How To Make It Matter

Today I was thinking about these petty things I struggle with. They’re a joke.

I’m in the midst of another virtual game of jenga with my trashcan. I stuff it as much as it can hold and then some, and then some. I have to stomp it down with my foot sometimes. I stack cups and cardboard things on top over and over until small towers emerge and a fragile city of trash balances on top. I avoid the alternative, which is to just take out the stupid trash, stupid. It’s a small walk–probably 45 seconds all in all. It’s funny how devastatingly huge the task becomes in my mind. I spend more time arranging the trash inside than just taking it out. 

Netflix has become a problem and the reason is very simple: I would always rather pay a dollar than have to go somewhere. Thus, I end up buying virtually every movie that was only supposed to be a buck. Also, I’ve made a few questionable decisions in my movie selections. This is because when someone gets in line behind me I kind of unravel. I begin to sweat and all the movie titles start to blur together. I panic and get Coneheads and naturally never return it. Now I own Coneheads.


I won’t get into correspondence and sending letters in the mail, but I definitely have a couple of letters in stamped envelopes over a year old that have never made it to the mailbox. Disgraceful. Anyway, I was considering these petty struggles which are just a few among many. Life is full of small and mediocre “things to do” that I often dread or put off until I can’t anymore. I realize that the only reasons these tasks are anything more than tasks is that my mind has labeled them bad, annoying, a pain in the ass. When really they are just a few things in a string of a million things we will all do and then cross off our list. They’re all the same, it’s only our attitude that redefines them. A Zen Master described the essence of Zen as Doing one thing at a time. Tolle explains this as “Being total in what you do, to give it your complete attention. This is surrendered action- empowered action.” So I’m working on what I let take up space in my mind, on being conscious before I complain about something that is necessary and also just not that bad–Especially when I pay attention to the world beyond me, where actual struggles exist.

Like many people, I’ve been watching the events unfold in countries that feel very far off to me. I realize my life is somewhat sheltered here, and when I confront the news I feel a distant hopelessness. I remember hearing about the 300 kidnapped Nigerian school girls taken in the night. I felt angry and sad and followed the story for a while. But exposure to the story faded, and it seems my regard for it did too. A few months later, 219 of the girls are still missing, with low probability for their return. I haven’t thought about them in a while. Now there are other tragedies unfolding. I see the destabilizing of Ukraine at the hand of Pootie Poots (what my brother calls Putin) and the rising emergence and activity of terrorist groups over there. I feel awful watching it. But also I feel removed from it. I watch the news then eat spaghetti. Something feels off about that. In a few months I’ll see new tragedies, and maybe Ukraine like the Nigerian girls will fade. Or the world will end. Either way, I wonder what someone like me and my small life can do for the darkness unfolding. How can I bring any sort of light there? Especially when I’m trying to carve out time to return a Netflix movie here? That is a joke.

I’m reminded of a continual theme in Tolle’s teachings, which is that separateness is an illusion. We are all made up of the same billion-year-old stardust. We operate under the “Same in-dwelling consciousness.” So while our bodies and geography separate us, our lives unfold to one pulse. I imagine this is why we feel concern when we see a stranger cry, or why we’re happy for the good fortune of another. Somewhere in the depth of our unconsciousness, we’re feeling it too. Otherwise, why would we care? Technically it’s just strangers, and their pain or death won’t interfere with our afternoon in any way. But these teachings that connect the human spirit have always resonated with me. Many of the “dark” things I’ve witnessed in my own life seem to stem from people not recognizing themselves in another. I’ve done this plenty. When witnessing the sufferings and tragedies over there, first I must remind myself that their sufferings are mine too. Whether their effects are immediate or obvious doesn’t change their imprint on us.

That being said, I am not a soldier. I can’t help fight the good fight. Today I’m too weak to take a shower for instance, so the military is out. I’m not a war correspondent or a politician who can influence change. I am who I am, having a small sickly experience here in Louisiana with my dog. But I refuse to think I’m useless in all this–mostly because that take on life truly lacks creativity. My life is different from those I witness, here and there. But I think the way to have any positive influence on the world is through growing my own consciousness. It sounds selfish but at the root it is not. It means being honest with myself and making good of the strengths I do have; they exist for a reason. It means loving more, showing more compassion, opening up more, writing more, seeking truth more. Tolle’s teaching along with Joseph Campbell’s and a slew of others is that if my life can become more conscious, it adds to the collective consciousness of the world. That is how we can make our experience matter. Because I have to remember that my experience is theirs too, just the same. So if I seek and obtain light in my life, it can spread far beyond me. I continue to think and pray about the darkness in the world and how I can help it. Most answers say to begin with inner-me. So that is the start. And it’s aligned with something I’ve felt for a while– that there is no life too small to matter.

