Numbly trudging home last night with over 50 pounds of groceries hanging off my body in various packs, slings and totes, with aching feet and groaning shoulders, I found myself walking alongside a young man munching his way through a bag of chips.
I was barely aware of him for over half of the long block before my building when he said, "I'd offer you a Dipsy Doodle but you don't look like you're in the mood."
As with most women in the city, my first impulse was to cross the street and get away from this creep.
In the past, I've spat, screamed and hissed at men who have approached me on the street. "Who the FUCK do they think they are?!?" I rage and boil.
But then I realized that there was, in fact, nothing creepy, leery or even weird in this particular man's tone. If anything, it was a little shy -- rough and good natured.
Plus his remark was about my mood, and did not strike me as being slimy or patronizing.
Creeps -- inasmuch as they ever notice a woman's mood -- say things like, "Hey baby, I got something to cheer you up."
But that was not this guy.
I laughed and turned to him; he grinned and shrugged sheepishly, raising the bag towards me.
"You know," I chirped, "I am in the mood!"
I reached in and pulled out his last Doodle.
"Have a good night!" he smiled, turned a corner and went on his merry way.
So -- for all the guys who think it's OK to say whatever they want to women on the street -- I began to think, what made this guy's actions not creepy?
In most cases, those exact same words in that exact same situation could have been very creepy indeed. I think part of what disarmed me was that I had come up behind him while he was walking, and not the other way around.
But mostly it was his tone. It was simply not the tone of a creep.
Creeps view any and all attractive women as potential sperm receptacles and little more. They have no more concern or ability to consider a woman's point of view than they would to consider the point of view of candy bar.
In the creep mind, women are there to be consumed.
If a woman tells a creep she isn't interested, this means nothing to the creep brain. If she says she has a cop/boxer/football player boyfriend, then this will usually (though not always) make a dent in him.
To the creep mind (and this is the most generous definition of the word "mind") only the presence of another male possessor can deter his "right" to whatever woman he wants.
Any action of the woman, up to and possibly including bashing him with a soup can, is seen as a come-on. (Once a Ruskie creep asked me for directions while I was pulling gristle out of my teeth. "What is zis sing you are doing wis your tongue???" he slathered. I wish I had puked on him.)
Anyway.
None of that was present with Mr. Doodle.
Granted, he might not have felt the liberty or desire to say something to another man walking down the street, similarly burdened and sad.
But I don't think it's completely wrong for men to speak to women on the street, or for there to be a hint of flirtation about it, especially if their approach does not assume anything.
And Mr. Doodle didn't.
He was just a nice guy who saw a woman in the dumps and wanted to make her laugh.
And it made me sad to think how close I came to shooting him down -- but doubly glad that I didn't.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Ask A Silly Question....
Brilliant playwright and fellow blogger, Don Cummings, posted a semi-facetious list of questions in his thought-provoking blog, Open Trench.
I planned only to comment on a few, but true to form, once I get rolling on an idea, I just can't stop myself...
So here are my semi-serious answers. Enjoy!
Why do so many people loathe the idea of a strong benevolent Socialist government but gladly work for feudal modeled corporations that enslave them?
Two words: Parent Issues. I think many people equate Big Government with an over-powerful, irrational parent, and see corrupt corporations as The Bully Down the Block. They tell themselves that someone will take down the bully (e.g. the self-regulating free market) without realizing that the bully's bully will be even worse to contend with than a misguided but well-meaning parent.
Unfortunately, the parent (and the government) carries a whopping load of archetypal energy, which undermines the child/citizen from inside as well as outside. And so people fear that more. Even when reminded that government can be voted out of power here, they'll say that the "next guy" will be just as bad because all politicians are the same (corrupt -- like corporations aren't), and blah blah blah. In the end, they just need to grow the fuck up.
Why do people in the Midwest continue to deny climate change while their cities and lives are being flattened?
Never underestimate the power of denial -- especially when one's "way of life" (i.e. creature comforts) is at stake. They'd rather ascribe home-flattening gale forces to a misplaced butterfly than to their dependence on fossil fuels.
Why is everything loaded with garlic?
Garlic is tasty and good for you and adds zazz to mundane meals, but you're right it can definitely be overdone. I think American taste buds are overstimulated with salt and sugar, so over-garlicking is probably an answer to that.
Why is it totally cool to have millions of dollars and then want millions more while others cheer you on to obtain it?
The cheerers are living vicariously through the money-whores, fantasizing perhaps that one day they will become like the objects of their obsession. (I wonder if that applies to stalkers, too...)
Why can’t I take a high speed train all across the continental United States in fifteen hours?
What? You want efficient, well funded rail in America? What are you, a socialist???
Why do people continue to buy horrible cheap shit that makes them fat and sick?
For the same reason they drink too much Bud, do drugs and watch too much TV. It's cheap, easy and adequately anesthetizing.
Why do people think they should have something for nothing?
Similar to the Government question: Parent issues. Or more specifically, Mother issues. People who are not yet grown up -- possibly because they did not adequately have their needs met, or whose overbearing parents kept them dependent so that said parents would feel needed/useful to their growing children, and therefore never learned to (1) discern their real needs, and (2) tend to those needs themselves -- expect the world to be one big fat teat for them to suck on.
Why are so many people flaming out publicly?
This dovetails the something-for-nothing dynamic, I think. Unearned success (for 15 minutes anyway) is essentially meaningless. They don't know how they got it, they don't know how to keep it. And, far be it from me to ascribe depth where there is likely none, but perhaps some deeper level of them is viscerally unhappy and unsatisfied with it.
