It’s Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. The year is 5784. Back in 5734, in my teens, I worried about my clothes. Was I going to wear my new wool dress, or was the warm September day going to deem it irrelevant? I knew it was going to be a long day of prayer followed by a huge family meal. I went to Synagogue, but I did not feel at home in the dressy world of the fancy Schul. I felt more at home in the down-to-earth synagogue of my friends. But members paid dues, and there was no seat for me in their sanctuary.
Over the years I’ve moved away from observing in a house of worship. It can be a deeply meaningful experience for many, but I prefer to pray and meditate in private. Nonetheless, I do wish my Jewish friends & family, friends or family of other beliefs, acquaintances, and readers, a year filled with freedom from suffering. I wish you peace. I hope you enjoy a sweet New Year.
Self-Care Tips:
Enjoy the sweetness of honey to remind you of the sweetness in life. Tradition has us dipping slices of apple in honey, but feel free to create your own sweet reminder.
Try releasing something that’s been hard to let go of. It can be an item, or it can be an attitude. This will create new space for some peace of mind.
What does freedom from suffering look like to you? Like me, does that mean inserting more kindness and forgiveness for myself and others? Or does it mean taking an action that will allow for more ease? Don’t suffer in making a choice, just choose the best course for you and see if it relieves suffering.
When I was growing up summer was always book ended by the academic year’s completion in June and a new school year following Labor Day. In between were hot days at camp, or at home in the backyard under the sprinkler, with regular trips to Hidden Lake or the Haddontown Swim Club for substantial wet reprieve from the beating sun.
Here we are at this 2023 summer’s finale on this Labor Day weekend. The air is cooler as if a declaration that summer is at its end. In my teen and preteen years I would have been working at my father’s shoe store ringing up saddle shoes for the cheerleaders, parochial oxfords for local children attending Catholic schools, and Buster Browns for the public elementary school crowd.
There was anticipation in the air. We went to Korvettes or Grants to load up on school supplies, including Lego-sized sharpeners for our number 2 pencils. Figuring out what to wear on the first day was a pressing matter after first grade. Oh, how I loved my plaid wool skirt, with red fringe and a large gold-plated safety pin as an adornment. It was worn with a Danskin ribbed turtleneck, and red tights that never stayed up, causing me to waddle home at the end of that first day. I didn’t care. I loved that 60s fashion trend.
Now in my 60s, I appreciate those memories, and miss the clear delineation of seasons as signified by the school year. Time now is not marked by classes and tests. The year is of my making. Though I appreciate the freedom that allows, I do wax nostalgic for the endless summers and the structure of school in session.
AsI let go of this summer and welcome Autumn in all its glory, I hope you, too, can enjoy sweet memories while relishing the transformative Fall season.
Self-Care Tips:
Give yourself a break. If you have a “should” for this weekend or week, pause to see if it must get done, or whether you can put the “should” on pause and do something restful and/or fun instead.
Learn a new word, and when possible, use it. I can recommend “WordDaily.com. However, there are a good number of vocabulary apps and sites. This week featured the word “Disembogue,” meaning a river or stream flowing into the sea or a larger river.
Delete unwanted or unused app or apps from your phone. Or you can unsubscribe from mailing-lists you find annoying. Letting go of the junk emails, and ignored apps can feel like a reset.
Growing up my mother and her mother were sticklers for good manners. I made a point of saying please and thank you. I was afraid they would view me as rude, and I didn’t want that moniker. My grandmother would point out other children who might have been louder than us, or publicly whiny, and she’d use those children as cautionary tails of behavior we were to stringently avoid.
I appreciate good manners. Things can be pleasurably orderly when people stick to the rules, when the rules make sense for all. And I am always grateful for good manners. Yesterday, when I once again rode Park Avenue for Summer Streets, I made a point of thanking the police and the Department of Transportation volunteers and temp employees for being there. I was so grateful and happy to share that gratitude. All but one smiled back, and they were nice exchanges along the beautiful ride.
