Special K's 101 in 1001 Days List

Trying To Be More Healthy!

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 15:01:00 +0000

On my way, I've been following a list of cool new blogs about running and NOURISHMENT...I am ordering some You Bars and Amazing Meal because of them...check them out
http://fortheloveofhealth.wordpress.com/about/
http://eatliverun.com/
http://balanceisbest.wordpress.com/

Task # 70

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 15:13:00 +0000

“30 Year Old Women don’t sit around working on puzzles,” the first few words were stressed, with a slight upturned “not when they should be out there trying to find a husband.” While her statement could be verified in a certain light, I also didn’t see a lot of puzzle passion sweeping across any US demographic, save for the slobbered, bulky shaped puzzles that are gifted to Einstein toddlers. People just don’t have the inclination to clear offexpansive flat areas in their homes for such a feat. They don’t seek out opportunities to dismantle tiny pieces in order to merely put them back together again. Adult life has enough of such serious, oftenfrustrating, business. But the times when I do get swept up in popular hobbies, don’t always deliver on their promises. In fact, they often ended in disaster, despite their reputation (one word: perms…the fear should be revered).
I am not a patient person. I do not tend to notice details. I do not like stopping at GO to collect my prize. But I had never put together a puzzle before, and this appeared to beas good a time as any to resolve such a horrific hobby deprivation. Not puzzle making was akin to being robbed of the throng of a plastictube circling around one’s pliant middle or the exhilaration ofjumping through orbiting strings while one skipped musically.
There was no planning beyond the goal: complete a puzzle. The 1000 piece pattern did not overstimulate. I didn’t cherish the pattern. It merely was “there,” but not in a distracting sort of way. I purchased it figuring completion would take a long weekend. That bubble burst when I ferreted out the border pieces that first Saturday morning (3 months ago!), expiring hours as the pieces grew and the simmering border proliferated larger and larger, demanding more and more surfacearea. Who knew tiny pieces would mass together to occupy such significant space?My method was haphazard—rooting through the box first for edge piecesand then sorting them into somewhat similar colors. Frequent distractions (such as, “I think I saw that piece over there’) impaired my intuition to establish some kind of technique. I often shoved pieces together in desperate attempt for connection in those earlystages because just turning pieces over didn’t satisfy enough. Aftermore than a days work, the enormity of the task dandruffed plans for a quick completion.

This was going to take longer than I expected.

The process of puzzle making demands release of a checklist mentality. Moments of satisfaction glowed when an expected connection occurred,when my fingers upturned a piece randomly and its unintentional orientation triggered instant adherence. Futile efforts wasted time by my narrow focus, my forced precision often impairing progress. Whenthose little cardboard units audibly clicked, my right forearm wouldshoot up in celebration. Who knew making connections warranted such physical recognition? Within this process, I uncovered unknown reservoirs of faith. Not just with being okay with not feeling like I was making progress, but trusting the effort as valuable nonetheless. The puzzle underlines the ageless wisdom that the journey IS the destination. And the chaos of the unexpected way refines direction. In an age where out sugar-rush hobbies promise immediate gratification, in a time where we are all in a hurry to produce something of tangible worth, this 30 year old single woman found asimple pastime that feed more than a desire to be entertained. In puzzlemaking, connection is the key. It nourishes engagement---literally. And isn’t that what husband-seeking is all about?

I think I sense a new fad coming on here…

Task #21

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 20:39:00 +0000

Pay off one of my student loans~Achievement!

I paid off my private loan from my Harvard master’s! How awesome is that? For all of us overeducated ladies out there, who pride ourselves on our formal learning accomplishments, this goal signifies a validation of some sort...that I am a woman that honors my debts. Month after month of putting away extra chunks here, of cutting back on cable there, of not going out to eat or analyzing whether a movie was worth $10, I am now out of the high interest rate loan I had to take in order to enroll in the program.

. I had full scholarships for my undergrad, and thus wasn’t upset about taking loans for the master’s…but the federal loans didn’t cover all of the costs. When I decided to go to Harvard, I was very distressed that my parents couldn’t help me financially…so, I took a personal education loan at a 8% interest rate…

Of all the loans I’ve taken to complete the PhD and other masters’, this loan is the most sentimental. The loan served as a token that I am supremely blessed to be born a woman at this time in history, in this country, to obtain multiple higher degrees and be trusted that I will “pay” it back both economically and socially. But since I did it on my own, it signifies that I am capable and quite competent, to find the resources necessary to meet my goals. And PAY them back WITH INTEREST.

I might not be able to meet all of my needs, all of the time…because there will always be wanting, the bitterness always tangible….

What I take, I give back….and I give back leaving more than I took….

Ah, what a life well lived.

Task #20

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sun, 24 May 2009 14:14:00 +0000

20. Buy 20 dollars worth of flowers and give them away to complete strangers

I have been visiting my hometown this past week and seized the opportunity to hang out with my oldest friend and her new young daughter. I've known her more than 15 years, and when I am with her, am amazed at how we grow and change (she's got nursing "assets!") and how we stay the same (she still despises her hair). I love the fact that I am my most comfortable self around her, goofy, but sharp and witty, and not having to prove myself to her. Thus is the magic of a long, shared and seasoned history.