The desire for unearned success reminds me of Marion Woodman's caution for our age: "They crave food that brings them no nurturance, drink that brihngs them no spirit, sex that brings them no union. Because their culture worships matter and minimizes soul, they concretize metaphor and literalize life."
And so they push boundaries, in the same way a two-year-old kicks against its parent. Unfortunately, the public is no forgiving parent, and eviscerates the foolish famous. Or they eviscerate themselves because they just can't help it....
Why do we get old, the whole time pretending we are young?
We want the world to continue believing we are young, because there is no respectable, appreciated place for age in our culture. Despicably sad.
Why don’t I own a Havanese?
Because, deep, deep down, what you really want is an even-tempered rescued mixed-breed pooch.
Why do I continue to run the air conditioner when I know this is slowly eating up all the mountain tops in West Virginia?
Because in the end, even those of us with functioning consciences believe at least a little in the Butterfly Effect over the effect of our own environmental footprints.
Why do men from New Jersey wear clunky pinky rings?
A little bling for the ba-da-bing!! New Jersey guys want to be the Situation. And the Situation just wants to be Joe Pesci.
Why is competition absolutely everything?
It isn't, but for many of us in an ego-based culture, it is because it has to be. But again, this has to do with growing up (or failing to grow up).
The two chief ways we come to know who we are and what we are capable are external -- comparison and contrast -- what am I like and what am I not like. What am I connected to, what am I disconnected from. And what am I better than, and what is better than me. As we grow, hopefully, we come to appreciate our unique complexity, which tempers that kind of comparison with more internally-based knowledge of oneself.
Why is it that even though I would like an economy based on compassion, I somehow understand that this is impossible? Is it because I have been brainwashed?
It's not impossible. There is evidence of it all around us (look at the outpouring of help for Japan and the south). We are capable of compassion; we just need to learn that compassion for others is not necessarily in conflict with self-interest.
Why did I always try to impress people when, really, everyone was already so upset about themselves that all great deeds just made them feel even worse?
You don't know that impressing them made them feel worse about themselves. Most likely, you intended to make them want you more; by showing what you were capable of, you are increasing your value to them -- especially if it is done through friendship. You are basically saying, "See this cool thing I can do? Well, even if you can't do it, you can connect to it just by being friends with me."
I know it doesn't make much sense, logically, but people really do work that way... And a lot of people prefer reflected glory, anyway.
Why is there MRSA at all?
Survival of the most mutable applies in particular to bacteria.
Why is the sun still here?
Depends on what you mean by "here"? It really isn't here at all; it's 93 million miles away. Which is a good thing.
Why are we all alive right now and not at the point of true extinction?
Maybe some ruminating dinosaur asked that just before the asteroid hit.... :-)
Truly, though, we are nowhere near extinction. We are just in an extended teenage phase. Asking why we are still here is like asking why your sister's teenaged son hasn't killed himself in a wheels-and-booze related incident. He may. But he probably won't. And neither will we.
Why are people having all these late life babies that might have had better brains if they had had them twenty years ago?
Babies born to older parents may have "less better" brains (though there is plenty of research demonstrating the opposite), but older babymakers are almost always better, wiser parents. So maybe the kids have "worse" brains, but they will get far more mileage out of the brains they have.
Why is rice pudding so tasty and empty?
It isn't empty!! It's filled with rice! And pudding!!
Why do we look better when we are thin?
Tell that to Paul Rubens. Skinniness is ugly to me; healthiness and comfort in one's body is beautiful, no matter the body weight.
Why do I own such horrible headphones, taken from the back pouch of an American Airlines seat?
Cheap, convenient, and clearly you are content enough with them that you don't care to replace them yet.
Why are clams so tasty in the same way in absolute value uniqueness that cashews are?
Not sure. I prefer oysters to clams and Brazil nuts to cashews in both absolute value and uniqueness.
Why do things change so quickly and then we are so quick to make fun of how things just were? Is this part of the fear of time-death thing?
Yes.
Why do I care?
Enquiring minds want to know......
I planned only to comment on a few, but true to form, once I get rolling on an idea, I just can't stop myself...
So here are my semi-serious answers. Enjoy!
Why do so many people loathe the idea of a strong benevolent Socialist government but gladly work for feudal modeled corporations that enslave them?
Two words: Parent Issues. I think many people equate Big Government with an over-powerful, irrational parent, and see corrupt corporations as The Bully Down the Block. They tell themselves that someone will take down the bully (e.g. the self-regulating free market) without realizing that the bully's bully will be even worse to contend with than a misguided but well-meaning parent.
Unfortunately, the parent (and the government) carries a whopping load of archetypal energy, which undermines the child/citizen from inside as well as outside. And so people fear that more. Even when reminded that government can be voted out of power here, they'll say that the "next guy" will be just as bad because all politicians are the same (corrupt -- like corporations aren't), and blah blah blah. In the end, they just need to grow the fuck up.
Why do people in the Midwest continue to deny climate change while their cities and lives are being flattened?
Never underestimate the power of denial -- especially when one's "way of life" (i.e. creature comforts) is at stake. They'd rather ascribe home-flattening gale forces to a misplaced butterfly than to their dependence on fossil fuels.
Why is everything loaded with garlic?
Garlic is tasty and good for you and adds zazz to mundane meals, but you're right it can definitely be overdone. I think American taste buds are overstimulated with salt and sugar, so over-garlicking is probably an answer to that.
Why is it totally cool to have millions of dollars and then want millions more while others cheer you on to obtain it?
