Slow down
No really, slow down. If nothing else, repeat the mantra “slow down.” Maybe that will work?
Slowly look at the things around you.
Cue Interpol.
Albert – my white rabbit.
Put him so close to my face so I could lift up the glasses that shield my eyes.
Each strand of white perfect.
Slowly brush my hands over the waves of white. Softness. How can these be separate strands. They are one.
But not at closer glance. Is this what One from above would see.
Must look so very closely to see each individual strand – it takes all of my focus, gladly. The softness unlike ever I felt.
My heaven would be the fur of my rabbit.
He falls asleep on my heart.
My slow heartbeat.
I am natural.
Stillness ensues…I don’t even need to look out the window to see the wonder of the world.
It is all right here in my hands, in my heart, in Albert’s soft fur.
The beauty that God created brings tears to my eyes.
The personal touch.
How things in distance places from each other in nature can look or smell the same.
The dandelion with wisps of white like Albert’s fur.
It takes time for me now to get here. To slowly see things.
Do not be afraid to look at things.
To look at people.
To look in their eyes.
It is not a waste of time.
Calmly look, not forced.
The interest is there in you.
Look at God’s painting. Paintings of colors. Feel.
Looking in the eyes of my dogs.
Now my Sunny can stay with me and enjoy me slowly touching her fur.
Blacks and whites and oranges and greys, and colors like no other – run my hands over it, releasing the hairs that want to be loose.
Slowly feeling the contrast of her pink tummy and the soft hair.
Animals. Nature inside of my house.
Our animals – not pets - are nature.
They rejoice. They just are. I just am.
God, thank you for these heavenly creatures.
I don’t want to pick up my speed to catch up with the world.
Why don’t we all just slow our world down.
The energy will pass to one another like a breath of air.
Slow down until it feels natural.
That primordial rhythm.
Slow down your “om”s.
Talk slowly.
Think slowly – the thoughts run deeper.
Go to the place where your creativity lives.
Slowly, to get there. Slow. Deliberately slow. Breathe slow.
There is no such thing as time.
It is buried, but it is there.
Your true rhythm.
The rhythm that aligns in all nature,
that is yearning to be in alignment within all humans.
Why do we have to lose a job to do what means the most, to be with those that mean the most.
Family, animals, our loved ones.
Has life really become so busy that we can’t be with one another?
Work – that matters the most?
That is what we’re going to think about when we’re in our dying moments?
I hope I will be thinking about the way Albert’s fur feels, the deepness within my dog’s eyes, the impact I made on those I love and how I brought them happiness and helped them make this world a better place, and VICE VERSA.
The time I spent with the homeless, singing with them. Talking with them. Loving them and learning from them.
But they are not they, and I am not I, but we are one.
And my God, the homeless are Your angels, and I am so blessed to know them.
I am an instrument.
I will give all I have. I want to give all I am and more to others.
Each action affects never-stopping ripples.
The connection becomes so hard to see when we’re out only for ourselves.
When money is our focus.
There is no unification in money.
Please let me live in this pace forever.
It is up to me – the power is within me to stay in this place where my eyes see differently, my hands feel differently.
With God’s grace.
At work, dare I say it, slow down.
Work should still be life, right?
We shouldn’t have to say, I’ll live and be free after work. Only to dive right back into something unreal the next day.
Slow down, I pray.
Life will be gone in a flash.
I want to live my life in alignment with God.
Living in a pace that feels right.
Heaven here on earth.
Even the brightness of the computer screen is brighter than ever before. Light.
It was buried but now it is my exterior and interior throughout.
It is no longer caged.
I will bring it with me wherever I go.
Look at people, look at the ones you love, look at the ones you do not know.
Really look.
Empty yourself.
The world, nature has already slowed down.
Each moment can be eternal when time is not even thought about.
Animals know.
Watch them.
Mimic them.
Feel them.
Unite your hearts with theirs.
We are all God’s creation.
We are meant to be together. Still on the pond.
Love to those who have hurt me, for they are hurting more. I pray you find your path, your way back.
My doves coo.
I suppose they are next.
I will watch them.
I will look into their little eyes and they into mine.
I will slow down until I meet them.
I must slow down.
Before I begin a new reality.
Albert’s strand of hair is everything.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The Coffeehouse in Me
It’s hard to believe that I’ve been coming here for over 15 years.
Does time even exist here?