The same stream of life
that runs through the world
runs through my veins


Health, Happiness, Coneheads

10 Campaign Slogans Up For Grabs in 2014

1. Rape is bad and I am against it and that is my opinion on rape.

2. I’ve never sent a dick pic in my life. Ever!


3. Let’s Go Green in 2014!


You May Lighten Your Stance On Pot Once I Tax the Shit Out of It and Save Our Economy in About 3 Days Time.

4. Remember Books? I’M BRINGING BOOKS BACK!

5. I Love Black People!

6. Let ALL the Gays Marry Already!

Because Every American Should Have the Right to Be Miserable!

Because Every American Deserves the Right to Be Miserable If They So Choose.

7. When I Smoked In College, I Inhaled. AND I LIKED IT.

8. OUT With ObamaCare and IN With *AWESOMECARE!

9. A Gun In Every Closet!

Kill Baby Kill!

Kill Baby Kill!

10. I Believe In An America WITHOUT Yellow Starbursts. WE DESERVE BETTER!

Any interested politicians, shoot me an email. There’s no way these could fail! 

Love and Politics,


**Truthfully they’re the same thing, but it sounds a lot better doesn’t it?

The Great Indoors

I’ve spent most of this last week in bed, or in and out of sleep on respective furniture that I turn into a bed. But mostly in bed. During crash periods I have a lot of time to sit around and think and do nothing. And while “doing nothing” sounds a little worthless and at least a little depressing, I’ve gotten pretty good at feeling bad. That is, I’ve found ways not to succumb to complete boredom while spending my days and nights in the supine position. But I have to be decisive and proactive when it comes to mental stimulation. It’s easy to do nothing and think nothing and waste away hours watching cats on the internet. I’ve done a lot of that too.



Currently I’m reading “Further Away”– a book of essays by author Jonathan Franzen. It was given to me by my brother Nick, who wrote on the note inside to add it to our virtual book club. Nick and I don’t live in the same city and considering how poorly I keep in social contact even with people I care most about, we don’t talk so often. But we have similar taste in things and it’s true that I trust any literature from him will be enjoyable. Like the others this one doesn’t disappoint. I gave him the book “Why Does the Universe Exist?” and said it might be a good starter for the club. Nick is a full-time professor of architecture with multiple side projects and is a husband and father. I’ll be impressed if he has the time to finish it. I have nothing but time but in retrospect, I can think of at least three books in the last year I’ve simply left unfinished with less than 100 pages left. For whatever reason– It might be a commitment problem on my end. Because oddly enough I enjoyed the books I left undone. (Except 50 Shades of Grey. I just couldn’t do that one, even from a humorous standpoint. It was just so bad.) At any rate, I like that we’re trying. I know I need to read more and it is truly one thing, a gift even, that I can do whether or not I’m sick. I could read for hours and feel somehow refreshed at the end. TV and the internet are bottomless. I could be dead tired but watch more, click more, disengage more. It’s far too easy to fall in and at the end I never feel great. I’m like where am I? What time is it? How long have I been watching Tosh.0? I don’t know how many times I’ve watched the Kardashians and rolled my eyes thinking to myself that it’s the stupidest show on TV. And yet when it shows up on the guide, I almost unconsciously go straight to the channel. It’s like mindless auto-pilot in the way of my brain. I think it’s their hair that keeps me coming back. It’s just so pretty.

