One of my recurring dreams is to have a show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Much to my amazement, that will be occurring on August 19 at 13:00 (1 PM) at the Natural Food Kafe basement room. I only have one show this year, but I’m hoping the show will be recurring next year.
My show — “Group ‘Therapy’ with Ann” — is loosely based on the recurring groups that I do five times a week at work. At this point, I’m staying up and having dreams about how to make that work well since there are new and non-recurring elements I’ve never dealt with before, including:
it’s about half the time of my usual groups,
I don’t know how many people will show up,
several of the participants will be total strangers to me, and
it’s a show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival!
I know that I will be using some recurring elements of my real groups, like mindfulness and a check-in where everybody will have the space and time to speak uninterrupted. In my recurring groups, I always introduce the check-in by saying what I’m curious about in the moment, as a way to suggest what people might want to share. For the purposes of my Edinburgh show, I’m planning on curiously asking people:
why they came to the show,
how they would introduce themselves,
something we might not guess about them,
their experience in the moment,
what keeps them up at night,
what keeps them going,
a favorite saying and/or song, and
a recurring or vivid dream they’ve had.
In my check-in, I plan on singing one of my original songs and also sharing a recurring dream I have, about trying to call somebody on the phone and not getting through.
Last night, what kept me up was my indecision, at this point, about what to do at the mid-point of the show. When I finally fell asleep, I had my recurring dream (which hasn’t occurred in years).
In my dream last night, I was trying to call Michael on my cell phone. It was incredibly difficult, because of new changes to the phone, which I couldn’t figure out. People were trying to help me connect to him, but nothing was working. Eventually, I attempted the tried-and-true method of saying to Siri, “Call Michael!” At that moment, Michael showed up. I was very relieved to see him, but it was too late for me to get to an important appointment. (The dream had other non-recurring elements, including a Trump supporter who kept trying to steal one of my boots as I was putting it on, but never mind.)
Do you have a recurring dream? Would you talk about it if you came to my show? Actually, it would be a dream for me if any of my readers showed up at my Fringe show, no matter what they decided to share.
Certain recurring dreams and themes show up in my photos. Can you spot any today?
Here’s the original song I’m going to sing during my check-in, which has had recurring appearances in this blog:
I have a recurring dream about people leaving comments, and they often do!
Recurring thanks to all who help me create this daily recurring blog, including you!
After almost seven years of blogging daily about the healing power of community, I discover, here and now, that I have never, ever titled a post “Community” before.
COMMUNITY noun, often attributive
com·mu·ni·ty | \ kə-ˈmyü-nə-tē \
plural communities
Definition of community
1 : a unified body of individuals: such as
a : the people with common interests living in a particular area
broadly : the area itself
the problems of a large community
b : a group of people with a common characteristic or interest living together within a larger society
a community of retired persons
a monastic community
c : a body of persons of common and especially professional interests scattered through a larger society
the academic community
the scientific community
d : a body of persons or nations having a common history or common social, economic, and political interests
the international community
e : a group linked by a common policy
f : an interacting population of various kinds of individuals (such as species) in a common location
g : STATE, COMMONWEALTH
2a : a social state or condition
The school encourages a sense of community in its students.
b : joint ownership or participation
community of goods
c : common character : LIKENESS
community of interests
d : social activity : FELLOWSHIP
3 : society at large
the interests of the community
When I look at news stories from the world community, I do not find a focus on community, Instead, I see divisiveness, “other”-ing, and antonyms of community like inequality, conflict, polarity, incompatibility, incongruence, disproportion, imbalance, disagreement, discrepancy, disparity, dissimilarity, unlikeness, forlornness, and loneliness.
Do you see community in my photos from yesterday ?
Don Henley, who used to be in a community of Eagles, has created several songs about community, including this one …
I look forward to hearing from my community of readers.
No matter what community I’m in, I’m always looking for expressions of gratitude. Thanks to the community of people who helped me create this post and — of course! — thanks to YOU.
When the heat is on, it affects what images I capture.
