Even Jerry Springer is Holy

September 28

 

Today it’s raining and I’m feeling a wee bit bleh. I’m hanging out with the dog when I could be installing solar panels or memorizing Dalai Lama quotes. Saving the planet somehow.

 

I’ve just come back from seeing Jerry Springer: The Opera. (What a title!)

I would not have seen it if my son hadn’t been in it. Why? Cause I carry too much condescending, arrogant judgement about Jerry Springer, whose show I have never seen. (How you come to judge something you’ve never seen is a topic for another day.)

It was fantastic. Fabulous, complex music, lovely theatre (Hart House in Toronto), great energy, and very funny writing.

(My favourite phrase was a riff on Talk to the Hand. It came from Jesus, who said, Talk to the stigmata. Isn’t that beautiful?!)

Nothing was safe. Not religion, sex, relationships, not the meaning of life. It was as vulgar as vulgar can be. Great hunks of it coming from my kid’s mouth.

And just when it couldn’t get any lower, it culminated in a line from a song that went like this: Everything human is holy.

Everything human is holy.

It made me think about how often I judge my own behaviour (forget Jerry Springer) to be worthwhile or not, to be productive or not, to be enough or not.

Installing solar panels is holy. Dalai Lama quotes are holy. But so is every mistake I’ve ever made and every mistake I will make in the future. So is every frustrating thing I have not resolved in myself. So is every unpleasing fact of my existence.

So today, just for a lark, i’m making peace with what is. Just glad to be here and be as human as mothers who sleep with their daughters’ best friends, fathers who used to be mothers, or Jesus, who is gay, as it turns out.

Many thanks to Jerry Springer and to Jerry Springer: The Opera.

Life is good.

Thanks for the conversation,

kristin

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Flake

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Currency of illness

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A few thoughts on the currency of illness, or illness as an identity. Shot in conversation with a great friend.

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Your cheek is twitching

So what can I say?  Most people who come through my clinic (and any other clinic, I’ll bet) are just busting their faces all day trying to get more done, trying to be more (physically fit, successful, disciplined, put your own word here), and it shows.  You’d have to be a lunatic in health care not to see that this constant pushing for something takes a toll on a body. 

So I say to them, hey, you look a bit stressed, with that cheek twitching and your blood pressure hovering at 350 over 270.

People have different responses.

 

One is, no, no, no, I’m fine.  Never better.  (Who knows what to do with that one?)  (That’s my dad, come to think of it.)

Another is yeah, you’re right, but I have no choice.  I have to do this because of my boss, my wife, my boyfriend, my exams, my Weight Watchers meeting, my taxes, blah, blah, blah. 

We’ve got to change this one, ‘cause if you feel a victim, particularly a chronic victim, of anything or anyone, you’re destined for lousy health (never mind a lousy life).  Powerlessness sucks your life down the drain. 

Do whatever it takes to change a victim perspective (even if you have to fake it till you believe it).  I chose this job, and I’m choosing to do it today because of the food it puts on my table.  I chose this husband.  I choose to be with him today despite several character traits that threaten my mental health when I’m not centered.  Remind yourself that you choose. 


And if you believe in coincidences (I don’t) and a piano happens to fall on your head, and you live through it, you still make choices about whether to turn it an entertaining story or a reason to be afraid of music for the rest of your life. 

The last response is, I’m trying to be more because I want to be more (wealthy, strong, flexible, radiant, insert your word here).

I LOVE this one.  So BEAUTIFUL.  I want to be more. 

So try this on.  How about not having to push for it?  What if struggle and striving and busting your face are unnecessary?

Is it possible, do you think, to fantasize about being successful until you’re irresistibly drawn to do just one, great, inspired thing that might contribute to the dream?  (Jeez, I miss yoga.  Jeez, I’ll bet that guy knows something about movies, or neuroanatomy, or whatever it is for you.) And then waiting till you’re irresistibly drawn to the next thing, and the next?

I wonder if that’d work.  And I wonder your body’d like that. 

Just a thought. 

Thanks for the conversation,

 

kristin

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Being clever isn’t as satisfying as it used to be.

In fact, to be precise, it was never about just being clever.  The satisfying thing was being more clever than you.  Having the loudest and most entertaining opinion, the best vocabulary, the leading-edge-of-trendy thoughts, the feigned indifference about things that matter to most humans, imperviousness. 

That’s a chilly word, imperviousness. 

It’s like I won by being completely unaffected by what mattered to you.  I won if you left the room having ditched your own beliefs for mine. 

This “you”, by the way, was my friend, my lover, my kid. 

My kid, for god’s sake.

 So today, you win.  And by that I don’t mean I lose.  I mean that I appreciate whatever you’re bringing to me in conversation.  I appreciate that you’re here at all.  And instead of being clever queen of the universe, I’ll have a whirl at listening for the sake of being with you.  Period. 

Just saying that, my body feels better. 

Thanks for the conversation.

kristin

 

 

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