The cheerers are living vicariously through the money-whores, fantasizing perhaps that one day they will become like the objects of their obsession. (I wonder if that applies to stalkers, too...)
Why can’t I take a high speed train all across the continental United States in fifteen hours?
What? You want efficient, well funded rail in America? What are you, a socialist???
Why do people continue to buy horrible cheap shit that makes them fat and sick?
For the same reason they drink too much Bud, do drugs and watch too much TV. It's cheap, easy and adequately anesthetizing.
Why do people think they should have something for nothing?
Similar to the Government question: Parent issues. Or more specifically, Mother issues. People who are not yet grown up -- possibly because they did not adequately have their needs met, or whose overbearing parents kept them dependent so that said parents would feel needed/useful to their growing children, and therefore never learned to (1) discern their real needs, and (2) tend to those needs themselves -- expect the world to be one big fat teat for them to suck on.
Why are so many people flaming out publicly?
This dovetails the something-for-nothing dynamic, I think. Unearned success (for 15 minutes anyway) is essentially meaningless. They don't know how they got it, they don't know how to keep it. And, far be it from me to ascribe depth where there is likely none, but perhaps some deeper level of them is viscerally unhappy and unsatisfied with it.
The desire for unearned success reminds me of Marion Woodman's caution for our age: "They crave food that brings them no nurturance, drink that brihngs them no spirit, sex that brings them no union. Because their culture worships matter and minimizes soul, they concretize metaphor and literalize life."
And so they push boundaries, in the same way a two-year-old kicks against its parent. Unfortunately, the public is no forgiving parent, and eviscerates the foolish famous. Or they eviscerate themselves because they just can't help it....
Why do we get old, the whole time pretending we are young?
We want the world to continue believing we are young, because there is no respectable, appreciated place for age in our culture. Despicably sad.
Why don’t I own a Havanese?
Because, deep, deep down, what you really want is an even-tempered rescued mixed-breed pooch.
Why do I continue to run the air conditioner when I know this is slowly eating up all the mountain tops in West Virginia?
Because in the end, even those of us with functioning consciences believe at least a little in the Butterfly Effect over the effect of our own environmental footprints.
Why do men from New Jersey wear clunky pinky rings?
A little bling for the ba-da-bing!! New Jersey guys want to be the Situation. And the Situation just wants to be Joe Pesci.
Why is competition absolutely everything?
It isn't, but for many of us in an ego-based culture, it is because it has to be. But again, this has to do with growing up (or failing to grow up).
The two chief ways we come to know who we are and what we are capable are external -- comparison and contrast -- what am I like and what am I not like. What am I connected to, what am I disconnected from. And what am I better than, and what is better than me. As we grow, hopefully, we come to appreciate our unique complexity, which tempers that kind of comparison with more internally-based knowledge of oneself.
Why is it that even though I would like an economy based on compassion, I somehow understand that this is impossible? Is it because I have been brainwashed?
It's not impossible. There is evidence of it all around us (look at the outpouring of help for Japan and the south). We are capable of compassion; we just need to learn that compassion for others is not necessarily in conflict with self-interest.
Why did I always try to impress people when, really, everyone was already so upset about themselves that all great deeds just made them feel even worse?
You don't know that impressing them made them feel worse about themselves. Most likely, you intended to make them want you more; by showing what you were capable of, you are increasing your value to them -- especially if it is done through friendship. You are basically saying, "See this cool thing I can do? Well, even if you can't do it, you can connect to it just by being friends with me."
I know it doesn't make much sense, logically, but people really do work that way... And a lot of people prefer reflected glory, anyway.
Why is there MRSA at all?
Survival of the most mutable applies in particular to bacteria.
Why is the sun still here?
Depends on what you mean by "here"? It really isn't here at all; it's 93 million miles away. Which is a good thing.
Why are we all alive right now and not at the point of true extinction?
Maybe some ruminating dinosaur asked that just before the asteroid hit.... :-)
Truly, though, we are nowhere near extinction. We are just in an extended teenage phase. Asking why we are still here is like asking why your sister's teenaged son hasn't killed himself in a wheels-and-booze related incident. He may. But he probably won't. And neither will we.
Why are people having all these late life babies that might have had better brains if they had had them twenty years ago?
Babies born to older parents may have "less better" brains (though there is plenty of research demonstrating the opposite), but older babymakers are almost always better, wiser parents. So maybe the kids have "worse" brains, but they will get far more mileage out of the brains they have.
Why is rice pudding so tasty and empty?
It isn't empty!! It's filled with rice! And pudding!!
Why do we look better when we are thin?
Tell that to Paul Rubens. Skinniness is ugly to me; healthiness and comfort in one's body is beautiful, no matter the body weight.
Why do I own such horrible headphones, taken from the back pouch of an American Airlines seat?
Cheap, convenient, and clearly you are content enough with them that you don't care to replace them yet.
Why are clams so tasty in the same way in absolute value uniqueness that cashews are?
Not sure. I prefer oysters to clams and Brazil nuts to cashews in both absolute value and uniqueness.
Why do things change so quickly and then we are so quick to make fun of how things just were? Is this part of the fear of time-death thing?
Yes.
Why do I care?
Enquiring minds want to know......
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Worldwide Flooding: When It Rains It Pours (HuffPo Comment)
A few years ago, while my father was waiting in a hospital lobby for the rain to let up, he noticed a forlorn young man gazing dejectedly at the downpour.
"Man!" he pouted at no one in particular
My father looked at him for a long beat and responded, "So you can have water to wash your car."
