On the Nature of Things

Lucretius' poem, On the Nature of Things, saved from destruction by being not noticed, is the subject of Stephen Greenblatt's new book The Swerve. Lucretius himself named it, his Latin word was clinamen: an unpredictable movement of matter. I'm just on page 11, and Greenblatt is waxing enthusiastically about the Renaissance as the culture that best embodies, since antiquity, the appreciation, creation and enjoyment of beauty and pleasure. In Greenblatt's case, his love is Shakespeare, so The Bard's timeline would also shine brilliantly. What I am dazzled by is Lucretius wrote a love song to the way the universe actually is. One more example to my mind that physics and magic are coming to a singularity and dragging religions, reality, Occupy Wall Street, and tiny communities of people wandering and wondering at the sudden lightness of being into the vortex. I believe we are living at the daybreak of another Renaissance. As the Renaissance followed the Middle Ages, we are emerging from the Dark Ages of corporate soulsuits into a new enlightenment. All life has continued miraculously chaotic, now we notice, participate, appreciate. An excerpt here: ...to understand that humans are made of the same stuff as everything else, and are part of the natural order; to conduct experiments without fearing that one is infringing on God's jealously guarded secrets; to question authorities and challenge received doctrines; to legitimate [sic] the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain; to imagine that there are other worlds beside the one that we inhabit, to entertain the thought that the sun is only one star in an infinite universe; to live an ethical life without reference to postmortem rewards and punishments; to contemplate without trembling the death of the soul. The Luxury of Enough is the same, whether in Epicurus' and Lucretius' time, or in ours. The time is now. It is enough and it is beautiful.

More or Less: The Luxury of Enough

While our global leaders figure out how to make all those swell twisty charts in the news go away, we rely on our news sources to make sense of what is essentially senseless. Jared Bernstein argues that the nifty chart in the Sunday NYT isn't quite accurate because it is not gross debt that's the issue, but debt that's held by the public. Who is the public? You and me. EU meets on Wednesday. They were supposed to meet on Sunday, but nobody could agree on who gets to stuff the debt down their throats, so it's back to trying to make Italy do it. Or Germany. Or us. High school home economics teaches what you owe cannot exceed what you bring in. The world has been ignoring that simple accounting rule for decades. We always want more. Shareholders want more profit, so the marketeers shove more consumables at us. And we consume. But we still want more. Upgrade your phone, cable, wardrobe, car with a free trial offer. Buying an ecofriendly tshirt is not responsible consumerism; self-abnegation is. Government and corporations aren't people, despite what the coneheads on the U.S. Supreme Court may believe. Governments and corporations have been free trial offering us into this precarious global economy. But we are the global market; we live in the global marketplace. Unscramble those twisty charts in the newspapers and on the internet, and it comes down to us. We drank the MORE cocktails, as my father says. On the rocks.

Creating with Love

We're talking daily about transitioning. We are creating lives that are sustainable. We are bartering, recycling, riding our bicycles, walking, trying to be attuned to earth and life. We volunteer, donate and help others when we can. But we also need to eat, pay the phone bill, go to the dentist, repair our vehicles and survive best way. What is bread labor and what is heart labor? Are skills I have marketable, or am I deluded? I'm over 60. It's not time to start a new career: it's time to contribute. While we are sorting out this big life stuff, we need to live in the now too. I create. My bread job is illustration - that's how I get paid. But I'm giving away more work than I'm being paid for. I want to create for entrepreneurs I want to support and grow, but those businesses are in the same shape I am financially. I need to create my own work. How to balance that and still live is the key. I am happiest when I'm creating. Dinner, illustrations, writing, friendships, jewelry, my lifestory. I am immersed in the journey when I disappear into art: I live in joyicity. That's my bliss. And if I'm creating something for a friend, then creating is nirvana. This necklace I made for Geri's birthday. I thought about who she is, as I know her; what I love about her. She is thoughtful, generous, intelligent, funny, gifted. She wears elegant clothes, has gorgeous red hair, extraordinary eyes, and her skin shines like new butter. I wanted jewelry for her that reflects her inner and outer beauty. The amber, translucent glass beads, capped with oxidized silver - I could not believe how fine they looked together! I would never have paired these, but I was immersed in Geri's essence, and these wanted to share the space on her neck. And the few bronze pearls, the dusky Swarovski crystals, the vintage toggle clasp, and the Celtic knot squares came together like a dream. Like Geri. Like Beckie, whose findings these are; and whom finding changed me. Like living with gratitude in the moment. Joyicity. The luxury of enough. Bliss.