I was grateful I started out early so that the roads weren’t crowded. I was grateful for the cool morning air, a rarity in August. I had filled my tires so my ride was smooth. And to those that I thanked I may have seemed nice. But lurking underneath the gratitude and manners was a highly judgmental, cranky older woman. For the day I had become an architype. I was mad that some cyclists were in the right lanes, while some runners were in the left lanes. There was clear signage. Had I not been a shaky rider, I could imagine myself raising a fist each and every time I noted an interloper. I also wasn’t pleased when motor bikes vroomed down the supposedly gas-free streets.
In hindsight, I think these things scared me. I’m a tentative cyclist. I like empty roads without ruts. Smooth riding feels safer to me. If I give myself grace, I can now see that my righteous anger was a defense of my fears. And perhaps my fright isn’t specific to my bike ride. Maybe it’s global warming anxiety. Or a world in which people act out their fury in arbitrary ways. Or fear of an unknown future. Whatever the case I will do my best to ease my fears while living fully. I’ll continue to have good manners, a multigenerational practice. And I’ll check myself with care when my anger, judgment, and cantankerous nature peak out.
Self-Care Tips:
When angry, check to see if the strong emotion is protecting a more vulnerable part of you. If so, see if you can soothe yourself making room and a safe space for your frailer nature.
Challenge yourself in small ways by doing things that feels doable even if you’re a little bit afraid. It can be as small as a public bicycle ride in a busy city, stating a preference when you’re usually agreeable, or stepping out in a way right for you
Try reading or watching a genre that is new or different for you. I came to appreciate graphic novels, even if it’s not my go to. See if you might come to understand what others see in another genre.
I set out to go to The Brooklyn Museum to see the Africa Fashion exhibit. I had intended to see it twice before but got waylaid, so my determination to get there yesterday was fierce. My plan was to slowly jog in Prospect Park getting out at the arch and walking the few blocks to the museum. Once I made it to Prospect Park at an unfamiliar entrance, I opened up Maps on my iPhone and set off.
I had slung a string backpack over my shoulder with my knee braces for the run as well as an umbrella for the unpredictable weather. After securing my knees in place with the braces, I left the bench and turned back to the Maps app. I was curious. Though not so familiar with Brooklyn, I would have thought I should go right on the drive rather than the left the app instructed me to take. With a momentary pull of doubt, I started off on my slow jog, sun unexpectedly shining, bearing left on the path towards the drive.
In just over a mile I was instructed to leave the park. I was surprised I had been so close when the app indicated that I was miles away. When I exited, I was nowhere near anything familiar, but I ended my run and continued on my journey walking to the museum. Ninety minutes later, past a huge cemetery, on the edge of Prospect Heights, then into Fort Greene, ending in Gowanus, right by the newly constructed business area by the Gowanus Canal. This was nowhere near the Brooklyn Museum. Perhaps there was a Brooklyn Museum section of the Design Within Reach store that was where the app stated was my destination. Ah, the limits of technology.
I enjoyed seeing the new construction and the warehouse spaces that were a contemporary take on a Brooklyn aesthetic. There were places to shop, and places to eat. Young business people came and went, coffee in hand, trying to finish out their work week. By the time I sat in an industrial style courtyard there, I wasn’t sure if I should just head home, or if I should circle back and view the exhibit.
Hot, sweaty, and tired, I trudged to the closest subway station, still uncertain whether I was returning to Manhattan or finally seeing the month-old fashion show on display. In the end I transferred to the IRT 2 train and got off in front of the museum. I was disheveled yet determined. I showed my ticket and made it in.
It was less crowded than expected. Good for me, as I could take my time and enjoy the beauty of the craftsmanship and the artistry. I was not disappointed. It spoke of history, joy, and cultural pride with all 54 African countries represented in one or more ways. And, though my tour through Brooklyn was two hours more than expected, it is true of this weekend, that all’s well that ends well.
Self-Care Tips:
The next time you get lost, rather than spend your time trying to get back on track (unless someone needs you to be somewhere on time), look to see what is around you and take in the unexpected surroundings.
If you’re in or around Brooklyn, take a look at the Africa Fashion exhibit. It is inspired.
