Monthly Archives: June 2014

Day 526: They can’t take these away from me

In many blog posts over the last 525 days (but who’s counting?),  I’ve figured out ways to link together recent photos I’ve taken, intuitively and seemingly haphazardly.

Today, I’d like to use a song to connect heretofore unseen images I’ve captured within the last few weeks.

But what song shall I use, when there are so many great ones to choose from?

I know!  Last night, my son asked me what my favorite song was, assuming I would have trouble naming one.  It’s true that I DO often have trouble making decisions, but I was able to answer immediately:

They Can’t Take That Away From Me.”

Here’s a classic rendition, from YouTube, of that favorite Gershwin tune:

So, today I’ll use those lyrics — written by Ira Gershwin (for his brother George’s music) — as best I can (with some changes here and there), to connect.

Ready?

The way you wear your hat,

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The way you sip your tea,

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The way you are a cat,

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No, no, they can’t take that away from me.

The way your smile just beams,

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The way you sing on-key,

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The way you seem like dreams,

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No, no, they can’t take that away from me.

 

I don’t have time, this morning, to complete that song with photos, rewrites, and/or explanations. I have to go to work, and I think I may have sprained my ankle (so I may need to see ANOTHER doctor, today).

Although, I do have time for this: I can present these remaining lyrics, evoking my inspiration for this song … my amazing 16-year-old son, Aaron.

The way you hold your knife,

The way you danced, when three,

The way you changed my life,

No, no, they can’t take that away from me.

No, they can’t take that away from me.

Changing the subject AND the song at the last minute, this was my son’s favorite song to dance to, when he was three years old:

 

Thanks to my son, to the Gershwin brothers, to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, to the B-52’s (for their danceable tune), to Oscar and Harley (the cats), to my friend Deb, to my niece Laura, to all those people pictured on the entrance to the House of Blues in Boston, to those who connect images and words with creativity,* to those who dream (including Bethany Sabbag) and to you — of course! — for what you bring AND take away.


* Including Jeff Schwaner, brilliantly, here. Nobody can take THAT away from me now, thanks to Jeff.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , | 34 Comments

Day 525: Judgment and love

During the past three days, attending a group psychotherapy conference, I witnessed people doing their best to let go of old patterns of judgment that get in the way of love — love of self and love of others.

But isn’t love ALSO a kind of judgment?  Isn’t love just an extreme form of … like?

When we say, “I like this” and “I don’t like this” … isn’t that the essence of judgment? For example, when I’ve done mindfulness exercises with people, I’ve  asked people to observe their likes and dislikes — of a piece of music, a painting, a shell, etc. — to let go of those likes and dislikes as much as possible, and just be present with the object.

But it’s our nature to judge, isn’t it?

I know it’s my nature, for sure, no matter what the title of this blog.

For example, I really liked this sock that Suzanne — another conference attendee — showed me yesterday:

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When I told, Suzanne, yesterday, that I wanted to include that sock she’s knitting in this blog, she immediately put it on, with pride.

Which reminds me of one of the most helpful moments of the three-day weekend — this exchange between me and a group leader:

Me: I know that a typical pattern for me, in a group, is to engage quickly (opening my arms wide — in a Ta-Da! gesture) and then, at some point, to withdraw (drawing myself in, and looking down).

Group Leader: Why not try pride, instead of shame?

But in order to have pride (or love) —  for ourselves and others — don’t we need to make some judgment about worth?  And by making a judgment, can’t we easily flip into the other side of that: judging ourselves and others negatively?

I don’t know if I’m going to figure this all out today, before I leave for work, but I would like to tell you about some other highlights, from the conference:

  • Standing in a crowded room, alone, observing others interacting socially, and truly believing it was okay for me to just stand there, without having anybody by my side to talk to.
  • Dancing with an old friend, in a hallway, as his cell phone was playing “Dance with Me,”  and not caring what other people might think.
  • Meeting somebody new, and learning from her that it was okay (and even beautiful) to take up space, even if you might feel stigmatized for your difference and your status within the group.
  • Being reminded you don’t have to see and hear everything, in order to learn.
  • Realizing, again, that it’s okay to be messy:

 

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Thanks to Suzanne, Joe, and all the other teachers and learners at the NSGP annual conference; to Orleans (not the Little River Band) for “Dance With Me”;  to people who do their best to let go of old and unhelpful patterns; to those who experience love, pride, and other human emotions; and to you — of course! — for visiting today.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , | 41 Comments

Day 524: Light

When I learn a lot — at a group psychotherapy conference or elsewhere — I feel light.