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost
"Man!" he pouted at no one in particular
My father looked at him for a long beat and responded, "So you can have water to wash your car."
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Love & War
I have been thinking about a recent falling out with a former lover.
We had not been involved romantically for a few years, and a very nice friendship seemed to be developing between us. Then a month ago he suddenly became distant and guarded.
The last time I'd seen him, he'd told me he would be in New York for a week in April, and so I believed he meant to see me. I cleared time in my schedule for him, and even attended an event he was hosting. But I did not hear from him, and beyond the first hello at the event, he not only avoided me -- he all but ran from me when I asked how he was doing.
Later, I -- along with 3000 of his closest Facebook friends -- learned that he was in a new relationship; I was absolutely stunned that he would behave so childishly. Weren't we friends, after all? Wouldn't he want to share good news like that with a good friend?
Um... OK....
The letter rambled on:
I was completely taken aback -- first by the cold, high-handed tone, and then by the sheer length and immediacy of the email. It was as though he'd had this little speech planned out for some time....
I had no clue what he was talking about. And who was holding onto what here anyway??
As I looked over the words I started feeling sick -- not just because they were pretty damned callous and cruel -- but because they didn't quite seem directed at me.
I mean, yes, the letter was addressed to me, and seemed vaguely to respond to a few of the points I'd raised ... but it was so completely out of synch with what I had written that I couldn't even imagine the person he was speaking to ...
So I took another tack -- a kind of olive branch -- in hopes of bringing it to a personal level that might remind him of the me whose company he had enjoyed and with whom (I thought) he shared some connection.
I took a breath and hit "send."
He continued parrying madly at an attack that existed only in his mind, concluding with this nonsenical pastiche of new-agey jargon,
And finally:
That's new-age-speak for Go Fuck Yourself.
I let it go and went to dance class, feeling more confused than hurt.
Did he really not see that, even as he accused me "fill[ing] in ... blanks [to] match [my] story", he was doing precisely that to me??
Of course not.
And there is the essential blind spot in both loving and hostile relationships.
Both love and war are often the result of eros or shadow projection, respectively. In both cases, we dehumanize the other to fit our needs -- the "story" in our heads of what the world is and how we relate to it.
In a loving relationship, where we are in frequent contact with the beloved, the projection eventually falls. The beloved's humanity asserts itself, and we fall right out of erotic love. If there is a genuine connection that is based on more than erotic projection, a personal love can then develop.
In hostile relationships, however, the projection finds a more stable home because we keep the enemy at bay, so there is less chance that our enemy's humanity will mitigate our hostile projection -- forcing us to fall out of hate.
And I think that is what happened here.
My guess is that my friend may have had some lingering feeling for me based on the good experience we'd had earlier in the year. This, unfortunately, may have posed a threat to the new relationship that emerged a few weeks later.
I don't think my friend was conscious of this, and there may have been more at play than I'm aware of -- but one thing I'm sure of is that he considered me dangerous before he got off the plane in New York and intended to get rid of me entirely.
And the best way to break a personal connection is to supplant it with one's own projections -- which meant he had to avoid me, or he would risk seeing me as I am, and not as the disposable Inconvenient Woman he needed me to be.
It was the Inconvenient Woman he addressed in those emails -- spurned, angry, inconsolable, irrational, resentful, furiously vengeful -- in a word: Dangerous.
While I am certainly capable of all of those qualities and more, I am not her and she is not me -- because she is not a real person at all. She is merely a projection men form to hurl at women in their lives who have become, well, inconvenient.
(It's worth noting here that, after this email exchange, he not only unfriended me on Facebook, he blocked me altogether, as did a few of our mutual friends! And he blocked me from his public "fan" site!! So I must be very "dangerous" indeed.... Oy.)
Reflecting on all of this in dance class (shimmies are great for getting perspective!), I thought back to when he and I first met: his whole-hearted embracing of me, his intoxicating enthusiasm for just about anything I did or said.
Was I a real person to him even then? Probably not.
No. Absolutely not.
When I got home, I looked over the email thread again and decided, even though the exchange was painful, not to delete it.
I'm sure he would say it was just one more thing I -- meaning his version of me -- was holding on to.
But I -- meaning my version of me -- would say it was a stunning example of love, war and how romantic projection can unceremoniously flip into its opposite.
And that is absolutely worth keeping.
We had not been involved romantically for a few years, and a very nice friendship seemed to be developing between us. Then a month ago he suddenly became distant and guarded.
The last time I'd seen him, he'd told me he would be in New York for a week in April, and so I believed he meant to see me. I cleared time in my schedule for him, and even attended an event he was hosting. But I did not hear from him, and beyond the first hello at the event, he not only avoided me -- he all but ran from me when I asked how he was doing.
Later, I -- along with 3000 of his closest Facebook friends -- learned that he was in a new relationship; I was absolutely stunned that he would behave so childishly. Weren't we friends, after all? Wouldn't he want to share good news like that with a good friend?
Apparently not.
I emailed him a few days later asking why he didn't simply tell me the news. Within minutes, I received a l-o-n-g email from him stating:
"My relationship with G___ is personal, private and what I will share when necessary. I was not hiding anything from anyone. I don't live in that world, either as a participant or as an observer."
Um... OK....
The letter rambled on:
"If I mean to say something, I'll say it. If I mean to share something, I share it. If I don't mean to say something please don't fill in the blanks because it matches your story. My life is just that, mine. What I choose to share I share. ...