It is only my memories that signify time has passed…
I sipped a toasted almond and enjoyed the feeling of my lips growing plump in response to my company.
My friends, both new and old, discussed life and the afterlife, believed to be a possibility to some and to others, as impossible as - well, predicting the future.
I read here by myself, occasionally trying to see out of the frosted window to enjoy the gray, a sign of the thunderstorms that I love.
I entered an imaginary universe with a friend as we gazed into a mirrored table for way too long.
I experienced calm before skankin’ at a nearby concert. Not ‘skankin’ like the girl in the revealing get-up, but skankin’ as in dancing to ska.
I studied and wrote amidst the laughter of strangers.
My thoughts came slower. Of course it took longer for them to arrive because they traveled from a far deeper place.
Love blossomed (cue “Let’s Fall in Love” on the coffeehouse soundtrack)
Love died
Love was shared
Love was described
I talked
I listened
I worried
I was comforted
I observed
I embraced my book
I embraced others
I was where I was at and it was where it was at.
Is still where I am, even as I sit at my desk at home.
The coffeehouse is located there, but I feel it inside.
It is a feeling, a memory, a meditation
It is the solitude of always existing.
Can a place be eternal?
If so, let this place be eternal.
So transient an atmosphere, but nothing has changed.
I could be anywhere, anytime in this world.
Still a warm home to those coming from emotionless homes, colder than the most frigid temperatures.
Embracing the unaccepted and the judged, those who are central contributors to the richness of life.
Here, it doesn’t matter what anyone does to pay the bills, or whether they pay their bills at all.
Retail associates, bartenders, a wrestler, artistes (well, aren’t we all really?)
Doesn’t matter if someone has a “living.”
“Making a living” – a somewhat offensive phrase.
We all are living. We all are making a living – living life.
The coffeehouse was made for stories.
Okay, so some may exaggerate the truth for a good story
But what a story it was!
They lie not to hurt, but to impress.
I envy their ability to be good storytellers – it takes a confidence I seem to lack in social situations.
The awkward silences do not matter.
Everyone knows they happen.
As a matter of fact, breaks in talking can be absolutely appropriate.
Like the punctuation between two topics.
A breath, like a period.
A few breaths, like an ellipsis.
As I converse with people I don’t know, some look right past me and some look at me, a usual occurrence.
But in this case, there happens to be a mirror behind me that is quite enticing for those who like to look at themselves.
I run into a friend from college who I haven’t seen for over a decade, at least.
Me trying to figure out how long it has been seems to make him uncomfortable, so I stop.
He is so intelligent, yet troubled – I sense his worry across the room.
He helps the bartender.
It’s funny how the coffeehouse calls us back.
Here, the six degrees of separation becomes the first degree of separation, which I guess is really no separation at all.
Just like the sesame seeds and the espresso balls, the coffee pots and the three-slot toasters.
All so different, yet coming perfectly together in this one place.
But it all makes sense and life is so simple with the coffeehouse as my universe.
The friendly gray and orange fish in the aquarium wave to visitors
The music and the sound of the blender is life’s soundtrack.
The wooden cabinets – making me feel like I’m cuddled up in a cabin.
The hanging plants wish us health and wellbeing
And the piano longs to be played…a reminder of the pianist I once was, could still be…
The smells of hot cider and celebration
Of basil that brings back thoughts of grilled cheese sandwiches at outdoor festivals.
Come to think of it, being here actually feels like camping.
It brings me back to just being, relaxing.
Catering to only the most basic necessities.
Am I thirsty? Am I hungry? Where’s the bathroom?
Conversations revolve around old episodes of Star Trek and Dr. Who (Dr. Who? – exactly…)
Reassuring me that watching television is okay, no matter how old the series.
Pop culture is essentially a seed for discussion,
I knew there was a reason that I watch so much garbage on TV.
The bartender has not changed, and I hope he will not change in my lifetime.
He brings the sweets, the comfort, the alcohol, the warm milk and honey.
He does not age.
Is this coffeehouse actually the fountain of youth?
One generation returns in union with the next and the next and the next….
There’s the kid with the crazy curly hair planning a camping weekend of music. Here comes the loud guy again.
There’s the creative girl wearing the clothes I wish I had.
Here’s the guy focused completely on his laptop.
They are all here and they were all here then, well minus the laptop.
I can sense that there are people here who feel obligated to be the hosts. Apparently, I am one of them as I sit cross-legged and barefoot on the couch.
