Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Namaste Pop Tart
Yeah, I want to kick me down the stairs too.
I thought about I Love Lucy as I did the Crunch Yoga Pilates Blend this morning. Specifically, I thought of how much I looked like Fred Mertz as I lumbered through the routine. You remember when he poses for Lucy as a Grecian figure and he throws out his back from standing in a pose too long? You don’t remember that? How come?
So I joyously went through my morning routine. “Hi Kids! Nick, Are you making everyone waffles!” Tralalalalalala. Blue jays perched on our noses and ribbons wafted through the air as angelic choirs hummed in a serenity-filled symphony of unmitigated bliss!
This morning was a lot better than yesterday morning when I was having that Loretta Lynn moment, you know in Coal Miner’s Daughter where she’s on the stage forgetting all the words and she’s having this total breakdown calling plaintively, “Doo…Doo…” and that magnificent stud muffin Tommy Lee Jones comes gallantly swaggering down the aisle and cradles his little bride and carries her off the stage and out of the theatre. Remember that? When the wheels of the bus were just moving and moving and the routine just kept going and she was carried farther and farther away from the hills and the bucolic splendor and the kind crinkled eyes of her father, the gentle stud muffin Levon Helm, forgetting her core and her creativity?
Oh. Yeah. It was THAT kind of morning yesterday.
When I just sit at my desk sort of levitating in a semi-catatonic haze of torpor and disbelief and my hands hover above my paperwork like I am playing with some kind of imaginary Ouija board, trying to divine my purpose and sustenance in life.
YOU KNOW. THAT kind of morning. That then morphs into a whole entire day of puzzled quizzical questioning, vagueness, toppled reason, free floating sadness, a QUAGMIRE, if you will, of mental and emotional directionlessness.
Then the phone rings and I see from the exchange that it’s Manhattan, and so I know it’s my friend Fred who is ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE. Ever.
Fred and I like to make fun of…everything. Take no prisoners. He makes liberal fun of me, and then we try and crack each other up—it becomes this sort of Pillsbury Bake-off of crack ups. Then we snigger and snort and kind of spit a little bit and then I take in these big hee-haw breaths and people in my office lose all respect for me and think I am just a gadfly who chats on the phone and laughs about others’ misfortunes.
Fred must have some kind of inner device that is tuned to my abject despondence because he has this way of ringing at just the right “ledge” moment.
And seriously? Never underestimate the therapy of laughter. Because talking to Fred makes me feel EVEN BETTER than I do as Fred Mertz doing the Crunch Yoga Pilates Blend. And eating browning apple slices washed down with a Diet Coke. The Diet Coke is a way of attaining BALANCE in all of this. The fruit is the yin and the Diet Coke is the YANG.
Now fire up that sitar and let’s all lean in to the connectivity, power and balance of one united world.
I bow to the divine in you.
Pass me a Pop Tart, please. |
Cynicism is another word for reality