When there is absence of pain, after the experience of physical or mental pain, I feel light.

When I see unexpected candy with unusual shapes, I feel light:

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When I experience anger, shame, joy, sadness, fear, love, and other feelings in the presence of others and realize I am not alone, I feel light.

When I see unusual and unexpected lighting, I feel light.

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When I am surprised by fireworks, I feel light.

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There was a lot of light yesterday.

Thanks to the Northeastern Society for Group Psychotherapy for their three-day yearly conference, to the town of Winchester Massachusetts (for the lamps and the “town day” fireworks, last night), to people who bravely shine a light on their hidden feelings and thoughts, and to you — of course! — for bringing your light here, today.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , | 38 Comments

Day 523: A Day in My Life

Woke up, got out of bed,

Saw a cat there at the head,

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Found my way downstairs, and had a bite,

Looking up, I thought I might be late.

Found my coat but not a hat,

Made my car in seconds flat.

Found my way up there and saw these things:

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Somebody spoke …

When Death Comes – A Poem by Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver ~

And I went into a dream.

Thanks to the Beatles, to Mary Oliver, to the Longwood Medical Area of Boston (including Children’s Hospital, where I spent many days in my life), to my workplace, and to all the participants at the Northeast Society for Group Psychotherapy’s yearly 3-day conference in Boston (for which I arrived five hours early, yesterday). Many thanks to you, especially,  for glancing and observing, on this day in your life.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 43 Comments

Day 522: The Core of Discovery

Yesterday, I revisited pacemaker clinic.  Bob — who is part of my team there — reprogrammed my pacemaker, which was a definite improvement.

Here’s Bob:

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While I’ve known Bob for many years, I discovered some new things about him, yesterday. For example, Bob:

  • doesn’t read my blog (or any other blog),
  • considers himself old-fashioned,
  • can picture himself living in the early 1800’s, and
  • admires The Corps of Discovery.

Do you know what The Corps of Discovery is?

Yesterday, I thought Bob was saying:

The Core of Discovery.

until he explained how it was really spelled, and that it was the original name for the Lewis and Clark Expedition.

Here’s what Google first discovers, this morning, about Corps of Discovery:

Lewis and Clark Expedition – an expedition sent by Thomas Jefferson to explore the northwestern territories of the United States; led by Meriwether Lewis and William Clark; traveled from St. Louis to the mouth of the Columbia River from 1803 to 1806

— thefreedictionary.com

Bob also told me about a favorite book, about the Corps of Discovery:

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I like the name of that book, very much.

After my visit with Bob yesterday, where I felt very validated and renewed, I held a core of discovery in my heart, as I made passage back through the hospital. That is, I viewed everything with new eyes, including what I saw in the hallway of The Floating Hospital, the children’s unit of Tufts Medical Center:

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According to Wikipedia:

In 1894, the Boston Floating Hospital was established by a Congregational minister, the Rev. Rufus Tobey. At the time, many believed in the cleansing and therapeutic qualities of sea air to improve health, and Tobey had heard of a hospital ship for children in New York. For the next 33 years, two successive ships were home to the hospital for children in Boston Harbor. In 1931, after the second Floating Hospital for Children ship was destroyed in a fire, the hospital was relocated to a permanent building onshore.

I also saw more, yesterday, in the hallway there:

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Now, I’m off to make more discoveries about being a group therapist, at the first day of a three-day conference.

Thanks to Bob (although he’ll probably never see this); to the Corps (and the Core) of Discovery; to Alison Hayes, Meg Dempsey, Jeremy Zschau, and all others contributing to the art I saw yesterday; to  children in hospitals everywhere; to those who have navigated through rough seas; and to you —  of course! — for discovering here, with me, on this day.*


* The 70th anniversary of D-Day.