When she asked what I wanted to do, I came up with this task.

She was hesitant. "People will think we're weird."

"So what?" I explained it was about our intention, our energy, not their responses.

So I bought $20 of Gerby Daisys and purpley blooms and arranged them into 6 different bouquets with lables like "Wishing you Laughter," "May you feel hopeful," and we walked up and down a local outdoor shopping area trying to find people to leave them with.

Some blustered in guardedness (a new mom in a stroller), others in shyness (a pimply faced 16 year old boy selling hot dogs) and some in delight ("A co-worker walked out this morning, are you serious?).

The point remains: people can be surprisely closed off to receiving love, to the opportunity to be touched. And yet, a tiny bit of persistence chips away at that wall, and pushes beyond our comfort zone, to confirm "we matter to each other."

Perhaps the boy tossed those blazing pink sunbeams. But maybe he didn't. Maybe this morning he is waking up to them, feeling a little bit more pleased with himself.

I certainly am!

Do you talk to strangers?

Playing Dress Up (#85) & Drink Pink Champagne (#37)

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:15:00 +0000

I played dress up for the for the first time this week while drinking pink champagne. There were no formal costumes, and the bubbly really hued a deep merlot…but after you’re thirty, colors start bleeding and you’re already avoiding the lighting and cumbersomeness of dressing rooms. The combination, like Fun Dip and Road Trips as a child, sent my inhibitions into a tizzy. My senses perked awake, and the burden of perpetuating my normal practical approach to my appearance evaporated. I wasn’t myself. No, I was Bubbly…hyper…ready to get somewhere…excited about what energy I might bring to the destination. I wanted to be seen. It wasn’t as if my choice on the outfit involved deliberate selection. What I was out to do was to generating a feeling of upending my typical calculation White wig, a shirt long enough to function as a dress, but short enough for people to wander (is that a dress or a?) some black knee boats, and a mood that floated. That sparkled. That did not doubt or question or leave room for other’s opinions to stamp it with approval. Here’s the thing, when I put on that wig, the spunky, confident, I don’t-give-a-fig-what-you-think-cause-I-know-I-am-hot K emerged. The kind that doesn’t rely on being noticed in order to sense her inherent worthiness. More on this theme later: the trap of getting noticed. For now, I remember that wig, that champagne, as a fond celebration of all the Ks that have been---that critter who always forgot to pee before beginning the road trip---and is, the professional who smirks imaging that the wig might come in handy to facilitate other tasks on my list: ask a guy out on a date, make a toast in a bar, go skinny dipping… And while we’re at it, a little champagne doesn’t hurt either. Check out other 101 Task Insights…

Task #6: Raise Money for a Cow!

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 12:00:00 +0000

The punch line: are women/married people/religious people more generous?
I had a goal in mind to celebrate my big 3-0.....getting 30 people in 30 days to toss in enough money to buy a cow, supporting Heifer International.The philosophy behind this organization is to bring sustenance and resources into a community, educate them and then require the recipient of the animal to give offspring to neighboors in need. While explaining my campaign to people, their faces lit up, conversations turned toward other acts of generosity, and all in all, people were surprisingly energetic in support.Many people I donot know well, and others I know intimately. Yet in each, positvitiy reigned. In this economy of restriction and a climate of depravity, 30 people contributed more than $650 for the effort...the price of a cow AND a goat. From $2 to more than $100, people pitched in. And honored me by praising the endeavor.It just goes to show how generous people can be, when placed in the right circumstance.
See my blog for more thoughts about this one...

Tasks #88

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 01:40:00 +0000

"If something should ever happen to me" No one will talk about my eventual death with me. Eyebrows furl and voices turn icy. Conversation dries up like Popsicle drippings on concrete during the summer…the comfort evaporating and sucking out easy being. When you speak about your upcoming demise to others, people move away from you. Don’t get me wrong…I haven’t been given a timeline by any outstanding authority or anything. It’s not like I’ve caught some outlandish plague from all my traveling. I don’t have cancer. But a very close friend of mine is scared right now, and her experience is a signpost for me to honor my mortality. In my line of business, I am bombarded daily with stories of woe. Lately, I have taken up the daily affirmation of naming something MISSING from my life for which I am grateful. It starts out like this… I am happy I DON’T have: a cheating husband a venereal disease a yellow sweater a job with the AGI I am happy right now that I don’t have a disease (THAT I KNOW OF). Yet. I am also very much aware that I am on borrowed time. Perhaps it is my past and recent relationships, exposure to cultures that don’t pretend that death is somehow an avoidable family gathering, or maybe I’ve inherited some death gene. What ever the reason, I know that I am going to die. Which doesn’t make me drink gallons of Jack Beam, shoot up powder into the fragile rivers of my nasal cavity, or pick up men with facial hair in bars for mediocre nightly romps. Instead, I tend to gush out heartfelt in-case-something speeches akin to diatribes acted out in lukewarm syncopation on Days of Our Lives. It makes sense that I wanted to create a letter to my loved ones if “something-should-ever-happen-to-me.” I am sending a hard copy to three people I trust just to hold onto when the event occurs…What went into this letter? A whole lot of gush. Click here if you’d like a teaser of the letter… In all honesty, writing this thing took months! Not because I tend to run from ambiguous situations (what can be less ambiguous than death?) but because my words never satiate the gathering mass of emotions continuously multiplying regarding living in this world, regarding loving you. Words insufficient. The things I don’t say as gracious as the ones I choose. Perhaps I’ll revisit this creation from time to time to pay homage, or edit in effort to accurately capture any recession or growth experiences along the way. Perhaps I’ll let it gather the wise barnacles of a time capsule wafting on an ocean floor.
What would you say…if something should ever happen…to me? To you? Simply: I tried to love

