Radical thoughts (not about free radicals)

I was on a meditative run/walk yesterday, which is kind of weird to say because it sounds pretentious, first off, when it really was not. Well, it was kind of because I was in this really expensive neighborhood in Newport Beach with a great view of the Marina and happened upon an awesome spot to launch my boat, which is more of an inevitable slow-sinking blow-up raft but around here it's money to say you have a boat.

That tangent is actually useful. Two major things happened on this run/walk:

1. I realized that women really do think about a zillion useless things a second that tend to drive us nuts AND that we can shut this off but we are pretty damn addicted to these thoughts and don't pay much attention the fact that we can rid ourselves of them.

2. Since I have some practice in turning off my thoughts in meditation, I went there while walking and nothing went through my head. I did it again while driving today. I felt like I had penetrated the inner workings of men! When they say they aren't thinking about anything it might be because they really aren't thinking about anything.

2a. When you aren't thinking about anything you have a a good shot at seeing things in more accurate perspective. The thing I was mulling over before I turned off my thoughts was how to love properly. I haven't seemed to be getting it right. I came down a hill and turned onto PCH. I passed pedestrians and people driving. I was pretty aware of what everyone was doing. That's when the perspective hit:

I'm trying to connect and love but I'm not seeing the whole picture. I'm only seeing PEOPLE. There's so much more to connect with and love!

Lightbulb! It was like when I read Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything and then been aggravated that people didn't seem to give a shit about anything other than mammals because, damnit, there are so many other forms of life it's ridiculous. We can't even seem to name them all for chrissakes! I cared quite a bit about porifera then but my thinking wore out when society didn't seem to have any patience for it. "Who gives a shit about sponges, Rachel?" I DO! They're a lifeform! There's something special and holy in that. Life is something to marvel at and respect. Am I crazy here?

Furthermore, there is energy all around us. All matter is energy. E = mc^2. Nuclear fusion, nuclear fission. Breaking down matter into energy, binding together energy to make matter. So are we really all that different, from say, our coffee tables? You think about it. I don't want to say what I think here because it may be used to put me in a mental institution. That tends to be the thing with radical thinkers, bless their hearts.

Stranded in the Middle of Civilization

Years ago I stood at the counter at the bakery, armed with my wit and sarcasm, waiting to help the next customer. The hapless victim ended up being an eighteen year old kid who had come in from the highway with his, "Stranded" sign

I was flabbergasted. I couldn't help him. This was an impossible situation.

"How can you be stranded in the middle of civilization?" I demanded of my co-worker.

He tried to reason with me but I wouldn't have it.

"You cannot be stranded! You can walk. Everything you need is right here."

Unfortunately I'd been overheard.

"You can need a ride," the kid offered.

"Well, that's different than stranded. Stranded is being stuck in the middle of the desert with no options. Sitting around passing time in Montecito is a different thing altogether."

And actually, I'm vindicated to see that Merriam Webster agrees with me. Unless he was left on base (LOB) the kid doesn't have an argument.

But the point isn't that I won. The point is that in a greater sense, I might have been wrong.

Today I sat around in my apartment in Orange County with everything material that I could ever need at my fingertips and felt completely lost. GPS couldn't get me out of there.

In the middle of civilization I felt detached from everything around me. Disconnected. I told my mom, "I feel like I'm skimming along the top of the sand instead of making footprints."

Now I feel like I know what that kid was talking about.

Of course, melancholy isn't a permanent state unless you're Eeyore so I snapped out of it soon enough. I realize now that what I was so upset about only concerned the future. Everything that was going on in the moment was perfectly fine. More than fine. A blessing.

Maybe that's the key to never getting stranded--not getting too far ahead of yourself or too far behind because wherever you go, there you are.

The Bargain Bin

When I was growing up the Bargain Bin at the bookstore meant that there was a heap of books to pick through, many of which I would immediately dismiss as I searched for the hidden treasure within.

Then I wrote a novel. And another. The Bargain Bin became a different experience.

I used to see people perform dance routines or give speeches and then give them a detached critique.

Then I spoke in front of 100 people for over ten minutes about writing. Then I spoke in front of 500 people for eight minutes without notes. Seeing any performance now is a different experience.