Try something new. It could be listening to a new artist, trying a food or dish you normally don’t eat. It could be meeting someone new, reading something not familiar to you. Whatever it is, see what you learn about the subject, and/or about yourself.
I was tired, it was hot, and I was happy to be at MOMA, the Museum of Modern Art, on West 53rd Street. The galleries were crowded, but I took my time enjoying new exhibitions and old favorites. After the slow perusal of four floors, I was spent. But I still had almost an hour before our dinner reservation down the block.
Lucky for me there’s an AI instillation that is a moving abstract representation, a curiously, animated piece, of the museum’s art collection. There are seats and cushions to view the instillation. Fortunately I snagged a seat when a gentleman, probably my age, got up next to me. I sat there mesmerized by this unusual data-infused screen.
It was hypnotic. The colors change constantly creating an unreal, but oddly familiar, explosion of hues. It’s not quite like spattered paint, but more like a constantly morphing puff of colors that mimic what I imagine virtual clouds might look like. It certainly held my gaze for just under an hour. And, rather than exhaust me further, I found the piece to be uplifting.
I was surprised that I enjoyed an AI instillation. It may not be as inspirational as the Georgia O’Keefe exhibition on the third floor. Nor was it as moving as the Van Goghs, or as stirring as the vast photography collection, but it held my gaze longer than even Monet’s Waterlily room. The 24-by-24-foot instillation is called Unsupervised. Rakif Anadol, the artist who conceived the piece, has used AI in his cutting-edge artwork for many years.
I’ve been dismissive of AI. I’m dubious of the impact to the arts. But while I sat there mesmerized, I could see how AI can stand next to other modes of art. Perhaps it can expand our minds. Nonetheless, I will always want to go back to the fine and performing arts in which humans display their infinite creativity to uplift our souls.
Self-Care Tips:
Look up an AI version of something you appreciate and see how it makes you feel. You may be surprised how you respond.
Do an art project. It can be watercolors, a drawing, or dance to music, sing, play a piece of music. Find a fun, creative outlet that you enjoy.
Write a short thank you note to yourself for something you appreciate. You can thank yourself for remembering something, or for your thoughtfulness. We are told to practice gratitude, and here’s a chance to be grateful to and for yourself.
My son told me last weekend that he hoped he won’t have disagreements in his relationships like I have with my husband when he’s older. It was interesting to hear, and as far as I understand he believes that with the amount of therapy, mindfulness practice, as well as the fact that I am a psychotherapist, I should be further along in my personal development, especially when it comes to my marriage. There was a time I would have agreed. I would have seen my defensiveness when my feelings are hurt, and that my feelings get hurt at all, as a fault in my character.
I am not proud that I bicker easily, or that I am quick to react, but I am no longer ashamed that both are true. Like Alex, I imagined that when I was in my sixties I would have life figured out. I believed I’d be highly advanced in my communications, and I’d be able to easily respond with patience and self-reflection. The truth is I am still learning. I have more acceptance of the bickering, appreciating that our marriage has the strength to encompass unpleasant moments. However, more time is needed to learn to have a sense of humor about myself, to find ease when I want recognition and appreciation, and to accept that my way is not the only way.
In our twenty-six years of marriage Larry and I have been able to spend less time upset with one another. Repair is quicker and easier. And we laugh a lot more together. I am proud of that growth. We married later in life, but we came together with much to learn about healthy relationships. And we continue to learn. Every conflict is a new opportunity.
I appreciate Alex’s comment because it allows me to see how it looks from his perspective. I can only imagine the impact our bickering caused him unable to escape it in his earlier years in our compact apartment. Presently his opinion and my response to conflict allows me to find acceptance with the imperfections of being human. Being a therapist does not mean I’m immune to familial disagreements. It means that I am committed to learning and growing one quarrel at a time.
Self-Care Tips:
Take the same short walk three different ways. Walk looking ahead on one walk. Walk looking up. And walk looking down. How different are these walks covering the same ground? This can be a metaphor for our memories. Though we may remember the same experience, when we are in a different place in our lives, we might view it in a new way.
When you have a disagreement, rather than seeing what is wrong with the other person, ask yourself what you need to feel at ease. This way you address a need rather than trying to be right or change someone else.
