here goes

Studio envy

Week of April 2, 2006. My friend, E., and I stopped by Beverly's Fabrics and Crafts on our way out for an evening on the town. While we were there, I bought diaper pins for W. He wanted the ones with the blue ends, not yellow or white.  It's not that odd, buying diaper pins for one's grown spouse. He needed something to pin his keys to his running/triathlon shorts. Regular saftey pins are too flimsy. They came in pakages of four, so I took one for myself, too. In a fit of remembering the great calligraphy studio I enjoyed in January, I bought myself a calligraphy pen. E. was looking for roses for her mixed media collage project.  I don't think she found any.  After we went out for drinks and conversation, she showed me the studio she set up for herself in the shed in her back yard. As a consolation, she let me pick some ribbon her sister's friend had sent her. We also swapped books. She didn't take Soiled Doves, but she did take A Country Doctor. E. loaned me some Octavia Butler and Ann Taylor.

After that night, I didn't hear a word from her for at least two months and counting (I'm posting about this more than two months after the fact).  I guess that's not a very long time, really, except in blog-land.  I haven't seen much of F. either since our trip to NYC in March. 

Many many times I've thought of calling E. to come over and do something artistic in her studio. Instead, I've been stewing in my own juices and not feeling very sociable or creatively productive. E. also has a cool job in marketingland.  She told me once she could see me as a creative director (trust me, my blog doesn't show the whole story), so I also envy her her job, too. You see, I'm about to change jobs. I don't know which job I will change to and even my boss doesn't know it yet.  That whole internal drama of waiting waiting waiting to hear from interested parties is taking a lot more of my energy than I usually realize.  My friends must feel that I've flaked out, like a true Californian. 

I've assimilated!  Woohoo! 

Next time I call my friends will be when I am looking for job, also a very California thing to do.

Is listening ... radical?

I've been reading a book called called Radical Presence: Teaching as a Contemplative Practice by Mary Rose O'Reilley. It has been giving me ideas about an "experiment in friendship." I'll quote a bit from the book:

"In order to practice radial presence -- to come home to your heart and listen deeply to others who look for your there -- someone must first listen to you. Celtic spirituality calls this person the Anam Chara, or soul friend. For years I had wished for a true spiritual teacher ... What I fond instead was a buddy.

"... As we became friends, we decided to spend two hours a week in a process we called 'deep listening.' We developed a simple formula: you talk for an hour and then I talk for an hour. We didn't plan to ask a lot of questions or interrupt much beyond a few clarifications, or give advice. At various times, we broke most of those rules.

"How does this listening work, and what's deep about it? Don't all of us know how to listen? On the contrary, I think we know how to shut down. Self-preservation compels it. ... There is much to hear, but little worth listening to."

That passage got me to thinking (I heard it in a woman's writer's workshop in January). Even though the author started the practice of meeting for two hours a week with someone "radical listening" for spiritual reasons, I thought it would be very helpful for the process of writing. In my job day-to-day, I work on my own and I spend very little time interacting and talking with other people. By the time I sit down to by myself write, I feel anxious to go talk to someone, to socialize. To me, it would be enormously helpful just to articulate my problems and difficulties with creating a story, with the frustration of the writing life, with just anything that comes up. I think it would speed up my growth and development as a writer.

I certainly would not rule out reading and discussing my work with another writer, however, I want a bit different focus.  In the book, the author goes on to relate moments where people's lives are transformed just because someone listened to them. For me, as for the author, the talking for an hour was the hard part. If I can't even talk for an hour with my friends, how can I write from my heart for the hours on end it would take to finish my novel?

I have in mind that if, after listening to me for a while, that if someone offered to read my stuff, that would be great, but that I wouldn't necessarily ask or expect the other person to do so. I'm lucky in that I already have a lot of people willing to critique my writing. What I don't have is someone to talk to the doubts, the struggle with finding a voice, my fuzziness about technique, frustration with not finding or making the time to writer, about the whole process of writing and being a writer.

All these fantasies are moot, because I can find no one interested in experimenting.  Is listening to each other really so radical?  Really?

Hanging out forever

Yesterday at brunch, a friend complained about a person who spoke with him only half an hour on the phone a couple weeks ago, after it had taken them a whole week of emails to arrange a time to talk. He said that he valued flexibility in his friends, and best loves those who understand the rarity of shared moments and closeness and who are willing to make sacrifices for such times and, oh, by the way, do you have plans this afternoon and do you want to "hang out"?

After a story like that, it is nearly impossible for a person to say "Not really. I wanted to do my filing and answer my emails. Caio!"

So, we spent the afternoon browsing a bookstore and sitting outside drinking cool drinks under the bright, spring sun. We hung out for, oh, something like eight hours. It was nice, but my filing will have to wait for another day.

And all those phone calls I was planning to make!  Oy!

