The other day, Facebook informed me that I had seven friends who “liked” Sarah Palin. Naturally, I first checked to see who they were (no surprises there) and then I posted this:

Marlene Merritt is slightly alarmed to see FB say that seven of my friends “like” Sarah Palin. Does this mean they “like” her as a personality? or as someone making important political decisions? Because those are two VERY DIFFERENT THINGS.

I got 21 comments and I think someone unfriended me ;-)  But I was serious — those ARE two very disparate things, and I’m completely unclear as to into which camp my friends fall. Because if they’re thinking she’s good with international policy (remember the “I can practically see Russia from my house” comment?) or that basically she’s good at anything except relating to people, I WILL SERIOUSLY QUESTION THE NUMBER OF BRAIN CELLS THEY HAVE.

Remember this? Oh, there were so many pictures of Palin disasters to choose from!

Of course, one of my friends who likes her AND has a brain, jumped to the conclusion that I was criticizing other people’s point of view (what else is the First Amendment for? just kidding) and wrote:

But you clearly comment on seven of your friends “liking” her and proceed to question how and why they could possibly like her, which is a different thing entirely. It comes off a bit like an ideological “purity test.” Are you really committed to having your friends not be able to have a political viewpoint different than yours without feeling that you will call them out over it? Is your friendship and good opinion of someone dependent on their political beliefs?

Wow. That’s an awful lot to get out of a short FB post — where exactly did he get all that? And what happened to the days when people could have a political discussion? Is that what it has devolved into nowadays? That if you even mention that you might possibly not agree with someone’s opinion, that’s “calling them out” on it? I remember my dad (total Republican) and a family friend (who had emigrated from East Germany and was a staunch Communist) getting into at dinner parties, but they were still friends at the end of the evening. These days, you risk entire relationships if you mention you might not agree with them politically.

All I was checking on was to see where my friends were coming from (alas, only one replied — the one who wrote that comment. Although you could probably count the one who unfriended me <smirk>) — do they like her because she’s a hot MILF? Do they find her easily relatable? Or do they think she’d make a great president? (Really? Please say not. Please.) It’s the thinking I’m more interested in — I know people who vote a certain way because their parents always have, and not because they’re actually doing their own thinking (like my gay UPS driver, when she decided to vote for the first time at the age of 47 in the last election. Her small-town Texan mom’s choices might not be the same ones she’d want ;-) Just a guess. )

I know less than the fingers on one hand, people who think politically differently than me with whom I can have a civil conversation about politics. By “less”, I mean 2-3. By “conversation”, I mean some back-and-forth where we can actually agree on some things, and disagree on others, and there’s actual thinking and reflection involved, and not knee-jerk “I’ve always voted _________”  or “The _________s are driving this country into the ground” generalized responses.

Ugh, this is making me feel old.

The only way I could get my mother to agree to get a cell phone a few years ago was to tack her onto our family plan. So now she’s in New York City with an Austin area code and doesn’t use the phone that much, except when picking people up from JFK airport, which is a zoo. So when Will and I decided to fork it over for the new iPhones, we were just going to give my mother some new flip phone, which she didn’t really know how to use in the first place because it IS a complete pain in the ass to enter a name with those stupid menus (tap, tap, tap “c”. Grrr). So she never entered my name and then always seemed surprised to hear it was me when I called.

Then it occurred to me — Mom’s no technological slouch by any means. She took a full Photoshop class when she was 70, uses a big SLR camera, and has had two Apple computers. So what-the-hell, we decided to give her one of the older iPhones, because a 3GS is now $99 . (At least for us with new plans and contracts ;-) )

I told her to text me when she got it (good practice for new thumbs) and then didn’t hear a peep out of her for HOURS. When I finally called her to see what was up, she told me that she HAD sent me a text, and (this is where we assume that it’s obvious) she had sent it to our landline.

I thought that was just the cutest thing. That, and the absolute GLEE she’s having with it. She was giggling like a little kid. Awesome.

I was going to post a video from Ren and Stimpy (those of you who watched that in the’90′s know who you are) and their Happy Happy Joy Joy song, but I got distracted by all the other shows I hadn’t seen in nearly 20 years, so now I’m going to skip it. Probably no point, for those of you who are still wondering what in the hell I’m talking about.

