#24 Easter

As a Jew, Easter Sunday doesn't necessarily mean a lot to me but I do understand that it's more than bunnies, eggs & chocolates. That said, when I awoke I began reading something that reminded me to be grateful & to be the change I'd like to see in the world (I'd like to be funnier but that's another story). After I dressed & made my bed, I went outside. I was immediately struck by what a beautiful day it was & I looked to the sky and smiled. I can't explain it but I felt an overwhelming sense of love. I decided to hit an AA mtg which is the equivalent of my church. Listening to someone share their experience, strength & hope on a Sunday (or any day) is never a bad idea. Through the basement walls you could hear a choir above. It was befitting. After the meeting, I did what I often do on beautiful days, I took a walk down to the east river. As you can see from the photos, I was (and am) filled with the spirit of spring, recovery and renewal. When I reached the promenade, I sat on bench & immersed myself in the sunlight--still feeling grateful & happy to be alive. Peaceful. After some time, I decided to head home. As I neared the bridge that crosses over the FDR at 78th St, a little girl came running & she passed me crying for her mother. I took notice & saw a couple in front of me & quickly asked if she was with them. She was not. I ran up to her and it was clear she was lost. I discovered her name & that she was 4 yrs old. There's a playground nearby so there was the immediate thought that somehow she got separated from her mother there. Through her tears, the little girl insisted her mother went home without her. Wailing as only a scared 4 yr old can wail, she was adamant her mother was gone! Myself & the couple decided to call the police. We stayed with her, each trying to console her until they arrived. Within minutes 2 officers appeared. Minutes after, a call came that a woman was looking for her daughter. As we suspected, she had somehow slipped out of the playground while her mother was distracted. The couple & I accompanied the officers as they reunited mother with child. This is a happy ending. It could've ended in a vastly different way. Sometimes you are in the right place, at the right time, to do the most good. Happy Easter.

Addendum: At the time of this writing, I had not learned of yet another act of terror. This time, at Lahore Park in Pakistan. So many lives lost. So many women, children and families affected. To consider that there is so much hatred and pain in the world that human beings could continue to harm innocents, staggers my mind. I am naive. I know. 

We have to do better. 😊

#23 In the back of Beanocchio's

I'm at Beanocchio's on the upper east side. It's 3:35pm. I've ordered a large ice coffee and a breakfast taco. The lady behind the counter didn't want to make the "breakfast" taco for me because it's 3:35pm. That's not "breakfast" time. She was all adamant. Her head tilted a few times while she said "no" but the guys behind the counter looked at my dejected face and overruled her. Sometimes you win; even if winning is a breakfast taco in the afternoon.

I like this place. It evokes a bizarre, fairytale-like atmosphere that is oddly inviting while it also ensures you can keep up with the latest professional soccer game. A reasonably sized TV screen hangs above an antique piano which is covered with books in the back of the place. On the screen, the men race back and forth. I barely glance. I'm not even remotely interested but I do like the sound of the cheering fans. It's a kind of white noise to me and it makes focusing on reading or writing or whatever I'm about to do that much easier.

Prior to Beanocchio's, I stopped to pet a cat that was tethered outside a storefront. I hate seeing that but not much I can do. She's a white cat made gray from the city. I feel bad for her so I give her some attention which she enjoys a little too much. I feel guilty about having to leave her but I do. She stares after me.

Needless to say, I had to wash my hands. So, I make my way to the bathroom and I see that the door is slightly ajar. I take this is as the universal sign that no one is in it. I open the door and I hear a heavy new york accent screech, "someone's in heeyaaaah!". In my somewhat less obvious new york accent I shoot back, "close the door then, why dontcha?".  I wait and when the bathroom is free, I feel a twinge of guilt again. An old woman comes out. I mean, she's crazy and that's clear enough from the colors, patterns and layers of her clothing but she is old and God knows what's happened to her (or what she did in that bathroom). One thing is certain, I need to wash my hands and ingest more caffeine. Luckily, the bathroom is intact and the coffee is in hand.

I settle at a communal table that has a one woman reading at it. There are stacks of books by her side. Library books. At least a dozen with titles like: "Rethinking", "Spiritual Power" and "The Art of Happiness". My breakfast taco arrives. I take out my notebook and pen to write a joke or something. Something. Nothing comes. I glance at the serene woman seated next to me with her self-help books. I decide to ask her if she is capable of reading all those books at the same time. She grins and says "Oh, yes! Pieces of them"! She's a well maintained woman in her late 60's or early 70's. She's in beige and khaki colored clothing. Definitely a midwesterner. I tell her I'm a "one book at a time" person. I'm like this with men too but that's another story. For whatever reason, she takes my one question as an invitation for an actual conversation and since I don't know what I'm writing or what I'm about to write about, I go with it. She seems eager to chat but I wasn't so sure I was. Lacking joke-y jokes or inspiration, I go with it. A shelf with a blue plastic pony and an assortment of stuffed animals witnesses the scene.

