The Lecture I Didn’t go to and Other Crazy Things

Jeez, it’s already Thursday and I haven’t thought about writing my Saturday post until now. It’s weird that I even have to rush to get the job done because for several months I’ve had two or three posts sitting in my scheduler at any given time. It takes me more than one sitting to write a post so I don’t like working this close to my self-imposed deadline because I can’t safely write and edit for errors in the same day and I always do my editing first thing in the mornings when my brain is still half asleep. When I have a draft ready to edit I also look for places that can be tweaked for better word choices, tenses that don’t match or places where I can insert a little humor, if appropriate for the topic. 

Now, on to what’s been going on in my life besides breathing easier now that our country got through inauguration day without any drama. I spent that day channel surfing between three channels from 8:00 AM to midnight starting with watching Trump’s departure and ending with the late night comic’s take on the day. They did not disappoint me. Nothing about the day disappointed me except maybe Garth Brooks singing of Amazing Grace. Jennifer Lopez and Lady Gaga both killed their songs and both looked so happy to be there that they couldn’t hide their living-the-dream Sparkle if they tried. But I hope security thought to look up Gaga’s massive red skirt. She could have hidden a couple rabid assassins under there.

On the personal news front, Monday was the day when those of us who belong to our local senior hall had to make RSVPs for February and March events, a process that I’ve often compared to the running of the bulls because their events---lectures, lunches and classes---have limited space and normally they record 1,500 to 1,700 RSVPs over a three day period. This month, however, I talked to someone who works on the committee that sends out the bi-monthly newsletters and she said since the pandemic closed the place down for a few months last spring people haven’t been renewing their memberships. We’re down from roughly 1,500 to 700 members. Shocked the heck out of me. The place will not survive the pandemic if they keep bleeding members who are trying to save a lousy $15 a year fee.

The newsletter had a lecture I was interested in going to and I had my RSVP ready for the 9:00 opening bell to ring in my head so I could send it. Only the first 114 emails received get a lecture confirmation, any requests after that go on a waiting list. At the last minute I asked myself, “Why do I want to put myself in contact with that many people during a pandemic just to hear a lecture about haunted lighthouses?” Even wearing a mask it wouldn’t be safe. So, another month will go by without me having any social life except for every two weeks I go to the grocery store. It's been months without me even talking to enough people each month to set up a foursome for a round of golf. Not that I play the game but I did take 18 lessons back during my Chameleon Days aka back in my dating days when I thought I needed to do every and any thing a guy I was dating liked to do. Tennis---I loved the cute little outfits but hated playing. Lesson taken, a waste of time. I never improved. Snow skiing I loved and I kept going long after the guy I took lesson for and I broke up only to give up skiing when my husband came into my life. Yup, I was a chameleon for nearly a decade. Thankfully I never dated a bank robber.

Back on topic: The senior hall’s speakers’ fees are paid for by sponsors our director ferrets out in the community. In exchange for the sponsorships, the sponsors get to set up a table in the back of the room to distribute information on services or goods that are targeted to our age bracket. They come with give-aways to lure you over to their tables like cloth shopping bags, coffee cups, flashlights, key chains, paper pads and pens, but my favorite give-away of all time is a telescoping back scratcher. Handiest damn thing I’ve ever owned. It even has a clip that makes it look like you’ve got an ink pen in your pocket. Before the pandemic I scored my third back scratcher. I keep one in the car, another by my computer and one by my bed. And in case you're wondering, yes, I bath regularly but my poor posture pinches some nerves that make me itch across the back of my shoulders and sometimes it drives me crazy. My best friend all through grade and high school was probably the tallest girl in class and her mom used to make her practice walking around with a book on her head to improve her posture, keep her from slouching. I did it with her a few times, both of us being too silly to keep the books on our heads. I should have kept trying. It worked for her…moms do know best.  ©

Twitter had fun with Gaga's ensemble, comparing it to a character's gown in The Hunger Games, the one who says, "May the odds be ever in your favor." The gold brooch, many said, looked like the mocking-jay pin in the movie although it was actually a giant, gold dove of peace with an olive branch in its beak. I can't remember the symbolism of the color contrast and military-like top, but she sure set the fashion world on fire. Others said her dress was creating its own six feet social distancing.