Categories: inspiration, Nostalgia, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Day 521: Timing

Yesterday, I went to pacemaker clinic, in the hopes that an adjustment to my pacemaker’s programming would help me feel better. Why? Because at my recent heart stress test, we discovered that, when I exercise, my pacemaker is speeding up very slowly and in a very limited way.  This is probably one reason I haven’t been feeling so great, these days.

Why is my pacemaker being particularly poky?  Because, for six months, I’ve been in atrial fibrillation and the pacemaker can only do so much, to compensate for that.

Yesterday, I had hopes that my wonderful pacemaker team, including Melanie

img_3247(appearing in this previous post), Dr. Estes

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(seated, and also appearing in that same post), Lori and Bob

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(appearing in Day 62: Self Disclosure) could re-program the pacemaker.

I hoped that the new programming would better support my beloved walks (see hundreds of my other posts, including this, this, and this) and other physical exertions.

Yesterday, Bob tried different pacemaker re-programmings, to help me feel better. We alternated those with exercise excursions around the hospital, including stair climbing and sprinting. After we finished experimenting, Dr. Estes came by to consult, and we all agreed that the new programming might be a real improvement.

The timing for these changes and hoped-for improvements seemed perfect … since I need to attend a local 3-day group-therapy conference, starting tomorrow. And that group-therapy conference — while not involving a lot of physical activity — is always … intense. Plus, I am still recovering from pneumonia.

However, after I left the hospital, at times I felt light-headed and oddly anxious. When I checked my pulse during those times, I discovered rapid heart rates. Those speeded-up rates would have been great if I’d been climbing stairs or walking vigorously, but … I was sitting still.

And those rapid heart beats made me feel quite uncomfortable, physically and mentally. The pacemaker’s timing felt off — like that of a bad stand-up comic.

What should I do now? I wondered. I had many thoughts, which felt new and familiar, at the same time:

  • Oh no!  We went to all that trouble and I THOUGHT I felt better, but now I feel worse!
  • Should I wait and keep observing things, to see if the pacemaker “settles down” and does a better job?
  • If I write to Dr. Estes about my concerns and observations, I know he’ll respond quickly  …  but will he think I’m (a) a bother  (b) over-reacting, (c) impatient, (d) misperceiving, (e) nuts, and/or (f) a bad patient?

Those thoughts are very familiar, dating back to when I was a small child, dealing with doctors and pacemakers with LOTS of problems.

Those thoughts, repeating and repeating yesterday evening,  were just as uncomfortable and anxiety-provoking as the rapid, mis-timed heart beats.

I sometimes have trouble making decisions — especially about actions where I fear being (1) wrong and/or (2) judged. So yesterday evening, for about an hour, I hemmed and hawed, went back and forth, over possible options and next steps.

I talked to bf Michael about it.

I brooded, silently.

I went over possibilities and consequences, many times.

Finally, I said, “Enough!”

And I wrote this email to Dr. Estes:

Hi Dr. Estes,

I have been feeling kind of light-headed off and on, since I left pacemaker clinic today, so I been taking my pulse just to check out what’s going on.

I am getting really rapid beats (30 beats per 15 seconds) often when I am sitting or standing still, which feels pretty weird. When I am actually exerting myself, my heart rate isn’t speeding up that much.

Is there a chance this will settle down, or is this an indication that the settings just aren’t working so great for me?

Your sensitive and picky customer,
Ann

Note that I labelled myself there, in my signature. And while labeling (or name-calling) can be an unhelpful cognitive distortion …   I didn’t say I was TOO sensitive or picky.

Hey! I AM sensitive and picky, and that’s …

IMG_5333(see this post for the most recent appearance of AOK!)

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As I expected, Dr. Estes responded back, in minutes. His timing is amazing.  Here’s what he wrote:

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Ann

It is highly unlikely that the new settings are causing your symptoms. I suggest we stay the course for another couple of days and see if things settle down. If you really uncomfortable, or for symptoms intensify, please contact us and of course we would be willing to see you immediately.

