Tulip Bulbs

Last fall I planted eighty tulip bulbs and hoped that ten would bloom. Winter in almost nearing her end and I counted fifteen tender heads already peeking through the ground.

 Slanting strips of gorgeous rain has been pouring down all day, I asked for five whole minutes of quiet just so that my puppy could take his walk. We got four and in the fifth we came back drenched but with our job done.

The house smells of the lilies that he bought and the dishes that he forgot in the sink – it was his turn. The girls are excited about their lives and future and I will not break the news; heartaches happen and losses will have to be borne.

Today my mother turned down my phone call, she was too busy playing with her grandchild and I laughed at her willfulness hoping to resemble her someday. Today I heard from all of my old friends, apparently, time and distance has not fully kept us apart.

There are reminders all over and everyday of the arbitrariness of the rules that bring but temporary order into our chaotic and out of control lives. I too have pretended long enough to assume responsibility and bear my consequences without excuse.

Yet when I plant eighty tulip bulbs and ask for ten, I feel extraordinarily blessed to count fifteen shoots making their way through the ground. 

Caveat Emptor - Let the Buyer Beware

We’ve all heard our candidates both from the Republican and the Democratic parties describe their capabilities, their confidence, their accomplishments and their visions – all vital leadership elements.

However as humans we are also plagued with doubt, restlessness, fear, remorse and guilt. These are emotions that we are most likely to ignore and definitely not think of as acceptable qualities in our leaders.

But here’s why I think self-doubt is as important as confidence.

In one of her letters to her friend Eleanor Roosevelt, the activist wife, of President Franklin Roosevelt makes a rather unusual observation. Confiding her shock and disbelief at the inhumane treatment of Jewish prisoners in Germany, during the 2^nd World War, she wonders how the world continues to function seemingly untouched by the plight of these innocent people.

In her letter, she goes on to express her horror as other commuters on the train reading the same morning newspaper seemed to be unaffected while she could barely contain her pain. ‘How could America choose not to enter the war and stop this atrocity?’ she sadly questions.

Needless to say she did her part in encouraging her husband to cajole a reluctant nation into warfare.

Leadership as it turns out also involves the ability to guide a fear filled and anxious people into doing that, which is right and morally correct.

Unlike what’s generally assumed, human progress rests upon the shoulders of the most sensitive amongst us. Simple, everyday humans who have the capacity to read the feeling tone and suffering of those around them contribute for almost all major successes in our progress.

While at times a confident populist seems desirable as a leader. One lacking doubt of any kind is simply dangerous. For when a nation is most pressed to act, we need people capable of careful introspection.

Most times an internal temperature taking enables us to identify the underlying motivations that are guiding are actions, thereby empowering us to consciously reject baser and short- sighted ones such as anger and anxiety and pick instead the higher values of kindness and compassion

 We have somehow inherited the idea that doubt, restlessness and conflict are simply useless. But in my mind these are the harbingers of positive and lasting change as they signify the expansion of a living and breathing consciousness and not of one that is stagnant or unresponsive to its environment.

I wonder which one of our frontrunners has the audacity to be fully human?

10000-volt Fence

Sitting within the 10,000-volt electric fence that surrounded my life, I was much too scared to venture anywhere close to it, let alone harbor the thought of ever crossing it! Much of my life happened within the perimeter of safety even when I knew that my rich life was waiting outside. 

Tempted to take up art seriously much later in life, I eagerly created a portfolio and applied to the closest fine art school that I could find. I was half hoping for rejection, so that the tedious detail of child-care, commute, and homework did not have to be addressed.

My life was in for a major turnaround when I got accepted. I was both thrilled and extremely nervous; it was time for me to cross my 10,000-volt electric fence.

My mind did not help me in the least: my imagination ran wild; I was going to miss the train and be late on the very first day. I would accidently fall upon the tracks and be run-over, or worse, be stuck in between the doors of the train and be bludgeoned against the tunnel walls.  And my favorite - I would get off at the wrong station where junkies and petty criminals would rob and murder me.

To this day, I don’t know which God took my hand and walked with me!

When I finally made it to school uneventfully, I was in for more surprises. The very first class I took was Cast drawing. Our drawings were to be based off of casts of actual historical sculptures such as the David by Michelangelo, Nike of Samothrace of the Hellenistic Greek period, Laocoon from the Roman period and such other types, to be drawn to scale.

All of my fellow students were boys and girls between the ages of 18 and 20, many of who had already taken several drawing classes. So, as the oldest and least-skilled person, I even more nervously drew my child like drawing, never having taken serious drawing classes before. My instructor quizzed me on my skill set and left me standing with sweat tricking down my back.

The following week, looking extremely surprised he said, “I didn’t think you would show up!”

Here was a man who did not know me in the least. Who had no idea of the depth of my passion, my motivation, my life, the hardships of being a student and a mother of two elementary school age children not to mention the trauma of someone who had survived a major train related incident on her way to school.

Sometimes even as you are walking towards the 10,000-volt fence, people around you get nervous. The thing in all of this is to remember to be true to yourself even when you look crazy!

So, with his encouraging words in mind, I ran towards the fence with all my might and simply crossed it. I was unharmed – without a scratch. It turned out that like my train, my 10,000-volt fence, was also powered only by my imagination.

Half way through my very first semester, I drew the Nike of Samothrace to scale. My previously doubtful instructor after having measured and re-measured my drawing several times, put his hand out and said, “congratulations!”

Since then the idea is to cross as many 10,000-volt fences as I possibly can!

Nun with Red Lipstick

After I was exorcised from yet another episode of extreme neurosis, I sat back with a glass of wine and watched documentaries.

Neurosis, the state of heightened stress and irrational anxiety, is pretty common with most people that are creative. Save me your pity! I actually enjoy my insanity. Well mostly.

For those of us blessed with an active imagination, life does not happen on earth alone but often takes a detour into the hell realms that we have personally crafted for our own selves in our mind. 

In the hell realm everything feels real and vivid.

The school bus that is five minutes late has in fact skidded into a ditch, the family dog has choked and died on the piece of toy that I’ve forgotten to put away, a close friend’s minor ailment has turned fatal, I will soon be unable to paint as a result of paralysis and I am completely disliked because I have opened my mouth and spoken my mind freely.   

Anyhow, this detour is completely debilitating. At this point my brain is swimming in its own waste unlike my far more intelligent body. The shades have been drawn, the doors closed and the outer world simply does not exist, this projection made by this apparently sophisticated organ sitting over my shoulders is my complete and full reality.

Obviously it is painful, and I linger in it long enough before it decides to spit me out after having chewed me up completely.  Needless to say the suffering is intense.

Anyway, the glass of wine is helping, and I start recognizing for the first time how badly I have suffered and how much suffering I have caused those closest to me. Still recovering and a bit shaken I revert to the calming philosophy of Buddhist compassion. This time I’m almost inclined to give it all up and embrace the difficult path of complete renunciation, my ticket to freedom, so I decide to watch ‘The monk with the camera’- a documentary.

Clearly, the documentary is helping too, the good looking, calm and nurturing monk has me all interested – captivated in fact – as he talks about his playboy life of yester years, his love for taking pictures with his camera, his work at the monastery, the experience of lasting inner peace and so on.  Pretty soon just like that I have slipped away once again into a pretty delightful fantasy - one involving the monk with the camera and me as a nun with red lipstick.

The detour from reality has happened once again – I told you I enjoy my insanity - my only sadness is that this time I know its unreal and I’m being crazy!