I'm reading a book on Fred Rogers from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood that I picked out of the Bargain Bin at the B&N down the street last month. It's life affirming and beautiful.

I remember standing in front of that long table that had box after box full of books wedged in haphazardly and thinking, "My God. People became these stories. Their whole lives revolved around these works of art for a significant part of their time here on Earth. And here they sit, cast aside.

"There's actually no need to search for treasure here. It's staring us right in the face when we honor the fact that these people had the courage to attempt to create something moving. To give a part of themselves. To accept the possibility of ridicule and failure. That's beautiful."

I watch these competitive shows on TV like American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. There is so much pressure and the judges can be so harsh. The fact that these people got on stage in the first place is miraculous. To stand in front of all those eyes and give the best part of yourself even knowing that in a couple minutes it could face massive rejection is stunning.

Yes, we should celebrate the final product but let us not forget the journey.

Lights Out, Los Angeles now only $5!

In case you aren't on the email newsletter list and missed it:

Great news! There is a new way to purchase my novels Lights Out & Lights On, Los Angeles that is totally affordable and includes the fasting shipping known to man.

The novels are now available as eBooks directly off my website, www.rachelbird.com, for only $5 each! Or buy both for only $8.95.

If you're still sitting there thinking, "Yeah, right! I've tried independent books before and I'd rather step on a rusty nail than do it again" I feel you on that. I'm now giving away the FIRST SIX CHAPTERS FOR FREE so you can see that they're actually a blast. Just go to the website for the download: www.rachelbird.com.

To promote this great deal I'm now Twittering at www.Twitter.com/LightsOutLA. Things are really kicking off July 1st when Sara Banks, the narrator of the novels, will start Twittering to mirror the action in the books. It's going to be hilarious so Follow Me!

Sweet Without Much Substance

This is a bitch of a post to write but I'm on some sort of truth serum today so I must persist.

I love life in Orange County. I love being able to drive to the beach on a whim. I love that things are clean and orderly. I can't even remember the last time I saw a homeless person. (The rumor is that they're schlepped out of here if they get up the nerve to penetrate the Orange Curtain.) This is the greatest place I've ever lived when it comes to comfort and style. The perfect blend of metropolitan, beachy and suburban.

Orange County is all the things that I thought I wanted and all the things that put you in the carpool lane to complacency.

Don't get me wrong. I could live here forever and build up some sort of fun business and meet lots of fun people and have the random, charming, vaguely glamorous life I've dreamt about. It's already in the works.

The thing about it is, I'm starting to lose myself. I have accepted that conversations rarely involve deep introspection in my new habitat. I fear/feel that the only way I can bond with people here is by shutting off a certain part of my self. I don't really talk about spirituality or anything intellectual anymore. I dwell on it then I write about it here.

This morning I heard Lauren Conrad talking about her book with Ryan Seacrest (love that guy and I'm not ashamed to say it!). I pondered the title. LA Candy. What the hell does that mean?

Now I get it. I'm getting diabetes from OC candy over here. The question remains--will I continue to gorge even knowing the consequences or will I pick up that thousand pound phone and call Jenny Craig? Keeping the status quo is a decision. There's no denying that.

The Battle Beneath

I read Barbara Kingsolver's A Prodigal Summer (highly recommended!) a few years ago and I'll never forget the beginning. She describes a field on a pleasant day that you and I would sit in and think was so tranquil. Then she explains what is happening in that field that is not easily visible to us as we lounge around and relax. There is a whole world fighting for life--the insects. Predators and prey. In this environment of pseudo-stillness there is actually bustling activity. In some corner of our brains we know this but we ignore it because it doesn't fall in line with our agendas.

Today I started to think about our human world being seen as so tranquil. There has to be some scenario in which this would happen. And there is. Guess who sees it? Us.

Consider the famous shots from space of planet Earth. You've thought the same thing I have. "Wow. What a beautiful place that is." At least once you've been bowled over by that image. When we see our home in that perspective it seems as though everything is in perfect harmony.

