10 Things: Loving, living, and letting go

By popular demand, I bring you 10 Things inspired by this quote/meme, shared on Facebook this morning:

“In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.” —Buddha

Apologies ahead of time for the rambling philosophization that gushed out. If you want to play along in the comments, skip over my bit and write your own 10 Things first, then come back and read mine. So, the first 10 Things that come to mind after reading that quote…

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1. I’m slicing up the three pieces of the quote and considering the value of love in all its forms as the foundation for all of our choices and actions. Quantity is implied here, but not the quantity of people or things we love but the amount we love, the amount we give love or put love into the world.

2. One aphorism leads to another. The more you give, the more you get.

3. I was thinking of the different ways we can love, and the marbles that started rolling around in my head were the Greek forms. I thought of eros and communitas, but then I couldn’t help myself and looked them up (I like to get things right; I have a hard time letting go of accuracy). Agape, eros, philia, storge. We are capable of loving in many ways. The deep, true love we hold rare and precious; desire and aesthetic and physical love; the love of friends and family and community that requires virtue, equality and familiarity; and, of course, tolerance (also with many forms). 

4. None of the three statements is explicit about their antitheses. Anger, hate, abhorrence, intolerance, contempt, etc. Is the first phrase — how much you loved — or the judgment implied in the opening, like a bucket that gets filled up by love and emptied by the detrimental emotions? Is it that simple/complex?

5. Gentle living reminds me of parenting babies and toddlers and preschoolers. Gently when you pet the cat. Gently when you hug your brother. Gently when you touch Gramma’s face so you don’t poke her eyes out. Gently. I don’t say that word out loud to the Sonars very much anymore. They have pretty decent self control, which is what we monitored with the word ‘gentle’ in their wee years. But perhaps I should still use it. Gently with your words to your peers who are entering an age of sharp-tongued anxiety. Gently with your brothers who will likely be your longest friends and fiercest allies, even though they may always know how to push your buttons. Gently on the earth. Don’t waste the water or the paper or the electricity. Gently with your mama who is both proud to watch you grow and gain your independence and fearful of seeing you stumble along the way. 

6. How gently you live can then be kindness or conservation or through word or action it can mean minimizing the damage that we inevitably do to the people and the world around us. So that if loving much is maximizing what we give, then living gently is minimizing the harm we cause. 

7. How gracefully we let go of what is not meant for us. In my clumsy understanding of Buddhism, letting go gracefully seems like the ultimate goal. Not allowing material goods to weigh you down. Not allowing negative thoughts or experiences or people to weigh you down. To release the weight of everything. Though in pragmatic terms for the normal human who feels angry and jealous and slighted and loves things and people and feels sentimental and attached, then letting go gracefully is challenging and requires a strong hold on the first two concepts. Maximize what we give, minimize what we take or harm. 

8. My hand is tired and far more minutes have slipped by than a traditional 10 Things exercise usually occupies. I suppose that is the nature of philosophical contemplation. It takes time and might hurt. 

9. The sky just turned much more dim and the wind is gusting. An imaginary line on a weather map is manifesting as a line of force in the sky that blusters across the coastal plains like a dust squeegee pulling cold air behind it. 

10. That dust-squeegee metaphor is both hilarious and terrible. I love it and I give it to you with love, letting go of any embarrassment I feel about it as I release it into a gust of wind and into your eyeballs. Gently, I hope, for the sake of your eyeballs. 

24 Days of Thanks, 2011-Style

I bring you Dani’s Second-Annual, November list of Thanks (Better Late Than Never). Chockablock with over-earnestness, a smidge of cheekiness, and an occasional disregard for paradigms (even while enthusiastically participating in larger hegemonic structures).

 Day 1: I am thankful for my muses, all of them and all of you, but most especially for Partner. Somehow when I bounce words and ideas off of him, they come back to me making sense, and sense is good.

‎Day 2: I am thankful for the opportunity to watch people learn to read. There is so much magic in watching a person figure out how to untangle the squiggles and have the power to decode the textual communication that surrounds us.

‎Day 3: Today I am thankful for cold wind, especially those cold fronts that blow in during the night, giving us a break from the hot hot hot.

‎Day 4: Today I am thankful for Body Armor. From the top of the head to the reinforced drawers, may it always protect our soldiers (including my brother) from harm.

‎Day 5: I am thankful for cake. And bakers.

Day 6: Today I am thankful for Legos and for our local library’s Great Lego Build Off. The Sonars have been spent MANY hours this month building amazing things, trying to figure out what their entries will be.

‎Day 7: Today I am thankful for proximity—living close enough to walk or ride bikes in most of our day-to-day activities.

‎Day 8: I’m thankful for the Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution.

