In therapy and in this blog, I invite people to be in the here and now.
Here and now, I’ll try to explain why that is.
If we focus our attention on the present, we can
appreciate the gifts of the moment,
be less overwhelmed,
be more aware of what we can control,
let go of regrets about the past,
reduce fear about the future (which is unknown), and
identify achievable next steps.
Being in the here and now isn’t easy. It takes practice, commitment, and vigilance to gently refocus our attention — which wanders to the future, the past, all over the place — to the present moment.
Are you with me? Are you here and now? Or are you thinking about
what’s already happened (which you can’t change),
what might happen (or might not), and
other places?
Here, now, are some photos presently on my phone:
Here, now, is music about here …
… and now.
In the present moment, I’m grateful to Rumi, cats, supportive people, healthy food, Gene Kelly, the Gershwin brothers, Pat Metheny, all my senses, and you — of course! — for being here and now.
For example, I never knew there were exactly 100 things I never knew about my own brain.
I never knew there was a brain user’s guide available for purchase, even though I used to write user’s guides in the 1970s.
I never knew they made peeps for dogs.
I never knew how to weld.
Before I started this blog, I never knew I could write about the coolest topics. I also never knew that writing about something would bring more of that into my life, almost immediately.
I never knew where I could find the coolest looks, before yesterday.
I never knew all the anagrams for the word “cake.”
I never knew it was okay to advertise with backwards letters, even though I had an advertising company in the 1990s.
I never knew people decorated cars like cakes.
I never knew cats liked baseball.
Before I met him, I never knew there was a cat that could be as omnipresent as Oscar.
I never knew my dentist would read my blog, every single day.
Hey — you seem like a cool cat! That line of work must be very challenging. I admire your consistent, long-running posts, too 🙂 — cmblackwood
Miles Davis for me. He was so cool, if he was alive today global warming wouldn’t be a problem! — Paul S.
Also, fellow WordPresser coffeegrounded did the coolest thing: she honored me with the coolest award (even though I don’t do anything with cool WordPress awards besides appreciating them).
What’s the coolest thing somebody has done for you, lately?
I’m trying to decide what my coolest activity might be, today:
Individual therapy, where I work.
Group therapy, which is the coolest therapy (I believe) because “the more the merrier.”
Getting fitted for a dental device for my sleep apnea, which will be much cooler ( I hope) than the C-Pap and Bi-Pap machines I’ve been using through some coolest and warmest months.
Getting my teeth cleaned, pre-medicating with some cool oral antibiotics rather than the intravenous antibiotics I’ve had to use over many of the coolest years around here, in Massachusetts.
Coolest thanks to cmblackwood, Paul S., coffeegrounded, Gwen Stefani, Alesso, West Side Story, all those who help make my life the coolest, and you — of course! — for being here, now (which is the coolest place to be).
Who loves an explanation of what inspired “Who loves ___?”
This lovely morning, as I was thinking about writing a post about anger (and who loves anger?), my boyfriend Michael (who loves me) said, “Oscar loves you.”
Who loves Oscar?
Who loves change? Who loves unexpected change? Who loves changes in WordPress, this morning?
Who loves these photos?
Who loves expressing love?
Who loves music?
Who loves this post?
Who loves the way I always express gratitude at the end of my daily posts?
Who loves Michael, Oscar, taking pictures, music, being a psychotherapist, today’s changes to WordPress, and you? I do.
I had food that was so delicious at a restaurant that was so, so excellent.
One of those comments is so me and one of them is so Deborah.
So, who is Deborah? Deborah is my ex-sister-in-law, whom I love soooooo much. (If you so want to see Deborah in some photos from our so recent and so fabulous trip to Edinburgh, it would be so easy to click here).
Deborah is so funny, clever, and lovely in so many ways, that any attempt to capture her so wonderful essence in one so-imperfect blog post is going to fall so short, no matter how long it is.
Here’s a so-fun exchange we had yesterday morning, when Oscar the cat was being so intrusive on my keyboard:
How does 9:30 sound?
It sounds like music to my ears.
You can park in back of our p
ooops!
Oscar sent that message too soon
You can park in back
if you choose
Ahh over eager kitty messaging
Yes. This is a constant issue.
Oscar also writes his own text messages.
Of course, when I wrote that, he stopped.
32S
See you shortly!
Maybe Oscar has others to text with
Oscar’s messages are very mysterious.
See you soon! And I’ll ask Oscar what “32S” means.
I just looked it up and Oscar is suggesting that we go to the Burlington Mall.
Yes, Oscar is so so present, so so often.
Deborah is so so talented, she is transforming a small so-so house in nearby Bedford, Massachusetts, into a home that is going to be SO spectacular.
I find it so amazing that houses can be changed so radically. That’s because my brain is so adept at imagining change for people, and so bad at visualizing change for inanimate objects. Yesterday, Deborah — who thinks she has a so-so memory — remembered this from so, so long ago: Soon after we first met, during the 1980’s, Deborah showed me her home and said, “I’m thinking of knocking down this wall.” I was so, so surprised, I said, “You can do that?!?”
Why was this so memorable, for Deborah? Probably because I’m so different from her, in that way.
