Perspective

STORY OF THE TAOIST FARMER

“There was once a farmer in ancient China who owned a horse. “You are so lucky!” his neighbors told him, “to have a horse to pull the cart for you.” “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

One day he didn’t latch the gate properly and the horse ran away. “Oh no! That is terrible news!” his neighbors cried. “Such bad luck!” “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

A few days later the horse returned, bringing with it six wild horses. “How fantastic! You are so lucky,” his neighbors told him. “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The following week the farmer’s son was breaking-in one of the wild horses when it threw him to the ground, breaking his leg. “Oh no!” the neighbors cried. “Such bad luck, all over again!” “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next day soldiers came and took away all the young men to fight in the army. The farmer’s son was left behind. “You are so lucky!” his neighbors cried. “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

When we interpret a situation as an ‘opportunity’ or a ‘disaster’ it shapes the way that we respond.

But the Taoist Farmer shows that we can never truly know how a situation is going to turn out. There are no intrinsic ‘opportunities’ or ‘threats’ — there is only what happens and how we choose to respond.

In which case, doesn’t it make sense to look for the opportunities in every situation?

Are you facing a crisis at the moment? How might you turn it into an opportunity?

SO much has happened in the past year.

Some good, some just so-so, and a lot of it bad. Life had been a veritable roller coaster of disappointments.

“So much fuckery!” I am fond of saying. But,(and I’m asking you to bear with me here) what if there’s magic in the mess?

Inspirational speaker Rob Bell cautions us against judging a situation before we let it “play out”.
“Disappointment is taking score too soon,” he warns.

THAT has become my North Star and THAT is what has been playing out around me over and over and over again recently, so much so that I just had to write about it!

Imagine if you will, a non-believer in all of this hooey. We will call him, Husband.

A lovely curmudgeon of a man who, when confronted, refers to himself as a “realist”. Now imagine that as a cosmic joke perpetrated by the universe’s wicked sense of irony, this man lives with yours truly!

Now, take another leap and imagine that some of my woo, through acts of osmosis over twenty years together, has rubbed off on him.

Case in point: In the middle of the 2020 lockdown, he got kicked out of his “man cave” a place that smells of gasoline and beer, where he and his friends have hung out, tinkering with their various internal combustion gizmos while scratching their balls and watching car porn for over seven years.

“It’s the end of the world!” he howled into the wind.
“Maybe,” I responded from a safe distance away.

“I guess I could call my friend and see if he wants to split a place,” he posed one day after the crying had ceased.
“Sounds good,” I said, exercising a surprising economy with words.

“OMG! We found the PERFECT place but the landlord is a dick!” Husband complained one morning. “He wants to see every bank statement, five years of tax returns, social security, baptismal, confirmation, divorce and marriage certificates, AND a fifty-bajillion dollar deposit!”

“Feels to me like there might be a better place. I’d keep looking.”

“Noooooooooooo!!!!”

But there was. A better place.
The perfect place. Closer, cheaper, with a terrific landlord who basically agreed to the deal the day he met them—with a handshake.

And this has led to the man cave of all man caves and a side business that puts a sustained smile on that curmudgeon’s face the likes of which I’ve rarely (if ever) seen.

“What we need is an orange, rolling metal ladder!” Husband announced one day after breaking and building shit at the new lair.

And that is why god in her infinite wisdom invented the internet.

A couple of days later he received an email alerting him of the delivery time. You must be there tomorrow at 9am to unlock the gate to the parking lot and take delivery, it read.
“Yippee!” Husband exclaimed because this new 2.0 version of the curmudgeon is given to sudden outbursts of joy (but that’s a story for another day). He was about to receive the ladder of his dreams—only it wasn’t orange. “No worries, that’s just paint,” he assured me when I asked. This new guy was starting to freak me out 

Later the next day he returned home deflated, pissed, and ready to rumble—in other words, his old self.

As he tells it, he arrived for the delivery fifteen minutes early only to find the giant metal ladder crumpled into an origami swan inside the locked gate. Not only that, their brand new fence had been damaged in the process. Later, according to the footage from their security cameras, he watched the two delivery guys arrive really early, back their truck up to the fence, and after several failed attempts (and lots of fence bashing) they chucked the ladder in its box (which exploded) up over their heads and into the parking lot.

“This really sucks!” Husband hollered as he navigated the Amazon third-party refund labyrinth.
“Maybe,” I texted from the bedroom.

It turns out that damning security footage is just the evidence you need to get a full refund AND money for gate repair.
And in the meantime, he found an even more perfect ladder (if you can imagine that).

Taller, wheelier, cheaper…and orange.