Speaking of the Kardashians, did you see the photo of baby North West? I think she’s cute. Wait, why do I know what their baby looks like? Because if you watched TV or were on the internet yesterday, it was everywhere. As well as mass hysteria about Ben Affleck becoming Batman. Maybe that says something about the places where I get information. But it also says something about the things that gain momentum and attention and a dialogue. Meanwhile, my state is sinking. I don’t totally understand the nature of a sinkhole. Except that I’m pretty sure it’s unnatural.  And it’s a problem when entire trees are being swallowed whole. Something about salt domes? But why take the more effort-requiring time to find out when I could just look at a tumblr that makes fun of what Kanye’s baby looks like? It’s so easy to just lay back and look at what’s easy to look at and make fun of what’s easy to make fun of. But it’s not very wise for someone like me to do too much of that. I constantly have to remind myself to be careful with how I spend my time. I truly have a lot of it.

Anyway, maybe by the next post I’ll be much more knowledgeable about sinkholes. Or I’ll have a lot more photos of baby Nori. Anyway, I’ll continue my quest to be at least a half-way informed citizen and spend my horizontal time wisely. I love being outside but on weeks like this one, I’ve mostly been inside which can be wearing too. But don’t get me wrong, I’ll still watch internet cat videos because come on, that stuff is funny. And laughter is important. And if we spent all our days indulging in bad news we could succumb to despondency and boredom just as much as if we watched TV and internet videos nonstop. It’s all a balance and I’m always in search of the middle. So far, 29 has been just fine.

Health, Happiness, and Wouldn’t You Think Sinkhole Would Be Two Words? Me too.

You’ll Forget. And So Will They.

There is one component of this illness and autoimmune diseases in general which exacerbates the whole experience. The invisibility factor. You can’t see it. Many times when it shows its ugly head, no one is around to bear witness. People see us when we’re out and about and well, or faking it. I’ve lost count of the number of times I hear “But you don’t look sick!” People have a notion of what sick looks like, and this doesn’t fit the bill. One day you’re normal and the next day your plagued with something worse than a flu, or a hangover, but you didn’t do any drinking. It’s just such an enigma on so many levels, besides keeping up appearances, that it’s no surprise people just plain forget you’re sick. And it’s understandable. Because honestly, you forget too.

To this day I find myself committing to things as though I am normal, as though I have boundless energy, as though I don’t spend days in bed sometimes for no real reason at all. My circumstances aren’t normal. And some days I have to remind myself by the hour of my limits. Many times I fail to recognize them and I pay the price. So it’s no surprise that the people we love, the people we’re closest to-friends, lovers, family- they’ll forget too. And it’s easy to see why, but it will make you defensive. You’ll tell yourself they just don’t get it and they’ll never understand! And you’re right, they don’t. It’s impossible to know unless you’ve got it yourself. But don’t let that separate and isolate you more. You’ve got enough boundaries. When someone doesn’t believe you, when someone criticizes you, judges you, or doesn’t give the sympathy you’re looking for, let it go. Meet their disbelief with love and understanding. Because the truth is, if you weren’t sick with this, would you understand it? I know it’d be hard for me. I was young when I became ill but I remember distinctly things coming easy to me. Being a good gymnast. Getting good grades. Good family and friends. A 9-year-old with everything! I had no real reason for pause. I often consider what my life would be like had I not gotten sick and in general it’s with the notion that I’d be a better person living a better life. I really wonder about that now. Being sick and at the mercy of others help and kindness, I’ve learned remarkable lessons in humility and compassion, and those are just scratching the surface. I can’t say who I’d be without illness. But like my mom said once “Who knows? Maybe we if we hadn’t gotten sick we’d just be two capable assholes.”

The point is, when I still my mind and consider all the parts of this, I can understand the doubt, the skepticism, the misunderstanding from others. This is not a well understood disease, even for us sick ones. (But I know that one day it will be. I know that.) I remember once last year, I woke up with a pounding migraine. I was in one of my awful cycles. The first dose of medicine didn’t work so I took two, among my other cocktail of meds. I got out of bed around 1:30, hazy, tired, and the hint of my migraine still masquerading around my head. My boyfriend at the time saw me and said “You’re up! Hey, do you want to go shoot guns today?” At that moment I thought of 647 other things I would rather do than shoot a gun. The mere thought of shooting a gun made my headache perk up like what? huh? guns? Here I come!!! Even the suggestion of that activity made me mad. I felt really misunderstood and alone and thinking what I so often think: if they could only feel what I am feeling, they would understand. And it’s true. I think if most people felt the symptoms of CFS even for ten minutes, they’d have such a better grasp of what we are dealing with on a day-to-day basis. But that’s not possible. So it is up to us to communicate with love to those who don’t know. What we’re dealing with is basically invisible, and getting defensive and trying to prove it will exhaust us even more.