Living in the Now

Aware of my reptile brain staging a coup d'etat, I remembered to relax. I was hungry and found a pear. I love pears - the shape, color, the subtle fragrance, the singular texture. Draped from the ceiling tiles in my bathroom sanctuary is a holiday garland from years ago; the paint is peeling off the pears hanging from the vine. The walls are painted with my favorite riverbank plants. Jewelweed, Chicory, Queen Anne's Lace, Crown Vetch, wild Bergamot, Trillium, Bird's-foot Trefoil, tall waving grasses. The floor is a painted river. I shut off my computer and ate my pear. I drew the pear. And I write about the experience here. Joy is living in the now.

Depends or Attends?

I'll shop for diapers today. Scott has a new companion with ExpertCare, and I like her truthfulness, and she said it's time. Trolling the internet, can't yet find a good source for a purchase decision, so we'll wing it for now. I like the names of the drugstore brands. Good marketing creates comfort, whether the products do or not. I hope he'll understand the use, but am prepared to be serene about what's next. I remember laughing at my brother-in-law when he told my sister the week that their youngest child was potty-trained "Well, Susan, we're out of the diaper business: right up until the minute we both need them." Among the small joys of this time in our lives is that there is information to be had quickly, there are books to read that calm the spirit and help make adjustments like the one I just finished. Twelve by Twelve is about the luxury of enough. Scott's happiness with a cup of coffee out in the world, a dinner made especially for him, his music, his room, a warm shower, is a little piece of heaven. And today with the ice fully cleared off the path, my legs and back feeling good with the hard work, the sun is shining in a world of snow poofs in the trees. The luxury of enough.

The Luxury of Enough

I have yammered for years about The Luxury of Enough. The opposite of enough is planetary degradation and freedom bereft of meaning. I learned in therapy (also for years) that want and need are different. We want new jeans and the latest handbag. We need very little. Food, shelter, clean water, love. Nature requires needs be met to simply survive. I can live without dark chocolate. I cannot live without water. I can live without music, but I want it enough to elevate it to a need in my soul. Enough means survival at its core: spiritual calm, brain function, and body ease at its most pure. One article recently tried to explain to us dumb humans that buying an eco-friendly $150 shirt is not the same as self-abnegation. Stephanie Mills writes about The Luxury of Enough in "Epicurean Simplicity." Anita Roddick understood the global need for clean water and education and enabled poor cultures to establish businesses by buying locally on a global scale. I am learning. I am learning faster than I learned for 50 years that my actions have consequences, that what I want has an impact on my loved ones, my village and my world. I hope I am improving as I strive to embrace The Luxury of Enough.

Imported from Detroit

I am imported from Detroit. It's my hometown. Sometimes its rulers are hard to love, but I love the Motor City. The hospital where I was born is torn down. My Dad's houses are torn down. The aquarium on Belle Isle is torn down. The college that tried to improve my brain is torn down. But I'm not torn down. Neither is Detroit. Life is tough and it is also short. Together my birth city and I are gritting our teeth, clenching our fist, and finding the luxury of enough. Detroit is still here. Whether the Chrysler commercial is about automobiles or rebirth or nothing at all, I'm proud to be imported from Detroit. That's the luxury of enough.