Day 9: I am thankful for our health insurance. With allergies, infections, asthma, eyeglasses, teeth, hernias, and regular old bodily maintenance and prevention, I don’t know what we’d do without it. I wish everyone had affordable access to adequate coverage.

‎‎Day 10: I am thankful for the agitators, the skeptics, the questioners, and the people who just wouldn’t shut up in the face of something wrong. Change, progress, and improvement only happen when people are willing to stand up and say something.

Day 11 (Veteran’s Day): I am thankful for those who have chosen to serve our country, who fulfill the promises that our government makes in our name.

Day 12: I am thankful for packed Saturdays. For the many enrichment opportunities for the kids, and for the teachers, coaches, and volunteers who make these opportunities possible.

Day 13: I’m thankful for my seventh-grade keyboarding teacher, Mrs. Horcasitas, who taught me to touch type like the wind. Zoom zoom.

Day 14: I’m thankful for eyeglasses. Four out of five occupants of this house are now eyeglass wearers. Sonar X6 should really watch out.

Day 15: I am thankful for our fabulous piano teacher. Our days are now filled with bits and pieces of music. Tanya is structured and patient, and has given The Sonars a gift that they can carry with them for the rest of their lives.

Day 16: I am thankful for Librarians! They know how to find almost any bit of information you could want. They organize and protect ideas. Fiercely. Some might poetically call them the Guardians of the Flame of Knowledge. That sounds so sexy.  Which is great, because librarians ARE sexy.

Day 17: I’m so thankful for small kindnesses. For holding open the door for someone, for smiling and exchanging a few words, for compliments that are small coming from the giver, but huge for the receiver, for simple, warm-hearted gestures that cost nothing, but feel priceless.

Day 18 (I told you I’d catch up): I’m thankful for all of you. Whether it’s something you’ve read, the music you’re listening to, your thoughts, observations, or actions, you challenge me, you break my heart, you make me laugh, you make me dance, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You people Rock My Socks Off!

Day 19: I am thankful for fruit loops. And friends to share them with.

Day 20: I am thankful for ICE. From the polar ice caps to the jingle in a drink to an ice pack for an injury (or sore typing wrists), I am so grateful for cold, solid, water.

Day 21: I’m thankful for internet access. Without it, I could not share this list with all of you quite as efficiently.

‎Day 21: I am thankful for antibiotics. We live in a world where they are often taken for granted and misapplied, but they quietly and unglamorously prevent serious illness and save lives every day.

Day 23: I am thankful for frustration. Weird, right? But when I get frustrated, I know I’ve reached a limit, I know I have a challenge to face, I know that I need to alter my course or bear down and push through to (hopefully) find the satisfaction of accomplishment on the other side.

Day 24: I’m thankful for holidays and vacations, chances to set aside the routine and be with people we love and do things we wouldn’t normally do, like make pie and marshmallows and roast turkey and stay up too late.

Day 29 (Bonus): I’m thankful for NaNoWriMo and the inspiration, motivation, and excitement that gets me to write down fresh ideas every fall.

Day 30 (Excess): I’m thankful for readers. And writers. And idea-sharers. And inspirers. And you. I’m very thankful for all of you.

Sleep.2

I am in bed reading a book. After I left the bed and sleep so reluctantly this morning, I am now equally reluctant to get here and give in to sleeping. Just one more page. Partner breathes slowly next to me, his body warm and familiar against mine. I try not to flop around too much so I don’t wake him, but I have to shift the book from time to time so my hand doesn’t fall asleep. I like to read in bed, because it’s quiet. But also because in bed, I can hold the book close enough to my face that I don’t need to wear my glasses.

My granddad used to tell me that reading without my glasses for a few minutes every day would make my eyes stronger. I think about this every time I put down my glasses and pick up a book. I don’t know whether granddad’s advice was reasonable, but it’s a caring little bit of him that is always with me. 

I know, as I turn the page that I should be sleeping. Just one more chapter. Section. Page. I know that it will feel good to turn out the light and squeeze myself closer to Partner. I know that the warm blankets will feel good on my cool arms, but I savor this silent aloneness for a few more minutes. This quiet buffer between the business of my day and the oblivion of sleep. 

Sleep.1

I am asleep in my bed. I am sleeping well. I am warm and cozy. Ok, I’m not really asleep. An hour ago, Partner’s alarm went off, and he got out of bed. He went off to do whatever he does when everyone is asleep. Grind coffee beans in the laundry room so he doesn’t wake anyone. And listen to NPR in his bathrobe. I’ve often thought of joining him during this early morning quiet time, just to sneak extra minutes for us. But I don’t because I don’t think I’m much of a morning person. The real problem is that I can’t give up this. This delicious warm drowsy darkness where I’m asleep enough to be oblivious but juuuuuust awake enough to appreciate it. 