"Your assessment of how I treated you is just that: yours. You keep holding onto that story if you need to. I suggest you not. I have no obligation to discuss with you any aspect of my life, none. No one in my life is afforded that. We had no implied agreement to hang out. None. Stop telling yourself those stories, stop creating scenarios...
"I'm not going to apologize for any of my behavior, for it's not callous or cruel. You have placed judgments on my actions, you have created stories about what you needed and wanted."
I was completely taken aback -- first by the cold, high-handed tone, and then by the sheer length and immediacy of the email. It was as though he'd had this little speech planned out for some time....
"Obviously you've been holding onto this for some time," he sneered. And then in the next breath, "A couple of years ago a similar thing happened, if I'm not mistaken."
I had no clue what he was talking about. And who was holding onto what here anyway??
As I looked over the words I started feeling sick -- not just because they were pretty damned callous and cruel -- but because they didn't quite seem directed at me.
I mean, yes, the letter was addressed to me, and seemed vaguely to respond to a few of the points I'd raised ... but it was so completely out of synch with what I had written that I couldn't even imagine the person he was speaking to ...
So I took another tack -- a kind of olive branch -- in hopes of bringing it to a personal level that might remind him of the me whose company he had enjoyed and with whom (I thought) he shared some connection.
"In this area, I admit I have some baggage," I explained, hoping to stir some compassion, "I have lost more than a few male friends to new girlfriends -- a few who were 'exes' of a sort, but most of whom were platonic -- and all of whom were dear to me -- only to be dumped unceremoniously when the new relationship came about."
"Friendship is sacred to me... I don't share myself with everyone the way I had with them, or with you."
I took a breath and hit "send."
"This ... is just another example of you and your story-telling," he shot back. "That is not the case with me, so let go of that baggage. It has nothing to do with me, and is irrelevant. You continue your pain cycle. That's your choice."
He continued parrying madly at an attack that existed only in his mind, concluding with this nonsenical pastiche of new-agey jargon,
"Whatever you need to hold onto, you hold onto it. This conversation isn't working for me. You've decided to live your life the way you live it. That's your choice."
And finally:
"I wish you peace."
That's new-age-speak for Go Fuck Yourself.
I let it go and went to dance class, feeling more confused than hurt.
Did he really not see that, even as he accused me "fill[ing] in ... blanks [to] match [my] story", he was doing precisely that to me??
Of course not.
And there is the essential blind spot in both loving and hostile relationships.
Both love and war are often the result of eros or shadow projection, respectively. In both cases, we dehumanize the other to fit our needs -- the "story" in our heads of what the world is and how we relate to it.
In a loving relationship, where we are in frequent contact with the beloved, the projection eventually falls. The beloved's humanity asserts itself, and we fall right out of erotic love. If there is a genuine connection that is based on more than erotic projection, a personal love can then develop.
In hostile relationships, however, the projection finds a more stable home because we keep the enemy at bay, so there is less chance that our enemy's humanity will mitigate our hostile projection -- forcing us to fall out of hate.
And I think that is what happened here.
My guess is that my friend may have had some lingering feeling for me based on the good experience we'd had earlier in the year. This, unfortunately, may have posed a threat to the new relationship that emerged a few weeks later.
I don't think my friend was conscious of this, and there may have been more at play than I'm aware of -- but one thing I'm sure of is that he considered me dangerous before he got off the plane in New York and intended to get rid of me entirely.
And the best way to break a personal connection is to supplant it with one's own projections -- which meant he had to avoid me, or he would risk seeing me as I am, and not as the disposable Inconvenient Woman he needed me to be.
It was the Inconvenient Woman he addressed in those emails -- spurned, angry, inconsolable, irrational, resentful, furiously vengeful -- in a word: Dangerous.
While I am certainly capable of all of those qualities and more, I am not her and she is not me -- because she is not a real person at all. She is merely a projection men form to hurl at women in their lives who have become, well, inconvenient.
(It's worth noting here that, after this email exchange, he not only unfriended me on Facebook, he blocked me altogether, as did a few of our mutual friends! And he blocked me from his public "fan" site!! So I must be very "dangerous" indeed.... Oy.)
Reflecting on all of this in dance class (shimmies are great for getting perspective!), I thought back to when he and I first met: his whole-hearted embracing of me, his intoxicating enthusiasm for just about anything I did or said.
Was I a real person to him even then? Probably not.
No. Absolutely not.
When I got home, I looked over the email thread again and decided, even though the exchange was painful, not to delete it.
I'm sure he would say it was just one more thing I -- meaning his version of me -- was holding on to.
But I -- meaning my version of me -- would say it was a stunning example of love, war and how romantic projection can unceremoniously flip into its opposite.
And that is absolutely worth keeping.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Focus, Focus!!
"I don't know what the heck happened...!" I spluttered after the first botched take of Sarah Skinner's Little Mermaid, for the Venus Uprising DVD of their latest show, Objects of Desire.
Cast as the Sea Witch, it was my job to figure out how to convey the following in about 20 seconds of stage time:
(1) The Little Mermaid has fallen in love with a shipwrecked prince, whom she has rescued and wants to trade her tail in for legs.
(2) She asks the Sea Witch, yours truly, for legs -- but the Witch demands a price. She offers her jewels and hair, but I grab her voice instead.
(3) Then, how to de-tail her (mmmm ... sushi!!).... Sarah, an expert seamstress, created a skirt with a mid-length side zipper. Armed with a scary (and real) knife, I appear to jab the blade into her side, then grab a cord looped into the zipper's pull tab with my thumb, and yank the zipper and knife down so it seems that the blade is raking through her body. (You can see the hilt of it in her side, here:)
Needless to say, I was worried through the dress rehearsal and each performance that something would go wrong with the zipper or knife.
