Resolutions, Retrospectives and When's Season 4 of Homeland

When I was younger, every year around this time of year I would write out my New Year's Resolutions. When it seemed that each year I wrote out the same resolutions without realizing it, I stopped doing resolutions.

Then came the retrospectives. Seems that when you no longer take even your own resolutions seriously, you turn to a retrospective. A retrospective is basically looking back on the year and recapping this on Facebook for everyone to see how truly boring, pathetic and unfocused your year was, having lived that year without any resolutions, I might add. I have a hard time recapping my day, so I could never do this for a full year. No matter how entertaining these are, my mind wanders before I finish reading the first line.

Come to think of it,  my lack of focus has starred in some of my resolutions in years past. I once worked for a guy who had a plaque in his office that simply said "FOCUS." This was before the Successories posters depicting a super athlete kicking a soccer ball with the word "Focus" boldly typed beneath his torso as if it is holding him up mid-air. I admired that plaque until Bob fired me. The reason was that he sold his bread and butter product line to a company in Florida, yet my gut told me it was because I told him we shouldn't piss off a single-sourced supplier without a backup plan. He didn't take kindly to being told how to temper his rage at a supplier for a mistake he himself had made, I suppose.

Oh yeah, back to focus. I've been reading articles, essays and books on running and it seems that focus plays a central role. The tedium of running can often be a problem, even for the most experienced runner. When runners focus on their body, their breath, their stride and how they feel during the run instead of trying to follow other runners, pace themselves with a watch or use other mental tricks and distractions, they finish faster. While I might feel that my distractions keep me going, it turns out that my thoughts of a post-run treat to reward myself are actually not helping. All too often I end up skipping the run and just going straight for the treat.

The same advice can be said of living life. When we are not truly present, when we are focused on the past, the future, or any of the numerous distractions now available, it is hard to be happy. Period.

So, all this time writing I have really only wanted to figure out a way to ask what is on my single-tracked mind: When does Season 4 of Homeland start and did Brody really die?

But, for now, I leave you with only a quote from my favorite runner/author extraordinaire Dr. George Sheehan:
           "The runner lives in an eternal present."
Dr. Sheehan - On Running, 1975

So, my wish for everyone in 2014: May we all live in an eternal present.

Quote is from The Essential Sheehan: A Lifetime of Running Wisdom From the Legendary Dr. George Sheehan

http://www.amazon.com/The-Essential-Sheehan-Lifetime-Legendary/dp/1609619323

Time As An Ingredient

The ingredients for making bread are simple: flour, water, salt and yeast. What is missing from the list, of course, is the correct proportions. In life we strive for the right proportions of work and life, diet and exercise, family and friends and even rest and excitement. The list goes on. While we may never achieve a perfect balance with most things in life, achieving a satisfactory one is often better. A perfect balance is upset too easily. However, one that is satisfactory can sustain changes and fluctuations.

Just like with different recipes and types of breads, different times in our lives often require different proportions of things and priorities. Sometimes family requires more than we can give, so other things in life must shift and give, pull, stretch and even break, much like a pizza dough being forced to conform to the pan. We patch up the tear and move on. A loving family will stretch and move with you, sensing when you are stretched too thin.

A good friend of mine recently asked others on Facebook what their favorite Christmas gifts were. Time and again the answers tended to be simple, thoughtful gifts, often ones that included the giving of someone's time more than anything.

In the book called Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast: The Fundamentals of Artisan Bread and Pizza by Ken Forkish, the author states that the most important ingredient in making bread is time. David, my husband, has been dabbling in dough recently and having read this, commented on the perfect simplicity of this adage. I took it and like a child with a new toy tore through life fitting it to everything else imaginable. The ways in which time is a critical ingredient are infinite. From good cooking to exercise and losing weight, to developing careers and nurturing hobbies, to making and keeping friends, to enjoying art and even learning a language.

Unfortunately, some of these things often come hard to me. When I cook, I tend to rush things. In my mind, instead of the slow sautéing of onions on low heat I mistakenly think high heat will deliver quicker results. This only causes the poor onions to burn or dry out too quickly.

Losing weight and exercise require a devotion of time. Careers are never made over night. Not taking time to listen and understand a good friend is a missed opportunity, one we may never get back. Most important, though, is family. We don't get to choose our family, but like the ingredients in bread, they are what they are, tried and true. While brothers and sisters, mothers and daughters and fathers and sons are as different as there are types and varieties of bread, they are all still family. Family members need our love, support, honesty and humor. Without each of these in the right proportions, we are merely mixing dry ingredients together which will never bond, ferment or rise.

