Category: Joy

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Threshold Philosophy

What I have found with any pursuit that there is a threshold you need to cross that will take you from amateur to expert. From failure to success.

Of course you say.

But my point is, you need to reach that threshold, and cross it, otherwise if you don’t persist to that juncture and stop for even a short period of time, you will have to start all over. From square one.

I mentioned this before in my Square One Rule, that you need endure a lot of practice to get to this precious threshold.

You can’t know where that line is unfortunately. It will just suddenly one day pop up.

Or not.

Sometimes you can struggle decades and not move one inch closer to success.

So when do you stop?

When you are no longer enjoying the pursuit, or more importantly, not getting anything from it. When you have exhausted all attempts to make it more challenging and you are not advancing one iota. When you have explored all aspects of it and nothing is happening. When you are no longer open to life and where it wants to go.

Not when friends and lovers say give up. Not when you are having a pity party and beat yourself up. If something truly matters to you, you won’t give up so easily.

But all practice can become dull. You have to decide if it’s dull because you’re not advancing, challenging yourself, or it just does not interest you any more. You have to be very careful in your assessment of that, because of the Square One Rule.

It may not mean abandoning it totally. Sometimes you just need to tweak it a bit. Find a different direction. Find something that gives you the same pleasure, in the same field, but doing things a bit differently.

For instance, to get a bit off topic, I knew someone who desperately wanted to be a pilot, but she had a problem with her eyes that could not be corrected. Had she spent some time figuring out what it was that she loved about being a pilot, she may have found something to satisfy that, within that industry. She need not abandon aeronautics just because one door was closed. There are thousands of positions in that field. She may have even found it was not airplanes that she loved but something else, like freedom, or technology or prestige. And those things can be found in many capacities.

Single minded purpose is good, but you need to be open to life, pay attention. Doors may open for you and you don’t see them. Allow your interests to evolve. One thing may lead you to something way more exciting and beyond. Sometimes life knows better than you about where you should be and what you should be doing.

Before a threshold appears many times you hit a plateau. These are tests to see how much you want to keep going forward. If you are going to exert the effort to cross a threshold.

I do like thresholds. They appear everywhere. In your career. Your creative pursuits. Your relationships.

I especially like crossing one. Then you have to find a new one.

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Silence

There are still a few places in the world you can experience complete silence. You need not travel thousands of miles. I have been delighted to find a few places right in the city, in the outdoors, where sounds are effectively barricaded.

Unless you are with my Mother.

My Mom and I used to take weekend excursions to the country. Little day trips by car to the great outdoors where civilization was far behind in the rear view mirror.

One place I remember very well.

It was late summer and we were deep in some forest, on a road not travelled much. We stopped to stretch and enjoy the scenery.

It was dead quiet. Not a sound. Heaven.

We sat on a guard rail and just listened.

For about thirty seconds.

“It is so quiet here.” My Mom said. I agreed. “I really enjoy the quiet, don’t you? There is no quiet at home. I love it when it is so quiet…” and on and on and on.

“Mom, could you just be quiet for a few minutes so we can enjoy it?”

“Oh, yes of course! I am so sorry to have interrupted your enjoyment. I know that you must need a lot of quiet after your busy week….” and on and on and on. If I persisted to silence her she would get angry and hurt and, well it just wasn’t worth it.

Mom had to comment about everything.

I find this quite funny now, but at the time I was exasperated.

Mom loved to talk, and, I inherited that from her.

However, I can sit quiet for several hours to days.

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The 25 Minute Rule

Our brains are like children, they can’t focus for long on one thing.

25 minutes is the maxium.

So any thing you pursue, from reading a book, to doing a craft, practicing a musical instrument, drawing, working, exercising, stop after 25 minutes.

Stop and move around. Look at something else. Shake your body. Get a change of scene. Go outside. Take a walk. Buy an ice cream. Drink a glass of water. Pet the cat. Do the dishes. Clean the litter box. Go pee.

I am so bad at doing this I have timers all over my house, all set for 25 minutes. I get so absorbed in my projects that hours can pass and then I hurt my brains. There aren’t too many of those precious cells left!

And what would be the point of doing something for hours and hours without a break? You want to prove that you’re an idiot? I know, there is something macho here, and I’ve been guilty of it myself. But I am older and wiser, okay? Your body and brain need a break.

If sex were still an issue, I would say maybe go a bit longer than 25 minutes, maybe less. Sorry guys, sex can get boring after that. I don’t vote for all that tantric stuff. Like my friend used to joke; want a sixty second romance? Got a minute?

No, I would not set the timer for sex. Although it’d be a good laugh.

The timer is to make sure you take a break, not set a record on how fast you can do something.

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Education Not Just for a Job

Pursuing higher education is not just about getting a better job or better pay, although, yes, it often does result in that.

It is not about the nice piece of paper you get to frame and hang on your wall or pull out when doubting Thomas’s say you couldn’t have possibly got a degree.