Anyway, I decided to take this 10-week seminar called Creating Happiness (mostly because a bunch of my friends were in it as well and who couldn’t use more happiness?) and immediately got confronted by the first week’s homework. We were supposed to notice when we were happy, and when we were not, and look at what our default experience was. Plus a couple of other things, but I was too busy dealing with this.

Now, let me be straight — while I’ve got a reasonable amount of crap I have to deal with on a regular basis, I am by no means suffering compared to 99% of the people in the world. So I’m not complaining about anything. And even with that, it’s interesting for me to see that I wouldn’t necessarily describe myself as “happy”. “Busy”, yes, and “thoughtful” (as in, doing a lot of thinking), and “cheerful”, but “happy” is not springing to mind.

In fact, I had to look the word up in the dictionary, and then immediately I disagreed with it : feeling or showing pleasure or contentment. Contentment? Hell, I’m content if my food is warm and I get a full night’s sleep. That seems like an understatement. “Joy” seemed a bit closer, but, to be honest, completely unattainable on a regular basis, so in my semi-pessimistic state, I thought I’d shoot for something a bit easier. What that is, I’m not sure yet.

I spent the week trying to figure out if I was happy with a good glass of wine, (“enjoying” is accurate, but happy didn’t seem to apply), or some great dish I was eating (ditto), or if I finish a big project (“relieved” didn’t strike me like it applied either ;-) ), or achieved something big (was I happy when I finished riding across the US? Probably, but how long does that last?). What exactly does it look like when I’m happy? It seems like a stupid question, but I’ll bet it’s not that easy for you to answer either.

When it came down to it, I realized that my default experience really could be best described as “not unhappy”. Wow, that’s pathetic. And the double negative doesn’t cancel out and create “happy”; it simply means exactly that:  I’m not unhappy. Like when Will asks if I’m cold and the best I can answer is that I’m not warm. I couldn’t figure out any other good way to describe it.

It’s a good thing that there are 9 more sessions to go. Geez.

But yesterday we got invited out to a friend’s lakehouse and bam! bam! I immediately found a couple of occasions where I was truly happy. I don’t know why I’m surprised (probably because it seems like it’s been years since I’ve had this happen), but they took their speedboat out on the lake, and sitting in the front as we started to pick up speed, I instantly started laughing hysterically like a 5-year old, even more so when we bounced over the waves. I cracked myself up, I was laughing so hard, and my face was so tired from the grin plastered to it. Um, THAT’S what happy looks like.

And then when they had the huge firework display right over our heads that evening, the same thing happened (although I wasn’t laughing quite so outrageously ;-) ) — I forgot how much I love fireworks, and I just grinned all the way through it.

Ah, there’s a theme here, I’m realizing. When I thought about it, I realized that my other favorite things are to ride my motorcycle and do crazy descending on my bike — speed. And things of great beauty — that’s the other.

Photo credit to Greg Bartlett, who takes the best pictures ever.

Knowing that only partially helps, since the other trick, I suspect, is to newly find happiness in day-to-day life. Would having fresh flower around make me happy? Or do they become just the “background wallpaper” at some point? More vacations? Getting a boat? (just kidding, Will!)

And you? Do you have this figured out? What’s your default?

I was just in Rochester, N.Y., to give a lecture at the New York Chiropractic College on nutrition. I was flown up there, all expenses paid (just lovely, let me tell you, coming from someone self-employed for the last 20 years) and since I was in charge of the arrangements, I made them to suit me.

Which meant that I stayed in a Bed & Breakfast in the historic part of town, complete with big trees and ginormous houses. As I was checking in, the nice chatty lady said to me,

“Are you here to pick up a child?”

It really takes something to leave me speechless. My mind goes a mile a minute (although with a little wine, maybe a half a mile) so to leave me THAT nonplussed — well, let’s just say that we stared at each other for a bit. Mostly, the overwhelming thought was, “Rochester is some hotbed for adoption? Really?”

