Yesterday, I had my toenails painted by a former Tibetan monk. And he told me the secret to a less stressful life.
That sounds like a zippy opening for a chick-lit novel, doesn't it? But it is, in fact, what happened to me yesterday afternoon. The funniest thing is that I'm still marveling at how my life can surprise me. I somehow had the idea that I knew where the surprises in my life would come from---and isn't that the dumbest thing you've ever heard? They wouldn't be surprises if I knew which corner of the sky to look for them in. They wouldn't be unexpected if I could anticipate the moment they would happen. And yet, I'd grown comfortable with my "surprises" happening on days like Christmas, when I finally open the gifts I have carefully been avoiding knowing too much about. Or surprise! I won the snowflake I had been actively bidding on in the Robert's Snow auction. Surprise me! I might say to the sushi chef, knowing full well that he would put delectable, fresh sashimi on my plate.
So, I deserved what I got when I took my toes into that salon. I deserved the slightly confused, weird feeling I got when a man instead of a woman walked out to say he'd be giving me my pedicure. I deserved the first fifteen minutes of watching him, tensely and critically, to see if he could handle the delicate job of smoothing my exercise-roughened feet. It wasn't until I mentioned that I did yoga that who he was emerged.
He told me that he did yoga, too. That he had studied metaphysics as a Tibetan monk for eighteen years. That he had come to the US to be part of a Buddhist community that had since moved. That he had had several other jobs, including caring for Alzheimer patients and preparing sushi for Whole Foods. He told me, when I asked, that the traditional Tibetan diet doesn't include small animals, like chicken or fish, because each animal's life is considered equal to every other, so it's more ethical to kill one large animal, like a yak, which can feed an entire village.
He also shared with me a quick tip for stress relief: Ten Breaths. No special breath, he warned. That's too tiring. And don't think that more than ten is better...more is just intimidating, and you won't do it. Just STOP what you are doing, count ten of your normal breaths, and then resume your life. Repeat, if you need to. He said it was like rebooting your computer, running one program to quiet all the other ones that had become locked up.
This guy wasn't a guru. He did kind of ramble. I wondered why he had left the Buddhist community. But I can tell you that he surprised me. Every time I look at my freshly painted toenails, I think:
Ten toes.
Ten breaths.
Can it really be that simple?
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By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 12/11/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Believe, Big Questions, one thing leads to another, Add a tag
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 12/4/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Writing, Big Questions, writers who are losing their minds, Add a tag
Writers struggle with timelines. We established that yesterday. Today, I'm grateful that I'm not an artist. Then I'd have to wrestle with questions like:
Have you ever thought about how the world (and your life) would be different if you were judged a success or a failure by a completely different standard than the one you're coping with now? I do. If the world were based on musical talent, for instance---if a child had to sing on key to pass first grade---I would be in deep trouble. What if language were musical notes? What if job applications required that you sight read music and harmonize a capella with your boss? What if the driver's license examiner used a xylophone to convey her instructions to parallel park?
Or what if being able to re-build a car engine were the most important thing? What if all high school students had to master the rumba in order to graduate? What if you had to tame a wild boar before you could vote?
Yes, people, these are the things I think about. I also imagine what would happen if I were whisked off to another world with only the items in my pocket. Could I survive with only a rubber band, a cough drop, and a Target receipt? Maybe those items would have magical properties in the new land. Maybe I would find a hole in my pocket, through which I could reach into another dimension and pull out more useful stuff. Maybe I would meet a strange bear, who was really an enchanted prince, and he carried in his bearcoat pocket a scarlet piece of silken string that he...
Oh, it is a good, good thing that there are books in this world. And that I'm allowed to write them.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 11/26/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: interviews, Becky's book reviews, Writing, Big Questions, Add a tag
Becky (of Becky's Book Reviews) interviews me at her blog today. She asks great questions, so if you want to know "my favorite time and place to read" or what I think "makes a book a classic," run on over to Becky's and join us.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 10/10/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Reading, Believe, Big Questions, Add a tag
When you're feeling bad, do you want a book that matches your black mood or one that, with its grace and lightness, might cheer you up? Do you prefer to escape into a book for several distracting hours or use it as a deliberate guide to the "whys" of it all?