And it is not just about creating more opportunities, but yes, many more doors open.

Education is also not only courses, textbooks, certificates and honours.

And it is certainly more, way more, and should be more, than rote memorization of stuff.

It should be mind expanding.

I have met plenty of pretty stupid PhD’s. I mean, really stupid. They are not even good at what they doctored in. Narrow minded idiots who haven’t a lick of common sense. Or worse, snobs who like to smear their qualifications in your face like plate full of pooh with absolutely nothing to back up their claims of superiority.

Education, in its highest form is three fold. Experiences, critical thinking and doing what you love.

Experiences – You need to do things, try things, explore. Move outside your comfort zone. Be open. Learn from them.

Critical thinking – Oh, my, how badly we need thinking people! We have enough sheep. Enough cults. Enough celebrity worship. Ritual religion. People are asleep. The world has major big huge gigantic life threatening problems that need thinkers, solvers and doers! Not more idiots who give us more telephones, cars and jettison more crap into space hoping to colonize an inhospitable planet, professing to be geniuses because they are billionaires (oh there I go on an old rant!)

Do what you love – We already have a shit load of compassionless youngsters who became doctors and lawyers because of the money, man! When you pursue what you love, it’s like baking a cake with real butter and sugar. Becoming something just for money is trying to make delectable chocolate cake with only flour and water. Blah.

End of rant.

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My 2 a.m. Self

There is a huge difference between my brain at 2 a.m. and at 2 p.m.

Sometimes at 2 a.m. I suddenly wake up to a world of worry. No matter what I do, I see worse case scenarios. Going broke. Getting ill. Dying alone. Losing everything. Good grief.

Why does my early before dawn self do that?

Knowing the type of person I am, it is just my brain trying hard to be prepared. I like to be organized, ahead of the curve. I loathe surprises, especially ones I could have easily prevented if I had of just being paying attention.

But good grief, I can’t solve it all!

I have a list of good things to think about when this happens to read over and over until I fall asleep. Sometimes I recreate my past into a more agreeable form, I rewrite history so that the 2 a.m. crisis doesn’t exist. A lot of work. But a whole lot better than throwing off the covers because I’m having a worry sweat. A worry sweat is closely related to a hot flash, same result, different reason.

Then, when the sun comes up and I’m still staring at the ceiling wondering what the heck just happened for the last 3 hours, life suddenly doesn’t look so bleak.

My Mother always said “Things will look better in the morning.”

This is so true.

Many times in my life I rehearse that and not just at night. Like when I’ve had compulsions, strange urgings, foreboding thoughts, cravings. I apply it any time I just can’t release myself from obsessive thoughts gone wrong.

At 2 p.m. I am my most blissful self, diametrically opposed to that 2 a.m. raving lunatic that thinks the world is ending right now.

What a difference 12 hours can make.

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Sheer Terror

There comes a time in every cat owners life when they realize their cat knows more about them then they do themselves.

Sometimes I feel sheer terror when my cat looks at me.

Yes, I kind of fear those teeth and nails, the surprising strength of those jaws and paws.

But it is that look.

We don’t need to go looking for extraterrestrial aliens in outer space, we have them right here among us.

What could be more alien to us than our fellow creatures? They are so vastly different from us in every way, except for a bit of physiology and genetics. Isn’t it amazing that two creatures, take your pick; cats, horses, butterflies, fish, whatever, so incredibly different than us can bond to us?

Can know us?

They know us at a level and depth we don’t know ourselves.

We only know the surface; our busy lives, work, creations, knowledge, sex, food, emotions, opinions, politics, preferences, desires, experiences.

But there is something more. The cat sees it.

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Getting Dressed

I was not required to be a fashionista in my former job, in fact, I got to wear the same type of clothes every single working day for the past 15 years. Scrubs.

It made my life enormously easy.

But how boring!

Last week I looked in my closest and saw the most delightful assemblage of neglected beautiful clothes that I seldom, if ever had a chance to wear.

Ditto for jewellery.

Another discovery during my covid at home stay – I have neglected my femininity.

Forgotten it completely, actually.

The first day I got dressed up in fancy clothes I remembered how good it feels. How nice it looks. That I am a woman. And it is a huge privilege.

Sometimes our jobs make us forget that we are more than slaves, robots or things in scrubs. Make us forget our selves. Make us dress and act for them.

But there has to be a time for us. When we can dress and be crazy, sexy, wild, shabby, extravagant, elegant or go naked. Load ourselves down with necklaces, rings, bracelets and pins until we look ridiculous. Have fun!

Clothes and accessories can be a creative expression of who you are. I forgot that I have a personality. That I am a lousy dresser. That I have purchased some pretty out there clothes, but also some expensive designer stuff.

That I am way over do for some new outfits.

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Something Greater

Who are the people I admire most?

The ones who have dedicated their lives to something greater than themselves.