Task 77: Watch Three Foreign Films

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 00:42:00 +0000

I don’t go out to see movies all that much, maybe 7 or so a year. Going to see a movie, now costing around $10, maybe a bit shy of a ticket to a community theater, is an occasion. When I do, I usually stroll over to The Grand Cinema, a nonprofit extremely small co-op film house within a mile of my apartment. It’s even rarer to see a movie with subtitles. But, then I saw The Diving Bell and the Butterfly last spring and was awed. When it came to comprising my list, I wanted to open up my endorsement of modern arts by watching at least three foreign films at home. I started this task numerous times and failed. It appear I am too restless of watch foreign films at home. Alone and left to my own devices, I get up and out of my seat so many times that I miss too much, thus explaining my interest (I did make it through Cheuking Express in August). But for some reason, this weekend, I nailed out three foreign films: From France (Avenue Montaigne) Afghanistan (The Beauty School of Kabul) and Senegal (Binta and the Great Idea).

I am now hooked. The French film surprisingly bubbled. The love scenes sparkled with creativity, yet realism. I cheered for the drama queen. The Beauty school reminded me how women’s bodies can unleash healing, and simple acts, like a shampoo, can tip the scale of transformation, giving freedom, offering empowerment. And then there was little Binta…Binta and the Great Idea. The movie entails a young girl attempting to figure out how to help convince her cousin’s father to send her to school. The film weaves themes of diversity, and community through the universal hope discovered in children. Context Matters.
In a scene where Binta is coloring wide sweeping scene, she says”
I like to use the color green
But I like yellow a lot, too
But my favorite color…(and here the camera zooms on a filling in stick figure)
…is the color of skin
The words glued themselves to my core.
.
I am more in tuned with characters of foreign films, noticing their body language, the ecstasy or despair emanating in their eyes, the nonverbal unrequited interest or assertive denial. It is easier to empathize. To feel. Not to think or analyze, but purely experience it. Watching foreign films demands my entire attention, that I remain presently processing each moment.
Yep. Context matters. Where you are impacts Who you are. When is the last time you took a step out of your preferred medium?

#46!

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 17:00:00 +0000

Task # 46: Buy a frivolous kitchen gadget
Frivolous: –adjective1. characterized by lack of seriousness or sense.2. self-indulgently carefree; unconcerned about or lacking any serious purpose.3. (of a person) given to trifling or undue levity.4. of little or no weight, worth, or importance; not worthy of serious noticeI defy this word, actively shaping my behavior throughout the day to avoid anything that may be possibly stamped with such embellishment. Give me black coffee. Shoes that I can slip on. One handbag for work, one for the weekend. Sure, I stray in some ways (aka: cereal addiction…I have 5 boxes right now) but for the most part, call me Practical. Functional. Even Frugal.Simplicity appeals to me. Prone to imploding happiness via analytical discourse, paring things down into essential parts often prevents anxiety. Research has shown that the more choices we have, the more likely we are to worry, to feel unsure, and not to recognize our values when they are present.
Being single may foster easier access to simplicity. My routine syncopates around my self-designed routine. My goals and intentions are unencumbered by the immediate needs of others. Friends who are married and/or with children require more stuff, and definitely have intentions to do X or complete Y thwarted. With more bodies in the mix, one must acclimate to complication. So many of these friends then pontificate: “THIS IS THE TIME TO LIVE FRVIOUSLOUSY!” I respond by asking if being single means I should be doing things of little importance? Or that once you don on the responsibilities of family life simple pleasures evaporate?
Life, no matter what stage you are in, is too short to take too seriously, and too long not to live purposefully.The 101 list engenders the extraordinary. For me, I need more trivialities. Bring on the trifles! Where’s the fribble around here?I am even tempered in many of my passions. An avid cook and recipe sluether, I don’t own a blender. I have three cooking ware pans. So I bought a microplane a few weeks ago (okay, almost a month). I just brought it out a few nights ago, looking over my shoulder for a grandmother or something tsk tsking…this little product makes zesting (a lemon) grating (cheese) or pasting (ginger/garlic) a snap. With a little more work, I can do these tasks without such a device. But WOW! I am now in love! I am making fresh ginger/garlic paste with undue levity in a root vegetable roast, grating lemon in yogurt, slivering reggiano on my tofu soup. I swing the thing around like a scepter…queen of the facetious.Isn’t it funny in a task about frivolity I tweaked out purpose? Ah…bad habits die hard

Confession

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 03:03:00 +0000

Since writing about flossing...I haven't flossed until tonight.

