Why I'm Uniquely Suited To A "Bipolar Marriage"

I am beginning to learn what Doc and I are facing. And it's been revealed a little bit at a time, lest it totally overwhelm us. Either that or we can only see a little bit at a time because it is HUGE.

Irregardless...

My earliest thoughts were rueful but truthful: God only gives us what we can handle. And I was like, "Gee, thanks, God!" And sent Him out the door with a here's Your hat, what's Your hurry."

I'm still not ready to invite Him over for Thanksgiving or anything. But there have been several moments where I'm getting VERY CLEAR messages from the universe from a diverse group of sources, like:

• Samantha the Witch and My Therapist: the former knowing nothing about me and the latter knowing a great deal about me, who have both said: You've got to stop carrying the world around on your shoulders/You're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders
• Pandora: It seems I'm hearing the right music at the right time, including the video above, which caused me a bit of a breakthrough this morning

I'm also taking this time as Doc recovers and we move to a new house to re-evaluate myself and who I think I am. I've realized that over the years, I've let go of things I thought were essential to who I was...the very top item on this list is music and being a musician. I can recall recently walking up the stairs of the new house and saying to myself, "I am a musician," and how wonderful and right that felt to say. I plan on doing more of this...figuring out who I am, what I value and sticking to it. This will be a source of strength.

Another thing about me: It is impossible for me to hold a grudge or be very mad for very long. I can store up hurts and slights, but eventually, if given opportunity to let them flood out of me onto a caring person's shoulder, I'm over it.

And how do I set the world down and stop dragging it around? I ask for help, that's how. And I've done that. My parents have been great, and I have now asked the kids for help. Recently, we've had trouble with bed time. And I happened upon an article about why it's hard for grade schoolers to settle down for bed. The article suggested coming up with a bedtime contract together with the kids, which we did and they took to like ducks to water. And would you believe it? They love it and want to stick to it religiously! And I told you this story to tell you another...

One of the things in our routine is to spend some time talking about our day. This was suggested in the article because grade schoolers have a lot going on in their days and talking about it could relieve some stress, allowing them to quit worrying and settle down for a good night's sleep. Night #1: Riley finally opened up to me and told me everything that was worrying her. She said she felt so much better afterwards and we didn't get a fight at bed time. Night #2: I asked for their help keeping the house clean. And I felt much better. So two big items (Riley's anxiety and my feeling of overwhelming responsibility) were lightened.

Keeping an open heart and mind (which I have vowed to do and am doing) + Listening to the Universe and letting in the messages through music + a deft ability to build a bridge and get over it = A person who can handle rough patches that crop up suddenly and without reason.

Maybe I'm naive, but if so, that's a good thing. I'd rather not be jaded right now. And my unfailing optimism and our strong family bonds and friendships will pull us through. Not to mention all the hard work that Doc is doing, dispite his grave injury. He's practically single-handedly moved us into the new place.

I don't know if this makes sense...I feel like I'm rambling. But something is brewing in my head and heart and it's a good thing.

What I Will Do For Music

Recently I remembered that I am a musician, and more specifically, a singer. I may not have the best or most powerful voice, but I can carry a tune. I prefer to sing with other people because of a vestigial childhood shyness that I haven't completely conquered yet. I've been in and out of choirs for the past 15 years or so searching for the right place, with little luck.

My main frustration with being in choirs is that you rehearse and rehearse and then you perform for maybe 20% of a religious service. The rest of the time is gobbled up by the ritual of the lesson, reading, and mundane announcements. These aren't bad things, really. I'm just not interested. I want more of that magic of producing music with others. That's what fills my cup. The lesson is nice, I guess, and the sermon could go either way. But the music did it for me, spiritually speaking.

And getting my family to go to church has been a lesson in futility. The kids don't want to go and Doc's schedule usually prevents him from going. Our hearts aren't in it. Plus, Sundays are made for looking inward and getting the house in order. And poker.