Please don’t forget about those who have come and gone since the beginning of time.
I mean, how could this place NOT have been here since the beginning of time?
You can feel the memories, the conversations.
Look here, the metal gold circle on the ceiling used to hold something but now, no longer.
Signifying what used to be.
You can practically hear the footsteps of those who were once here.
They too believed this coffeehouse was their home, and it was
And it is to those today.
For it is infinite, timeless.
The universal truth of all humans.
But relevant in the present, ever present.
And I come to realize that maybe the coffeehouse is what I aspire to be.
My eyes keep being drawn to the sticker that says, “Uptown Tattoo – Where Everyday is Halloween” (a favorite holiday of mine).
If you find yourself looking at this sticker,
Know that I have been where you now are.
And carry that moment in your heart forever, as I will.
And while you’re at it, try the Toasted Almond. Cheers!
Does time even exist here?
It is only my memories that signify time has passed…
I sipped a toasted almond and enjoyed the feeling of my lips growing plump in response to my company.
My friends, both new and old, discussed life and the afterlife, believed to be a possibility to some and to others, as impossible as - well, predicting the future.
I read here by myself, occasionally trying to see out of the frosted window to enjoy the gray, a sign of the thunderstorms that I love.
I entered an imaginary universe with a friend as we gazed into a mirrored table for way too long.
I experienced calm before skankin’ at a nearby concert. Not ‘skankin’ like the girl in the revealing get-up, but skankin’ as in dancing to ska.
I studied and wrote amidst the laughter of strangers.
My thoughts came slower. Of course it took longer for them to arrive because they traveled from a far deeper place.
Love blossomed (cue “Let’s Fall in Love” on the coffeehouse soundtrack)
Love died
Love was shared
Love was described
I talked
I listened
I worried
I was comforted
I observed
I embraced my book
I embraced others
I was where I was at and it was where it was at.
Is still where I am, even as I sit at my desk at home.
The coffeehouse is located there, but I feel it inside.
It is a feeling, a memory, a meditation
It is the solitude of always existing.
Can a place be eternal?
If so, let this place be eternal.
So transient an atmosphere, but nothing has changed.
I could be anywhere, anytime in this world.
Still a warm home to those coming from emotionless homes, colder than the most frigid temperatures.
Embracing the unaccepted and the judged, those who are central contributors to the richness of life.
Here, it doesn’t matter what anyone does to pay the bills, or whether they pay their bills at all.
Retail associates, bartenders, a wrestler, artistes (well, aren’t we all really?)
Doesn’t matter if someone has a “living.”
“Making a living” – a somewhat offensive phrase.
We all are living. We all are making a living – living life.
The coffeehouse was made for stories.
Okay, so some may exaggerate the truth for a good story
But what a story it was!
They lie not to hurt, but to impress.
I envy their ability to be good storytellers – it takes a confidence I seem to lack in social situations.
The awkward silences do not matter.
Everyone knows they happen.
As a matter of fact, breaks in talking can be absolutely appropriate.
Like the punctuation between two topics.
A breath, like a period.
A few breaths, like an ellipsis.
As I converse with people I don’t know, some look right past me and some look at me, a usual occurrence.
But in this case, there happens to be a mirror behind me that is quite enticing for those who like to look at themselves.
I run into a friend from college who I haven’t seen for over a decade, at least.
Me trying to figure out how long it has been seems to make him uncomfortable, so I stop.
He is so intelligent, yet troubled – I sense his worry across the room.
He helps the bartender.
It’s funny how the coffeehouse calls us back.
Here, the six degrees of separation becomes the first degree of separation, which I guess is really no separation at all.
Just like the sesame seeds and the espresso balls, the coffee pots and the three-slot toasters.
All so different, yet coming perfectly together in this one place.
But it all makes sense and life is so simple with the coffeehouse as my universe.
The friendly gray and orange fish in the aquarium wave to visitors
The music and the sound of the blender is life’s soundtrack.
The wooden cabinets – making me feel like I’m cuddled up in a cabin.
The hanging plants wish us health and wellbeing
And the piano longs to be played…a reminder of the pianist I once was, could still be…
The smells of hot cider and celebration
Of basil that brings back thoughts of grilled cheese sandwiches at outdoor festivals.
Come to think of it, being here actually feels like camping.
It brings me back to just being, relaxing.
Catering to only the most basic necessities.
Am I thirsty? Am I hungry? Where’s the bathroom?
