Charm-o-Matic

Ancient practices, deep happiness and the fresh, clean feeling after a shower.

Marks of a warrior

In Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior, the Buddhist teacher Chogyam Trungpa makes a point much better than I did in my charmifesto. He writes about the importance of understanding and appreciating our relationship with ordinary life, so that we can create peace and harmony in the world.

“When you experience the goodness of being alive,” Trungpa teaches, “you can respect who and what you are … Because we appreciate the world, we take better care of it and our fellow humans.”

There’s a basic goodness in his teachings that’s at the other end of the spectrum from the more prevalent religious concept of original sin. He reveals not only a beauty but also a discipline in embracing small pleasures, not as superficial indulgences but as portals into the basic goodness of the world and of ourselves. Trungpa goes on in the book to teach more traits of the warrior, but a steady sense of one’s own goodness is at the core.

“When we appreciate reality,” Trungpa continues, “it can actually work on us … We have an actual connection to reality that can wake us up and make us feel basically, fundamentally good. Shambhala vision is tuning in to our ability to wake ourselves up and recognize that goodness can happen to us. In fact, it is happening already.”

Trungpa mentions a sudden whiff of fresh air and the clean feeling after a shower and says, “It is worthwhile to recognize and take advantage of these moments, because they are revealing basic nonaggression and freshness in our lives – basic goodness.”

So right now I’m recognizing the sound of birds whooshing over my deck,  flocking in formation. I’m taking advantage of this moment in the fresh air and letting the goodness sink in. As for my shower, well, that’s between me and my crisp, white shower curtain.

Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior, $10
Whiff of fresh air, Free

John Adams: patriot & July inspiration

A few of my favorite things about my least favorite month.

Not that I’m one to play favorites, but summer just isn’t my ideal time of year. So in the spirit of Maria singing during the thunderstorm in The Sound of Music, I’m thinking up a few things to like about July. (Because I already love thunderstorms.)

1. Somewhere, history is happening.
As far as the history that’s already happened, July is the perfect time to revel in it. One of the fascinating aspects of our country’s lore is the friendship-turned-bitter-rivalry-turned-friendship of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson. And how amazing is it that they both died on July 4, 1826? I sometimes get on a kick and read a couple of biographies in a row about a person, whether it’s John Adams or Marie Antoinette (also appropriate for July, given Bastille Day on the 14th). July is the perfect time for obsessive reading. A reading-watching combo would work too: The recent HBO special was based on David McCullough’s biography of Adams.* McCullough’s book 1776 is fascinating too, but you have to be ready to embrace a level of detail that includes the significance of the color of uniforms worn by the Prussian mercenaries who fought for the British.

To do: Read about the good ol’ US of A.

2. Somewhere, people are playing baseball.
When I was a kid, we dutifully endured “typing class” one school year, using old-fashioned, clickety-clack typewriters.  Whenever I had extra time at the end of class, I would type out the Chicago Cubs roster, including the height and weight of the players. I was completely enamored of the Cubs and have been ever since. I spent my summers going to hundreds of my brother’s baseball games, eating candy necklaces, learning to keep the official score and dreaming of the next time I could go see the pros in Chicago (yes, I think of the Cubs as professionals). I no longer watch many games, and I’ve given up my goal of marrying one of the players; but I’m still happy to know in July that somewhere, people are playing and watching baseball.

To do: Find a nearby major or minor league team and take in a game. If possible, also eat a hot dog and some nostalgic candy. In lieu of baseball, simply eat candy.

3. Somewhere, polar bears are diving off blocks of ice.
True, fewer polar bears are lounging around and diving off of sadly disappearing blocks of ice these days. But still: Imagine the frosty goodness. Just as the sun is still shining when it’s dark and the stars are still doing their thing up there when it’s cloudy … somewhere, even though it may feel hot and humid, polar bears are diving off thick, ancient ice into an impossibly blue ocean.

To do: Open your freezer and put your head inside for a few seconds. Withdraw head. Close door. Send a happy thought to your favorite polar bear.

Honestly, I was going to do five things to enjoy during July, but I think three is enough. It’s time to put my head back in the freezer anyway.

*For that matter, you could also extend the reading-watching concept to Marie Antoinette. Sofia Coppola’s movie about the much maligned queen was loosely based on Antonia Fraser’s excellent and somewhat revisionist biography. Queen of Fashion: What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution is also fascinating and full of unexpected political details.

The love letter in question

How do I love Love Letter to Japan by The Bird and the Bee? I’m only a moderate fan of Victorian poetry, so let me count two ways.

First, the song feels happy and danceable, and who am I to argue with that? I’m always on the lookout for additions to the Charm-o-Matic manifesto soundtrack.

