I think it’s interesting that it is debated whether psychic energy is real or not, yet here it is in Webster’s Dictionary being used to define libido:
Libido: noun \lə-ˈbē-(ˌ)dō also ˈli-bə-ˌdō\
: a person’s desire to have sex
: instinctual psychic energy that in psychoanalytic theory is derived from primitive biological urges (as for sexual pleasure or self-preservation) and that is expressed in conscious activity
Shane said, “How strange that glass can sit in water and not rust.”
Which made me think… Yeah! How strange. And metal makes up swords and is considered much stronger than glass, but water does nothing to glass and eats away at metal.
I hope to be more like glass than metal. To be too fierce or stuck in my ways, to never bend and not have balance as a result of it, is to be like metal. I may be able to “handle” large problems through panic, pushing them away, or fighting through them. But the simple flow of small hardships, ones that come consistently with life, would corrode me.
I wouldn’t deal, or wouldn’t know how to deal, with them. It may be scary to think that I need to treat myself more delicately in times of great stress, or set up my life so that I come into great stress less often. But to accept that I am vulnerable, to let myself shatter when stress happens, is to accept the reality of being a healthy human.
Heat applied to glass can melt it back to its old form. Being warm and loving with myself after I shatter can do the same. If metal breaks, heat can heal it too. But it will still rust in water. And glass doesn’t have to worry about that.
Lucille Ball co-created I Love Lucy the same year she had her first baby, and the same year she turned 40. #imallright
Looking into green jobs that use less electricity, have less electronic waste, are outside, are more physical- farmer, hike leader, hooker…
I’m reading Codependent No More and my first instinct is to buy a copy for everyone I know. #codependentjokes
Watched a huge night lightning storm from the plane, more beautiful & epic than any FX… a colorful, overwhelming strobe show of God’s ADD.
I stayed in my seat at iO last night, deciding to see the next show, excited to get to watch Mo Collins live for the first time and learn what happens at Mo and Tell. First thing, she shared about Robin Williams… I had somehow not heard the news yet. We all cried together. She shared that she also has depression and how Robin was a mentor and how she could barely speak all day. She was truly open with us. After five minutes of grounded truth, she stood, tiny on the stage, tears streaming down her face, and said, “This is a comedy show.” It was very funny. And then she asked the audience for good news, and she celebrated everything from new jobs to free, close parking spots. And then brought on her equally funny and open friends and family to tell stories and we all laughed together.
One story teller shared that her father was a great stand-up comedian in the 1920’s and 30’s and when he retired, he decided to give back to the community by opening a house for mentally ill and mentally handicapped people, but that he forgot to buy her family a separate house.
And he also forgot that he was an alcoholic and that his only background to help him run the house was being a stand-up. She grew up living with, and taking care of, a wild bunch of people. Ken Kesey came and interviewed her father and shortly after, the wild bunch of people became the cast of characters in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The story was told hilariously. But the part of the story that hit me the most was that growing up in the house, her father emotionally segregated her family from his empathy for the other housemates. To him, the housemates were “crazy” and the family was “normal”. She wasn’t allowed to need help too, so no one helped her deal with what was around her. “I’m still scarred,” she said.
The world has grown a lot over the decades, and mental illness is talked about more. But I hope that segregation of empathy eventually dissolves into a place where we all know that we are human. And humans are tender. And affected. And some aspects of mental illness come from reacting to circumstance, some come from being truly empathetic souls. She said, “I am too sensitive.” But how can that be? A child surrounded by chaos with no emotional arms to hold her, and some how life has taught her that she is too sensitive. Wouldn’t any human come out of that circumstance in the same way? And why would we scorn someone for being genuinely empathetic? Because it’s too close to making our own selves vulnerable?
We are taught, through words, through body language, through friendships that remain and or ones that disappear, that we can not be too open. And that a spoonful of laughter makes hearing about someone else’s problems more palatable. I wonder what it would be like if we knew we could share sadness, fear, and worry without judgement. Would comedians still make us laugh? I think so. But the ones that are hurting might feel better.
When empathy begins to seep past therapy sessions and quiet conversations between best friends, when it spills into dinner parties and presidential speeches, when it flutters into the grocery store line, and fills the air between two enemies, when it confidently rests upon the host of a comedy show and sprinkles over the hearts of a crowd who comes to see comedy and leaves knowing they saw that and so much more… We will be safer, we will be kinder, and we will be happier.
I still can’t stop crying today that Robin was so sad. But last night felt like a special way to honor him. Thank you Mo. Thank you Alex, Candi, Billy, and Debra for your stories.
And thank you Robin… for all that you’ve given us. #RIPRobinWilliams
I just taught yoga here. #inhale #exhale
People pay so much for hot yoga. I do it for free in my non-airconditioned house. #sweatyforfree #drippyathome #doinggrossyogainmyroom
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