In the meantime, I started getting together regularly with people from work to play Rock Band, which is fun and a quick and easy way to get to that camaraderie. I get a lot of joy from this and I'm pretty sure that my colleagues do too. It's a good time and we have bonded over it. I know that it's helped us build bridges with each other and work is easier because of it.

I did join a choir of three at a UU church, which was a unique experience but didn't have the manpower to get off the ground. Also, I felt stifled by the PC approach to every. single. fucking. thing. It was so rigid for an organization that espoused tolerance. But we had some moments and I met some great people, to whom I am still connected. But it was still not enough.

Elizabeth knows me well. We met in 1989 and have been steady friends ever since. She knows this stuff about me already. Because of my need to produce music, she doggedly kept setting "Kirtan" in front of me. It's a kind of call and response chanting that originated in India. It seemed strange and foreign (it is) and surrounded by people who seem fanatically devoted to the practice. I was skeptical...

But I trust her, so I decided to join her for a regular monthly Kirtan session in the art gallery in downtown Canton. It was Elizabeth, the Cap'n, me and a very nice person named Brenda. We were led by Su, who played guitar and harmonium. She led us in some chants and a meditation. But the point is that 80% of this was singing. And I felt open afterwards. Like the bouncers around my heart finally uncrossed their arms and opened the ropes to let me in, out.

I was very sensitive for several days afterwards and my intuition was working overtime; I was making very certain predictions about the future that were coming true. Nothing major, but I knew where certain mundane things were headed and I trusted that intuition. It paid off for me. I had removed the obstacles between my instincts and my decision-making. After all, I am 40 years old; there should be some things that I should just know.

Since then I've been to two more kirtan things: Once more with Su and another at a local holistic center. I believe the little gathering with Su is something super special and nothing will be able to compete with the way that goes. The other one was supposed to be bigger and the more the merrier, I've been told. This one wasn't as big as they expected; the local blues festival was competing with it and won.

I'm not sure I got the most out of it because of exterior interference (my phone rang, my pants were uncomfortable, the leader was a dude who seemed at times to be very sexual, which made me uncomfortable). But still, when I left, I felt good...filled up...centered...open, the heart bouncers at rest again.

And I realized that I don't think I'll be able to live without it in my life. And that is good but it comes with some challenges. I figure that I'll have to hitch my wagon to some people who tend to approach the world with a hippier than though approach. The kind of people who refer to themselves as "enlightened" or "evolved." I may befriend these people who may be annoyed by my glib attitude to this sort of thing.

I will also have to keep fighting back the image of the hare krishnas in Airplane! and Hair with their glazed over eyes and aggressive cheerfulness, praying that that won't be me in six months. Especially since I personally feel that I could join a kirtan that lasted for days and not care a bit that days had gone by.

Despite what complications my staunch squareness verses their infuriating dudeness may cause, when the "Om's" start, we are all one in music anyway. So, what the hey...I'm coming out of the closet.

And if you see me in an airport someday, please don't punch me in the face.

I'm In!

Ladies and gentleman: You have just dropped in on one of the newest members of the Women of the Moose. Yes, I have joined a lodge. My Grandma has been a member of the Moose since 1975 and she told us that the lodge now held twice a month Texas Hold 'em tournaments.

Enticed by the idea of regular poker tournaments, almost all the members of my poker posse (my mom, my dad, Doc, Elizabeth) decided to join up and clean up. So Mom, Grandma, Elizabeth and I walked over to the lodge after a charity fish fry at one of the lodge's banquet halls and signed up. This was late in March, I think. But we weren't scheduled to be initiated as members until last night.

When we walked into the lodge itself that night last month, I was taken straight back to 1978. I used to go to the Moose on rare occasions with my grandparents for some special banquet or Christmas party back in the day. I'll tell you what, the lodge itself has not changed one bit. It was still paneled, it still had a sunken bar, it was still smokey, it was full of pretty much the same people, though quite a bit older.

As we sat to fill in our applications, the elderly D.J., Freddy the Frog, played the Hokey Pokey, the Chicken Dance, Barney's theme song, and I Got Stoned and I Missed It in that order. I turned to Elizabeth and said, "I'm home."

