Saturday, April 24, 2010

You Can Find Anything at Costco (story relayed with permission)

At a recent gathering of women, the topic of relationships came up. A woman told about the ending of her long term relationship and how she didn’t know if she would ever get through the emotional roller coaster that followed. She lived in dread of bumping into her ex in the community, noted with despair that she felt almost addicted to this man who did her wrong. Would she fall back into the pattern that trapped her originally? Would she fall apart and lose her resolve to move on? If you’ve been in a relationship that ended before you were ready, you might be able to relate to this story.

For five years she suffered anxiety. Then one afternoon, shopping at Costco, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around, and there he was—the object of her most pervasive anxiety. Did she throw up? Did she run screaming from the store? Did she aim a well-placed kick? What did she feel? Nothing. Absolutely NOTHING. It was at that very moment she realized she had found closure.

From across the room another woman commented, “Wow, you can find ANYthing at Costco!”

Friday, April 16, 2010

Personal Ads from the Quirky Side of Life

I’m not a big fan of personal ads. From what I hear, people rarely represent themselves honestly. But what if they did?

More For Your Money: Multiple looking for love. Cute, sexy, quietly outrageous, average height, average weight, average hair and eye color (averages based on combined personality traits divided by number of alters) waiting to meet you and bring some excitement to your life. Call Code 303 and leave a message for anyone (specify gender preference). One of us will get back to you. Namaste, Ciao, Bye, Hasta. Ad 303

Interested in a brief affair? Candlelit (hospital) room, breakfast in bed, essence of pine (Sol) wafting in the air. Call quickly as this offer won’t last long (nor will the writer). Ask for Rm. 212, St. Mercy’s Hospital. Ad 304

Looking for more bang for your buck? Suicide bomber looking for one last blowout before moving on. I have a patriotic nature and a wry sense of humor. Not into long-term relationships. I believe in past lives, and am big on atonement. If you call and the phone has been disconnected, you’re too late. Ad 305

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Cyber Kids

In a recent e-mail to my brother Bill in Colorado, I bemoaned the fact that some kids today don’t even know what a typewriter is, or a rotary dial phone, or—well, name just about anything from our childhood.

Today’s kids’ language of preference is texting (which still shows up as an error on my spell check—the little man in my computer is convinced I really mean taxing). Bill and his 16 year old daughter Kass (that’s her with the Black Belt) got the giggles over something absurd the other day—you know, the double over, cross your legs kind of giggles. She was finally able to sputter out, “oh my gosh, Dad, I almost yelled LOL!”

Friday, April 2, 2010

Open Window

I saw Alice in Wonderland last weekend. It was sort of a metaphysical-mythological-shamanic journey on acid (well, with the 3-D glasses anyway). Not only was I wildly entertained by the visuals, but also by the extraordinary mind of Lewis Carroll. What kind of brain, firing at what kind of level, would it take to come up with that story line, those amazing characters, that language?

My spiritual/philosophical belief system would remind me that there is no separation from the source of all creation and its expression, making Lewis Carroll no more extraordinary than you are or I am; perhaps just more in touch with his creativity or less inhibited about putting it out there for judgment.

Most people have a slightly tweaky part of their mind that’s kept under wraps, a bent sense of humor rarely shared, or imaginings that they’re glad no one else can peek in on—I know this is true; I hear it in therapy all the time. I had one of those moments just this afternoon.

My friend Trudy, also a therapist, with whom I share a suite of private practice offices, was passing by my office, stuck her head in my open door, and noted the curtain, gently ruffling in the breeze.

“It’s nice you have your window open—and the curtain keeps flying things out. I get flying things if I open my window,” she lamented. We exchanged a few more words and then she left to prepare for her afternoon clients.

Images of a baseball, a swirl of leaves, a Frisbee, a kite, maybe a pigeon or two flying in her window, hovering overhead, landing with a soft thwump or a ruffle of feathers on the couch next to a client, brought a chuckle at the absurd places my mind frequently takes me. Later I shared this with Trudy.

“So you see why I’m reluctant to ever open it,” she said, straight faced.