Building Our Own Violins aka Mindfulness

NOTE: This post was originally scheduled to run a few days after the Capital was overrun with domestic terrorists. So I kicked it back to a draft to make room for a few posts about current events. Today is Inauguration Day and I'm sure most of us are holding our breaths waiting to exhale when/if we get through it peacefully. In Trump's inaugural speech four years ago he painted a dark picture of America and promised: "This American carnage stops right here and stops right now." In a perfect world, he'd realize those words should have been spoken today, on his last day in office. In a perfect world he'd know that his legacy will forever be connected to the worst carnage ever set upon our Democracy. But it's not a perfect world and more than ever we could do ourselves a service if we'd spend a little time each day practicing mindfulness.

 
Do you know what impresses me? That a guy could apprentice to a long line of violin makers and still be able to take the craft to such new heights of perfectionism that people nearly three hundred years later are willing to pay millions of dollars to own one of his instruments. Antonio Stradivari, in his seventy years of professional work, made 1,100 stringed instruments and 650 are said to still be in existence. Truly amazing! From a little stab of maple, some pine, glue and varnishes, and with a methodical persistence to find perfection the Stradivarius was born, a line of instruments with full woody tones unsurpassed even today.

I wonder what it would feel like to be truly gifted at something. I wonder if Antonio knew he was a gifted. I doubt it. After all the whole town of Cremona in the northern region of Italy where he lived and worked had a history---three centuries long---of making musical instruments. Did he think of himself as just another guy on an assembly line? Like some guy in Detroit punching out automobiles? Or could he feel that his work was special? Antonio must have had some idea; he kept his vanish recipe a secret even from his wife and children and many people feel that his varnishing process is what gave his violins their magic sound. But then again he was making a living and people protect their livelihood from their competitors, so that doesn’t necessarily mean he knew he was creating masterpieces that would endure over centuries.

I have a book titled, Wherever You Go There You Are---at least I had it before the big book purge last summer. That title amused me whenever I saw the book on the shelf. The author would not be happy to learn that I’ve never actually read the book cover to cover, but I’ve read enough of it to know that it’s about cultivating our ability to live in the present moment. Mindfulness. I don’t know where I am going with this except that I believe a person like Antonio Stradivari must have understood living in the moment. As he worked, he let the woods and varnishes speak to him and he listened in an analytical way that his predecessors, and those who came afterward, hadn’t done. He was not just another guy on an assembly line punching a time clock, picking up a paycheck. He had the “it factor” that Simon on American Idol used to talk about.

I have a sister-in-law who is a wonderful cook. Not only does her food taste fantastic, but her presentation, creativity and thoughtfulness in menu planning are something that I have long admired. She has the “it factor” in the kitchen. She’s in the moment when she is in the kitchen. I have a niece who when her two sons were young, she had the “it factor” when it came to motherhood---and now when it comes to grand-parenthood. Her older sister once said that Melinda is not just a mother, “She’s a human development specialist.” She’s in the moment when she interacts with the children in her life, gives them 100% of her attention.

You can guess what I’m going to say next. Yup, I’m going to tell you that we don’t have to build Stradivarius violins or paint like Rembrandt to achieve a state of oneness with our surroundings. To find that one thing that we can be passionate about, that something that regenerates our spirit and soul, and when we find it we can’t help but give it 100% of our attention. We do so many things on autopilot, thinking of past regrets or worrying about the future, instead of seizing the moment we’re in. Yada, yada, yada. This could be lecture #704 to myself because I fall out of mindfulness as often as I fall into it.

Someone in another blog said words to the affect that we live for the little moments in life that tell us that we’re alive. I couldn’t agree more. I would only add that increasing our happiness can come from practicing mindfulness—of teaching ourselves to live in the small moments of life. Over the past year when the pandemic and politics because the strangest bedfellows ever paired together it’s been impossible for me to live in the moment and I’m hoping I can get back to at least trying to do that. Granted, I’ve never been good at it for more than an afternoon, a day or a week at a time but those times when I do achieve mindfulness have the power to heal. And 2020 left me with a lot of wounds that need healing but it’s time to say, “Yup, today I'm metaphorically building my own violin”---to enjoy the process of whatever I’m doing at the moment. Antonio Stradivari might have said it this way: “If you live in a town that builds musical instruments, build the best damn one you can build.” If you're me you vow to bake more bread, a process that never fails to pull me into the moment. ©