Thankfully, all went smoothly -- until the filming.
Earlier that afternoon, I had been talking with a dancer in another number about my segment. She remarked, "The stuff with the knife looks very scary and real!"
"That's good to hear," I explained, "Because it's hard to grab the zipper and keep the blade straight."
"Well, actually," she said, "You can't see the blade at all because your other sleeve covers it."
This was sort of good news, but I was a little disappointed to hear all my struggles with this prop weren't making much difference.
And this weighed on my mind straight into the filming.
At the moment I "jabbed" the knife into her side, my eyes darted for a half-second to my sleeve. Was it covering? No? Yes? Maybe? I hooked my thumb into the zipper's cord and pulled down.
And it jammed. I fumbled with the knife, nearly dropping it. I yanked the cord again but still couldn't unzip it. Sarah looked down, frustrated, and ripped the zipper open herself.
I felt like crap.
I apologized profusely -- but it turned out part of the frame was blocked so we were going to have to do another take anyway.
"I don't know what happened..." I bleated... But of course I knew exactly what went wrong. Focus, focus!! It is everything in live performance. It's important in filming, too, but less so...
And maybe it was because we had all been so perfectly focused during the mishap-free live run, that we simply had to let up a bit.
Ultimately, we did about four takes because each time SOMETHING went wrong with a prop (other than mine... :-> ) or costume piece.
So yeah, I felt bad -- but not all that bad!
And I re-learned a good lesson: Focus, focus, focus!
Cast as the Sea Witch, it was my job to figure out how to convey the following in about 20 seconds of stage time:
(1) The Little Mermaid has fallen in love with a shipwrecked prince, whom she has rescued and wants to trade her tail in for legs.
(2) She asks the Sea Witch, yours truly, for legs -- but the Witch demands a price. She offers her jewels and hair, but I grab her voice instead.
(3) Then, how to de-tail her (mmmm ... sushi!!).... Sarah, an expert seamstress, created a skirt with a mid-length side zipper. Armed with a scary (and real) knife, I appear to jab the blade into her side, then grab a cord looped into the zipper's pull tab with my thumb, and yank the zipper and knife down so it seems that the blade is raking through her body. (You can see the hilt of it in her side, here:)
Needless to say, I was worried through the dress rehearsal and each performance that something would go wrong with the zipper or knife.
Thankfully, all went smoothly -- until the filming.
Earlier that afternoon, I had been talking with a dancer in another number about my segment. She remarked, "The stuff with the knife looks very scary and real!"
"That's good to hear," I explained, "Because it's hard to grab the zipper and keep the blade straight."
"Well, actually," she said, "You can't see the blade at all because your other sleeve covers it."
This was sort of good news, but I was a little disappointed to hear all my struggles with this prop weren't making much difference.
And this weighed on my mind straight into the filming.
At the moment I "jabbed" the knife into her side, my eyes darted for a half-second to my sleeve. Was it covering? No? Yes? Maybe? I hooked my thumb into the zipper's cord and pulled down.
And it jammed. I fumbled with the knife, nearly dropping it. I yanked the cord again but still couldn't unzip it. Sarah looked down, frustrated, and ripped the zipper open herself.
I felt like crap.
I apologized profusely -- but it turned out part of the frame was blocked so we were going to have to do another take anyway.
"I don't know what happened..." I bleated... But of course I knew exactly what went wrong. Focus, focus!! It is everything in live performance. It's important in filming, too, but less so...
And maybe it was because we had all been so perfectly focused during the mishap-free live run, that we simply had to let up a bit.
Ultimately, we did about four takes because each time SOMETHING went wrong with a prop (other than mine... :-> ) or costume piece.
So yeah, I felt bad -- but not all that bad!
And I re-learned a good lesson: Focus, focus, focus!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Nutshells, Coffee Shops and Scaling Down Area 51
"I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams." Hamlet, Act II, Scene ii
I have been writing down my dreams since 1995.
Sometimes I can go a week or two without remembering a dream; and other times I will have so many that I am overwhelmed, and any attempt to capture their details is paralyzed in frustration.
But for the most part, I try to write them down fairly regularly.
Dream analysis is an extremely important part of Jungian analysis, which I began in 1994. Although some consider dreams simple jetsam and flotsam as the brain processes the day's activities and concerns, the Jungian school holds that they have important information and guidance not only about current concerns, but can point to greater trends and psychological developments -- after all, we can't hide from the truth of dreams.
Granted, we can force gratifying interpretations on them, but this becomes more difficult when dreams reoccur with increasing ferocity and smash our respective nutshells.
For example, I used to have a dream that a terrifying man was chasing me, usually through the upper floors of a house or building. I would try to hide in a room and shut the door against him, but something would always be wrong with the door: the lock would be broken or non-existent or the door would suddenly become flimsy as tissue. Once the door shriveled to swinging-saloon-door size, and my assailant easily banged through.
This we took to indicate a psychological porousness on my part -- especially to judgmental "animus" energies. Sometimes, this could literally mean vulnerability to men -- in particular the criticism of men (which has played out in many relationships), but more often it indicated my intellectual, unyielding criticism towards myself -- which gave the harsh words of the various boyfriends undue power.
About five years ago in a dream, I successfully shut the door on the attacker, only to find myself curious about him. I opened it again and began a conversation with him in the dream. And, as is often the case in life when we see those whom we had feared in a different light, he was not terrifying at all.
