among those nominated for best picture: “Gone With the Wind,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” “Wuthering Heights” and “Stagecoach,” and that’s not even the whole list. So: is it possible that computers are responsible for the decline of movies?

There is way too much hand-washing going on. Someone told me the other day that the act of washing your hands is supposed to last as long as it takes to sing the song “Happy Birthday.” I’m not big on hand-washing to begin with; I don’t even like to wash fruit, if you must know. But my own prejudices aside, all this washing-of-hands and use of Purell before picking up infants cannot be good. (By the way, I’m not talking about hand-washing in hospitals, I’m talking about everyday, run-of-the-mill hand-washing.) It can’t possibly make sense to keep babies so removed from germs that they never develop an immunity to them. Of course, this isn’t my original theory — I read it somewhere a few weeks ago, although I can’t remember where. The New York Times? The Wall Street Journal? Who knows? Not me, that’s for sure. So: is it possible that reading about hand-washing leads to memory loss?

I love Google. I love everything about it. I love the verb Google and I love the noun and sometimes I can even use the word as an adjective. For a long time, I liked to think there would some day be a person called the Google, a mixture of a researcher, an assistant and a butler, who would stand by ready to ride to the rescue at all Google moments. No more desperately trying to come up with the name of that movie Jeremy Irons was in, which lurks like a hologram while everyone makes stabs at figuring out what on earth it was called. We can never remember the name of that movie, the one about Claus von Bulow, but never mind — the Google is here. The Google will find the answer. But as it turns out, no Google is necessary. Somebody has a BlackBerry. The answer is seconds away! It’s here! The movie was called “Reversal of Fortune!” What a fantastic relief! On the other hand, I have to say, there was something romantic about the desperate search for an answer. On the road to trying to remember the name of Ethel Rosenberg’s brother, for instance, you might find yourself having a brief but diverting chat about Alger Hiss’s wife, which might in turn get you to a story about Whittaker Chambers’s teeth, which might in turn get you to Time magazine, which might in turn get you to Friday nights at Time magazine back in the old days, which might in turn get you to sex. This meandering had its charms. It was, in fact, what used to be known as conversation. But no more. Instead, we have the answer. Ethel Rosenberg’s brother was named David Greenglass. And that’s that. So: is it possible that Google will mean the end of conversation as we know it?