Besides my mom, who is also sick with this, I think about the one person who has been by my side throughout all of this, and has required the least amount of explaining. The answer is Monty. I realize that sounds juvenile. Oh Mary, you crazy dog lady..maybe you should talk to some PEOPLE. And truthfully I probably should. But I think about the number of beds Monty has slept at the foot of. Patiently he waits until I get up. Some days it’s only a minute..we don’t play and he doesn’t seem to mind. He follows me into the bathroom, he follows me out. When I go back to bed, he does to. And this is a very energetic and active dog. He could go all day, literally. But it truly feels like he picks up on sick days. When I wake up in the morning, he always takes some deep breaths really close to my face. It’s like he can tell by smell whether I’m going to get up or not. Sometimes he sniffs and hops out of bed ready to go. Other times he sniffs and goes back to bed. It really is like he knows.

The thing is, Monty doesn’t understand all the weird components to the illness. He doesn’t know what chronic fatigue syndrome is. He doesn’t understand why some days we play and other days we don’t leave the bed. Sometimes for a few days at a time. But he doesn’t even require an explanation or a defense, because what he is exemplifying so beautifully is living in the present. When it’s time to play, we play hard. When it’s time to sleep, we sleep like it’s nobody’s business. Whatever he does, he does fully. He shows up wholly to every moment. And it’s a truly impressive thing to witness. One of my favorite things is to watch Monty when he gets up in the morning. I open the door for him and he walks outside, stops, and sniffs the air for about 15 seconds. It’s like he’s taking in everything from the night and everything that the day will bring. I like watching it because it’s reflective, and we live such busy, fast lives, we constantly neglect reflection. I think it’s fair to say that it’s required for a happy life. We have to stop sometimes. We have to take things in. We have to feel our feelings. (Smell the roses, if you will.)And we don’t need to say it all on Facebook. Some things we should hold inside near our heart. Or whisper it to someone we love.

I am reading a book called Everyday Grace by Marianne Williamson which is incredibly poignant and really well-written. I find myself underlining entire pages. It’s always been a goal of mine to have a book club but of course I’ve never gotten it together and am bad at keeping commitments. So for now the blog will be it. And I invite all of you to read and share your thoughts on these books. I have about twenty more pages and will have a review/summary/dialogue next time. But if you’re looking for a book as a companion..this is a good one. It’s been seeing me through sleepless nights and reading it when I wake up in the morning gives me a happy way to begin the day. One of my favorite lines near the beginning is “We don’t need to push life so much as we need to experience it more elegantly, to be motivated more by inspiration than by ambition.” I like that idea. When I’m not in bed I let my instincts and inspiration guide me…even it’s just sitting on the porch swing and looking at the flowers, which I do a lot. Monty makes me throw a ball and swims laps in the pool. See?

Please just throw the ball.

Please just throw the ball.


Anyway, I am working on living a reflective life. I try to take in every moment truly, and feel it genuinely. Even if the moment is sad or fearful. I know that not feeling things through leads to trouble later on. I’ve been there before. For now, I feel happy. The sun is out and the porch swing is calling.

Health, Happiness, Smelling the Roses


Since my genuine exposure to the “old times” has been either black and white photos or black and white film, these color photographs that have emerged of life in the 30’s and 40’s have found their way into every corner of the intweb and are a real gem. Every time I look at them I feel like I am glimpsing a reality that I’ve never truly felt connected with. The olden days have been described to me by my grandparents and in magazine articles and I’ve laughed at the way actors speak in old movies and their gay, wordy advertisements– but for some reason it’s just always seemed like a story. It never quite felt personal. I know it was real, because my grandpa used to tell me war stories and I’ve sat through history class since 3rd grade, never truly appreciating that there really was life before me. So it’s funny to me that something as simple as color could bring something so distant to life for me, but these really do that. It’s like looking at thousands of paintings of Jesus and then being handed a headshot.