Conversations revolve around old episodes of Star Trek and Dr. Who (Dr. Who? – exactly…)
Reassuring me that watching television is okay, no matter how old the series.
Pop culture is essentially a seed for discussion,
I knew there was a reason that I watch so much garbage on TV.
The bartender has not changed, and I hope he will not change in my lifetime.
He brings the sweets, the comfort, the alcohol, the warm milk and honey.
He does not age.
Is this coffeehouse actually the fountain of youth?
One generation returns in union with the next and the next and the next….
There’s the kid with the crazy curly hair planning a camping weekend of music. Here comes the loud guy again.
There’s the creative girl wearing the clothes I wish I had.
Here’s the guy focused completely on his laptop.
They are all here and they were all here then, well minus the laptop.
I can sense that there are people here who feel obligated to be the hosts. Apparently, I am one of them as I sit cross-legged and barefoot on the couch.
Please don’t forget about those who have come and gone since the beginning of time.
I mean, how could this place NOT have been here since the beginning of time?
You can feel the memories, the conversations.
Look here, the metal gold circle on the ceiling used to hold something but now, no longer.
Signifying what used to be.
You can practically hear the footsteps of those who were once here.
They too believed this coffeehouse was their home, and it was
And it is to those today.
For it is infinite, timeless.
The universal truth of all humans.
But relevant in the present, ever present.
And I come to realize that maybe the coffeehouse is what I aspire to be.
My eyes keep being drawn to the sticker that says, “Uptown Tattoo – Where Everyday is Halloween” (a favorite holiday of mine).
If you find yourself looking at this sticker,
Know that I have been where you now are.
And carry that moment in your heart forever, as I will.
And while you’re at it, try the Toasted Almond. Cheers!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Getting laid off
This past Friday morning I was working on a presentation. Boss says, “Jen, can I speak with you for a second.” I pick up my notebook hopefully, ready to take down notes on my next assignment. But it was only a hope and I knew it – had known it for months.
Sitting down in a small, suffocating “cell,” I was told that they were eliminating my position because they needed to “right-size” the company, but nothing personal.
It was a line, yet another corporate term with no meaning. Like “take it to the next level” or “at the end of the day.” What’s wrong with the phrase, “When all is said and done,” – can’t we just go back to that one? It’s a little retro, but come on, retro is cool!!! Cool like my grandpa’s plaid polyester bellbottom pants that I wore the hell out of. But where was I? … Oh yeah, getting laid off.
I guess you could say my prior employer opened the cage for me. And I have flown out but now am resting on a tree limb high above the earth. I’m like a blue jay, united with the loved ones I’ve lost, asking them for guidance.
I have invaded the little ecosystem my dogs have built in my home. My dogs – many a long day they spent looking out the window for me to come home. Even when the sky grew black, they were there waiting. While I missed celebrating Halloween. While I missed enjoying the holiday season with my family – did Christmas even happen? They’ve been mini-Christmases really. Work, work, work, stuff myself with food, work. “I’m afraid we can’t give you that half-day off on Christmas Eve. You all didn’t raise enough money for…” – what was that cause? Well, a worthy cause that I will not tarnish.
But here I am - right here, right now - about to listen to the song that made me cry yesterday, “Waste" by Phish. Why did I cry? Because I was feeling worthless, just for a moment, because I don’t have a job, but really, I was feeling guilty for not appreciating the moment I was in. My boyfriend and my dogs and my family were all right there. Did I honestly think that not working was a waste of time? Is that what I thought? NO! What was I starting to become?
I saw it happening – my work defining me. Me feeding into the façade. Allowing myself to become the center of my universe, well not really me, but my job that I had confused with me. I was starting to become selfish, the last thing I want to be.
Well, I know better now as I sit here on this Monday afternoon. I want to GIVE. I don’t want to take. I want to serve others and nurture those I care about. I want to write for myself. I want to write in my voice. I want to be heard.
And what was it that I used to love to do…? Oh, I know!!! MUSIC – listening to it, playing it, singing it, discussing it, writing it, writing about it. Writing in a way as freeing as music. Creating. My craft – my passion – no, not passion – that’s another buzz word! Excuse me while I look up another word for passion…ahh, ecstasy! Yes, that’s the one - it makes me feel alive. What I LOVE and want to reach out and touch – EXPRESSION. What frees us, and what has the power to free the corporate world. How the truth will enters our universe! I want to say it, scream it, play it, sing it, swear it, throw it, drop it, I want to set the truth free.