Task #71 Buy Something from ETSY

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000

Growing up, I ignored any interest associated with “home economics.” It wasn’t just that cooking, sewing, arts and crafts didn’t seem relevant to me, it was also that I wasn’t good at them. The only B I earned in high school was in Ceramics. An ugly, robin egg blue letter holder perches somewhere on a kitchen counter in Montana as a testiment to K’s inadequacy in this domain. An attempt to redeem myself four years later in a community ceramics class ended in similar ruin. Overcompensating, constantly fueling my analytical nature with various interests and distractions, the possibility of my hands suffocated.

Let’s be honest, most of self-epiphanies occur when we observe other people doing things that appear to work. I could use the word “influence” but really, it is peer pressure that led to my interest in creative endeavors. Living in a community during graduate school intentionally geared for interaction, creativity blossomed around me A best friend passionate about beading ignited a little stint where I collected wires, clamps and clasps and little rainbows of seeded beeds. I lavished in examples of homemade projects surrounding me, where people valued the visions of their spirits. I attended events where the guests each brought a craft project, and we left with a half dozen homemade scrubs, potholders, junk drawer organizers and scarves. Some embarked on their interests with ease, some with painstaking skill and attention. Some defied my assumptions, such as numerous examples of masculine crafting; Oxygenating a value in objects generated from one’s heart, and shaped by one’s hands. My Life was Fuller.

The week I designed this list, I spent a weekend visit with one of the priestess of creativity. She told me about Etsy, which offers people a place to be recognized and rewarded for their handmade gems. (Note: this is also the woman who informed me about Google Reader and helps me with my html, which just reconfirms the mosaic of our human interests and dismantles the notion of rigid female archetypes). The site is my new E-Bay. First of all, I believe that where we put our money is an ethical endeavor and social statement. Let’s support independent businesses. Second of all by purchasing these items I announce a vital role creativity plays in fueling my happiness. These things are unique. Don’t get me wrong, I love buying socks and soaps at Target, but digest these products with an uncomplicated savoring.

Such a fun task! It took me MONTHS of deliberation to decide upon my new lunch bag on ETSY, my interest gestating at the same rate of the growing tummy of a prego buddy. So it is with pride that I announce its arrival here. The material forgives spills (a daily diatribe for me) thus meeting my criteria for functionality, and infiltrates brain centers responsible for satiet, thus fulfilling my criteria for pleasure.

Awww…isn’t she adorable?

Let’s just be thankful it is ceramic.

#50! Floss Every day for a week

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 17:21:00 +0000

I know, I know, many of you might assume that I would be a person for whom flossing would come easily. The more you know my nature, however, you will be able to detect that I am not that great at details. Plus, as mentioned before (sympathy, please!) I have sensitive gums, which bleed anytime they are poked and proded. In short, I HATE flossing!

But armed with my new Christmas present, I set out on christmas to finish out 2008 with floss. Sexy, right? Of course, the endeavor included batteries and a mild vibration, but still, no glamour or sensuality lies in the habit of flossing.

First of all, it is about removed tiny grime from tiny crevices between bones. You have to wonder: what did our ancestors do? Well, they didn't a) do sit ups and b) floss. and I have a little rebellious theory that if they didn't do these things, why should I? But, alas! They also usually didn't live past 35, and didn't drink wine...so my theory falls apart quite quickly.

And evolution, observed in our rampant electronization of anything without batteries, doesn't necessarily mean PROGRESS. By sunday, the electric flosser grew a little tiresome and I resorted to traditional string, which took less time but probably was less thorough. Sure, it prevents tooth decay, and doing it as a habit "is good for me." In actuality, it prevents bacteria build up and stinky detrimental inflamation. So why is it so difficult for me to adopt? Sure, I really get a kick out of completing these tasks, but flossing just isn't in my DNA.

I am a creature of habit, but and even after a week, I woke up thinking "I don't have to floss today! Thank GOD for 2009! If I would have set out to floss for a month (do I sense a challenge here?) perhaps I would develop this good habit with a little more ease. Perhaps my gums would be a littl less bloody by Valentine's Day.

My Best Christmas Present

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sat, 27 Dec 2008 16:03:00 +0000

A few weeks back, I applauded Jack for still having all ("most," accuracy is crucial for Jack) of his teeth. I confessed that I do not regularly floss. That description is far from accurate, and perhaps it would be better to say that I floss a few times a year. There is no planetary alignment that creates a pattern of when I engage in this health behavior. And I don't feel as if I am conducting some crucial hygenie act. Perhaps that is why I am not really motivated to do it. Plus, fickle!, I have sensitive gums and despite careful application, I always end up with reddened tissue and the taste of iron in my mouth.