Sometimes, I need beauty. Pure, unadulterated beauty, but usually, I go straight to nature for that. Or to the ice cream in the freezer. Sometimes, though, I need there to be a butt-ugly billboard that I can stare at. It simply says: Life Reeks. Or I need a dip into the blunt words of Ecclesiastes, which--no disrespect--could be that billboard, only thousands of years old: "Senseless! Everything is utterly senseless!"
In fact, I think my pattern might be: I want the visual, tactile, sensory experience of art, nature, and ice cream if I'm looking for the Beauty Cure, and I want the structure, intelligence and intimacy of text when I want the Blunt Truth Cure.
What about you?
BTW, this post has nothing to do with my writing life. I found out my niece has to go back for more cancer treatments after just sixteen weeks in the clear.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 8/27/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Writing, Big Questions, story ideas, Add a tag
In my last post, I briefly mentioned the curiosita section of How to Think Like Leonardo daVinci. Here's more on the "100 questions exercise" from that chapter, in case you feel like playing around today.
Here's what to do:
Make a list of 100 questions. They can be about anything, large or small, personal or universal. Do this as if you were free-writing. (Or pretend you're a two-year old, riffing as only they can, on the themes of WHY? and HOW COME?)
Set the list aside; then, come back to it and choose ten of the questions for further thought.
Set the list of ten aside; then, come back again, and choose one of them---whichever one is poking you in the arm, or yanking at your shorts. (I once saw a poor mom whose arms were busy holding an infant get her shorts tugged down in a grocery store by her toddler.)
Now here's the tricky part: Once you have the one question you're going to deal with, don't answer it! Don't even try. Instead, re-frame the question. See how many different ways you can ask it.
Here's an example:
ORIGINAL QUESTION: Why is the universe so immense?
QUESTION RE-FRAMED: Is the universe as immense as I think it is? Why is the universe so much larger than I am? Are there others for whom the universe is not so immense? When will the universe stop being so immense? Why can't it be small? Does it have something to do with time? Does everyone who figures out the secret linking the immenseness of the universe to time die at that moment? (Ooooh, I sense a plot in that last one...)
I offer this exercise to you because I think that at the heart of every great story is a great question. What would it be like if...? Who would help me if... Where did he find...? Why is she so...? When did they start...? How come you never see...?
So, 100 questions! Surely that's not too much to ask.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 8/25/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Big Questions, "Why is a Bicycle?", Add a tag
"Why is a bicycle?" my father used to ask me. I know the answer now: "Because a vest has no sleeves." You disagree? Fine. Please write your own answer. I'm really more interested in the question, anyway. I like to collect questions. Here are a few of my favorites:
- Was Mathematics invented or discovered? (from The Golden Ratio by Mario Livio)
- Could you lie and say you love me, just a little? (Alison Krauss, "Could you Lie" from her album, Forget About It)
- If I had to wear my philosophy of life as a motto on a T-shirt, what would it be? (Editorial in Glamour, January 1997)
- Why can't I sing? (If anyone knows the answer to this one, contact me right away.)
- Are you there, God? (From Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume)
- Shall we launch again into the deep and row up the skies? (Annie Dillard, The Writing Life)
- What do people get for all their hard work under the sun? (Ecclesiastes 1:3 I love the pessimism of this book. It cheers me right up, every time.)
- Is those things arms or is they legs? (The Octopus, by Ogden Nash Did you know he has his own stamp?)