Her name was Ann. She and her husband were married for 30 years and then he left her for another woman. Instead of falling apart, she took classes, traveled to South America and India. She never worked while she was married but she fell into a job at a library. Over the years her job descriptions became more prominent. She raised four adult children--one of whom, a daughter, now has cancer. She came to New York to visit that child. I could understand why she was reading the books and why she might need to talk to a stranger. 

"There are no accidents. Everything happens for a reason", she said. 

I can't tell you how many times I've heard this (and I'm sure you have too) but in that moment, in the back of Beanocchio's, I believed her.

She asked me if I needed healing. Do I need healing? I hadn't said anything. Seems odd, right? I'm just a woman eating a breakfast taco, having an ice coffee about to maybe write some jokes and didn't she have enough on her plate with her sick daughter?  But I said, "Yes, who doesn't need healing?" Then, with my permission, she gently placed her hands on my head and I felt a very warm and caring energy. It was maybe a minute. Nothing was said. She removed her hands and smiled. 

It healed my heart.  It just did. That was it. 

There really wasn't more to say after that. She had to go.

And just like that, I stared after her like the cat. Just with a smile.

#22 Boxer

I wake up gnarled and twisted on my futon. My a/c is out. I'm stiff & achy from a boxing class I took four days ago. I'm hot. My hair is a swirl of dark brown mess in front of my eyes. I can't see. When I try to get off the futon, my abdominal muscles won't comply. To see it, you'd think I was drunk or hungover. I just boxed. I'll do it again. If it's painful, I'm going to pour my heart and soul into it. That's what I do. I'm also incredibly dramatic. #CutMeMick

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#21 Reality Check

He looked at me and said, "cigarettes are so '80's". I replied, "yes, I agree with you but it's either this or homicide" and then he said, "choose homicide".

I didn't have enough coffee this morning. I'm dragging. I have to be at work early for a magic show. I glance at the paperwork on my desk and the clothes that need to be hung and mutter, "I'll deal with that tomorrow".

That's how it goes sometimes. Things are status quo. There's nothing particularly good or bad with my life at this moment. When I consider the troubles of the world in their entirety, I feel like I don't have it so bad. You guys know what I mean.

It's the Coney Island Mermaid Parade today and it's cool and overcast. Instagram pics are dotting my feed as I write. It would be fun to be there but it's hard to view any event these days past its potential photo opportunity and without considering it's cost or length of time to get there.

Do I sound morose? I'm not. I am so grounded in reality that it comes across as dull. I know that about myself and that in itself is dull.

I need more coffee.

#20 Good morning Dad.

I slept well...probably the best night's sleep I've had in weeks. For months there was a feeling of impending doom; that something was going to happen. I couldn't imagine what that something was or what it would look like or how it would manifest. I had the feeling that I wasn't making clear decisions (in fact, I knew it) and that things were going to unravel in ways that were out of my control. I also knew that I was trying to manipulate things in my mind and it was keeping me up nights. I was spending too much time on what other people were doing as opposed to what I needed to do. 

The beginning of February, I put to bed one of the things that was troubling me. I thought about it for some time but I knew that this particular situation (I had put myself in) made me feel drunk. For a sober person, this can be dangerous. After 19 yrs clean, I didn't like who I was becoming during this time. I also didn't like what I was observing about the situation. My self-confidence diminished and my faith was nearly non-existent.  I was a wretched person to be around or, at least, I felt wretched. I admit, I'm harder on myself than most and to the average, untrained eye I behaved like my usual self....irritable with a smattering of over-elation.

Still, having ended that situation (albeit, half-heartedly), I knew it was the right thing to do. Sometimes, we hold on to things because of our "pain bodies". Read Eckhart Tolle to get that reference. I only mention it  because I like saying "pain body". No one sees your "pain body" but sometimes your "pain body" and my "pain body" can get together and have a grand ole time! Be that as it may, I had a lot of support from friends while I was transitioning out of my shitty "pain body".

In the ensuing weeks, I got back to business but I didn't feel like the proverbial shoe had really dropped. Something nagged at me. I couldn't shake it.  