Tonight, when the meteorologists are fortune-telling that it’s going to be 95 degrees Fahrenheit, we’ll be meeting my son at the airport. He’s returning from a month teaching English in Jordan, where the heat is on.
Yesterday, when I was walking outside and being foolishly apprehensive about writing and delivering a “Report from the President” at a group therapy conference this weekend, I saw an invitation to come inside and be foolish.
Personally, I appreciate any invitation to come inside and accept all my different parts (from foolish to wise). How about you?
Here’s my next foolish thought: “The Fool” is the most evolved of all the Jungian archetypes.
The Fool/Jester archetype urges us to enjoy the process of our lives. Although the Fool/Jester can be prone to laziness and dissipation, the positive Fool/Jester invites us all out to play — showing us how to turn our work, our interactions with others, and even the most mundane tasks into FUN. The goal of the Fool/Jester is perhaps the wisest goal of all, which is just to enjoy life as it is, with all its paradoxes and dilemmas.
This fool now wants to look at a definition of “foolish.”
fool·ish
/ˈfo͞oliSH/
adjective
(of a person or action) lacking good sense or judgment; unwise.
“it was foolish of you to enter into correspondence.”
Her desperation led her to do something foolish; my desperation leads me to blogging. (Of course, everything leads me to blogging; I’ve been writing a daily blog in the morning for almost seven years.) (But what fool is counting?)
And if it’s foolish for me to write this blog before writing my report from the President, so be it.
Speaking of foolish, is it foolish for me to be worried about the stupid, silly, idiotic, halfwitted, witless, brainless, mindless, thoughtless, imprudent, incautious, irresponsible, injudicious, indiscreet, unwise, unintelligent, unreasonable, ill-advised, ill-considered, impolitic, rash, reckless, foolhardy, lunatic, absurd, senseless, pointless, nonsensical, inane, fatuous, ridiculous, laughable, risible, derisible, dumb, dim, dimwitted, dopey, gormless, damfool, half-baked, harebrained, crackbrained, peabrained, wooden-headed, thickheaded, nutty, mad, crazy, dotty, batty, dippy, cuckoo, screwy, wacky, barmy, daft, glaikit, dumb-ass, chowderheaded, and dotish reports from and about another President?
Worry is always foolish, because it doesn’t help anything.
Let’s be glaikit (Scottish word meaning foolish, giddy) together and look at my other foolish fotos from yesterday!
Michael was foolish enough to make LOTS of those delicious cod cakes last night. And I was foolish enough to clean my plate.
My first week of blogging, I was foolish enough to write a post about procrastination. After going inside that old post, I’m foolishly quoting it here:
if I AM going to wait until the last minute to do something, I wish to heaven I could block that procrastinated task totally out of my mind. But that’s not how it works for me. Usually, I’m exquisitely and uncomfortably aware of what I’m avoiding. Geesh. There’s got to be a way for procrastination to be more fun.
As I’ve gotten older, I have become more forgiving about my procrastinating tendencies. I’ve also realized that procrastination for me often has to do with insecurity. For example, I almost always wait until the last minute to do something that I think I might conceivably suck at doing — or, at least, where I might fall short of my own expectations and wishes.
One thing I’ve historically procrastinated about is …….. writing.
Maybe I procrastinate because I’m foolishly afraid of appearing foolish.
Here‘s the foolish song going through my foolish head, here and now:
Come inside and be foolish with a comment, below!
Finally, I shall finish this foolish post with a foolish foto to express my thanks to all those who helped me write today’s post and — of course! — to YOU. No fooling!
On the two thousandth, three hundredth, and sixty-ninth consecutive day of this blog, I am celebrating the first use of the word “Celebrating” in a post title.
I am also celebrating
the rich availability of relevant imagery all around me,
Every one of my photos today could relate to everyone.
Everyone with a closed heart is driving me crazy.
That teabag is telling everyone to be kind to everyone else, but to be compassionate to oneself, in every moment. I hope everyone reading this can do that.