I am so familiar with how focus on the future can take me out of being so present in the here and now.
I had some dreams last night that were so weird, including one where there were SO many canaries roosting in my home. I guess if you look at this photo I took so recently, that dream isn’t so surprising:
Here are two songs I like so so much that I’m hearing as I write this So So post.
Don’t worry about any comment of yours being so-so; I’m so so eager to read what you have to share.
So what’s stopping you?
I am so, so grateful to Deborah, Cook., the cats, the Cars, canaries, Miles Davis, and so, so many others who help me appreciate every day so so much (which includes you, I so hope you know).
es·sence
ˈesəns noun
the intrinsic nature or indispensable quality of something, especially something abstract, that determines its character.
“conflict is the essence of drama”
synonyms: quintessence, soul, spirit, nature
PHILOSOPHY
a property or group of properties of something without which it would not exist or be what it is.
plural noun: essences
an extract or concentrate obtained from a particular plant or other matter and used for flavoring or scent.
synonyms: extract, concentrate, distillate, elixir, decoction, juice, tincture
Yesterday, I had an interesting discussion about essence with Newell, Lisa, and Michelle …
… showing their essences there, left to right.
Newell — who arranged last night’s reunion of people who worked together for years at a psychiatric day treatment program — broached the subject of essence almost immediately, which reflects the essence of Newell. Newell told us he essentially believes we all have an essence that never changes. I noted the essence of irony there, since our work focused on the essence of change. I also wondered whether our essence was immortal.
My essence loves the essences of the three people in that photo.
Earlier in the day, I experienced the essence of several things, at Whole Foods Market …
… my local Honda dealership …
… and a watch and clock shop.
I’m thinking that one of those clocks might have the perfect essence for my new office in Newton, Massachusetts. Which clock would your essence choose?
Finally, here’s the essence of Lisa’s adorable dog …
Bella.
What do you think is the essence of this post? Does “My Immortal” by Evanescence capture its essence?
Here and now, I’m happy to share the essence of my gratitude for Newell, Lisa, Michelle, music, animals, time, things that change and things that stay the same, and — of course! — you.
Every day, I stop and take time to blog. Yesterday morning, after I’d taken the time and the room to write my post, I dropped one of my favorite watches. It fell face down and — with the sound of glass meeting wooden floor — time stopped for me momentarily, as I catastrophized and imagined the worst:
I’ve broken that watch. I know it’s ruined.
When I picked up my beloved time-keeper, my negative thoughts stopped because I saw a face neither broken nor scratched. I then stopped to take the time to put on my watch, carefully.
Later in the day, I glanced at my watch to discover it had stopped.
I realized it was stopped at the exact time I had dropped my watch at home.
For the rest of the day, time was stopped at five minutes to 10, according to my watch. Nevertheless, I did not stop using my time at work.
After my time at work had stopped, I went to see a dance concert at one of Boston’s most popular venues, The Orpheum Theater. Throughout my life, I’ve stopped to enjoy performances at the Orpheum by Bruce Springsteen, Pat Metheny, the Moody Blues, and many other amazing musicians.
I stopped to snap these photos:
At some point during the night, time stopped again as I heard about the violence in Paris — at a soccer field, cafes, and a concert hall much like the Orpheum.
I hope the violence stops.
I’m stopping this post to express my grief about time stopping for so many, last night.
Finally, I never stop feeling grateful for those who dance, those who read, and those who work for peace.
I hope you have room for some roomy associations with “room” today.
I’m leaving room to tell you that I’ve written three previous posts about “room” — here,here, and here. Perhaps you’ll have room in your day to read them.
Yesterday, in two separate rooms at work, there was room for me to facilitate group therapy. In every therapy group, no matter what room it’s in, I always make room for a mindfulness exercise. In the first group, people asked to focus on something they noticed in that room:
After the mindfulness exercise, we had room to talk about the idiom “Elephant in the Room.”
an English metaphorical idiom for an obvious truth that is either being ignored or going unaddressed. The idiomatic expression also applies to an obvious problem or risk no one wants to discuss.
Later, we made room to express roomy thoughts, feelings, or images about this roomy topic:
I had room, in that group room, to write and share that one of my core values is making room for myself and others to grow and learn.
Before I ended the group in that room, I asked if there were any elephants in the room. I hope people felt room to be honest when they all said there were no elephants in the room, besides the little origami one.
Later, in another group room, I asked people to mindfully look up and focus on the ceiling in that room. I had room to share that, when I was a kid, I would look up at ceilings and imagine that the ceiling was the floor, leaving me room to visualize walking on it. There was also room for me to mention a movie where Fred Astaire dances on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling, in a room that revolves:
I had room in my head for that wonderful dancing memory in that room, last night, because I knew that tonight I’d be going to see “So You Think You Can Dance” in a great room in downtown Boston.
I assume I’ll have room in tomorrow’s post to write about that.
I shall now make room for other photos I had room to store on my iPhone, yesterday:
Speaking of storage room, I’ve been getting a message that my laptop hard drive is running out of room.