But I had been a good girl all year long, and flossing my teeth for a week was on my list. So, imagine my elation when Jack presented me with my very first electric flosser. The little bugger signified that there was a person out there concerned about my gums...that means something, right?

Stay Tuned...I am on Day Three and still figuring this thing out. But this may be THE best christmas present for single women every where (unless you'd like to pick up my car and deliver it back to me with the oil changes, the tires rotated, a new air filter, and cleaned inside!)

What was your Best Christmas Present?

Host a themed potluck

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 01:22:00 +0000

This past weekend, a group of women honored me by participating in a Christmas Cookie potluck. The idea involves bringing dough and spending an afternoon shaping and baking it together. At the end of the event, the women get to take a variety of cookies home with them, as well as an infusion of Holiday Spirit.

Being single during the holidays can often foster a sense of being on the outskirts of "real" families. Occassions like these, however, provide confirmation that we are all connected...

The event was far from perfectly prepared

(I forgot to double bake my biscotti before every one left, and I couldn't find my teapot) but in the end, it was perfectly what I needed.

I am NO slacker!

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 04:12:00 +0000

On the surface it may appear that I have slacked off on writing in the pastmonth or so. Although, it's true, I traveled a ton in the month of November;I faithfully punched away on the keyboard as well. In fact, the keyboard gotso much mileage that my five year old Thinkpad's F now explodes in rebellionfrom time to time, popping up after being utilized. And who can write without an F button?
Task #92. Do NaNoWriMo (http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano)
I participated in an online write a novel in the month of November projectcalled, WriNamo. The concept is pretty easy: write a novel in a month, atleast 50,000 words ALL created only in November 2008. And this is a HUGEtask, which I didn't really understand fully until the end of the firstweek, when my word count was a little over 8K, and that's after writingevery day. They send an author-wanna be emails encouraging that the secondand fourth week are likely the most depressing and despairingly, and theywere right. Slain by a cold the last week of the month, my head fuzzy eitherfrom snot or from decongestant, I couldn't produce anything of value, muchless capture something on paper..
But! Alas! I prevailed! I wrote furiously and without editing (to theorganization's cheerleading: PRODUCE! Don't EDIT!) And last week, I had 51Kby 8pm on Sunday. I am now in the process of editing..
I'll send you a chapter if you like. The novel is about the life of a smallfamily in snapshots of key moments of their lives.click here for a gist ofwhat the book is about..
MY list didn't end there! Also in the month of November, I completed thefollowing:

#41 Set up Google Reader: Yep! It's official! I check my Google Reader about 4times a week! What did I do before Google Reader? Please people, if you'vegot a website you LOVE to check regularly, like this one!, email me and I'llvouch for reader! Also.what are you reading? Let me know!)

#77 (now 2 out of 3, the other was Cheuking Express) Watch a Foreign Film: Priceless, French, which was absolutely charming.Audrey Tatu, shone in a way that made you disgusted with her and yetcheering her on to change her shallow ways

#69 Go to a Comedy Routine (I accompanied my good friend Lisa to a comedyroutine in Columbia,MO while checking out the community there. What I remember from the act wasthat he did a musical number dressing up like 80 pop music stars. Andlaughing)

#31 Go to a book reading (I did even better than that. One of the most inspiringbooks I've read this year is Tales of a Female Nomad. A little similar toEat, Pray, Love, the book is about a woman transformed by her journeysacross the world. Much different, however, is that the woman's alteration isvery much externally and community oriented. She sells all her possessions,adopting the name nomad and truly living as part of these places. I attendeda book club where the author Rita Goldman, was the guest of honor.)

#17 Go to a live music event (1 of 3) Last week, Jack and I went to a barbershop quartetconcert of men singing old Christmas songs. These were just men in thecommunity with a love of music, and what it did for me was cradle me intothe spirit of Christmas.

Task #26

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 20:00:00 +0000

Buy Flowers for some one else

I never really got onto the fresh flower train. I know as a woman, I am supposed to swoon over the color, the smell, the pulsation of romance that they emit. There was season where an engorged Lily was appreciated. But I clung to the symbolism more than the actual experience of them: Peace enfolded with vibrant fertility (or so I was informed). When a woman in my circle, whether an office colleague, neighbor or family member received one, my alarm button always fired. Not only would I question their value (wouldn’t you prefer something more practical, like a pair of shoes?) but I questioned their signification. When a person gets flowers, something was abnormal, either in a special, celebratory way, or a grieving, coping manner. Flowers signified, they meant something, they pointed to other things…I found it all an analytical distraction.

And I was completely missing the point.