Why I like to make new friends

One of the unexpected delights of going to a chess tournament was making one or two new friends there. In one case, making the sort of new friend one calls every week or two just to chat and catch up with and learn to know.

During one of these calls, my new friend, D., said to me, "You know you're unusual, don't you?"

"Really? Why?" I asked.

"Most people our age, your age, aren't interested in making new friends," he said. "Why do you like to make new friends?"

By now, I don't remember what I said, but I've been thinking about it a lot since. First, I like having friends who ask questions that make me think. D. is one such friend and this is, in fact, the second time he's done this. (I liked it the first time, too, even though it can be a bit maddening to find my mind toying with other people's questions).

For a few days, I thought about another friend who asked me several years ago, "Why do you have so many friends?" like I was a freak for maintaining connections with so many people.  Good question, I thought at the time. I cut back on my friends for a few years.  By that, I mean I stopped contacting them, for the most part.  I let those with interest contact me.  Only lately have I been initiating acts of friendships.

Then, a few days ago, after I thought about some electronic communications I shared with D., I realized how much I was looking forward to our next phone conversation next week.  Why? Because I'm planning to tell him my thoughts on reproductive strategies and spend some time applying the ideas to his life to see how he ticks (or tocks). It's been years since I've entertained anyone over dinner or drinks or even over the phone with these ideas.  All the friends I have had for a while already know all about it or have no interest in it anyway.

I think of the future conversation is something like a gift. It is something I have learned and practiced and I know in my bones it is valuable, like homemade cookies, like a home-cooked meal. There is nothing like a new friend to make me feel good about the same old me, about the same old dishes I cook up in my brain without thinking about them anymore. When my friend listens to what I have to say and participates in conversation with me, he will give me pleasure, too.

What a glorious thing!  How could people my age not want to make new friends?

Tally of people still in Silicon Valley

So, I'm not TOO worried about so many friends leaving. There are many left nearby.

E and M have managed many times not to leave the area, despite some tenuous situations. Whew!

E still participates in my explorations into learning digital media and we're doing a video project together this fall.

B and I meet for coffee every quarter or so and this fall we plan to start holding each other accountable for producing non-zero volume of creative output: she as a painter and I as a writer.

F and I play hooky in the middle of the afternoon sometimes to catch a flick. There's a grand cineplex only two or three miles from my work.

L keeps me connected to new people through her occasional karaoke parties

J and A are always warm and friendly and they come to our Academy Awards parties.

N and D are both fun and fascinating and not just because they are 15 years younger than me.

G is someone I could call more often

L would go walking with me if my hip would ever clear up

F would gladly take time off from caring for her two babes to go to movies with me on Saturday matinees.

E and G have potential, but we'd have to drive to the coast a lot more to see them much

I and C share many of our personality traits and interests, but too bad C lives in So Cal at the moment. He visits nearly every weekend, though

E and I could get together for lunch more often, or I could go walk her gorgeous labyrinth some day if I'm ever feeling meditative.

J and MA might play golf with me again someday.

T and S give me a peaceful, glowing feeling whenever I visit them.

Y and T still talk to us and great us warmly at community events.

C and I are on a board together and I think she's swell.

J and I keep trying to get together so I can meet and mentor her artistically minded adopted teen-aged children. I would like to make that happen.

J, A, M, J, and M all want me to visit their homelands, which I would like to do once I finish a few more Spanish classes.

S, D, and A all live in a lovely coastal town and I owe them all emails or phone calls.

K and D are sweethearts and they make me laugh.

R and C hold up will in the face of adversity and sickness and make the best of life they can.

D is talking about a rafting trip on the Colorado River with us once the drought is over.

D and A are always fun travel partners, even if we go to the nearest Trader Vics for dinner instead of to Hawaii for golf.

K and A invites over for great BBQs, K sings like and angel and helps me plan events for friends (like baby showers and that sort of thing) and A is scary smart.

D and S invite us every year to their Christmas party and, once D gets used to the fatherhood thing, I think maybe he'll golf with me again.

So if only I'd stop working so hard and tend to my friendships more, I'll do okay.

Tally of losses to the Bay Area

My friends are fleeing Northern California. At this rate, my friendship supply will soon be completely depleted:

E and K went to AZ last August

P went to India in February

C went to Ghana in April

S and J went to TX in June

E and L are leaving for NH next week

D is buying a house in San Francisco, so he won't be just a mile away anymore and we probably can't work out together, either

S bought a condo in Canada and will move by the end of the year

That's ten friends leaving the area in just a year! Is it the cost of living? Is it BO? Not that anyone says so. Each person or family has reasons, like field work, adventure, visas running out, wanting to be closer to family. Some friends give no reasons for leaving. No matter. I miss (or will miss) them all.

Bidding good friends adieu

Tonight I am awash with bittersweet feelings. I just sent out an evite for a going-away party. While I am glad to plan the party (and even to pay for large portions of the food and entertainment), especially in light of great things these friends have done for me over the years, it is hard to see friends leave. We start counting up all the missed opportunities when we talked about getting together, but did not. Such partings are tinged with regret.