Like Kevin Richardson who fearlessly befriends lions. He has done much to help these creatures and enrich our knowledge of them.

Boyon Slat, who gave up his university education to rid our oceans and rivers of plastic.

Or the woman who removes hooks from sharks, Cristina Zenato.

There are so many others, people who rescue sea turtles, and all the private citizens who chance upon an animal in distress and help. Numerous You Tube videos on this. A new one every day.

But something is even more remarkable.

Those lions remember Kevin Richardson and are bonded to him.

Cristina’s sharks tell others that she can help them and they come to her.

A wounded bald eagle that was treated at a bird facility two years ago, returns to that facility for help when poisoned with lead.

A rescued pelican visits his rescuers daily.

Animals know our role on this earth better than we do.

And that is something greater than we can currently understand.

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You Suck (The Square One Rule)

There is nothing quite like being a novice.

Humbling experience.

Take a look at my early art beginnings and see what I mean. While doing them I was hysterically laughing, wondering how I could be so bad at this.

I suck.

I’m a bit better at animals.

I’m improving?

Well, eventually you get to this which is only slightly better but not so cringeworthy.

We’re not quite there…

But here is what I learned.

The Square One Rule.

If you persist beyond your suckiness, and become proficient, develop your own style, focus on your strengths, then you will never go back to square one. If you neglect your new found ability for a few years you might be rusty but it will come back quickly once you revisit it.

But if you abandon your new venture after only one session, have long intervals between practice, then each time you go back, you’ll be at square one and never get beyond that.

Practice sucks, but pays huge dividends. Pay off quietly sneaks up on you. Something like investing $5 into your bank account every day. Next thing you know, you have savings! Or doing one push up a day. Next thing you know, you’ve got muscles and a hot body!

I encourage you, that whatever it is that you are trying as a complete suck, keep at it, because you will get better, you will become proficient and you will never have to completely suck again.

The bad news is, sometimes you will always suck at something, no matter how hard you try. Do not despair. There are plenty of things to try and be bad at, and then in the future be an expert at. We can’t excel at everything! That wouldn’t be fun or fair.

There was only one Leonard Da Vinci, don’t get cocky! Some of us are able to draw realistically. Some of us cartoons. Others caricatures. Or wacked out like a Picasso. Surreal like Dali. If you keep at it, you’ll find it. So you can’t draw people, or animals, or like me, buildings, so what? Or you just can’t draw at all. I used to bemoan this, but acceptance works better.

There have been many talented people who wanted to be something other than what they excelled at, and this is a mistake. Noble, who drew the backgrounds for Wile E Coyote and Marvin the Martian longed to be a fine artist. Leonard Da Vinci regretted that he spent so much time on science he neglected his art (and we do too, as he left behind many unfinished masterpieces).

But I digress here.

I cannot for the life of me play the piano (yet) with two hands. It is hard to blend bass scale with treble. I forget where the notes are, I mix up notes. My left and right hand argue a lot. I put note stickers on the keys. But still, I suck.

I’ve never mastered the flute beyond a few bars of Ode to Joy, or the basic scale, or page 6 in my instruction book, and I probably never will. But so what? I have fun making some squeaks. I have resumed practicing every day because I learned the ‘going back to square one’ rule. I continue to try to push myself beyond where I am because you never know. Many many times the song I follow with a toot toot toot suddenly, magically, becomes a tune. But I will never be an Ian Anderson.

The same principle applies to all endeavors. Suddenly! Suddenly there is a real face you’ve drawn. A scarf you’ve knitted. A cake you baked. A new language you can understand. A degree. Moonlight Sonata on the piano.

Keep at it.

Maybe you are our next genius.

You suck.

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Hands

Us older women have a thing about hands.

We can improve our looks with makeup. We can dye away the grey hair. We can hide our bat wings with long sleeves. We can smooth out the lumps and bumps with the proper clothes.

But we can’t hide our hands.

And our hands won’t hide our age.

I look at my hands and I see something else beyond my age.

These hands wiped away tears and sweat. They cradled delicate beings and moved heavy furniture. They loved and they punched. With them I created beautiful things and destroyed the ugly.

They express my every emotion while I talk. They cook, they clean, they endure a lot of punishment. I’ve cut them with paper, knife, saw and razor blade. Chewed off their nails and cuticles. They’ve been immersed in some terrifying chemicals, and turned soil in gardens and pots.

Fingers have danced across typewriters, keyboards and musical instruments. I’ve strangled and discoloured them with jewellery. Broken blood vessels while boxing. Sprained them when falling. Overused them until they hurt. Slammed fingers in drawers and doors. I’ve smashed them with hammers, pierced them with nails, pins and needles.

They have rescued me.

They have enabled me to do the impossible, make dreams become reality, comfort and love the unlovable.

They have been in every orifice of my body, know every ounce of my skin. They scratch and rub and soothe.

I look at them and see a life lived.

Seldom do they complain.

Except when the weather is cold and damp.