Flooded With Moonlight

Unmoored in midnight water,

No waves, no wind--

The empty boat is

Flooded with moonlight.

                    ---Dogen

Though this quote by Dogen brings a note of peace, it arrived during a perfect storm.

I came across the quote a few days ago. I wasn't surprised I liked it--after all, it projects a beautiful image. But I was surprised at how it has drifted in and out of my mind several times since reading it. "Why?" I ask myself.

Recently, perhaps due to the New Year, the winds of previous discussions with my writerly friends have whipped up--discussions on the challenges of balancing the highly-preached importance of social networking with the actual act of writing. Balance? What's balance? For me, I must admit that in the last several weeks, my social networking time has devoured my writing time.

One friend suggested he was addicted to the Internet. Addicted? Could I be addicted, too? Perhaps the very nature of an addiction is denial. Has my "excuse" of needing to build a social presence been a ruse in my own denial?

Let's consider:

1) I sometimes lose track of the amount of time I've spent online.

2) I sometimes feel guilty about the amount of time I spend online.

3) I have trouble focusing on other tasks.

An addiction? Sounds a little too close for comfort. One thing I will admit is that being online is hardly being "unmoored." And there's no doubt that the Internet is rife with high waves and too much wind. The perfect storm. No wonder moonlight has evaded me.

The New York Times posted an article, "The Rise of the New Groupthink," which discusses the new philosophy of "groupthink"--that creativity comes from sharing ideas, brainstorming, etc. (Social networking?) However, research suggests that people are more creative in a private environment, free from interruption. I agree completely. I need privacy and interruption-free time to fully get into my story and my characters. One little interruption, whether it is the tiniest glance at Facebook or Twitter, a nudge by my dogs or a question from my husband, snaps me out of my story's world and back to reality. And, the trip back to Storyland is a far, far distance. Sometimes too far.

So, my -- our dilemma -- as writers is, how do we balance our need for solitary space and time to create, with the (unfortunate?) necessity to maintain an online presence? Obviously, I have not been successful at both -- at least not lately.

So, here is my solution. I'm going to check myself into a detox facility. Well, kind of. I've created an Internet Dead Zone in my house. Is it really Internet Dead? No, it's not. But I'm a writer, and I have an imagination. I've added a sign to the door to my home office:

Every day, I'll check myself into my Internet Dead Zone for at least two hours, where I'll write or edit, and where I pledge not to turn my wireless on.

If I don't suffer too badly from withdrawal symptoms, I'll graduate to an Internet free day, but, as they say, one step at a time. I feel my hands sweating even as I consider it.

Still, I must admit, I'm looking forward to this little experiment. I'll let you know how it goes -- outside of my Internet Dead Zone, of course.

I look forward to being flooded with moonlight. Ah, just the thought of it . . .

Swallowed by Ugly

Sometimes I think the world is being swallowed by ugliness. Bickering in Congress, so vitriolic they can't seem to get anything done. Bullying so despicable it drives a person to take his life. Nasty comments on the internet. Constant griping about whatever is wrong in our daily lives.

You know it's gotten pretty bad when pictures like this appear on Facebook.

Usually, I tune most of it out. But lately, I feel like I'm being swallowed by it, too. The constant griping, complaining and arguing. A lack of respect for others.

It happens all around us, so much so that it's begun to feel almost normal to me. Then, last week, I saw a story about a 14-year old boy named Jamey Rodemeyer. It was another incident of a teen who had been bullied so relentlessly, he committed suicide. Sadly, these kinds of stories have been in the news so much, even they have become almost "normal." What??

But Jamey's story especially, struck a nerve. This young man struggled to help others who might be going through the same thing. Even through his own pain, he tried to get the message out that "it gets better," until it became too much for him, and he took his own life.

Jamey's story broke my heart. It made me think that we have not progressed beyond a pack mentality.  We sense weakness, whatever makes a person different--whether it's race, religion, sexual orientation, political philosophy--and we attack like wolves, hungry to destroy whatever "stands out" and makes us uncomfortable. Whether we know it's wrong or not, sometimes it feels more comfortable to "run with the pack," rather than to stand up against it or fight it.

I didn't intend this post to be only about bullying, though that is serious enough. But bullying is just a byproduct of the pervasive ugliness.

Is it worse than it used to be, or in our world of the internet and 24-hour media, do we just hear about it more? Perhaps our high-tech world enables it to spread more quickly, a contagion of ugliness. Are we all so miserable that we need to draw others into our pack?

Whether it's worse or not, how do we stop it?

Accentuate the positive.

I still remember waking one morning as a teenager, with this strange concept flashing in my brain like a neon sign. I thought I'd made it up and was pretty darn proud of thinking of such a profound and simple statement. Of course, later I learned it wasn't my creation, but the title of a song written by Johnny Mercer in 1944. I must have heard it somewhere, sometime, and placed it in a jam-packed, disorganized drawer in my mind, labeled, "Neat Things to Remember When Needed."

For some reason--maybe it was my parents' divorce, or the loss of my first love--I pulled the phrase out of storage that morning long ago, and it has been with me ever since.

Still, even as I recite the quote, I hear a collective, "Ick," or "Oh, brother." But I don't care. It's what is needed today. Rather than focusing on all that we DISAGREE on, why not focus on what we AGREE on?

When we are uncomfortable with someone we perceive to be DIFFERENT, why not focus on what is the SAME?

When we are having such a BAD day that we have to make others' days miserable too, why not focus on what's GOOD about the day? And if you can't find something good, take a deep breath and be grateful for that breath.

There's something good--positive--in everything and everyone. Find it. Maybe then, instead of ugliness eating away at each of us, we can eat away at ugliness instead.

Waiting for The Wish Book

Today I was Christmas shopping on the internet - so easy, so convenient, so fast. Yet, wonderful and efficient as this new technology makes gift-giving and wish list-making, I decided it lacks something.

I can't pinpoint what that something is, but today, shopping simply didn't have the same magic that shopping in the Sears Wish Book had. Is it a loss of the sensory pleasures? Maybe. Certainly tapping a few keys and clicking a button doesn't have the same feel as turning every page, listening to its crisp crackle and wondering what would be on the pages that followed. I'd fold down the corners of each page that had an item I wanted Santa Claus to bring that year, hoping somehow "Santa" would see it.

Then again, perhaps it's just a sentimental thing. There was such anticipation, even in waiting for the catalogs to arrive - a veritable fantasy world for a child.

Still, as I clicked and ordered today, I felt a thrill, hoping my loved one would like, whether I had chosen it from the paper page of a catalog or the screen of my computer. The anticipation of giving hasn't changed, thank goodness, even if technology has.

Happy shopping, happy giving and happy Christmas!