Two weeks ago, my father had a heart attack. He flat-lined on the way to the hospital. The paramedics saved him. There it was. There was the full manifestation of what I felt was coming. Somehow, I sensed it. A myriad of thoughts raced through my mind. Is he going to make it? What will I have to do? Do I have enough money to do it? Will I be able to get time off work? Who will cover for me? How long will I be away? What will I be called upon to do to help my father? Am I prepared for this? How do I handle this? Why isn't there someone in my life to help me handle this? Why do I feel like such a child? 

I felt helpless, alone and scared and I'm sure my father felt the same way. I mentioned my father's condition on Facebook just to release it...so I wasn't so alone in it...but my true fear didn't register there. FB isn't where I show my vulnerability...not really. It's mostly for sarcasm and selfies...which is another story entirely.

I slowed down. Some other side of me kicked in or maybe it is that side of me that I know exists and that I intuitively trust. The side that knows that she knows how to handle whatever comes her way. The side that knows that she has a lot of support and love. The side that has more courage than she gives herself credit for. 

I was able to drop everything and show up when it mattered most. I had help. I had support and I had love. I was present for my father in every sense of the word. I advocated for him. I made calls for him, I cared for him. I cooked for him and most of all I provided him with the love that only a daughter can provide for her father (I sense that some comedians will have a field day with that last statement). 

My father is on the road to recovery and I continue on my road too...and I'm trudging it less and less today. I'm not going to say it was easy. It wasn't. Did I curse God or whatever and whoever? Yes, I did...but I got through it. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Thank you to those of you who were there for my father and I. You know who you are.

#18 Mini Morning

Lately, I don't know if there's anything to wake up from. What I mean is that there's no definitive morning. I fall asleep. I wake up. I fall asleep. I wake up. I don't know what my first "morning thoughts" really are.

This morning, I don't get out of bed easily. Juno, the blizzard of 2015, has blanketed the city. It's not so much of a blanket as it is a sheet.

I pick up my phone for some  bullshit validation on some supurfluous Facebook status I wrote. 23 likes. "Well, that's a significant amount", I think to myself but it doesn't fill the void.

The void.

I was supposed to be on a TV show today but that got pushed back and I was also supposed to see Louis CK tonight but the show was canceled. So, I go to work.

I think I just heard Seagulls. Is that even possible? From my window, I hear a man cough. Juno has quieted the city if nothing else...except for the seagulls and that dude.

#17

First thought: Why must I wake and immediately look at emails?

I started (although slowly) doing what's called the "Morning Pages" as mentioned in a prior blog, these pages come from the book The Artists Way (which I've had for years and have only skimmed through even until this very moment). Half measures avail us nothing. Some of you will know what I'm talking about. I really should read it thoroughly. Anyway, I realize that it's probably the best and most creative thing I can do for myself --write out what's going on in my head in the morning. Clear the cobwebs & unscramble the mind to give myself some clarity.

Some topics from the pages include : "I can't see" and "Why am I looking at my phone?", "Emails & texts", "It doesn't matter", "Kevin Spacey" (I watched House of Cards before going to bed), "Mario  Cuomo" (his recent passing), "I have to get up", "I don't think I can do this ", "How will I spend my first day off in days?" and "It's cold under my feet". These are just flashes of thought that race through my mind. It's 10:20am and by 10:42 am, I'm exhausted with just how quickly I've run this race.

I don't know how this writing will unfold as I continue . It is a new exercise for me and I'm already out of breath.

I put up a pot of coffee and I play some music. That's actually a bit of a meditation. I try to figure out how I'm going to plot my day to propel my career and manifest my dreams. I don't really say this kind of shit and I'm perplexed as to why I've just written it.

It's raining and I can hear the Super handling the trash in the alley below. When I think of an alley, I think of some clandestine spot down by the Bowery in the 1940's. I'm on the upper east side; to me it's just a space in between two buildings. Alley. Meet me in the alley. I got a package for you.

I'm listening to Nina Simone. "It's a new dawn, it's a new day and I'm feeling good."

I don't know if I'm feeling good necessarily but this song motivates me to get up and get more coffee.

There's a lyric-something about "blossom on the trees" and I stare at my decaying Christmas tree (on January 12th) wondering how or who is going to help me take it down. It's a bummer not having someone. But it's sometimes a bummer having someone.  All of the sudden I hear construction outside. It's raining and I think what a bummer that must be for the men working in the rain. "Bummer" has just become my go to word.

I am clearly not awake yet and more coffee will be consumed. It just got quiet again. Now, all I hear is the rain. It's comforting. I don't have control over it. It's peaceful to know when you really don't have control over anything and letting go of manipulating things in my mind relaxes me again. I'll take yoga. I'll visit with friends. I'll try to do some good. I'll clean. I'll organize. I'll listen to more music. I'll catch up on some news… relentless news.

I think it's time to get moving.