Mark

When I received that email, my first thought was this: Was Dr. Estes’s reaction “bad” timing? Was he discounting my experience?
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Then, I remembered something else.
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Dr. Estes, last year, said one of the most amazing things any human being has ever said to me:
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Ann, if there is one thing I’ve learned … it’s never to doubt you.
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When Dr. Estes said that to me,  it was in the middle of a lot of health uncertainties and anxieties. As usual, his timing was impeccable.
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Since he voiced that, last year, it has echoed in my head, a beautiful antidote to my self-doubts and  fears about how others will perceive me.
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I heard that echo again, as I looked at his email yesterday. And I knew it was the correct time for my response:
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Hi Mark,

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Because I am going to a conference this Friday through Sunday, and the rapid heartbeats are feeling quite uncomfortable,  I would like to return to the old programming for the short term.  Could I come by tomorrow (Thursday) morning? I am not due at work until the afternoon.
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Thanks for your understanding and patience.
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All the best,
Ann
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And, as usual, Dr. Mark Estes responded back to me with lightening-quick timing, even though it was night-time, by then:

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Ann…sure thing…see you tomorrow as your schedule allows…ME
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My medical team IS a sure thing, these days … even if our timing isn’t always perfect.
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Originally, my title for today’s post was
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Do you have the correct time?
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… and I planned to show more of my extensive collection of watches (discussed before, here and here).
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But, I want to finish my post, in good time, so I can return to my pacemaker team today.
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However, I still think the timing is right, now, to show you some of my favorite watches, including:.
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which previously appeared in this post (and this one, too),
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appearing previously in this post,  and ….
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Appearing on the right is the watch I wore yesterday, facilitating a therapy group at work in the morning at work and visiting pacemaker clinic in the afternoon. On the left?  That’s Clocky,  an unusual and intentionally irritating alarm clock I bought for my son and/or Michael, who both have trouble waking up, some times. If you look at Clocky’s face, you’ll see its timing is off, because we haven’t tried to use it yet.
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What watch should I wear today, as I return to pacemaker clinic in the morning and work in the afternoon?
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I think the timing is right for the watch on the left:
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That wonderful red watch was a gift, from Michael.
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Thanks to my pacemaker team, to Michael, to everybody who has ever listened to me (no matter how imperfectly), to stand-up comics with good and bad timing, to monkeybuzz99 (who posted the video of Clocky doing its thing on YouTube , and to you — especially! — for taking the time to read this post, today.
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No time for footnotes, today. However, I had time for links … lots of links! How was my timing there?
Categories: inspiration, personal growth | 36 Comments

Day 520: Let Your __ Out

This post is brought to you by the letter

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Actually, that’s not true.  I’m just letting my teasing nature out.

It was about time for me to use that “T,” too.

Now, it’s time to turn to the title.  “Let Your __ Out.”  What the $!!?$!! does that mean? Well, the underlines — to indicate a missing word — might recall the special characters of yesterday’s post.  It might, but it doesn’t need to. The past can inform the present, but the current moment has enough, on its own.

I just let my philosophy out, there.

How about if I let out my inspiration for this post?  Would anybody object to that?

I didn’t think so.

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I saw all that yesterday.  Here’s a closer look:

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See that?

Today’s title gives me room to talk about things I’ve let out recently.

For example, we let our cat Harley out on the porch yesterday, for the first time.

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That’s not Harley. It’s Oscar. We’ve let him out, many times before. Here’s Harley, when we first let him out:

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There are other things I let out yesterday, including:

  • my feelings,
  • my opinions, and
  • my wishes.

Which all involved letting go of ….

Fear.

I need to let this post out, because it’s time for me to go to work.

I don’t want to leave you — or my inquisitive nature — out of this post, though.  How would you fill in the blank, in today’s title?

Let your you (and your style) out, dear readers.

Thanks to the Alewife T Station, Fenway Park, people who express themselves, creatures who try new things, those who help others let go of fear, and to you — of course! — for letting me let my me out here, every day.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , | 26 Comments

Day 519: $!

I had a lot of $ anxiety yesterday.   It was almost overwhelming.

$ anxiety = a major source of stress, for lots of people.

My $ anxiety, however, didn’t really make ¢¢. While there’s been some recent health + work uncertainty in my life,  I’m not in real $ danger, at the moment.

But, I COULD be, at some point in the future.