Everyone I know has been been encouraging me to keep writing songs. Thanks, everyone! I wrote every one of these words while I couldn’t sleep:
Every one of the lyrics for Everyone is in the YouTube description, here.
I’m looking forward to everyone’s comments and I’d like to thank everyone who helps me create every one of these daily posts, including everyone who reads them (like YOU).
Why? Because I observed references to judgment day within the last two days, near the same spot.
Today is also judgment day because I’ll be singing a new original song at an Open Mic tonight, and someone is sure to be judging that.
Any judgment about these other recent photos?
Today — as I have for the last two thousand, one hundred, and thirty-one days of blogging — I am going to invite myself and others to let go of judgment and just be in the moment.
As is my norm, I noticed those strips of toilet paper on that lawn and I had lots of thoughts, including:
Yikes! Why is that place COVERED with toilet paper? Does that mean those people are being harassed, for some reason, by their neighbors?
And since that was the second time I had noticed that kind of morning decoration at that particular residence, I realized I should probably take some sort of action.
Now, it’s NOT my norm to call the police, but I didn’t know what the norm was, in a situation like this.
It IS my norm, when I’m driving to work in the morning, to be
tight for time,
encountering road traffic, and
hesitant to use my phone
… but I was resolute to do something about the multiple toilet-paper-on-lawn sightings.
Here’s another norm for me, lately: Siri (my alleged iPhone personal assistant) and I have a failure to communicate. So when I told Siri, in all the ways I could imagine, to
Call the local police
… Siri replied:
I can’t do that, Ann
… in different ways. This is not my norm, but I said some very harsh words to Siri, including labeling her and her abilities in extremely unflattering and negative language. Siri, as is her norm (but not mine), took my insults in a very non-defensive and calm way, responding:
After all I’ve done for you?
… multiple times.
As is my norm, when I realize that somebody is NOT going to be of help to me, I figure out a way to get things done, on my own. This is the phone conversation I had with the local police:
The Local Police: Sargent So-And-So. (My norm, when I’m encountering somebody for the first time, is to forget their name.)
Me: Hi. My name is Ann Koplow. I was just driving through my neighborhood and I noticed, for the second time, that somebody had covered somebody’s lawn with toilet paper. I wasn’t sure what to do about that, so I thought I’d let you know.
The Local Police (sounding as calm and as unflappable as Siri, which may be their norm, too, for all I know): Yes, Ma’am. Does a high school athlete live there?
Me (taken aback and a little annoyed when I am asked a question I think I could NOT possibly know the answer to, which is another norm of mine): I really wouldn’t know, officer. Why? (Another norm of mine: to ask open-ended questions.)
The Local Police: Because that’s what the kids do around here, Ma’am. When it’s game time, they cover the homes of the local athletes in toilet paper.
Me (laughing, which is a norm of mine, when I’m relieved): Oh! I didn’t know that.
After that phone conversation, I knew that “Norms” would be the title of today’s post, because I was thinking about how norms are different, from place to place. And I felt lucky that I was living in a neighborhood where the norm for somebody’s home being covered with toilet paper was benign and playful, rather than sinister, scary, and otherwise dangerous. I also thought about how lucky I am that it’s not my norm, since living in this neighborhood, to call the police for anything. (I’ve had to call the police for more serious matters, in previous neighborhoods I’ve lived.)
As is my norm, once I thought of a post title for this blog, I noticed norms everywhere.
Geese by the side of the road are a norm, around here.
Things of various sizes momentarily blocking my car on the way to work are another norm, these days.
Finding lots of cars needing to be parked — a sure sign that the shuttle bus between my parking lot and the hospital where I work has just left without me on it — is another norm. However, this norm never affects me, since I walk the mile to work.
Blue skies in the morning are one possible norm around here.
Tour buses parked outside of Boston’s Fenway Park are another norm, although now that baseball season is over, I’m not seeing nearly as many as these.
One of my morning, work-week norms is saluting Carl Yastrzemski, as I walk by the statue honoring him, outside of Fenway. I just broke another one of my norms — misspelling names. I remembered, exactly, how to spell Captain Carl’s.