“Wow! You’re so lucky!” I exclaimed.
“Maybe,” he replied with a wink.

If Husband can change his tune—we all can. Who’s still taking score? Not me!

Carry on,
xoxJ

I’ve been traveling lately. A lot. Much more than usual.
Three countries in two weeks. Eight flights. More shitty airport food than I care to remember.

It’s one reason you haven’t heard from me lately. The other fifty have to do with varying degrees of slothiness, jet lag, and a profound lack of inspiration.

Anyway, one trip was a two-week motorcycle ride through southern Italy. Rome to Sicily.

The other, two days after my return from Italy, was a journey to Tofino, a town on the wild western coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia. From LA it takes a plane, a ferry, lots of coffee, and four-plus hours (depending on the weather and road conditions) of driving to get there. To say it’s all worth it is an understatement, so I will not do it that disservice. Just suffice it to say—WOW.

All of this to say, for both it was the journey, not the ultimate destination that captivated me and made me practically pee my pants with delight. Don’t get me wrong, Sicily and all of the cites and towns we visited were amazing and I blow another zipper just remembering the food. But it was the ride each day through the countryside to get there and then exploring the island and making memories with the fabulous people in our group that was—bellisimo!

The same goes for Tofino.

So I was reminded, as I often am, not to rush through things.

Here’s a short excerpt from my self-talk with that part of me that knows more wise shit than I ever will:

Them: Remember, LIFE is the journey.
Me: What?!
Them: You heard us!
Me: I know, but that always gets me.
Them: We know. Maybe, eventually, you’ll remember it.

Here’s the thing: If I were only interested in getting to Sicily, I could have flown directly there, had dinner, taken a selfie, and flown home. Same with Tofino (although the scuttlebutt says that flight is so harrowing you need to carry a change of underwear in your purse). So never mind.

The point is, LIFE is the journey!
Slow down.
Take it all in.
Be grateful.
Have fun.

Amen.

Carry on,
xox

“Never trust any who treats a waiter badly.”

~ Anyone with a soul

I’ve had a lot of jobs in my life. I worked my way through my twenties as a cashier in a supermarket while many of my friends waited tables, catered and tended bar. Based on our nightly bitch sessions, I can tell you without hesitation that selling people food and serving it to them are two completely different experiences.

Food service is grueling work. And absolutely soul-sucking if people aren’t nice. Nobody has to lick your face or nibble your neck—just your standard issue basic human decency nice would suffice.

I’ve sat at tables with snippy divas. Women who are prickly, easily annoyed—on the lookout for trouble. It has always been my belief that if you’re lookin’ for trouble, trouble will not only find you, it will pull up a chair, order a drink, charge it to your tab, and over-stay its welcome.

We all know these women. They huff and puff and send stuff back. They act indignant, dis-respected. Like me when I get carded.

They don’t like the look of the lettuce, the ice is too cold or the coffee tastes burnt—so they shame the staff. Seriously? The only time I ever sent something back was when my wine glass had a lipstick stain on the rim and I hadn’t sipped from it yet. And I apologized so profusely my husband had to shoot me some stink-eye to shut me up.

Listen, I’m not particularly judgy. But be forewarned. I WILL judge you harshly for treating people in the service industry rudely.

That includes being a cheap tipper.

Lots of folks supplement a lousy salary with commission or tips. It can be the difference between making ends meet and having to pick up a second job. Please, think of that the next time you’re tempted to hand the young guy who ran three blocks, in the rain, to fetch your car—a lousy buck.

I’ve seen that.

One measly dollar. You know what one dollar buys these days? Uh…nothing.

Same with the young man or woman who spends twenty minutes hand drying your car at the car wash. I saw a lady hand the guy next to me ONE dollar after he not only hand dried, but at her insistence spent extra time cleaning and shining up the chrome rims on her giant SUV—in ninety-degree weather.

You could smell the stingy. Don’t be that lady.
Get change if you have to, but please be a decent tipper. Trust me, that person needs the cash a lot more than you do.

At least that’s what I tell myself when I’m tempted to be cheap. I’m not immune to feeling broke but if I have the good fortune to spring for a mani-pedi, or get my car washed, park valet or go out to lunch—I’m better off than most.

This seems to be a time of me or them. I might suggest that we find some common ground. Like hard work, industriousness, and hustle—and the fact that we’ve all been there. Then it’s just us.

Right?

Carry on,
xox

Have you ever given that much thought? I have.

The fact that we’re trying to maintain our balance on a planet made mostly of liquid, that is spinning at 1000 mph?
Then imagining that big wet blue ball hurtling through the void of space at 67,000 mph.