My dad and Doc got in right away and with very little ceremony. They sat in the grand poobah's office and listened to him read the rules and ask them not to sue the lodge. So, they've been enjoying cheap beer and the option to play poker every night for about a month now. I figured it would be about the same for we Women of the Moose to be.

Last night, we arrived at the lodge and were taken off to a back room where we received a packet containing our membership cards (I experienced a frisson of delight when I saw a Moose membership card and access card). The packet also included information about the student the Canton lodge "adopted" from Mooseheart, the community school that was built by the Moose for orphaned children. It's near Chicago, so some of you have probably heard of it. Vespa, the Recorder who was walking us through the information encouraged us to send a gradation card and a small amount of money as a gift. "He always writes back," she said. We also have an adopted senior from Moosehaven, the Moose retirement community, named Mitzi. Her birthday is in May and we were encouraged to send her a birthday card.

After our orientation, we were led out to the main room for the "ritual." Yes, we had a full blown, church-like session in order to be inducted into the Women of the Moose. It was amazing! I'd only seen something like this in the movies. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance together; I haven't done that in years and it felt really good. We then sang the first verse of the Star Spangled Banner. I don't think I've ever sung that song outside of a sporting event, let alone with a room full of mostly elderly women. Delightful!

There was a lot of sitting down and standing up and sitting down again. The ladies explained the three values of the Women of the Moose: Faith, Hope, and Charity. We were sworn in. We even made a tithe. At one point during the ceremony, we turned toward Mooseheart and offered our silent prayers to the children there while the Musician tolled the chime 9 times. 9:00 p.m. is bedtime for the kids at Mooseheart and they all say their prayers at that time. So, we prayed with them at a symbolic 9:00 p.m. (it was actually about 7:30 p.m.).

It was so moving, so sweet, so anachronistic. I am pleased to be a part of this sincere organization. We newbies were assigned to committees; the assignments were written on the outside of our packets. I was pleased to note that I am on the Moosehaven committee (I am totally retiring there). Underneath it was written "February 2008." Interesting, I thought. I wondered what the date meant. After the ceremony, Vespa informed us that that was the month our committee had "pie duty." I looked at Elizabeth and raised an eyebrow.

"That is the month the people on your committee are responsible for serving pie and collecting the money for it at the Friday night dinners," Vespa explained, "We ask that the Women of the Moose donate pies. We ask that you get them here by 4:30 p.m. on Friday afternoon."

"Oh, OK," we said.

"Some people bake pies, others buy them," she said.

In my mind, I decided that Thursday nights at my house will henceforth be known as "Pie Night;" it is my ambition to start baking pies. Any suggestions or recipes for the first pie?

The ladies provided a beautiful and delicious cake for us all to enjoy. There was also a certain kind of punch that I've only ever drunk in the company of other women at showers and the like. It is some kind of fruit drink combined with 7-Up and Sherbet. It's a truly strange and overly sweet concoction, but I drank it anyway. It was something I would have turned my nose up at in my youth, but last night, I savored it. Vespa presented us all with a gift bag that contained a mini Coleman lantern, a canister of chocolates, and a scented candle. Mine was Passion Punch scented, which sounded a bit menacing. Once I smelled it though, I realized the punch of passion punch was the drink not the action.

I fell in love with the Women of the Moose last night. They are sweet, thoughtful, and charitable. They are also very elderly, for the most part. Vespa's husband, who has set up the room for the WOM meetings for probably 30 years announced last night that he would no longer be doing it on account of his bad back. So we all pitched in with minimal grumbling to put the room back to the way it was.

I know it's old fashioned to join a lodge these days, but I encourage all of you to consider the idea. For the most part, the membership is aging if not elderly and dying off. They need the energy of the young as well as their strong backs. Most of them are tired of running the place. They are desperate for members, so it's relatively easy to get in. They serve cheap beer and they do good deeds. What better way to serve your community? Also, if you're a Moose, you can enter any Moose Lodge across the US, Canada, the UK and France. You would have a place to go in most cities and you would already have a built in bunch of friends.