When Partner’s alarm went off, I scooched over to his spot to better reach the clock and then drifted back into the semi-oblivion. When my alarm went off five minutes ago, I hit the snooze and sprawled out flat on my back to wait out my five minutes. I am still more asleep than awake, though I can hear Partner finishing his morning shave in the bathroom. I am dimly aware when he gets into the shower moments later. 

When my alarm goes off a second time, I hit the snooze again within the first two wonks. That’s what the alarm sounds like: wonk wonk wonk. I don’t immediately move though, and the thought of turning off the alarm clock and going back to sleep always crosses my mind. The next thought is always a mashed up brain-image of all my responsibilities, pummeling my consciousness like a prickly cold snowball. So I get up, turn on the light, wondering why I do this every morning when the bed and sleep are so perfectly enticing, so druggingly cocooning, wondering how anyone else manages to get up when the alternative is snuggly bliss. Wondering just how many people choose the bed instead. 

Gymetiquette, an etymological journey (with bonus fries)

In Texas, we have a particular way of speaking. We tend to draaaaaaw out some sounds, while shortn’n others. How much we draw or clip depends on our proximity to pump jacks, combines, and the Louisiana border. Dialectical nuances are created by the winds sweeping across the great South Plains. Some drawls are tuned to be heard over the lowing of cattle or the crashing of waves. Cities are too fast these days, of course, so the urban drawl is about twice the speed of rural cousins.

I mention the peculiar vocal intonation of Texans because that informs the inflection of phraseology sometimes, and can therefore help you understand the etymology of a word I seek to define.

Some (existing) background definitions (a pastiche of my Oxford American Dictionary on the Mac, my trusty red Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, 11th ed., and the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, where you can hear audio clips of the words in question, minus the Texas drawl):

Gymnasium n 1. a : a large room used for various indoor sports (as basketball or boxing) and usually equipped with gymnastic apparatus b : a building (as on a college campus) containing space and equipment for various indoor sports activities and usually including spectator accommodations, locker and shower rooms, offices, classrooms, and a swimming pool c : a place where people exercise 

Gym n 1 : See Gymnasium

Etiquette n (fr etiquette, lit., ticket —> fr MF etiquet, estiquette note attached to something indicating its contents, fr. MF estiquier to attach, fr. MD steken to stick; akin to OHG sticken to prick) the conduct or procedure required by good breeding or prescribed by authority to be observed in social or official life.

Gym derives from gymnasium. Gym plus etiquette equals gym etiquette. This phrase is not defined by M-W, but Bodybuilding.com has a host of articles to teach gym-goers about exercise etiquette. We can extrapolate from the above definitions the sense that gym etiquette is ethical or socially appropriate conduct, procedure, or decorum in the gym or exercise setting. Related term: sweatiquette.

Now imagine taking that phrase, gym etiquette, and applying a little Texas Panhandle to it, eliding the y, and shifting the stress of the contracted word to the initial e. Some possible spellings of the new word: gymetiquette, gemetiquet, gemetiket, jemetiquet, jemetiquette, j’metiquet, j’metiquette.

My expert witness source recommends the spelling, gymetiquette. I like the vague (false) Frenchness of j’metiquette. This new word is a noun. It’s most frequent application is in the phrase, “Well, that’s not good j’metiquette,” as a statement that identifies a behavior so obviously OUTSIDE the standard of decorum as to be deemed ludicrously offensive, and perhaps hilarious.

For instance, when the egomaniacal bodybuilder who never re-racks the weights correctly is caught fondling his girlfriend’s thong while they admire some nuance of their musculature in the gym mirrors as if no one else is in the room.

While its origin relates to appropriate behavior in the exercise setting, the application of our new word extends beyond exercise to denote any behavior that not only violates contextual standards of decorum, but does so in a manner that is absurd and frequently hilarious (at least to observers).

Examples: 1. When taking the cute boy who works at the bank out for a first date, if you order mountain oysters from the menu, he might suggest that “Calf fries on a first date are NOT good j’metiquette” before deleting your number from his cell phone. 2. If a person sits in the front row of an LSAT wearing nothing over his nether bits but a loose-fitting pair of cut-offs, the proctor might scribble “Gymetiquette fail” on the top of his exam. 3. When settling in for a friendly game of poker, if one of the players insists on licking every card, the other players might mutter, “that’s NOT proper gymetiquette,” before throwing pork rinds at the card-licker. 

Witnessed poor j’metiquette recently? Share your shock and head shakes in the comments. 

Update on Friday, April 29, 2011 at 4:03PM by Eglentyne

Thanks to @bego and @somnicide for their informative anecdotes. xo