Everywhere in my life, I’m making room for the philosophy in this book about decluttering rooms:
Make room for the important things in your life by throwing away everything you do not love.
I hope you know there’s room for any thoughts or feelings you have about this roomy post, below.
There’s always room for gratitude, so thanks to therapy groups, people who leave room for dancing, Fred Astaire, Marie Kondo, the driver who left room for that “I love science” bumper sticker, everybody who had room for Mama’s vegetable soup at work, those who celebrate Diwali, elephants everywhere, and you — of course! — for making room, here and now.
“At Last You’re Here” is a perfect title and song for today, because:
I know my parents said, “At Last You’re Here” when my older sister Ellen was born, 68 years ago today.
At last it’s official that my esteemed friend and fellow social worker Megan will be here with me at the hospital, starting in December. At last we’re here, working together again.
At last, these photos are here from my iPhone:
At first and at last, Oscar is here while I create these posts.
At my last birthday party (almost three years ago), Megan was here (next to my ex-sister-in-law Deborah):
At last, my sister and I are here:
At last and at least, we’re all here together on this earth.
At least since January 1, 2013, I’m here on WordPress every day.
At last you’re here, at the end of this post.
Lasting thanks to Ellen, Megan, Deborah, Oscar, Pat Metheny, Marie Kondo, and all who are here today, including you!
Déjà Vu. That strange feeling we sometimes get that we’ve lived through something before — that what is happening now has already happened.
Way back in the 1960’s, I learned that Déjà Vu is a glitch in our cognition — an experience going into the memory section of the brain too quickly. Since then, whenever I feel that strange feeling of Déjà Vu, I just go along for the ride.
Here are some quotes about Déjà Vu:
It’s déjà vu all over again.
Yogi Berra
For a few precarious seconds, the chaplain tingled with a weird, occult sensation of having experienced the identical situation before in some prior time or existence. He endeavored to trap and nourish the impression in order to predict, and perhaps even control, what incident would occur next, but the afflatus melted away unproductively, as he had known beforehand it would. Déjà vu. The subtle recurring confusion between illusion and reality that was characteristic of paramnesia fascinated the chaplain, and he knew a number of things about it. He knew, for example, that it was called paramnesia and he was interested as well in such corollary optical phenomena as jamais vu, never seen, and presque vu, almost seen. There were terrifying, sudden moments when objects, concepts and even people that the chaplain had lived with almost all his life inexplicably took on an unfamiliar and irregular aspect that he had never seen before and which made them seem totally strange: jamais vu. And there were other moments when he almost saw absolute truth in brilliant flashes of clarity that almost came to him: presque vu. The episode of the naked man in the tree at Snowden’s funeral mystified him thoroughly. It was not déjà vu, for at the time he had experienced no sensation of ever having seen a naked man in a tree at Snowden’s funeral before. It was not jamais vu, since the apparition was not of someone, or something, familiar appearing to him in an unfamiliar guise. And it was certainly not presque vu, for the chaplain did see him…
Joseph Heller, Catch-22 (1961), pp. 52-53.
We have all some experience of a feeling, that comes over us occasionally, of what we are saying and doing having been said and done before, in a remote time — of our having been surrounded, dim ages ago, by the same faces, objects, and circumstances — of our knowing perfectly what will be said next, as if we suddenly remembered it!
Charles Dickens, David Copperfield (1850), Ch. 39.
There are some places which, seen for the first time, yet seem to strike a chord of recollection. “I have been here before,” we think to ourselves, “and this is one of my true homes.” It is no mystery for those philosophers who hold that all which we shall see, with all which we have seen and are seeing, exists already in an eternal now; that all those places are home to us which in the pattern of our life are twisting, in past, present and future, tendrils of remembrance round our heart-strings.
E. C. Bentley and H. Warner Allen, Trent’s Own Case (1936), Chapter XV.
In the condition of “deja vu” it is probable that what takes place is that one or several elements in the present situation are like those which had been experienced in the past, but that the dissimilarities in the situations are not observed. The individual has a memory defect in that he parallels or identifies a complex present experience with a similar complex past experience, although in the present experience the number of elements which are the same as those in the past may not be very great. In other words, the present experience is deemed to be the same as that of the past because of the fact that the past is not accurately remembered and properly localized in time.
Shepherd Ivory Franz, “Delusions”, Popular Science, January 1915, Vol. 86, p. 90.
To the category of the wonderful and uncanny we may also add that strange feeling we perceive in certain moments and situations when it seems as if we had already had exactly the same experience, or had previously found ourselves in the same situation. … I believe that it is wrong to designate the feeling of having experienced something before as an illusion. On the contrary, in such moments something is really touched that we have already experienced, only we cannot consciously recall the latter because it never was conscious. In short, the feeling of Déjà vu corresponds to the memory of an unconscious fantasy.
Sigmund Freud, The Psychopathology of Everyday Life (1901), tr. A. A. Brill (1915), pp. 320–321.
When some French were assembling an encyclopedia of paranormal experiences, they decided to leave déjà vu out, because it was so common it could not be considered paranormal.
Kim Stanley Robinson, Galileo’s Dream (2009), Ch. 13, p. 284