A Man Named Jack and His Family, October 1940

A Man Named Jack and His Family, October 1940

Basically, the disconnect between then and now was broken, and I dove right in. The prints were taken on Kodachrome by the Farm Security Administration and Office of War Information throughout the 30’s and 40’s respectively. They were then released by the Library of Congress in 2006 for an exhibition called Bound For Glory; America in Color. I don’t know why the element of color has upped the real factor to such a high degree, but I never get tired of looking at them. I have to remind myself constantly that they aren’t actors and  they aren’t in costume.

Homesteaders Faro and Doris, Pie Town New Mexico, 1940

Homesteaders “Faro and Doris” Pie Town, New Mexico 1940

Woman Aircraft Worker- Burbank,  California 1942

Woman Aircraft Worker- Burbank, California 1942

Bayou Borbeau Plantation- Natchitoches, Louisiana 1940

Bayou Borbeau Plantation- Natchitoches, Louisiana 1940

For as long ago as the “old days” have always felt to me, something about these color prints remind me it really wasn’t that long ago. Can you imagine showing the people in these photos an iphone? Or trying to explain the premise of Facebook? (Kind of makes me feel disdain for the times we’re living in) So much has changed and yet inside, I don’t feel we’re as far apart as we think. Then again when I looked at Facebook a few minutes ago, I may have changed my mind.

I think a lot about the “records” we’re leaving behind for the generations who will come after us. Looking for clues as to what life was like in our day, for the strands of humanity that tie us all together no matter how many years have passed. Will there be Facebook 100 years? How will our grandchildren study us? It hit me a few days ago that this blog is somewhat of a record itself- a sick girls life and her dog and yada yada. It then occurred to me that if I die tomorrow..the blog would live on. It has its own shelf life now. Unless I leave someone in charge to disassemble it once I’ve gone on. But I think I’m fine with it living without me. It’s turned into a community of sorts and that’s something I hope will live…forever? But my Facebook page– Maybe somebody should kill that.

So it was cloudy and California’s version of cold today and since it was one of those days that a normal person might go to a gallery..I brought the gallery to me and started looking at art online and some of this stuff was just too good not to share. It made me wish I was an artist. But the only art I’ve made lately is this drawing of Mario Lopez  from December.

Pen on Paper. $50,000 or best offer.

Pen on Paper. $50,000 “Or best offer”

Maybe I should stick to writing. Or sharing actual artists work in this case. Here’s what really stuck with me today.

Price Tags

Price Tags

So this conceptual artist Rachel Perry Welty uses everyday items in sequence or on repeat per se to construe American “middle class minertia” as she puts it. In her show “Lost in My Life” she uses the byproducts of her domestic life to make for some unusual and beautiful prints. I couldn’t get over the stunning visuals and patterns brought on by tiny objects I see all the time.

Bread Tags

Bread Tags

Twisty Ties

Twisty Ties

I love how she never shows her face and how the small pieces become part of her apparel. Awesome stuff! You can read more about her and her exhibition here or here. For me the most inspiring part to hear was that she didn’t even enter the world of art until she was 36, and her work and ideas emerged out of lack of materials and time as she was a full-time working mother when she began. Word.

OK and then there’s this:


Chairs, Istanbul 2003

How effing cool is this? Artist Doris Salcedo filled a gap between two buildings in Central Istanbul with roughly 1,550 chairs and her intent was to create a “topography of war” embedded in everyday life. Whatever you deduce from it, you can’t deny that visually it’s just spectacular and the simplicity of materials with such a complex and poignant result is surprising, not to mention its impressive scale.

Lower view

Lower view

You can read more about the artist here or here.

OK last and not least I discovered a poem today that I found so incredibly enjoyable that I realized poetry can be fun and good modern poetry does exist. My friend Giselle, a ceramic artist, hates poetry mostly and I understand why, and a lot of the time I hate it too. (It doesn’t stop me from writing it or reading others) But this poem today, well it just really stuck with me and reminded me how much fun an often sad art form can be. It’s a little lengthy so click here to read it. It’s called Tap Water and is written by Mathew Yaeger. Job well done dude! A few favorite lines are:

What good is it
polishing to a shine the pile of dimes on which your life
has turned. You feel blessed or you feel regrets.

and also

When a woman has entered your life and then
left it you are changed and while you may change
forward into something resembling what you once were
you most certainly do not change back.

So, I guess that’s enough art for our cloudy cold Tuesday. Monty is bored. I’ll see you next time.

Health, Happiness, Art Gallery Day