Take an analog and digital break. Read a book or magazine, hand write in a paper journal, paint with watercolors, play with a real deck of cards, play a board game, knit, play ball, or find a concrete activity off-screen.
Summers are not as warm in Maine as they are in New York City. The air is fresh with ocean mists and the sun has been shy peeking out from the fog on this visit. We came to Portland to visit friends, enjoy lobster in any number of ways, and walk the charming streets in this compact city.
The beauty of the coast is something else. Cliffs making way to crashing waves is beautiful from the high land. I imagine it was devastating for sailors of the past who found the shore inhospitable.
Larry’s and my love of traveling together began over 27 years ago on a road trip through Maine. We loved seeing the varying coastline, the New England inns that offered warmth and pure hospitality. Of course, lobsters featured throughout that trip. It is nice to be back. And, even better to be back to enjoy it with our friends. It was a gift to see how they built a home and a community in this wonderful place. And they shared their love for Portland with us. Their hearts are generous, and we are such fortunate recipients of their munificence.
Taking this short trip reminds me again of the goodness in people, and the pleasure in leaving home to open my mind and my heart.
Self-Care Tips:
Send an old friend a hand-written note. It’s so nice to connect with someone who has made a difference in your life. If you can’t see them in person a note or letter feels good when sending it and they enjoy receiving it.
Introduce new herbs and spices into your food, and/or into your garden. I just tried lovage for the first time and it had a unique yet familiar taste to it.
We’re always told to go out of our comfort zones. Instead, give yourself some time to create a comfort zone for yourself that is cozy and safe. Know you can always go there when needed, no matter how many times you leave.
It was a muggy day in the city. I went to bed late and gave myself the luxury of resting in bed yesterday morning. There was a lot to do, but my body craved relaxation, and rather than rush to place my feet on the floor, I lingered under the sheets, enjoying the ease of a restful morning.
I’m usually a doer. At some point in my development I got the message that being lazy was not a good thing. I made a point of being busy. Rather than being busy when necessary and resting when needed, I seemed intent on proving I wasn’t lazy. However, I had ongoing jealousy for those who enjoyed life doing less. That seemed impossible to me. Thankfully, post-Covid, I have come to see the value in proper rest.
Though I still have a long way to go to unwind the belief that one must be busy, I am glad that yesterday morning I could enjoy a restful dawning of the day. It allowed me to find the energy early in the afternoon to go on a short jog. It’s been a year since I’ve been able to run due to a sprained ankle. Even though I knew that long distance running was part of my past, I’m aware that I really enjoy running as an ongoing activity. So, I put on my ankle brace along with two knee braces, and I set out to run for a mile on East End Avenue asphalt.
Asphalt is easier on the joints and fairly level, which makes for a safer run. It felt so nice to run. Albeit I’m slower with less energy than last year. But it was the act of running that felt freeing. I look forward to running again today. Luckily, I had a great night’s sleep, so I’m well rested for today’s slow jog. And, after that? Maybe a nap.
Self-Care Tips:
What activity or experience is pure joy, so much so that you lose track of time? How do you feel thinking about it? When you have a chance, try diving into the activity. If there isn’t an opportunity, think about it for a moment and take note of how you feel while basking in that memory.
Reflect on your week and make a note of anything that went better than expected? Are you able to have gratitude for the better-than-anticipated experience? If so, take a moment to be with that gratitude.
Check in with your body. Do you have an abundance of energy? If so, do something physical to optimize that energy burst. If not, take a moment (or more, if possible) to relax, letting your body know you’re listening.
Happy Father’s Day. When I say that it conjures up so much for me and for so many others, I expect you included. Many of us have had varied relationships with our fathers nothing like Father Knows Best, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Blackish, or even Home Improvement. If only we could tune in for 30 minutes a week and enjoy the comical moments that focus on the highlights of the best parts of them, with a little silly thrown in.
My dad was king when it came to bad dad jokes. I would groan, embarrassed I had a dad who would even say “Don’t bother. Everything looks good this way,” every time I offered to clean his overly-smudged spectacles. Larry, though fastidious with his eyewear, has taken on the torch of bad dad jokes. Usually they’re groaners, but once in a while they make us laugh. Maybe he’s not comedy ready, but the few good ones could be included in a non-existent situation comedy.