No wonder I fall down so much. Just thinking about it makes me want to vomit.

I know science says it all has to do with centrifugal force, gravity nd blah, blah, blah…
But I think it’s a freaking miracle.

This rare jewel. This Goldilocks habitat, in the middle of a vacuum. How did I get so lucky?

When I contemplate all the places, all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the worlds, in all of the Universes, where I could have ended up, I must have drawn the long straw, because I could have been born as a gnat on the ass of a Wookie.

It is my belief that we volunteered to come here at this time in Earth’s history.
We waited in line.
We knew things wouldn’t be easy. But we knew they wouldn’t be boring either.
It would be a time of great change, and we knew we could make a difference. It would be a challenge to fit all of our magnificence into a body. It’s uncomfortably tight at times, like squeezing into size zero skinny jeans.

And those emotions! How the hell do they work?
They looked really fun from an outsider’s perspective.

But the beauty. My God, the beauty.
Trees of green and skies of blue. Purple mountains majesty.

I’m in awe whenever I see an elephant or a whale, or a wild wolf.
Watching hummingbirds in my backyard or starlings flying in formation.
The smell of cut grass, and orange blossoms and puppy breath.

Those are just a few of the things that help me maintain my balance here.

I KNOW we all came in with a purpose. God or whoever does not make extra people.
That’s not the way the Universe works.
No one and nothing is superfluous. And all life is connected.

Remember that the next time you’re feeling lonely, unsettled and out of balance.

Then open your eyes and look around. Take a deep breath and realize how freakin’ lucky you are. How lucky we ALL are.
Then get to work, you with your mad skills.

XoxJanet

“What if you saw your life from beginning to end, would you change anything?”~ The movie Arrival

Besides placing my little baby self with the perfect set of parents, on the beach, in Malibu, while being fed organic, gluten-free, free-range apple sauce by a giant silver spoon…

…I’d like to think I wouldn’t. But if I’m being truthful here, which I always try to be, I’m sure I’d take out my pair of big, sharp scissors and edit out all the painful parts.

The places where I didn’t get the part. Or the job. Or the boy I wanted more than a dish of really melty chocolate ice cream.

Where I was embarrassed. Sad. Ruefully disappointed. Or ashamed of myself. Yeah, I’d cut out those parts too, because, hey, nobody would miss them—least of all me.

And lets not forget the times where my heart got broken.

Where my chest hurt so much it felt like I’d recently had open heart surgery. Only to figure out later that the pain came from the exact opposite—the force of the slam. You can all relate to the force of the slam, right? Where you’re sailing along, all open-hearted (la, la, la, la, la), and somebody you love, respect and admire betrays you?

Or somebody dies.

First you hear the creaking of the hinges, because, hey, your heart is flung WIDE OPEN. This closing up tight thing will take a minute.

Then comes the slam. SLAM!! It batons down all of your hatches, locks every single rusty lock (and there are a shit-ton of locks, more locks than your average Manhattan walk up)…and installs a moat.

NOBODY is getting in there anytime soon. Am I right?

So, yeah, I’d say it would probably be in my best interest and the interest of love in general if I just cut out all of that messy shit —and pretend like it never happened.

But we all know we aren’t able to alter those things. I’m thinking of starting a “Go Fund Me” page to get that changed. Who’s with me?

Think about it though. Would you wipe out all of the people you’ve loved and lost? Just delete them from your script?
That would change so much. I don’t know if I’d be willing to do that. Because in hindsight each situation had an effect on another, kinda like the butterfly effect. In other words, it would fuck everything up.

Things we can”t even imagine. Things out of our purview.Things that are above our pay grade to even comprehend.

Didn’t not getting some of those things make you better? Stronger? Savvier? Funnier? And smarter?

Yeah… me neither.

In all seriousness. All of those things that felt like big, fat, obvious mistakes were like rocks in a stream, each one causing the path of the water to shift, which may have held us under, choking and spitting and gasping for air…until something (the fickle finger of fate?) grabbed us by our wet bathing suits, gave us a wedgie and led us to where we stand right. this. minute.

If I saw that in a life overview I’d probably laugh my ass off. Wouldn’t you?
And I probably wouldn’t change one goddamn thing. Would you?

Carry on,
xox

“On every fourth step, you are meant to fall down. Not occasionally, not once, not twice, but on every fourth step.

The ground opens up, the wind blows, a branch hits you in the head, you trip on stones, your heart breaks, you’ve got to fold the laundry, and they’ve closed the two left lanes.

Here on the fourth step, all the forces gather together to stop you. And some people, when they fall down, they lie there for the rest of their lives.