I never had that dream again.
Of course, my "animus" issue is by no means fully resolved, but this was good progress.
The night before last, I had another dream where both an animus (inner male) and an animus-driven anima (hyper intellectual inner female) figure appeared.
It occurred at a time when I was struggling with what I felt was very hurtful behavior from a puer-type man whom I had cared for (I'll call him Evan), and who had treated me shabbily the last time we met -- and it gave me some very useful insight and guidance.
So here is the dream in its entirety, followed by a brief analysis:
Of course, when I told this dream to another male friend, he immediately thought: two cups and a box = female genitalia. And maybe it does -- as much of this dream illustrates an internal war between my masculine (animus) and feminine (anima) aspects. But it is so much more than that....
With the understanding that all figures in a dream represent an aspect of oneself, I must first conclude that Yolanda and the Mandarin man represent, respectively, the hyper-rational part of my feminine self, and the trickster part of my masculine self -- which often collude to cause me lots of trouble -- and can cost me lots of money, time and energy -- as I make "rational" excuses to justify obvious trickster behavior, and make outsized investments in people/relationships that are ultimately not worth it.
Archetypally, the non-animus-driven feminine can see right through the animus-trickster -- in the same way a mother can tell when her kid is full of crap. In many ways, the trickster in one's psyche plays games partly to show you creative ways of looking at the world, and sometimes he just wants to screw with you to make sure you are paying attention!!
So the trick that I often fall for is in believing a desired thing is worth more than it actually is. This has been particularly true of certain men in my life -- especially if they are achieving in an area where I have aspiration, as was the case where Evan was concerned.
And my psyche beautifully illustrated this with the enlarged (i.e. overvalued) photograph of ordinary paperware.
It is also worth noting that the animus figure is Chinese, and the fake real estate reminds me of "Area 51" -- which indicates that I still tend to see these dynamics as alien and not originating in my personal world. For example, in the current case, I believed that I was hurt more because Evan had been cold to me, and not because I had inappropriately overvalued him -- which I had.
Another important piece of information was the $20,000 on $3 million. Granted, $3 million is a lot of money -- but $20,000 is a miniscule .67% of that -- laughable even by savings account standards.
The lesson from this? That even though I am capable of investing HUGELY in relationships, my actual emotional investment in this particular person was minimal -- so I realized that much of my pain was only from wounded pride.
Why the coffee shop? That probably indicated I needed to freaking wake up about this!!!
And the final lesson? When I got mad -- really mad -- the guy took me seriously and, with a shrug, returned the invested money. Why the blasé shrug? Probably to indicate that the trickster plays tricks because that's just what he does, and so when he's caught, he makes good without regret or apology. But it takes a storm of fury to convince him that he is caught.
Now, I did not take this to mean that freaking out on Evan was the way to go -- but rather it would not be productive -- to him or to me -- to hide my feelings.
And with that in mind, I set out the next day to resolve the situation with Evan.
More later on what happened....
I have been writing down my dreams since 1995.
Sometimes I can go a week or two without remembering a dream; and other times I will have so many that I am overwhelmed, and any attempt to capture their details is paralyzed in frustration.
But for the most part, I try to write them down fairly regularly.
Dream analysis is an extremely important part of Jungian analysis, which I began in 1994. Although some consider dreams simple jetsam and flotsam as the brain processes the day's activities and concerns, the Jungian school holds that they have important information and guidance not only about current concerns, but can point to greater trends and psychological developments -- after all, we can't hide from the truth of dreams.
Granted, we can force gratifying interpretations on them, but this becomes more difficult when dreams reoccur with increasing ferocity and smash our respective nutshells.
For example, I used to have a dream that a terrifying man was chasing me, usually through the upper floors of a house or building. I would try to hide in a room and shut the door against him, but something would always be wrong with the door: the lock would be broken or non-existent or the door would suddenly become flimsy as tissue. Once the door shriveled to swinging-saloon-door size, and my assailant easily banged through.
This we took to indicate a psychological porousness on my part -- especially to judgmental "animus" energies. Sometimes, this could literally mean vulnerability to men -- in particular the criticism of men (which has played out in many relationships), but more often it indicated my intellectual, unyielding criticism towards myself -- which gave the harsh words of the various boyfriends undue power.
About five years ago in a dream, I successfully shut the door on the attacker, only to find myself curious about him. I opened it again and began a conversation with him in the dream. And, as is often the case in life when we see those whom we had feared in a different light, he was not terrifying at all.
I never had that dream again.
Of course, my "animus" issue is by no means fully resolved, but this was good progress.
The night before last, I had another dream where both an animus (inner male) and an animus-driven anima (hyper intellectual inner female) figure appeared.
It occurred at a time when I was struggling with what I felt was very hurtful behavior from a puer-type man whom I had cared for (I'll call him Evan), and who had treated me shabbily the last time we met -- and it gave me some very useful insight and guidance.
So here is the dream in its entirety, followed by a brief analysis:
My friend Yolanda tells me that she has bought some “out there” real estate as an investment, having put $20,000 down on $3 million. She shows me an aerial picture of the investment property, which is of some structures in the Navy Yard near where I live, which is now now ("now" as in "the now of the dream") paved over with nice asphalt paths, similar to those of the Brooklyn Bridge Park. Two of the structures are round, and one is kind of box shaped, all are shaped strangely, with unusual borders and cuts on the roofs. It all feels very Area 51 to me, and I am suspicious for Yolanda who -- in spite of being one of the most intelligent people I know -- can also be very naive in some common-sense ways because she is quick to rationalize and justify others’ very f*cked up behavior. (Such is the double-edged sword of intellect.)