The nice lady figured out after a minute that I was totally confused, and clarified that lots of people “come to pick up their child from one of the universities in town.” That didn’t help either, since immediately my brain was screaming,

“BUT I’M NOT OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE A KID IN COLLEGE!!!”

Ah, grasshopper, but you are.

How depressing.

Ten years ago, my dad died a bit suddenly. By suddenly, I mean that the day before, he was at the cardiologist’s, and they gave him a monitor to wear for 24 hours, because he had some history of heart stuff, and he died before he could return the monitor. So it was a bit of a surprise to everyone, evidently.

Unfortunately, the last conversation I had with my dad was an argument, caused by several misunderstandings he had, fueled along by his current wife. Which we got mostly straightened out at the last minute, but left a not-so-good taste in my mouth. My recommendation? Do WHATEVER YOU NEED TO DO, when you walk out the door, to make sure that things are good with the people in your life, in case you fell off the earth. Just sayin’.

Anyway, at the reading of the will (which was a Word doc that my dad had typed up which we printed out in his office as we all stood there — don’t do that either), it turns out that his current wife had “lost” the hand-painted picture that my mom had given my dad, which my dad wanted me to have. Nope, couldn’t find it, hadn’t seen it, couldn’t help me. Um, OK. And my dad was a geologist, and had an amazing collection of rocks, which, somewhat understandably, she didn’t want us going through at the time. She and I arranged for me to come and get some of the items, three months later, while I was on a trip to Oregon, where they lived, and then “forgot” that I was arriving, and so we never got together.

And that was that. We never spoke again, and I spent a good amount of energy reminding myself over the years that it’s just stuff, and it won’t bring my dad back, and it’s just stuff, right? Just stuff.

Until a couple of weeks ago, when I learned that his wife had passed away. She hadn’t stayed in touch with my sister either, or anyone from my dad’s family, so apparently it wasn’t just me. And all of a sudden, I realized that I could get some of my dad back. It was like a tiny ember just flared up that I didn’t even realize I had.

I have very, very little of my dad’s. I don’t even have any of his ashes, don’t even know if he was buried (I heard some crazy thing like he wanted to be shot into space), no marker, no nothing. I worked hard at letting go of that stupid argument, and am mostly at peace about it. Most of the time.

But it sure would be nice to see a few of the rocks he’d bring to my grade school classes for show-and-tell.

And I’m appropriately posting this on Father’s Day, 10 years past his death. I miss you, Dad — it sure would be nice to see something of yours again.

I finished reading this book for the second time while I was on my last trip, and when I say I read it a second time, I mean it was so fascinating that when it was done, I turned right around and read it again. It’s City Of Thieves, by David Benioff and it’s about Leningrad during the siege of the Germans in WWII when the Germans were invading Russia. The main character, a 17-year old kid, has stayed behind while his family was evacuated, and gets arrested, which typically means an instant bullet in the head. But instead, he’s paired up with a 20-year old army deserter and given the job to find a dozen eggs for a general in 6 days. In a country that is under siege and where most of the people are starving, and if they don’t, they won’t get their ration cards back, and then they’ll die as well…

Despite the book being highly rated, I expected something totally different before I read it. I couldn’t figure out if it was fiction or not, since the author talks about interviewing his grandfather for this book and they have the same last name (I can never tell with these things). And I had already decided that I wasn’t going to like the characters, since they had done something illegal enough to get arrested. Ah, grasshopper, live and learn.

The reason it impacted me so much, I suspect, is because my grandmother took my mom and her 2 other kids as refugees to Czechoslovakia, where first the Russian soldiers occupied the area, and then the German soldiers (or maybe it was the other way around). So when I was reading the descriptions of how people scrounged for food, how exactly the two of them had come to be arrested, how much danger people were in from the nightly bombing — it really brought home what they had to go through. In the book, the people of Leningrad (and elsewhere as well, certainly) ran out of fuel and it was winter in Russia, so there were no trees, no fences, no park benches — all had been taken to be burned for heat. There were no pets, since who could feed a pet? and it could feed you instead, and the rats would have run amok without the cats, except there was nothing in the garbage for them to eat either. It was argued that people already skinny before the siege were better equipped for the shortage of food, since their bodies were used to doing with very little, but it was hard to argue with the fact that a couple of days without food wouldn’t turn a fat person into a skeleton.