It was I who was sinning in my denial of the power of flowers to just be what they are, do what they do, live as they live. My incapacity to enjoy their brief, punctuated presence was a little depressing. First off, flowers don’t need my projection of meaning on them to bolster their significance. They don’t require worth in the form of “this one means hope, clarity,” or “this bouquet offers a sense of solidarity in times of sorrow.” I must resist the urge the attempt to rationalize all of creation! Flowers can just be pretty. In fact, they have done some research indicating that for people that enjoy flowers, cultivating a garden or having them around in times of stress has similar healing benefits of prayer. Second (and I can’t stop myself from going all rational and metaphorical here) flowers have a way of reminding us to be focused on the here and now, the present moment. No two flowers are alike, and this points to our human lives as well, smacking us in the heart to remind ourselves that our lives are only temporary and we must seek pleasure right now. Not before it’s too late, but after it’s too early.

Luckily, when receiving collaboration on the creation of this list, my friends called me out on my snobbery. The task today was to buy fresh flowers for someone else.

I had the impulse at 5 am in the morning, and for abut 80 minutes, attempted to rationalize my way out it. My mind said things like: “She wouldn’t like them,” “She said she didn’t want to make a fuss, so why are you?” “What if you get the wrong kind?” “Wouldn’t she want some organic soap instead?” When walking into the market, my mind again battled the habit of patronizing this ritual. I almost got a potted plant, for in my valuation, at least they live a while and omit oxygen into the universe. My practicality threatened to ruin the whole task.

The beauty of this list is that is provides me a reason, a guideline, an anchor, to which I can cling when doubt or habit retreats my growth.

I bought the flowers because when I woke up, I wanted to. I wanted to celebrate her life, her light, the manner in which she uplifted me, our friendship, the honorable way she serves as a wife and a new mother, the hardworking spirit she imbues every task in front of her. I wanted to bring her pleasure knowing that it would not last.

This past year I asked a man, when was the last time he had given any one fresh flowers. Well over the age of 30 and seasoned in a longterm relationship, he informed me that he never had. My heart grieved a bit upon hearing this, signaling a hibernation of some sort in his spirit. My hope is when I am asked I can always say “recently….” For my list, I extend a grateful heart!

Task #98

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 19:00:00 +0000

Something Out of Character

Most people would describe me as analytical, focused, a rule-follower that is very goal oriented. My achievement orientation often causes a lot of mistakes or humorous experiences. For instance, I often miss details. I once wore a pair of shoes for two months with the new shoe tissue in the toes until a friend who borrowed them pulled them out and laughed “what is WRONG with you?” I am a do-er a mover, a shaker, I’ve got places to go, I can’t slow down for tissues! So you get the point. I am far from creative.

But in doing this list, I am forced to try things perhaps I wouldn’t do on my own. I use the list as an excuse to experience new things and try out different versions of myself.

Embarking on task #98 has brought a lot of laughs out of my circle of loved ones…”you’re doing what?”

“I am making an audition tape to be on a reality TV show.”

“But you don’t watch reality TV…do you?”

“Only ones with food…:

And thus, I began to prepare an audition tape for the Next Food Network Star. I basically spent all weekend thinking of my unique perspective, of designing a fun recipe, of organizing a spontaneous script. I wasn’t going to write anything down. I was just going to practice the words and phrases and follow my gut…and that’s what I did this weekend…I creatively shaped and plucked and paid attention to details. The words. The ingredients. The instruction, the inflexion. It was a masterful exercise in creativity, not taking myself too seriously, but trusting myself as well.

My friend Yvonne came on over and filmed it for me, and then kindly stuck around to make sure my fabulous Break-up brownies were mildly edible (they were! I ate almost half the pan that afternoon!). It was embarrassing at first to be speaking this to an audience, but I quickly became comfortable…I was having fun!

Watching yourself brings about a whole new self-consciousness that defies even middle school angst. Have you ever made a tape of yourself? There is a degree of foreignness there: that’s my voice? My demeanor? Could that really be me? Yep it is…that’s me.

Watching the video releases a small cringe in me. I hope to be creative and enjoy myself, but the task reveals an undertow that says “I have something to say. I want to be heard.” It’s an audition after all: I am attempting to convince the judge of my value as a contestant.

This is one task that is not about the end result. It is HIGHLY unlikely that I will be taken seriously, but that was not the point. The purpose was to engage in something I’ve never done before that others would say “wasn’t typical” of me….but perhaps, as I check off task after task, I become a person that defies typicality in whatever I endeavor.

#3 Befriend Someone over 80

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 01:13:00 +0000

I just wrote about my friendship with Jack and those relationships that teach us...but let me tell you a little more about why this was on my list...

Jack tells me frequently that the number one problem people his age face is lonliness. He has a supportive family and attends church, and has the blessing of a caretaker who spends hours with him most days of the week. But interacting with people not in his age range is difficult. Many people in nursing homes, most he tell me, only have visitors a few times each YEAR! Can you imagine not having any conversation, about the weather, the price of gas, Dancing with the Stars, how salty those French fries were, for the entire month?