And some people learn how to fall-down-get-up. That is one move. Fall-down-get-up.”
~ Naomi Newman

Hey loves,
You know how when a little kid falls down before they even get up they look for their mom?

As a parent you are certain of two things and possibly ONLY two things.
1. Kids fall down. A lot.

1. Avoid eye contact after a fall (unless there is blood or the “silent cry”), because the minute they see your face—they’ll burst into tears. We’ve all seen it.  It’s uncanny.

They gage their response on yours. If you get hysterical, you’re gonna have a mess on your hands.

When we were kids parenting was different. Moms weren’t helicopters. They were Uber drivers who only came when called…after you told them your location…and waited five minutes.

I was born clumsy. Still am. I can fall over while seated.
I took my first steps at nine months and spent the rest of my childhood on roller skates. As a kid I was impossibly lanky with round feet, absolutely no sense of coordination, and a jinky center of gravity—and I fell. Not every fourth step. More like every other step. I was on the ground more than I was upright. That being said, one of my first memories is my mom’s response to what seemed to me to be a life threatening fall (kids are horrible judges of the severity of their mishaps.)

“Oops”, she said in a sing-song voice “You dropped yourself!”

Oh, right…I dropped myself. Well…she doesn’t seemed too concerned…and any sentence that starts with “oops” can’t be bad…huh…I dropped myself so I guess I’ll just…pick myself up.

Throughout my life, whenever I fall, (literally or figuratively), I can hear her calm, unwavering voice, “Oops, you dropped yourself” and it puts it all back into perspective.

Then I jump back up!

Oh, who am I kidding? I at least start thinking about getting my ass back up.

Resilience. And underreacting. Definitely two of the best lessons she ever taught me.

Carry on,
xox

How do you handle a fall? Share your secrets. I know you have ’em.

That one hit’s home…doesn’t it?

When I think of all the hours, days, weeks and years I’ve wasted “overthinking” things. It makes me want to scream…and eat every Kit Kat bar I can find. And I’m not even that bad. I’m SOOOO much better than I used to be. I know a few people who have reached professional status as far as “overthinking” goes.

I think things turned around for me when I stopped giving all those fucks.

So, I guess that’s my advice. Chill. Have a cocktail. Eat a carbohydrate. Leave things up to a greater power than yourself, one that has an overview of your life and may just give you a clue IF it can wedge a thought in that crowded head of yours edgewise.

And stop giving so many fucks.

Carry on,
xox

I’ve been a redhead and a blonde. Blondes have more fun—you know they do! I can’t help it, they just do!

I’ve been both mindsets—I can be both mindsets. The growth mindset is more fun. It just is. You know that too!

Which one are you?

Are we having fun yet????

Carry on,
xox

“Never drink wine while operating power tools. The dust will spoil it.”
~Ted Bixby

…or apply eyeliner. “Never apply eyeliner while operating power tools. The line will always be crooked.”
~Me

We are forbidden in our house to use the words never and always. Mostly because when we do they’re spit out through grit teeth during an argument, and secondly, and most importantly—because they’re never true. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)

“I can’t wait for that to never happen.”

It’s a good rule (of course it is, I made it up), and I credit it with the longevity of our marriage.

“You never take me anywhere” is quite simply a lie. My husband and I are in the car together a lot and most of the time he drives. Same with the motorcycle, so just as a technicality—it’s total bullshit.

The same holds true for “You are always picking on me!”. IF there were a grain of truth in that statement, he would have left me long ago or my forehead would have met with a fork in a very unfortunate way.

It’s all about communication. Picking the right words. Saying what you REALLY mean…and chocolate. Relationships, and pretty much all the other good things in life are made that much more tolerable with chocolate.

So as not to belabor the point and to maintain my status as a contradicted mess—here are some never’s that never disappoint and a few always that always hold up.

“Wicked people never have time for reading. It’s one of the reasons for their wickedness.”
― Lemony Snicket

No matter how smart you are you can never convince someone stupid that they are stupid.
~Anonymous

I never made a mistake in my life. I thought I did once, but I was wrong.
~Charles M. Schulz (And my husband)

Never moon a werewolf.
~Mike Binder

Never ask a starfish for directions.
~Anonymous

Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.
~Margaret Mead

You can always tell when the groove is working or not.
~Prince

It always seems impossible until it’s done.
~Nelson Mandela

If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don’t, they never were.
~Khalil Gibran

Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible. (grimacing a little on this one, but, okay…he’s the Dali fucking Lama…)
~Dalai Lama

All of this just goes to show that it’s a good idea to watch your words and that every rule is made to be broken!

Carry on,
xox

Mind. Blown.
xox