The descriptions of hunger… let’s just say that none of us have EVER felt that. Which is why I have always corrected people when they say, “I’m STARVING!” — um, no, you’re just hungry.

Then I look around me. We’re in the longest war the U.S. has ever been in, but can you tell? Is anyone suffering besides the soldiers and the families of the soldiers? No, we have no invader on our shores, and God knows we are not short of food (perhaps THAT would solve our obesity problem!). There’s no rationing of anything and we march along, quite clear in the fact that this war is involving only the soldiers/government, and those ungrateful countries over there that are making us look bad in our efforts. Memorial Day just means a 3-day weekend, and whatever weak outrage we had about invading Iraq has now been directed towards the BP oil spill. Until we get tired of that as well…

It’s not that I think one has to have experienced hardship to be strong, but I suspect that there IS something to the maxim “A little suffering is good for the soul”. Kind of like hiking in the rain — a little is a good reminder to appreciate your bed with clean sheets and a roof, but too much of it is simply misery. Reading books about REAL suffering just points out to me again and again how insulated we are…

(Part 1 is here)

Imagine a world… a world in which you get to finish a thought. Several thoughts. A world in which your day doesn’t start out with a bombardment of finding out who wants what via email, doesn’t have multiple people during the day asking you, “Can I ask you a question?”, and doesn’t have a child interrupting you with “Mommy/Daddy! Look! Look! Look!” A day without phones ringing, email beeps, text chirps, or any electronica at all. No newspaper, TV, or reading of any kind. In fact, a day without speaking to anyone or being spoken to — times seven. That was my week of silent retreat.

And to say it was lovely is an understatement. For the first time, I was in a group of 84 people who did not know my name, were not going to know it, and I wasn’t going to have 84 other people saying, “You’re from Texas? What a long way from here!” (it was in Massachusetts), or “What a fascinating job you have!” and then give me their health history and ask for nutritional advice. It was kind of bizarre, really, to realize that you were actually dealing only with yourself, because then all sorts of interesting things came up.

Like my instant judgment of people — not without some reason, of course ;-) But how I would typically deal with that would be to interact with the person to see if they really WERE a jerk and then decide from there. But now I couldn’t do that, so Mr. Walks Heavy Like Elephant did not endear himself to me after a week of making the floorboards shake, and I wanted to slap the woman I saw give a completely annoyed look to an innocent person blocking her way, and say, “Hey! Remember we’re supposed to be practicing Loving Kindness?!?” There was Mr. Bangs Dinner Plates Unnecessarily, Man Who Huffily Thought I Was Cutting In Front Of Him For Dinner (I wasn’t), and Ms. Is It COMPLETELY Necessary To Wear Skin Tight Yoga Clothing? as well. I’m still struggling to let go of my judgments of them obviously ;-)

But what an unbelievable luxury it was to be able to rest so completely. I didn’t realize how much and how often people and noise don’t allow you to relax — I noticed this one day when I was lying on the bed in my room. The window was wide open for the breeze, and the door was open as well. But all I heard was birds and the sound of the wind in the trees — people were around, but nobody was carrying on some conversation, walking from one place to another, there was no music coming from other rooms, and no one “dropped by” to chat. I could just lay there in peace and quiet — it was amazing.

I realize I’m sounding rather antisocial, and it’s not that, God knows. But it really pointed out to me how often most of us can’t finish a thought and then we start calling that ADD, when really, it’s mostly just that we’re never not distracted. When have we ever been trained to focus?

We meditated (if you chose to) multiple times a day, and did walks, and rested, with the request that we not have brought reading material (another distraction), which meant that you were really with yourself, 24/7. Which for some people brought up lots of shit, but for me, I’ve worked through a lot of that stuff, which allowed me to just practice the meditations, and think. And think I did — I solved several problems, had several insights, and am already trying to figure out how to go back.

I’ve told my staff that if they want a happy Marlene, I’m going to need to do something like that a couple of times a year AT LEAST!

Insight Meditation Society —Barre, Massachusetts. Five stars for sure.