Also, I've planned and produced enough events to know that, unless I do a lot of recruiting of help on the day of the party, I'll spend so much time running it that I don't have time to talk with the friends who are leaving. That would add to the feeling of regret.

It is hard to be happy when planning such a party, so I decided to add a novel tidbit to the invitation. I requested that everyone prepare to give the pair a toast to send them off. People in my acquaintance would do well to tell others what they think of them and how they'll miss them. Everyone should practice giving toasts now and then. I was with them on the night many years ago when they first became a couple, so I should be able to come up with something moving.

I suppose the party would be a success if the people there tear up and cry a little. Really it is odd, calling this thing a "party." It's not festive.

Mood enhancers

In the last day or so my mood has improved, thanks to the kindness of friends. Today, my spin class instructor gave me a pair of high-end cycling shoes that don't fit her now that she's recovered from a toe injury. Wow! What a difference decent shoes can make when you're pedalling very fast at 7 a.m. going nowhere but staring in the mirror and trying to avoid the pond of sweat your neighbor is generating. (In the range of possible persperation levels, I don't produce a lot).

Another thing -- and this is a major improvement -- I've started playing with words again. My gyrokinesis class finished today. The instructor asked us to fill out evaluations and she wanted to know what liked and didn't like about the class. I said that I like the things I'm good at, like stretching and resting. Maybe that's more humorous in context (it loses in translation). The class included a mind/body intro where (in my opinion) she treats us a bit like elementary school age kids. She tells us to rub our hands together and "feel the energy" when we pull our hands apart. Then we are supposed to fan our energy like a flame by waving our arms around our crotch area upwards. I have no imagination or perception when it comes to my own energy, apparently (or perhaps I have too much imagination). So, I said that I don't like things I'm not good at, like the mind/body portion and the abs work and the breathing that sounds more like panting. (Her metaphor of "pumping" breaths actually helped me figure out the purpose of the breaths even if I don't feel like I do them very well).

In another moment of playfulness (or smartass-edness) was in response to my boss's email asking if we had any issues. I asked if she meant with work only or in general. She solicitously wrote me back offering her meager services as a therapist, but I only asked her how to get my order submited for company logo-emblazoned clothing on the internal web site.

The best moment, in some ways, was when my coworkers were discussing how technical writing kills creative drive in cold blood. This is something I've thought a lot about and when I shared my view that the killing comes from the fact that technical writing is so abstract and not tied to any physical reality. Day after day we think and write abstract thoughts about abstract things. Creative writing relies on the senses and on using concrete verbs. Shifting from abstract to sensual details is a very difficult thing to do, as it turns out. They all empathized, which was nice. I suggested that we could write a spoof document, a satiric one, about the glimmering bits that shine off the registers dancing in the moonlight. We all laughed, but I felt like really trying it. I would like to poke some fun at my current situation. That always cheers me up.

Moments of grace

In commemoration for a moment of grace this weekend, I've added a new category to my blog: friendship.

For many years, several people have worked hard and volunteered many hours to get a community center in San Jose to grow and succeed. We offer several programs to low-income immigrant communities. The programs are designed around the goal of helping immigrants feel at home and part of a functioning society and democracy. The programs include ESL classes, computer classes (where people get a donated computer afterwards), a consciousness raising knitting group, that sort of thing.

Sunday afternoon, we had a lunch intended to help recruit new board members. We go around the table and talk about ourselves and some people talk about how they got involved with the organization. Ive been there since the beginning, so I talked about the history (mangled the story due to writing-induced brain freeze. I feel like Joan Didion who writes well, but she isn't a good speaker at all.)

One problem with working on boards is that board members don't always get to see the affect our efforts have on the lives of the people who come through our organization's doors, who teach our classes and who come to learn all they can. But after the person I invited talked about himself, I could tell that that roomful of committed was moved by his story. The meeting-saturated people loved hearing about how a special grade school teacher taught my friend, a 9-year-old immigrant boy, how to speak English and now he's a teacher, a corporate attorney, a non-profit board member, a home-owner. He told us that his family inspired him with stories from other cultures (how Golda Myer stood up to Pope Paul VI) and told him that he could be anything he wanted to be by following that example. He told us how his aunt learned English from community programs (like ours) so she could read the great books with him as he went through college.

In those moments, he made real a place for the people in that dining room where one day we could listen to one of "our" students, a student who succeeds and who will, in his or her own turn, stand and make others see the possibilities this life brings. We were blessed on Sunday because we were able to enjoy my friend and the stories of his journey. It felt as though we could experience the future, and listen now to a story like the ones our students will one day tell.

I'm writing to say that I was moved and that I am grateful that my friend took time to meet with us and share himself. For me, these moments of grace make the effort worthwhile.

Thanks, friend.