Bread making gets kinda messy and so can family life. Sometimes we need to be brutally honest and sometimes we need our siblings to help us laugh, even at ourselves. There are times when the dough in making bread is fragile and must be treated gently. But then, once it is baked, the loaves are hearty, crusty and full of flavor. Even with bread making, you can't always control all the variables. Temperatures get hot.

Just remember. Time is the most important ingredient. The other good thing about family, as with making bread, is that you don't just get one chance to make it right. Tomorrow is always another day.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/160774273X/?tag=googhydr-20&hvadid=32011917036&hvpos=1t1&hvexid=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=18657514691178818492&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=b&hvdev=t&ref=pd_sl_1quufu13ag_b

Walkabout

Our dog Sophie sleepwalks. Once Sophie is down for the night, she is very difficult to wake up. So we were surprised to see her one night getting up from the big dog pillow bed she sleeps on to pace around the living room a couple times. Before she went back to bed she stopped to put her nose next to David on the futon. Finally, she would return to her corner and plop back down on her bed. When we went over to check on her, she was fast asleep and couldn't be roused. Since we also noticed that she sleeps at times with her eyes open, we believe this little stroll around the living room was really sleepwalking.  

Sophie's sleepwalking made me recall my own sleepwalking. When I was In college I woke myself up in the middle of the night trying to pull the mattress off my bed. The sheer effort of this task woke me up. Thankfully, I hadn't woken my roommate up since this would have been embarrassing to admit during my first week on campus my freshman year. As far as I knew, I hadn't done any sleepwalking since my ninth birthday.

I am amused that in this strange way our dog would take after me. I know that dogs can pick up the fears and anxieties from their owners, but sleepwalking seemed to be a stretch. In fact, it seems that I pick up emotions from Sophie more often than the other way around. After playing with Sophie or just petting her I am more relaxed and at peace. So, I figure it is either one of those strange coincidences that she sleepwalks or perhaps this is a more common occurrence among dogs than I had realized.

Curious to find out more, I read up on sleepwalking. First, as could be imagined, sleepwalking occurs most typically during stressful times. I don't recall if we had had an Obedience Class with Sophie during the day before or not, but that would have done it for me.

When I was nine years old, I remember sleepwalking the night I had a slumber party with four or so friends over. I really didn't have many friends and the sleep over involved a bit of risk taking on my part. My friends and I slept on the floor of our TV room with a pile of blankets and pillows. Evidently some time after I had fallen asleep, I abruptly stood up, pulled off one of the blankets and started to leave the room with the blanket. The other girls who were still awake asked me where I was going. They assumed that I was angry at them because I only mumbled something and walked out to sleep elsewhere. I awoke the next morning bewildered to find myself in our formal living room, not knowing where I was or how I had gotten there. The other girls remembered my sleepwalking very clearly.

I was also curious about sleeping with one's eyes open which I discovered is called nocturnal lagophthalmos. In our townhome, my husband and I used to sleep in a large bedroom with a vaulted ceiling. For lack of a better spot, we assembled a weight machine in one corner of the bedroom. I hated having this thing in our bedroom because in the middle of the night I would fixate on this and only as I gradually woke up enough would it occur to me that it was our weight machine and not some horrible creature I needed to keep my eye on. Of course, this really wouldn't be a problem if I didn't sleep with my eyes open at times. The explanation of this phenomenon doesn't seem to fit, attributing it to an inability to fully close one's eyes during sleep. It isn't that I can't, it is more that I just don't. Or perhaps I was actually not really asleep, but yet also not really awake - sort of in the same state that Sophie is in when she does her little walkabout.

According to Wikipedia, a walkabout is a rite of passage during which the Australian Aborigines male "would undergo a journey...and live in the wilderness for a period as long as six months" retracing the paths or "songlines" that their ancestors had taken. To the Aborigines everything is expressed through songs, gestures and words.

I happened upon a blog posting by Betsy Lewis for a Walkabout Woman Project where she invites other women "to explore living their longings." see http://thewalkaboutwoman.com. Days away from turning 53, a rather insignificant age, other than just being "old," I decided to take inspiration from little Sophie, the Aboriginals and the blogger. This will be my walkabout year, only my eyes will be open. Just as the Aboriginal makes the world exist by singing it, I will make my world exist by writing about it.