I have this list of 50 Things I want to do in my lifetime (that’s a whole other post) and things on it include everything to running a marathon (did it), jumping out of an airplane (did it), to taking an Ikebana class while I was in Japan (did that, too). I want to take a performance driving class (haven’t done that one yet), go hot air ballooning (that one either), and travel to Alaska (did it), the Carribean (not yet), Japan (yes), and Australia/New Zealand (no). I want to go on a cruise (yes, I could knock that out with the Carribean thing at the same time, but I haven’t done that yet either), and I want to write a book (much closer on that one).

But one thing I’ve always wanted to do was a silent meditation retreat. I don’t know why, exactly, except that I know that I’m a bit overstimulated with everything that’s gone on, and really, I could use a break from everything. And what could be better than not only going someplace that restricts not just computer use, but phone use as well?

Not just computer and phone use, unfortunately — if you do a retreat at the Insight Meditation Society, in Barre, Massachusetts, you also aren’t going to be doing any reading, or even any writing, and obviously no chatting. I suspect everyone’s got their breaking point, and not being able to read is mine — immediately I was trying to figure out how to hide my Kindle in my bag, and if I could squeeze in a few pages before bed.

I then drag myself back to the thought that if I’m going to go up there and practice meditation, and be quiet 98% of the time (I think there are a couple of conversations to be had during the week, but basically totally silent), then really, I should get a grip on myself and go whole hog into the thing. Because if you think about it, in how many different ways do we distract ourselves?

We gave away our TV at the end of last year, but now I just play DVD’s in my computer. Or read my Kindle. Listen to my iPod in the car, or at the gym. Check in on Facebook several times a day, or read other blogs, or check out lolcats. I write lists and lists of things I need to do or remember. I honestly can’t think of the last time I wasn’t trying to balance about 27 things all at once and not forget anything, and I use any myriad of distractions to give myself a mental break.

People have told me that they learned things about themselves on these retreats that they never would have uncovered; that they finally got peace and quiet in their minds around the 5th day. Honestly, I wish desperately for that, and can’t imagine it. And since I’m making the effort to do this, I’ll play by the rules and leave my electronics at home. Like not just bring them and leave them in the car, or have them turned off in my room. I will actually leave them in NY and drive 4 hours away.

It starts in 3 days, and I’ll be sure to post when I return. I don’t know what to expect either, although one of my office assistants was slightly worried that I’d “lose my edge”, as she put it. Fat chance of that — although I personally think I’m walking on some sort of edge and not necessarily a good one and could use a little blunting, personally speaking!

I’ve always wanted to do this, and the opportunity never arose until now. If you don’t know what Rolfing is, it’s basically like undoing all the muscular adhesions in your body that start to build up over time. And they cause things that you probably think aren’t reversible, like your bum shoulder, or your stiff low back, or your knee problems. Rolfers undo all the stuck bits so that your muscles actually can move the way they’re supposed to. Which, magically, clears up all sorts of stuff.

I’m as guilty as the next person with “putting up” with stuff because… I get busy, or I think stretching enough will fix it (and since I’m not stretching enough, that’s why it won’t go away), or it doesn’t ALWAYS bother me, so I forget about it. For a while. The premise of rolfing is that things get screwed up muscularly because we’re always fighting against gravity. Look at yourself the next time you’re at the computer. Gravity is pulling your shoulders forward and down, so your head starts to jut forward to see the screen, and you might be raising your shoulders because your keyboard is too high… never mind how you stand during the day! That’s why the Rolf Institute’s logo is like this:

If you go whole hog, Rolfing is in 10 sessions, with each session focusing on something specific: chest and shoulders, or outside line of your body, or back line, or neck and head, etc. I remember hearing about this nearly 20 years ago — how Rolfers would actually release the muscles of your jaws. At the time, I wasn’t so sure about it, but after nearly 2 decades of running my own business, I’m thinking my jaws could use a break ;-)

I’ll have to let you know about the jaw session — it’s next week. The guy I’m seeing here in Austin is fantastic — Christopher Horan. You can’t call these people “deep massage therapists” — it’s really a disservice to the level of training they have to do. They have to live in Boulder (poor things) and go to school at the Rolf Institute for, like, ever before they graduate.