So I decide to check out this property for myself. I go to the site, walking along the pristine asphalt paths that allegedly lead to her property, but do not see the structures -- or much of anything, for that matter, except for a largish coffee shop run by an Asian family. I go inside for a cup and while I'm waiting, look at a display arrangement on one of the counters. There are two paper cups with sip lids and a small rectangular gift box -- like the kind you'd put chocolates in. I stand directly over it and look down. THIS was the "aerial photo"!! I run off to tell Yolanda but she doesn't believe me, so I take her to the shop and show her the display. “Who got the $20,000?!?” I demand. The owner of the shop -- a middle-aged Mandarin comes out to see what the fuss is about. Yolanda points to him. “I gave it to him!” she says.
I freak out on the guy. I mean I go completely crazy, furiously bellowing at him about fraud and criminal charges, and demand he give the money back to Yolanda immediately, or I will return "with help". With a relenting shrug, he gives us a check for $20,000. I further warn him that the check had better not bounce, and urge Yolanda to deposit it quickly.
Of course, when I told this dream to another male friend, he immediately thought: two cups and a box = female genitalia. And maybe it does -- as much of this dream illustrates an internal war between my masculine (animus) and feminine (anima) aspects. But it is so much more than that....
With the understanding that all figures in a dream represent an aspect of oneself, I must first conclude that Yolanda and the Mandarin man represent, respectively, the hyper-rational part of my feminine self, and the trickster part of my masculine self -- which often collude to cause me lots of trouble -- and can cost me lots of money, time and energy -- as I make "rational" excuses to justify obvious trickster behavior, and make outsized investments in people/relationships that are ultimately not worth it.
Archetypally, the non-animus-driven feminine can see right through the animus-trickster -- in the same way a mother can tell when her kid is full of crap. In many ways, the trickster in one's psyche plays games partly to show you creative ways of looking at the world, and sometimes he just wants to screw with you to make sure you are paying attention!!
So the trick that I often fall for is in believing a desired thing is worth more than it actually is. This has been particularly true of certain men in my life -- especially if they are achieving in an area where I have aspiration, as was the case where Evan was concerned.
And my psyche beautifully illustrated this with the enlarged (i.e. overvalued) photograph of ordinary paperware.
It is also worth noting that the animus figure is Chinese, and the fake real estate reminds me of "Area 51" -- which indicates that I still tend to see these dynamics as alien and not originating in my personal world. For example, in the current case, I believed that I was hurt more because Evan had been cold to me, and not because I had inappropriately overvalued him -- which I had.
Another important piece of information was the $20,000 on $3 million. Granted, $3 million is a lot of money -- but $20,000 is a miniscule .67% of that -- laughable even by savings account standards.
The lesson from this? That even though I am capable of investing HUGELY in relationships, my actual emotional investment in this particular person was minimal -- so I realized that much of my pain was only from wounded pride.
Why the coffee shop? That probably indicated I needed to freaking wake up about this!!!
And the final lesson? When I got mad -- really mad -- the guy took me seriously and, with a shrug, returned the invested money. Why the blasé shrug? Probably to indicate that the trickster plays tricks because that's just what he does, and so when he's caught, he makes good without regret or apology. But it takes a storm of fury to convince him that he is caught.
Now, I did not take this to mean that freaking out on Evan was the way to go -- but rather it would not be productive -- to him or to me -- to hide my feelings.
And with that in mind, I set out the next day to resolve the situation with Evan.
More later on what happened....
Monday, April 4, 2011
Emotional Ledgers and Why They Keep Us from Abundance (HuffPo Comment)
[The below is a comment to this HuffPo article on "Emotional Ledgers".]
I'm a great believer in "paying forward" and giving freely, without compunctio
For example, just over a year ago a friend of mine was in the dumps so I visited him and gave him a backrub. Later he raved about how wonderful it was to simply receive this, precisely because I didn't expect anything back. A few months later, he asked me over -- and expected similar treatment, again with no reciprocat
Over the following year, this pattern repeated itself several times.
Granted, he is hearty in his appreciati
Then, a few months ago, he asked me to dinner -- and he didn't even OFFER to pay! And, worse, I felt horribly guilty for even hoping that he would because I had been so stuck in my "Giving Tree" mindset.
Not knowing quite how to handle this, I have simply avoided him and stalled his repeated requests for "manual" attention.
I want to tell him I'm feeling taken for granted, without it coming off like a demanding attack. Or do I just keep stalling, and hope he'll figure it out?
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost
I'm a great believer in "paying forward" and giving freely, without compunctio
For example, just over a year ago a friend of mine was in the dumps so I visited him and gave him a backrub. Later he raved about how wonderful it was to simply receive this, precisely because I didn't expect anything back. A few months later, he asked me over -- and expected similar treatment, again with no reciprocat
Over the following year, this pattern repeated itself several times.
Granted, he is hearty in his appreciati
Then, a few months ago, he asked me to dinner -- and he didn't even OFFER to pay! And, worse, I felt horribly guilty for even hoping that he would because I had been so stuck in my "Giving Tree" mindset.
Not knowing quite how to handle this, I have simply avoided him and stalled his repeated requests for "manual" attention.
I want to tell him I'm feeling taken for granted, without it coming off like a demanding attack. Or do I just keep stalling, and hope he'll figure it out?
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost
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