The main reason I wanted to befriend a person over 80 was the fact that I was lonely, too. I had recently moved to the area and establishing friendship takes patience, tempo, timing. I needed to feel connected to something. It was pretty quick getting set up as a volunteer at the closest assisted living/nursing home to my house. Within two weeks, I was connected with Jack. For the last four months, I’ve seen him weekly. I sent him postcards from Costa Rica. I pick up snacks for him at the market, and clip out funny comics or bring him pictures kids make for me. He tells me stories of his youth, gives me advice about the economy and willingly philosophizes with me on a variety of topics. He is bright, friendly, and he likes me. Jack makes me feel like I belong. Like I matter.

“Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is madeby the friends we choose.”

Tennessee Williams

Hands down, Jack is one of the biggest blessings of my life right now. I am less lonely because of him, and I hope, he is less lonely because of me.

#11 and #36 in ONE!

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 02:40:00 +0000

Visiting a Washington Winery
Picking an Apple from a Washington Farm

East of here, through the mountains, the Washington land produces sweetness. Sugars for which it is known. The almost three hour drive from my house offers an array of landscapes to stimulate the journey…moving from freeway emerald city urban, the deciduous ski country, giving way to fertile low lands, and then desert shrubs, and then, pow! Areas of orchards, vineyards, speckled with huge barns that read FRUIT ANTIQUES!

I guess the tradition here is so old that you can purchase fruit antiques.

Eastern Washington speckles color right now, the fingers of the fauna shooting off color and teasing the eye…maybe you’ll find something sweet here.

I needed to get away this weekend. I required, as the saying goes, “a change in perspective” What was so wrong with the perspective I was taking before my trip? Two words jump to mind: anxiety and complacency. The anxiety I believe boiling up and down due to all the negativitiy and uncertainty surrounding me these past few weeks. You see, it is in my job description and most likely personality structure to find things that are deficient, impaired, weak and “fix them.” I pay attention to the uncomfortable aspects of experiences, both on a case by case basis and on a cultural level. It is ingrained into my demeanor to notice such energies and analyze them, and most often, to respond to them in order to give way to relief, or improvement of some sort.

And my experience has lead to efficiency at it.

Yet, one cannot provide sufficient relief for many problems. Suffering often sums up greater than the hope I am engendering. It is in these seasons, usually a period of 5 weeks, that I find I need to “reset” “revision” and allow myself to accept grace and start my perspective fresh.

Thus, the escape. For me, traveling (which is self defined as staying at least one night away) most often enables this catalyzing change in perspective.

This weekend I found myself saying “everyone is so more friendly around here.” They would recommend that I spend my money at different business than their, they would throw their heads back in easy laughter, they would easily reminisce about a story and so easily shared their passions when encouraged. One man called me “trouble” which I am when I am my most authentic happy K. And this got me to acknowledge that perhaps it wasn’t just the people of the place that were more open, more congenial and approachable and more community-minded. It was me. It was my fundamental approach to the experience to embrace it fully and make the Positivity mine. Now, it’s true the equation doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes the people aren’t so friendly no matter how open you are (I think of Paris). Even then, however, I do believe it is a synergy, this traveling. Traveling can reveal insecurity (let’s say with French pronunciation) and a sense of inadequacy (in navigating Paris’ streets) and a feeling of inferiority (in anything artist or edible). These feelings may be carried like invisible luggage and that burden may prevent you from truly being free and thus you don’t find the place or the people or the experience liberating at all…

Most of the time, however, I like the version of myself when traveling. I am more capable, more grateful, less analytical, more trusting of my intuition, less goal oriented and more gracious all around. This weekend I found myself noticing light, watching the colors around me more easily. I shot pictures without action or identification in them at all. This is not like me. I’ve expressed to others that I disdain about traveling pictures…you can’t even tell YOU were there” I like to stamp my pictures with something connecting me to it. Functionality is key. I consider “will I print this? Would someone actually like to look at this picture? Place it on a fridge.

This weekend, however, I took multiple shots of the same object just for the exposure to multiple perspectives. A young bud of practice…

The change of perspective, whether gained from traveling (to wine country), the words of an expert (it’s cancer) or a relationship (Mom, I want some more water) powerfully marks our lives in a way that we too quickly habituate to. I want to be the “Traveling K” more in the “Normal Day K” or even the “Weekend K” or “Lunchbreak K”…

Who are you when traveling?

#13 Habitat for Humanity

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 13:15:00 +0000

There is something fundamentally inspiring in helping a person build a home. Our faith and ability to experience pleasure develops as our capacity to grow communally develops. And the more we exclude or confine ourselves to like-minded people, the more limited our gratitude remains. Too often we mark out “this is my space, this is yours.” Stay on this side of the line. That line can mark being female, having a certain educated, claiming to be a particular faith or voting party, living in a certain neighborhood or country, having a significant relationship or not.

For many moments in my life, these boxes have constrained my ability to experience life fully. And I am proud that the list is helping me shatter some of those boxes…and I find balance that it is in the act of building a box for someone to live in that my own are destroyed.