And people have some association that Rolfing is enormously painful, and it could be, but Chris does a great job of getting results and not giving me the experience of torture. In fact, I’d have to say that walking around uncomfortably 24/7 is more than anything he could dish up.

I have to tell you, though — he’s started fixing things that I was certain would never go away. I’m hoping he’ll take me back the proverbial decade in physical mobility — while I can’t actually get my foot behind my head, yet, I can definitely see some movement in that direction!

I don’t know why this still amazes me, but I’m always impressed? confounded? made a bit speechless? by the presumption of people. By that I mean, the certainty with which people have statements fall out of their mouths. You’ve heard these before — in fact, you may have even said versions of these yourself:

• “She’ll never agree.”

• “He doesn’t do stuff like that.”

• “I KNOW how that social event/class/country/opportunity of any kind is going to go or be (even though I’ve never been there, done that before) so I don’t want to/am not going to do it.”

And my personal favorite:

• “But I’ve tried EVERYTHING.”  and it’s cousin, “I’m not actually here for X (because it’s as good as it’s going to get), I’m here for Y.”

(I always have to restrain myself from saying, “Really? You’ve tried everything? Because I’ve never seen you in my office before.” The sarcastic monologues in my head never cease to entertain me.)

Now, I’m not talking about the people who don’t know what they don’t know, and who arrive at our office open to new thoughts and ideas. I’m talking about the people who are essentially saying this:

• “I’ve tried everything I WANTED to try, and when it didn’t work (fast enough), I gave up and decided to come here for a magic pill. Do you have one?”  Or:

• “I’ve tried everything my M.D. recommended.” Or:

• “I’m here because my spouse/parent/good friend thinks I should be here.”

Hey (as I mentally shrug my shoulders), as long as their mind is like a parachute (functions better when open —surely you’ve seen that bumper sticker?), then we can get somewhere…

But the point of this post (and I do have one) is that I think we have very little practice in being comfortable being uncomfortable. Like stepping outside of the box, entertaining a different idea, questioning or being skeptical. So instead of researching, or talking to others, or trying something first and THEN keeping it or discarding it, we stay within the confines of our box.

I have a patient who came to me with MS. She’s in her 30′s and having lots of symptoms and pain. We ran a detailed panel for celiac disease (it even includes a DNA sample), and she came back positive. Her neurologist wouldn’t run the test — he said he rarely saw a correlation. (We, on the other hand, nearly always see a correlation). In a mere 4 weeks of eating gluten-free, she feels fantastic. She wants to get off the drugs. She simply cannot BELIEVE the difference. And I’m thinking, maybe she doesn’t actually have MS. Maybe she just has celiac and now she can manage it.

Or the people who come in with “high” cholesterol, and we run a blood test (the VAP test) that tests for the sub-particles of the cholesterol, the TRUE test of what’s dangerous or not. And their tests come back that they have the good kind of sub-particles, and that their “high” cholesterol is not dangerous, so they don’t need a statin. And they ask why their doctor doesn’t run those tests, and I don’t have a good answer for them, since those tests are just as available to MD’s.

And the doctors who share cancer and auto-immune disease patients with us, who, (on our recommendation) run a Vitamin D test and shocker! it comes back frighteningly low and the doctor then recommends getting on a D supplement. There are over 800 studies linking low Vitamin D to cancer and auto-immune disease. And yet both the patients and the doctors haven’t researched it at all.

If I got a diagnosis of something, or my marriage was falling apart, or my (hypothetical) kid was ill, I’d turn the world upside-down looking for whatever might make a difference. I’d read whatever, talk to whomever, try everything. I’m not talking about waving crystals around and hoping that’ll do it (although if the research showed it helped…) — but I AM talking about being willing to be uncomfortable and keep an open mind.

Because that MS patient? She gets a new life because she tried something different.

Where do you KNOW how something or someone is? CERTAIN you know how it’s going to go?

(And just so you know, it’s not like I don’t do this, too. I’m positive I’m never going to go bungee-jumping, even though I haven’t done it before. I KNOW how my stomach is going to feel ;-)  )