Whatever our experience is with our dads, good, difficult, sad, troubled, no one is one dimensional. I will always appreciate my father for working in his shoe store at age twelve and thirteen, my second job following babysitting. I learned how to work the cash register, count backwards to give proper change, and people watch. I could see when finances were tight, and the family was spending money they didn’t have to get back-to-school shoes for their children. We always made sure they got a small toy to go with their purchase. Of course, Buster Brown customers, the families who could afford new shoes for Autumn, in addition to maryjanes for special occasions, would get a molded replica of Tige, Buster Brown’s dog, or some other brand trinket.
I recognized the lonely ladies who had difficult feet to fit who came in to find their next slip-ons, even though they would go home with nothing. My dad worked as hard for them as any of his customers, even as he knew he needed to make his sales to keep his business afloat.
I learned about hard work, and I learned about the unfairness of life while helping him out at the store. I also learned how to clean a rug with an overused, old vacuum cleaner. All valuable life lessons.
Sometimes our dads inspire us to reparent ourselves. Their best might not have been best for us. So we muddle on learning from our mistakes, and theirs, so we can learn to care for ourselves better, as well as others others, if possible.
Larry is a loving father. He made sure that Alex benefitted from his music connections to see special shows and concerts. He learned to love gently and learned acceptance as our son transitioned to a young trans man.
Parenthood can be a lesson for all of us no matter who our fathers are or were, or even in their total absence. Parenting is an ongoing process of love, patience, humility, joy, fear, sadness, awe, grief, and so much more. But isn’t that true of all of life?
Self-Care Tips:
Make a list of what you’ve learned from your father, good, bad or otherwise. See how that imperfect relationship has shaped you. See if you are able to be grateful for something he/they brought to your life.
Being caring to yourself today. Reparent yourself in a way that embodies the parent you need at this time.
Laugh. It can be something dumb like a dad joke, but enjoy a moment of levity today.
It was a mere coincidence that we happen to be in Split, Croatia the same day the New York Times travel section featured 36 hours in Split. It’s about the same amount of time we’ll be in Split, which is a beautiful port city on the coast of the Adriatic Sea.
I would hear what a stunning country Croatia was. Anyone I knew who traveled there would expound in its beauty and charm. But having so many places we wanted to travel it never made it to the top of our list. Then I had read that Intrepid Travel, a small group tour company, had been named the number one tour guide by a few outlets like Afar, Travel Awards, and more. It was then I looked at their itineraries, and the Croatian trip of the Dalmatian Coast fit the bill for time, cost, and interest.
So here we are with a view of the Adriatic Sea, enjoying the ruins of the last Roman Emperor’s castle from the 4th century, Diocletian. Yeah, I had never heard of him either. That’s what’s so great about travel, we learn so much while enjoying another culture.
What did surprise us is how delicious the food is. We think of Italy when we think of pizza, and yet, in Split pizza is everywhere. Almost like New York City, except it’s a walled town with no high buildings. So not like New York at all. And the fresh seafood is exquisite.
It does feel as if we’ve been transported to another time. Before reaching the city center there is a centuries old farmer’s market where farmers come in the morning to sell their wares, from handmade cheeses to deep red cherries. They tend their farms in the afternoons, only to return the following morning. From there we enter the city gates. I can walk inside the gothic city walls for hours, getting lost through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways. When I find my way outside the city walls, the fresh sea air is invigorating.
And, when I tire of continuing my walk the length of the marina, I can sit watching the many tourists with a lovely cup of cappuccino. Split has proven to be a wonderful start to a memorable Balkan vacation.
Self-Care Tips:
Look up a Croatian recipe. It will be something new that will only enhance your culinary repertoire.
People watch. It used to be a wonderful past time before smart phones. But it’s a lost art worth revisiting.
Get a short history lesson by going to Tic Tok or YouTube. Pick a subject or location and learn a new fact or two from the comfort of your home.
janetzinn 