I started to wonder about the same phenomenon occurring with a single human being. I thought about the beautiful girl that I saw dancing for hours on end today. To me, she was magnificent. Later, when I gave it more thought, I realized that I was looking at her from space. Underneath that beautiful, tranquil exterior was a fight for life--the same struggle that all of us face but unique to her.

I took a class on metaphysics in college. We had a few mind-numbing days during which our teacher insisted that we couldn't logically say the sun would rise tomorrow because it would be fallacious reasoning. You can't say that something will happen in the future just because it's always happened in the past. For a few days we would actually try to object when someone made mention of the sunrise. Then, mercifully, our teacher explained that the philosopher on the case, Berkeley, had let the whole thing go when he said we'd go mad if we tried to operate like this day to day.

That was quite the relief. And here I'm going to pull a Berkeley. We can't always be aware of the battle beneath. Us un-enlightened Westerners would go mad. But we can acknowledge it from time to time and let it humble us. Allow perspective to let us connect on a deeper level and cultivate compassion. Maybe awareness of phenomena like this is the only way to achieve lasting stillness within.

Driving in LA as a Metaphor for Life

I was driving South on the 101 after working LA's first Bar and Bat Mitzvah Expo when I started patting myself on the back for being a champ at navigating LA's freeways. I had gotten to Universal Studios from Orange County without GPS or even writing anything down. Then I had to stand up and cheer when I recalled tackling San Francisco's city streets in my stick shift car. But that wasn't too prudent so I sat back down before I stalled. Plus, I did scream one or two times while I was careening around SF so maybe that's not so studly. Or hell, maybe that's how everybody gets it done. Perpindicular parking on a 90 degree street is a real kick in the pants.

I started to wonder how I had ever gotten over my fear of driving in LA. I remembered a few years ago when I had told my friend, "There are six lanes of traffic on both sides going 75 miles per hour. It's just too much stimuli!" She had agreed and let it be known that she avoided situations like that like the plague.

But that was back in my pre-metropolitan days. Now if I want a typical day to involve going to a fabulous locale in LA I gotta suck it up and drive there and deal with crowds. I've struggled with it some but mostly powered through. Today I made some significant progress with one simple realization.

You know how you can hear someone say something and intellectually accept it but your gut has no idea what's going on? That's what happened when I was younger and had overheard my mom gasping in distress as my dad drove us through LA. My dad told her, "You just concern yourself with what you're doing out here."

Well, yeah. At a certain point, things are out of your control. All you can do is do your the best at your piece of the puzzle. Once you accept that you can really rock out and enjoy yourself.

So there it is. The metaphor for life.

What I learned from Fast and the Furious

1. Not to trust brawny Asian men who drive fast and carry guns.
2. Paul Rudd peaked with Meet the Deedles.
3. That you don't yell "I love you" at somebody after you just asked her to risk her life for some dumb idea you had because you're a little too preoccupied to drag her out of the car she flipped.

#3 seems to be a symptom of a problem in America. Those three words are used to get away with all kinds of ridiculous behavior. I'm reminded of a line in Jerry Maguire:

And I don't tell the man who f**ked up both our lives, "Poor Baby."
That's me for better or worse. But I do love you.

Really, Avery? Because you seem to be a turbo bitch while you love him.

My friend told me about how his girlfriend got drunk and went off on him and called him all these horrible things for really no reason at all. He wants to know what he should do about it. She does love him.

Really?

If that's what love is I'm thinking I'll go without because it seems to me that's a good way to get pushed off a bridge. Here I was thinking that love meant mutual respect. Was that ever accurate? The way those three words are used I'm not sure I ever knew what it meant.

Tearing up Torn

I was singing along to Natalie Imbruglia's Torn while driving along yesterday. What a great sob story she has going on there. Perfect for pity parties. I looked up the lyrics when I got home and then emailed the following to my friend Kim. She said she could hear Lil John in it.

Im all out of faith, this is how I feel
Im cold and I am shamed lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed into something real (<-- Duh! Bitches be crazy holding out for this)
Im wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
Youre a little late, Im already torn

So I guess the fortune teller's right
Should have seen just what was there and not some holy light (<-- Again! Bitches be crazy!)
To crawl beneath my veins and now
I dont care, I have no luck, I dont miss it all that much
Theres just so many things that I cant touch, Im torn