If I were a music critic, I’d describe the Bird and the Bee’s music as other reviewers have, using words like “buoyant,” “charming” and maybe even “immaculately produced.” If I were a real pro, I could refer to the group’s “pop pastiche” or even blithely mention “the synth-tinged retro pop brimming with kaleidoscopic detail.”

Instead, I’ll just say that I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve listened to Love Letter to Japan, so enchanting is it to my ears. The tune is a veritable prescription for high spirits. Perhaps you need something to induce dancing while you’re getting ready in the morning. Perhaps you need something for the heartache that resulted when this hockey season ended with your team just a broken cheekbone away from the playoffs. Perhaps you need a little sugarless boost to power you through the afternoon these days. In any case, have a listen.

The semiotics of cute?

Second, I frequently extol the virtues of various Japanese delights and have been composing my own love letter to the entire country for several years. These things take time. The Bird and the Bee are more succinct than I am and thank Japan “for the patience and the peace, cherry blossoms and the candy.”

That’s a promising start, although the mere word “candy” doesn’t begin to describe the odd wonders filling that aisle in any Asian market worth its soy sauce. My own love letter also includes bento boxes, Yoshitomo Nara and the nation’s inventive use of vending machines. One of Japan’s most monumental imports in my life, though, are notebooks by San-X that feature cats playing in food.

I’ve never been able to pin down the subtext of these little notepads and toys: Do the designers who create these tasty kitties revel in the irony of their work? Do they have conversations about semiotics during lunch? Are they evil geniuses with a subversive agenda? Or do they just think the little kitties are cute? (Cute enough to eat, you see.) My friend Jenner calls these characters “Hello Kitty in grad school,” so I’m going with the semiotics option.

So thanks for that love letter, The Bird and the Bee. Your cheerful tune is sure to inspire even more love letters in the future and lift moods across the country in the meantime.

Watch their Jimmy Kimmel performance on YouTube.

Icy trees also make me happy.

Here’s to putting the happy back in 2009.

For anyone who didn’t spend quite as much time last weekend as they’d planned reflecting on personal resolutions and creating elaborate schemes for the Best! Year! Yet!, I have a simple approach.

Making a detailed plan works for some people. But if you’re not of that stock, you don’t need to shy away entirely from what can be a rewarding and – dare I say it? – empowering activity.

Welcoming the new year in some deliberate way puts you in the catbird’s seat. You’re putting the year on notice, so to speak. We’re onto you, 2009. We see you flaunting yourself about on calendars everywhere. Well, that’s just fine. You’re not about to escape us.

Even a small gesture can shift your perception of those crafty, shifting sands of time. Besides, in this time of economic chaos, taking more of a bird’s eye view seems smart. (Especially if you’re already in the catbird’s seat.) What matters amidst upheaval is the big picture – we’ll likely all have to be more flexible and resourceful than usual when it comes to the details in 2009.

So here’s the plan.

1. Spend a moment reflecting on what really makes you happy. Think bigger than career goals or travel plans. What are the meta-narratives and the uber-themes of your life that define you and inspire you? I don’t mean this to sound overly grand … it’s just about reaching that layer above where our heads usually are for everyday matters. Relationships can be on the list, too. If you have an extra few minutes for the deluxe version of this process, also consider what makes your life unique: that inimitable combination of your story and your talents. In this economy, having a strong grasp on your particular thumbprint (I’m finished with cats and birds and have moved onto thumbs for a while) may help you re-think the way you spend your time.

2. Make a list of several things already in place in your life that make you happy. Yes, writing down what you’re thankful for sounds hopelessly clichéd and even overly elementary, but it’s one of the best ways to focus on what works for you. And I swear, focusing on what works makes more things work. A simple list only takes a couple of minutes and doesn’t have to be profound. I must admit that trees often appear on my list. Yes, I’m thankful for trees. Even more than thumbs, they make me happy. Thumbs up for trees. This realization translates into strolling through nature and staring longingly out my kitchen window, perhaps for long stretches of time. Ah, you’re feeling better about your own list already, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll come up with something more piercing than that. The point is not to wonder about my personal time management skills but rather to realize that sometimes just approaching life from a position of gratitude creates other important shifts.

3. Find ways this year to focus on the happy fruits of these reflections. That might mean making a goal or two or getting rid of a few activities that don’t fit the bill. Or it might mean simply deciding to more fully appreciate what’s already at your fingertips and seeing what the perceptual shift will do for you.

As you can see, the theme here is happy. That is how the saying goes, after all … “happy new year.” So let’s put the happy back.  I know it sounds simple. So simple, in fact, that there’s no harm in trying it.