- Shouldn't I have all of this, and...? (Mary Chapin Carpenter, Passionate Kisses, from her album, Party Doll and Other Favorites)
- Surely you don't think numbers are as important as words? (from The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster)
- Where else in life can spilled milk be turned into ice cream? (Katherine Paterson, on revision. I'd like THREE scoops, please.)
- Why not? (generations of children, skeptics and writers)
For more fun with questions, see: Curiosita, How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci by Michael Gelb
And if you feel like answering any of the questions above, or adding your own favorite questions in the comments, well...I say again: Why not?
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 8/1/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Reading aloud, Big Questions, audiences, purple nightgown, Add a tag
Did you ever find yourself knowing the Right Answer to a Big Question, and then flat out refusing to write that answer in the space provided?
The question is: Am I living my life for an audience? (Sounds like something Oprah would think up, except of course, she lives in front of an audience, so I'd have to give her a bemused glance if she ever asks me this. You know, when I'm on her show. With Ralph Fiennes. And Stacy London. He asks me for a date. She gives me free shoes.)
I know what the answer to this one is supposed to be. Everyone has internalized someone--- mom, dad, college professor, religious guru, ex- boyfriend/girlfriend, super-critical driver's license examiner with badge that reads Officer Law---who WATCHES you. ALL THE TIME. And if you are ever to be rid of this scrutiny, you must name this watcher, and banish them, and live the rest of your life, free, oh so, free.
Except....I don't want to give up my audiences. I love them. When I was a kid, I had a floor-length mirror in my room. I think this was because it matched the furniture, which was way too nice for a kid and...holy crap! I'm just now realizing...was actually guest room furniture. Anyhow, I also had a long, purple, nylon nightgown, which could be stretched and twisted into a variety of costumes. In front of that mirror, I practiced being a belly dancer, a wicked witch, a nun, a beggar, a rock star, and countless other characters who could be conjured out of thin air. That mirror was my first audience. I have it still. Last week, I did an awesome interpretive dance to Paul Simon's Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes in front of it.
Later, I did some theater in high school, and for my church, but now, my performing is limited to reading out loud. Lots of times, I read out loud to myself. My favorite thing is the Cold Read. Attempting something I've never seen before, letting the words themselves cue me and carry me along, and I'm telling you, if the writing is good, very good, this works every time and gives me a solid buzz.
But, Sara, you're saying, a mirror? Reading out loud to yourself? There are no audiences there! But we're talking about the audiences in our heads, remember? I'm sure my parents are in there, and the grammar police, too, but there's also an excited crowd of fabulous art-loving, word-hugging, purple nightgown-admiring people in there too. And if they weren't there, writing or reading out loud or singing in the shower wouldn't be half as much fun.
So, do you have an audience for your life? Are you trying to get them to leave or to stay?
I love your rambling former Tibetan monk. And yes, it does sound like the opening to a chick lit novel!
10 breaths sounds like a good way to just pause and reorient yourself in the world. I'm trying it today.
This post is right up my alley. I'm breathing right now and I LOVE your toes...
What great advice and you have great feet to match! Thanks for sharing your surprising afternoon.
one...two....three...
...four...
five...
..six...
.seven....
....eight..
...nine...
.....ten..
The best manicure I ever had was from a guy who spent the entire time talking smack with the barber about Madden Football. When I left, they played a rematch on the salon's TV.
What a completely doable stress relief technique! I think I'm going to write "breathe!" in ink on my wall.
Now that everyone's breathing, can I make you laugh by telling you that my nail polish color is Espresso Your Style? You can go here to try it on virtually.
What a cool story. Definitely a novel in progress when you think about the reasons why he left the Buddhist community. Love your toes!
My daughter is crazy about painting people's toenails, so I will probably never have to look anywhere else for a pedicure (I only reluctantly agreed to letting her give me one). But this is a great story, and your ex-priest is right about the ten breaths. Eight work too, as long as you make them deep and slow. I've never tried a number under that; it might be interesting to try and find the minimum number of breaths that would work to relieve stress.
And what cute toes you have!