What is home to you? I heard numbers once that most Americans move every 4 years. I would guess that the number is higher for those of us 35 and under, perhaps shifting to move jobs, alter relationship status, finish parts of our education or training. And this mobility can exacerbate a loss of identity, a diminishment of affiliation, a forced letting go of ritual and an abandonment o ritual. All the things to me, that says home.

“Hello, Welcome” “You can trust this place” “You know what to expect” “You can go out and explore the world, but you will come back to this place of groundedness” “This is safe”

Homes define us. Which is why so many of us feel pressured to “own” them (see previous post here) But more than a place with things, I believe home is our sense of groundedness. A sense of being nourished, a sense of cultivating roots in our beings…

And those foundations MUST be connected to others.

#24

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 02:12:00 +0000

Yep! I rode a motorcycle for the first time this last week! Let me tell you, there is something incredibly freeing about whizzing on a bike on the highway. The engagement with your surroundings makes the journey more alive, pulsing, more aware of the other travelers on the road, the details of the scenery, the state of the air and weather. Like any new experience involving the description "primal scream therapy" there was an inital fear and hestitancy...but after a few minutes of deep breathing, the fear of getting railed by another car lessened, and lo and behold, my body, my spirit relaxed. A balance ensued between adrenaline and new experience and peace, quite similar to experiences in Costa Rica. The next step is riding some more...

#74 Tour A Farm

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 15:26:00 +0000

I've caught a big case of "Green Guilt". I haven't checked to see if my light bulbs are energy efficitent. My Scion, which gets around 34 mpg, is NOT a hybrid. I have compulsions to go into the trash and rescue aluminum cans. Americans are LAST in getting on the green wagon. Naturally, I want to compensate.

I guess around 20% of Americans also feel green guilt. ive days a week, my cable is set on channel 201, the Planet Green channel, where I am addicted to the show about cool green inventions. There is something super alluring about sustainable farming,

about being a good steward .

So I fed my addiction by touring an organic farm last weekend, located about 50 minutes away. There are many organic farms closer to me, but I visited this one because a group of women were gathering together to learn more about writing. So! The two, writing and farming, was too irrestible.

The "tour bus" is an old tractor

(I confess that I was thinking about how ineficient the old engine was that it might be polluting the air and thus the plants...)

My favorite part of the organic farm was the large section of herbs available to pick. A group of women there were selecting carefully in order to make a tea...a tea! AH! maybe that will be my next task...

#72 Try Rockclimbing or Canyoning

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 03:07:00 +0000

Jumping, scrambling, climbing...in a sinking motion, treking down a rocky cliff. It's a drop, and in Costa Rica, canyoning entails rappelling down waterfalls.

Sure, I considered myself a normal, usually logical, rational PhD psychologist. I face my fears. I seek adventure, experience, a new opportunity. I am not prone to fear.

But fear pounded through each tiny capillary waiting to jump down that first waterfall. I chatted annoyingly in minimal spanish with our guides not to better prepare me, but to elicit all my educational skills of distraction to stop my body's fear of impending doom. Afterall, throwing oneself off the side of a waterfall is NOT NORMAL, people!

Here I am!

I LOVED IT! This experience was the first time (and perhaps that the last time) in a while that I peeds my pants....

just a sprinkle, but it counts!

Can't WAIT to try rockclimbing NEXT!

# 63

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 02:58:00 +0000

Lay in a Hammock!

So, the first hammock I spent all of 5 minutes in (in Carribean) but the second one, wow! Look at the view I captured at 5:15 am one morning. I journaled here and it completely sent my heart in a state of awe. Beginning my days in such a fashion, a moment of centering, of reflection, reminded me again of how to feel beautifully free.

The hammock experience, swinging peacefully, reminded me of this quote:

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice.-Meister Eckhart

Many Items completed!

noreply@blogger.com (Special K) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 02:50:00 +0000

"WILD" The word erupts from my mouth carefreely when people ask me how my vacation to Costa Rica went. Because "good," "great" and "awesome," just doesn't do it justice. Why WILD? For one thing, I rappelled down flipping waterfalls, zipped in the air through a rainforest, boated through jungle-river canals, watched a 2-hour process of sea turtles laying eggs, hiked through jungle trail by a dormant volcano (with an ill defined path!), sucked coconut sponge and slurped coconut jelly, and capsized in a lake. I broke my sunglasses, misplaced my beloved Sigg Water Ball in a "soda" (a family run small eatery) waterlogged and ruined my digital camera (from the kayak fall on the lake) and sunburned my head through my cornrows. I met cool people from Belgium, Portugal, Canada, France, Holland, talked a police officer (okay, bribed) out of detaining my traveling partner, got a massage from Juan Carlos, and woke up everyday with the sunrise…Not to mention, I chucked A LOT OF LIFE in this trip! Overlooking my list, I experienced 5 of them within the week (and I began training to complete that crossword by March 31 2010 in airports, on buses, amid boats!)