Blogging norms for me include balancing my needs with other people’s needs, so I need to take a short break here, to check if my son needs any help from me getting out to school this morning.
My son, Aaron, needed a little — but not much — help from me. Since he’s 16 years old, this is a developing norm.
Where was I? Oh, yes. Photos from yesterday, when I was noticing norms.
As I walked by Fenway Park, on my way to work, a strange man was suddenly in my face, showing me his camera. Since I was wearing my headphones, listening to some music I included in yesterday’s post, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I could tell, though, from his non-verbal cues, that he wanted me to take a photo of him and his female companion, standing outside of Fenway:
Of course, that’s not the photo I took with his camera. I took that photo with my phone, after we exchanged words, including:
Strange man: Here! You just push these buttons!
Me: (as I try to figure out how to take the photo quickly): You know, I’m on my way to work!
Strange woman: I know! He didn’t even ask you!
Strange man: That’s Californians for you!
Me: Or guys! *
Strange woman: Yes! Guys!
Then I noticed another strange guy, who said, “His photo is in post offices, everywhere!” I said, “Hey! I use that line, too!” Then I took a quick photo of these three visitors from a strange land called “Long Beach”
My norm — in taking photos for this blog — is to let people know I’m doing that. A few minutes later, I encountered this gentleman:
He also gave me permission to take his picture, although — as with the visitors from California — I did not get his name.
Here are a few more local norms I observed, on my way to work, yesterday morning:
Later in the day, I observed a common norm at the hospital where I work, as I took a Starbucks break. I saw some unfamiliar faces there, including Kate:
and some familiar ones, including Alex and Jeannette:
Because Kate and I just met yesterday, she spelled my name wrong:
But, despite our unfamiliarity with each other, Kate and I bonded over music, like so:
Me: (thinking Ella Fitzgerald’s voice is singing in the background at Starbucks): Who is that singing, right now? Is that Ella Fitzgerald?
Kate: I think that is definitely Ella. She has such a great voice.
Regular readers of this blog know I like to include music I love here. While I couldn’t find a YouTube video of the song I heard Ella singing in Starbuck’s yesterday, I did find this:
(Ella Fitzgerald scattin’ some Jazz found here on YouTube)
Before I end this post, I’ll point out another one of my blogging norms: I’ve linked, within this post, to past posts and Wikipedia (and other reference) pages.
What norms do you have (related to blogs and other things)?
One more norm for me to take care of, this morning, before I leave for work.
Oh, wait! Before I end this post, here are some photos I took yesterday, after work, that I wanted to show you. Do you notice any norms, here?
Okay! Here’s my final blogging norm, for today:
* The two guys I live with have pointed out, several times, that sexist comments like that are yet another one of my norms.
For those of my readers who were expecting some sort of visual pun in this post, here you go:
It’s “The Red One,” written by Pat Metheny and played by two amazing jazz guitarists: Pat and John Scofield.
I learned yesterday why that tune has that title. Somebody at a Pat Metheny concert once yelled out “THE RED ONE!” requesting that Pat play his special red guitar.
Here’s a live version of “The Red One,” so you can see Pat Metheny and John Scofield, playing away, plus guitars of different colors (none of which look red, to me):
Anyway, when that tune came on yesterday, I thought
That, right there, is a very adequate title and topic for tomorrow’s post. Not only does that give me an excuse to share something else by my favorite musician and tell people about two of the finest jazz guitarists performing anywhere in the world, it also provides the perfect balance of structure and freedom for the photographic component of the post, allowing me to seek an aesthetically pleasing and visually cohesive solution that embraces perhaps photos I’ve taken in the past as well as those I can take today.
Actually, my thoughts weren’t really like that. My actual thoughts were more like this:
The Red One! Wow! I love that song! Hmmmm. Photos? Ooooh! I like to take pictures of colors, numbers, and stuff like that! Yay!!
And, immediately, I snapped this photo, in service of “The Red One” theme.