Which reminds me of this paragraph, @ my other WordPress location:

Catastrophizing.
This is a particularly extreme and painful form of fortune telling, where we project a situation into a disaster or the worst-case scenario. You might think catastrophizing helps you prepare and protect yourself, but it usually causes needless anxiety and worry.

Besides catastrophizing, here are other things that ^^^  my $ anxiety:

  • Unexpected charges.
  • The involvement of large bureaucracies (like the Internal Revenue Service).
  • Needing to make decisions, quickly.
  • Having to rely on other people.
  • Distrust.
  • Worry about being taken advantage of, because of my lack of expertise.
  • Confusion about the right thing to do.
  • Fear of making the “wrong” decision.
  • Imagining others judging me as “foolish.”

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Except for #1 on that list, none of those have to do with $. The rest are worries related to (1) control, (2) other people, (3) decision-making, & (4) mistakes/perfectionism — like __%* of my other posts.

!!@$`!|_!¢?!+!¡ª[&º–≠{!!)}§]$?¶•(?~&!! **

Now that I’ve gotten THAT off my chest, I want to acknowledge that  $ stress can be all too real, to a large % of the world’s population.

But when you add worries about the future + regrets about the past, to $ concerns, that stress can seem ….

Now, what can help me let go of worry, today?

How about music?

Here’s something I linked to, two days ago:

Since I have some worry that “The Best Things in Life Are Free” from Mad Men, starring one of my favorite song-and-dance men, Robert Morse, might disappear — poof! —  from YouTube, all too soon …  let’s do one more song about $.

And since I have some worry that some of my readers can’t see videos in my post, I’m letting go of that — poof! — with these stress-reducing and/or keyboard-character-related images, from yesterday:

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Thanks to the Beatles (for reminding us that money can’t buy us love), to Robert Morse, to Mad Men, to Angry Women, to people in all sorts of states, to silly and non-silly geese, to special characters on my keyboard (and elsewhere), and to you — of course!!!! — for reading today.


* Of course I’m going to have footnotes today … it’s another excuse to use special characters in this post! Oh, and I don’t know what percentage of my posts include those things, but it’s a #$@!!!%^$#@!!** large one.

** Indicating swear words, obscenities, and other uncivilized expressions of emotion.

 

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 35 Comments

Day 518: Almost

I’m almost ready to start writing this post.

I guess that’s good enough.

I’m almost back to how I felt, before I got pneumonia.  That’s good enough, too. However, I am going into work later than usual today, as I continue to recover.

I’m almost ready to tell you the main reason I picked the title “Almost.”

I almost forgot to include some important information in yesterday’s post.  Soon after I published the post, I realized what was missing, and I took steps to repair that.

“Almost” is something I can worry about, almost as strongly as an actual event.  For example, if I almost

  • forget something,
  • damage something,
  • lose something,
  • hurt myself,
  • cause somebody else pain,
  • throw something important away,
  • make a mistake …

… I can feel bad.   I can imagine the consequences of what I almost did, and actually feel some real fear  that I came … that … close.

That’s almost too much, isn’t it?  I mean, it’s painful enough to regret the past and worry about the future … but to get anxious about something that ALMOST happened?  Don’t we all have near misses all the time?

I’m almost horrified at myself, this morning.  It’s almost laughable, how many ways I could be fearful and anxious, not only about real problems but also the mere POSSIBILITY of a problem.

Just now, I almost added “Almost” to the list of cognitive distortions (automatic, human ways of thinking that can cause anxiety, stress, and depression). But since I didn’t create that Cognitive Behavioral Therapy list to begin with, that almost seems presumptuous and inappropriate.

However, I’m definitely — not almost — adding “Almost” to my personal list of unhelpful distortions.  I shall do my best to be aware of Almost-thinking, letting go of those thoughts without judgment.

I’m almost done with this post.

I’m almost sure I have some photos on my phone that will fit here, almost as if I planned it.

This house almost looks like it’s levitating:

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Can you see it?  Here’s another shot of it:

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I’m almost amazed that this nearby, non-levitating house

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has only almost sold, while the almost-levitating house definitely has.

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When I was walking here yesterday …

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… I almost told a passing bicyclist that she didn’t need to warn me with “On your left!” as she drove by.  That almost always annoys me, because I experience it as disruptive, as I’m walking steadily along.  Then, I noticed this:

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… and realized the bicyclist was just observing requested etiquette (#2 on the list).  I resolved to lose my annoyance, from then on.