A Musical Mystery: John Mayer

All indicators point to the fact that John Mayer is someone I should totally love. He's a guitar player, which increases a fellah's hottness factor by at least 78%, in my opinion. He's got the lugubrious good looks of Lancelot du Lac (at least how I would picture LdL). He's got a beautiful voice and heaps of charisma.

I like the sound of his music, though I'm not familiar with his entire discography. Some of his album titles appeal to me: Inside Wants Out, Room for Squares, Any Given Thursday, Continuum. His voice appeals to me very much. I like the tone and its expressiveness.

So why don't I own all of his albums?



Exhibit A: Daughters

The first time I heard this song, I was wandering around Best Buy with my daughters. We were looking at DVD's or something and it was momentarily quiet enough that I could hear the music playing through the store's sound system. I turned my head slightly to listen carefully to the appealing lilts of the guitar and the soulful and sincere sound of his voice.

Having been an instrumental musician for most of my life, I've developed the habit of hearing the voice as another instrument and, usually, I don't take in the words. Not that lyrics have not gotten through to me before, but on first hearing of any song, I am overwhelmed by the notes and really have to concentrate if I want to hear what the singer is trying to say. Usually, pop singers don't have much to say, in my opinion, so I don't waste a lot of time trying to suss meaning out of songs such as "Oops, I Did It Again." For example, I watched the entirity of last season's American Idol, where they did a sending off video for each contestent who left the show each week and that video, without fail featured the song, "So you've had a bad day". That means I heard that song at least once a week for two months and, when it came on the radio this morning, I could only sing along to "So you've had a bad day..."; the rest was all "la la la la". This is the case, even with songs I genuinely like and with lyrics that speak to me.

So, for a few moments, in Best Buy, I really enjoyed listening to John Mayer's music and I was about to start my search for this gifted artist's album, until the song made its way to the chorus and the words were made manifest in my mind. This is what I heard:

Fathers be good to your daughters;

Daughters will love like you do, yeah.

Girls become lovers who turn into mothers,

So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

Boys you can break,

You find out how much they can take.

Boys will be strong, and boys soldier on,

But boys would be gone without warmth

From a woman's good, good heart

On behalf of every man, looking out for every girl,

You are the god, and the weight of her world.

On behalf of every man whose looking out for every girl,

You are the god, and the weight of her world.

Fathers be good to your daughters,

Daughters will love like you do, yeah.

Girls become lovers who turn into mothers,

So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

It's not that I don't agree with the sentiment here, but come on! Who died and made you Captain Wisdom? I was immediately turned off and disgusted. Musically, this song was so up my alley. Then he had to shit all over it with his Circle of Life fucking philosophy of child-rearing. I mean, couldn't he have used the music for this song and put in lyrics that weren't so holier than thou? Why not sing about flowers or something abstract. Jesus.

Perhaps it is ageism on my part. If Willie Nelson were singing this song, I don't think I would have had such a visceral reaction to it. Willie would give it a perspective of wisdom earned over a long life of observing human nature and hard living. But from such a youngster as JM, it feels like a sermon given by a college freshman who just finished his first psych class.

However, no matter who said it, it still begs the question: Aren't people supposed to be good to their daughters? I mean, that was my plan. But I wasn't going to be good to them so that they could "become lovers who turn into mothers". I mean, I'd like them to be mothers some day, after they finish school, college, and see the world. I'm not training them so that sleepy-eyed junior philosphers can take them as lovers and turn them into mothers. Keep your hands of my, daughters, Jack!

Ahem.

It never fails, though, when this song comes on the air, I am lulled into its trance. And then, as if I'd stepped on a rake, I'm slammed in the head with the unwarrented advice of Junior here and I feel betrayed anew. Stop making such nice music with such preachy lyrics, John Mayer. Either that or stop preaching and start scatting.