That certainly fits the premise, I thought. I mean, there IS a red one, in that picture. However, that’s a little too advertising-y, for my tastes.
What do you think?
There MUST be other photos I can find for this piece, that are less commercial, I thought, yesterday morning. I’m sure I can find images, today, that include …
the color red,
the number one
red letters,
other red things, standing out amidst obviously non-red things, and
other riffs on the theme “The Red One.”
Hey (I thought) !!! What if I find and show things that are a close-to-perfect realization of tomorrow’s post theme and then –BIG FINISH! — hit my readers with an ACTUAL RED ONE.
I was very pleased with myself, about these ideas.
And, immediately, I saw and snapped these:
At this point, I was thinking …
Ooooh! Maybe I can make the point that when we choose a theme or a way to look at things, THAT is what we’re going to see.
I also thought
I hope I don’t take TOO MANY photos today. I have sooooo many things to do and take care of. I don’t want to spend too much time photographing and I don’t want to get overwhelmed, later, trying to decide among too many pictures.
And then, I noticed this:
Okay, then! I reached my goal, for the day. I found The Red One! Now, I can relax. My preparation, for tomorrow’s post, is done, I thought.
But, somehow, I couldn’t help myself. I took many, many more photos, throughout my day, that I believed could fit my theme.
Now, as I’m creating this post, I have two other goals: I don’t want to overwhelm (1) me or (2) you.
Let’s see how this goes, shall we?
First of all, before I show you any more photos, I want to tell you that I took (hold on, I’m going to count) ….
ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE photos yesterday.
Wow. I’ve really got my work cut out for me, today. So many choices! I usually take WAY FEWER shots, with my iPhone. As a matter of fact, often I show you most (or even all) of the photos I’ve recently taken.
Granted, some of those photos are ones that my iPhone snapped on its own, accidentally, with no intent of mine — but that number is (hold on, I’m going to count) …
12 of all the photos I took yesterday are obvious throw-aways.
Eeeek! How am I going to show you photos that meet my theme AND capture my day yesterday, as I:
Walked to work, from the parking lot where I leave my car,
Interacted with many people, in the morning,
Left work and walked back to my car,
Went to Pacemaker Clinic to get my pacemaker checked, at a different hospital from where I work,
Ran into one of my cardiologists, Dr. Salem,
Drove home,
Interacted with my son Aaron and my boyfriend Michael,
Welcomed a veterinarian who makes house calls, so she could (1) give our two cats their yearly exams and shots and (2) meet our newer cat, Harley,
Said goodbye to Aaron as he left for (1) the final dress rehearsal for his play and (2) his Wednesday night stay with his father,
Spent quality time with Michael, at our usual Wednesday evening haunts of (1) Panera Bread, for dinner, (2) PetSmart, to get cat supplies and to hang out with the animals there, and (3) Whole Foods, to hang out and buy one or two items that strike our fancy….
…. without getting overwhelmed?!?!?
I shall do my best.
Wait! Here are some things I know will help me not get overwhelmed, from past experience. I need to make this task do-able, by setting limits. For example, I am now telling myself that:
I don’t need to show you all the photos I took yesterday.
The photos I choose will be good enough, for the purposes of this post.
The post is already good enough (AND I can make it better).
I can’t think of a fourth thing, right now, but that’s a good enough list, already.
If I think of something else I want to tell you, I can add it later.
Oh! I remembered one more thing I want to tell you: I didn’t take pictures of EVERYTHING yesterday.
Okay! I shall now present you with some photos I took, yesterday, inspired by “The Red One” (in order of appearance):
Phew! That wasn’t so bad.
Am I really done, for this post?
Well, I think I need to explain at least ONE of those photos. I mean this one, where there is NOTHING red to be seen, anywhere:
That, ladies and gentlemen, is my 16-year-old son, Aaron, who has made two previous photographic appearances in this blog (here and here). If you’ve seen Aaron before, you would know that his hair is, naturally, red. However, it’s dyed brown now, for his play.
Any questions?
Thanks to all the red ones in my life and to you — of course — because you READ this, today!