This almost looks like a famous painting to me:

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It’s almost dusk, in this photo:

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To me, this almost looks like we have poker-playing mice:

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What does this almost look like, to you?

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Now, I’m truly almost finished.

Thanks to anybody who almost does anything and to you — of course! — for almost certainly postponing doing something else in order to read this, today.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , | 35 Comments

Day 517: What is the theme of this post?

I have lots to show & tell you, dear readers — of events, images, thoughts, and feelings of the last several days.

I’m not sure how to characterize these or link them.  However, from my experience of doing therapy groups with very different people gathering together, I know that common themes always emerge.

So let’s see what emerges today, shall we?

After recovering from a month-long bout of pneumonia, I worked many hours last week. During that time, I took some nourishing and rejuvenating breaks from work that I love, and saw the following (in order of appearance):

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(Our best guess, as Michael and I puzzled about the use of the above gear for the on-the-go pet: Maybe that’s for dogs getting off of planes.)

 

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That’s a free banana-flavored marshmallow, at Strip-T’s Restaurant in Watertown.

So one possible theme for this post could be … The Best Things in Life Are Free.

And brunch was free, yesterday, with my long-time friend Lawry, his wife Patty, his daughters Leah, Cory and Sarah (who just graduated college and was moving to New York right after brunch), Lawry’s sister Beverly, my ex-sister-in-law Deborah, and my son Aaron.

One theme of the brunch was music. Lawry invited Deborah to brunch because, having heard her wonderful voice, in the 1970’s, on a locally-popular-in-Boston, novelty-radio hit song (written by Howard Letovsky) …

…. Lawry sang this song to his daughters, as they were growing up, in California. At brunch yesterday, Lawry and his daughters sang “Dead Frogs”  the way they remembered it.

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That’s Sarah, Cory, and Lawry, right before they  (and Leah) sang “Dead Frogs.” (I didn’t take any photos of the actual performance, in order not to distract.)

After hearing them sing, Deborah said their devotion to the novelty song she had sung, so many years ago, reminded her of the movie Galaxy Quest  — where an entire planet based their civilization on a Star-Trek-type TV show.

Then, Sarah and Lawry gave a brief, pre-Sarah-leaving performance of another beloved song:

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As you can see, I took a quick, surreptitious shot of that.

Next, Lawry got his wish to hear Deborah sing all the actual words* of “Dead Frogs,” which my son and I were lucky enough to witness, as the rest of the family said goodbyes to each other.

Here are some photos of her family, as Sarah leaves for her excellent adventure in New York:

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(left to right: Patty, Sarah, Lawry, Cory, Leah)

 

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After all the free stuff,  dead frogs, and goodbyes in this post, are people up for a few more images, from yesterday afternoon?

I hope so, because here they are:

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So, what do YOU think is the theme of this post?

Whatever it is, thanks to Lawry and his family, to my family (including Deborah, Michael, and my son), to Howard Letovsky, to frogs dead and alive, to those who share music anywhere, to marshmallows, to local teams and radio stations, to Robert Morse (who is singing and dancing in one of the links above), to nature reservations, to people who make connections and meaning as best they can, and to you — of course! — for your visit today.


* The YouTube clip  of “Dead Frogs” in this post doesn’t have all the actual words, either. If you want to hear the full rendition, here‘s a video Mr. Letovsky created of the complete 13-minute opera, with “Dead Frogs” at the very end. If you watch it, that’s Deborah’s voice (but not Deborah).

Want more history for that song?  In the 1970’s, the very popular Boston-based radio station WBCN played that song, a lot. I was a fan.  When I first met Aaron’s father/Deborah’s brother, where we both worked at a local environmental research company, he and I interacted about “Dead Frogs.”  Deborah tells the story this way:

My brother told me that a woman** at work was singing “Dead Frogs” and he said to her, “My sister sings that song.” The woman** replied, “Everybody sings that song.” And my brother said, “No. My sister really sings that song.”

** Which would be me.

 

Categories: inspiration, Nostalgia, personal growth, photojournalism, quiz | Tags: , , , , | 36 Comments

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