Sure, money, whether we have it or not, is important, but are we sabotaging ourselves through the office politics, inability to work as a team, internal competition, gossip, dishonesty? I want to know I’ve done the right thing when I look in the eyes of my loved ones. Know that I’m not wasting another second of this precious life.
While I’m in between jobs, I’m going to enjoy this precious time. Because “this too shall pass.” And once I’m working again, hopefully I can do a better job remembering to balance my life. Give it all, but watch the time.
I have been laid off. But no need to feel pity. Because I am free! I am finding myself. Not my work identity, not what I do for a living. But me! If this is “wasting time,” then I invite everyone to “come waste their time with me.”
The beautiful thing is that every person can come back to themselves. A moment of clarity before we continue down our path, same or different. There were 14 others released that day. And another group released a few months ago. Millions of people being laid off everywhere. And I am proud to be one of them – on the other side. And yes, it’s a little bit like heaven…
Sitting down in a small, suffocating “cell,” I was told that they were eliminating my position because they needed to “right-size” the company, but nothing personal.
It was a line, yet another corporate term with no meaning. Like “take it to the next level” or “at the end of the day.” What’s wrong with the phrase, “When all is said and done,” – can’t we just go back to that one? It’s a little retro, but come on, retro is cool!!! Cool like my grandpa’s plaid polyester bellbottom pants that I wore the hell out of. But where was I? … Oh yeah, getting laid off.
I guess you could say my prior employer opened the cage for me. And I have flown out but now am resting on a tree limb high above the earth. I’m like a blue jay, united with the loved ones I’ve lost, asking them for guidance.
I have invaded the little ecosystem my dogs have built in my home. My dogs – many a long day they spent looking out the window for me to come home. Even when the sky grew black, they were there waiting. While I missed celebrating Halloween. While I missed enjoying the holiday season with my family – did Christmas even happen? They’ve been mini-Christmases really. Work, work, work, stuff myself with food, work. “I’m afraid we can’t give you that half-day off on Christmas Eve. You all didn’t raise enough money for…” – what was that cause? Well, a worthy cause that I will not tarnish.
But here I am - right here, right now - about to listen to the song that made me cry yesterday, “Waste" by Phish. Why did I cry? Because I was feeling worthless, just for a moment, because I don’t have a job, but really, I was feeling guilty for not appreciating the moment I was in. My boyfriend and my dogs and my family were all right there. Did I honestly think that not working was a waste of time? Is that what I thought? NO! What was I starting to become?
I saw it happening – my work defining me. Me feeding into the façade. Allowing myself to become the center of my universe, well not really me, but my job that I had confused with me. I was starting to become selfish, the last thing I want to be.
Well, I know better now as I sit here on this Monday afternoon. I want to GIVE. I don’t want to take. I want to serve others and nurture those I care about. I want to write for myself. I want to write in my voice. I want to be heard.
And what was it that I used to love to do…? Oh, I know!!! MUSIC – listening to it, playing it, singing it, discussing it, writing it, writing about it. Writing in a way as freeing as music. Creating. My craft – my passion – no, not passion – that’s another buzz word! Excuse me while I look up another word for passion…ahh, ecstasy! Yes, that’s the one - it makes me feel alive. What I LOVE and want to reach out and touch – EXPRESSION. What frees us, and what has the power to free the corporate world. How the truth will enters our universe! I want to say it, scream it, play it, sing it, swear it, throw it, drop it, I want to set the truth free.
Sure, money, whether we have it or not, is important, but are we sabotaging ourselves through the office politics, inability to work as a team, internal competition, gossip, dishonesty? I want to know I’ve done the right thing when I look in the eyes of my loved ones. Know that I’m not wasting another second of this precious life.
While I’m in between jobs, I’m going to enjoy this precious time. Because “this too shall pass.” And once I’m working again, hopefully I can do a better job remembering to balance my life. Give it all, but watch the time.
I have been laid off. But no need to feel pity. Because I am free! I am finding myself. Not my work identity, not what I do for a living. But me! If this is “wasting time,” then I invite everyone to “come waste their time with me.”
The beautiful thing is that every person can come back to themselves. A moment of clarity before we continue down our path, same or different. There were 14 others released that day. And another group released a few months ago. Millions of people being laid off everywhere. And I am proud to be one of them – on the other side. And yes, it’s a little bit like heaven…
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