the Universe wants a word with you

These are kind of cool. Weekly quick friendly notes to make you feel special and cheer you up. They're a great little pick-me-up for those stressful days when certain clients and situations seem intent on making life difficult.

Here are some of the ones I’ve received so you can get a preview:

That you think, is my doing, Cate; what you think, is yours.
And if you are as careful with your choices as I was with mine... holy guacamole.
The Universe

The subtle secret,
To possessing all you want:
Blessing all you have.
Haiku, Cate. Haiku very much. Haiku.
The Universe

From where I sit, it is a mystery to me, Cate, how so many can look back on their past with pride, yet frown with disappointment at their present. Somehow forgetting that back then, they were just as self-critical, while somehow missing today that they've never, ever been so close to all they've ever wanted.
Historical dyslexia. Think?
Big love,
The Universe

Well, Cate... Each challenge adds to the suspense, adds to the mystery, adds to the chaos, adds to the possibilities, adds to the romance, adds to the adventure, adds to the joy.
And I say anything that adds to the joy should be embraced.
Cool?
The Universe

lenny talks shakespeare

This is a great commentary by Lenny Henry on his love-hate relationship with Shakespeare. Lenny Henry is, of course, the tempermental Gareth Blackstock from the Britcom Chef, also the voice of the shrunken head in the third Harry Potter movie, and reads Neil Gaiman's Anansi Boys on audio, among other things. Dame Judi Dench recites Shakespeare beautifully, and doesn't at all mind Lenny Henry ribbing her. There's a bit of a different program that precedes this commentary - lots of the BBC audio does this for some reason. Slog through it and get to the good stuff. And then read The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde, which has some great displays of Shakespeare's plays. Also check out The Friendly Shakespeare by Norrie Epstein.

P.S. I don't know how long the commentary will be available. The BBC retires Web casts rather quickly.

more spooky TV

So, I'm flipping channels, and there's this infomercial for 80s music on CD. One of the hosts is Rick Springfield, who still looks amazing, compared to some of his fellow musicians. Out of curiosity (and a bit of boredom), I went to his Web site, and was surprised to find out that the man is 57 YEARS OLD! He doesn't look anywhere near that old, more like late 30s, early 40s. I know it could be due to surgery and botox and whatnot, but that usually gives an unnaturally preserved look, which he doesn't have. Must be nice.

your liver and the changing of the seasons

I had an acupuncture session today after work. It was incredibly refreshing after the weird and stressful week I've had. A great way to end the week, really.

Karen unblocked my liver. The liver function is apparently associated with spring. It explains the jitters and irritability and malaise and everything else bugging me during the past few weeks. I never do seasonal transitions well at all - they always unsettle me. Sometimes, it's a bitch to be in tune with the seasons.

Here's another health tip from Karen - if you've got allergies, try a teaspoon of raw honey every day (make sure it's raw and not processed). It has pollen in it, and homeopathically acts as a natural antihistamine. Cool stuff, this alternative medicine.

spooky TV

Maybe it's just me, but I swear PBS is showing programs that look suspiciously like infomercials. Except instead of being the usual 30 minutes long, they are sometimes several hours long with breaks in between to get you to pledge and buy stuff. The newest Wayne Dyer program seems to be dominating this season's pledge drive. I've actually been avoiding PBS because this program seems to be on ALL THE TIME. And then this morning, I almost choked on my tea when I saw beauty products being advertised.

I liked watching Chris Botti playing trumpet last night, with Sting making a guest appearance. (Did you know that Don Cheadle is in talks to play Miles Davis in a biopic?) Dr. Weil and Dr. Northrup are worth watching. And of course, there's Rupert Everett taking a lovely turn as a pale and brooding Sherlock Holmes (I saw Rupert Everett yesterday afternoon in The Comfort of Strangers with Natasha Richardson, Helen Mirren, and Christopher Walken - a weirdly alluring film based on an early novel by Ian McEwan). The Britcoms are always good too - lately, I'm hooked on Good Neighbors. But I now dread these quarterly pledge drives because I cringe at what they're going to try and sell next. All the more reason to beef up my DVD collection so that I don't have to watch actual TV.

JC and me

I've been reading a lot of Julia Cameron lately (I mentioned God is No Laughing Matter yesterday). I do this when I feel very seriously skewed and lost and need someone with common sense and humor to set me to rights again.

I discovered her accidentally. I picked up her book, The Artist's Way, thinking it was by Julia Margaret Cameron, my favorite photographer, who did those lovely ethereal allegorical photos and inspired my choice of tattoo and also inspired one of Nick Bantock's drawings and just happens to be Virginia Woolf's great aunt.

Soon after I started reading the book, I realized it was not by my photo girl Julia, but was actually by another Julia who happened to once be married to Martin Scorsese, wrote for Rolling Stone for awhile, and was one of the first people to hear George Lucas' idea for a little sci fi trilogy that he didn't think anyone else would like.

In her world, there ain't no coincidences or accidents. She's all about the synchronicity, which of course means that it was no accident that I picked up her book - and probably no accident that I run into Camerons all the time; my mom is even a Cameron. I feel odd saying this, but that book was partly responsible for a major change of direction for me toward writing as a vocation, and I go back to her books again and again whenever I feel creatively discouraged. Like now. My creative writing habit has been weak and tired and uninspired for awhile now, though I have every intention of starting a new novel in May, which means prep work in April, which is soon.

So it's back to JC and her God and writing ideas, and I will get myself back on track with those damn morning pages sooner or later - my biggest writer's struggle lately.

meat too

My friend, Heather, wrote about meat in one of her recent blogs, and I'm dwelling on it for some reason, so it's obviously a good blog topic.

I'm finishing up a book by Julia Cameron called God is No Laughing Matter (tongue firmly in cheek, I assure you), and in one of her essays, she talks about Very Spiritual People who go to ashrams and develop malnutrition because they think that's how they can get God to talk to them. She refers to the food at these places as "Nouvelle Nazi" - lots of brown rice and greens and tofu and mysterious sauces. She goes on to say that she happens to know that some of the people who live at these places secretly eat meat because they need to get grounded ("and getting grounded usually means ground beef"). She thinks that indeed, God does talk to you when you do this to yourself, but more in the grandmotherly, "now you eat everything on your plate and help yourself to seconds" sort of way.

I found this hilariously funny and seriously true. I tried the strict vegan thing for awhile - I have several food allergies as it is, so it seemed like a good idea. And then my panic attacks became more frequent and my blood went haywire, and it took my doctor AND my acupuncturist to convince me that I needed meat. I felt guilty and pissed about this for quite awhile. After all, the health problems my family has are, in large part, due to poor diet, so shouldn't the lack of meat be doing good things for my body? Apparently not.

Toward the end of her essay, Julia points out that "Many Native American teachers refuse to teach without red meat. They know that powerful energies require grounding." So perhaps the panic attacks and blood problems were my Iroquois ancestors' way of kicking me in the bum and getting me to pay attention. I asked their forgiveness and agreed to a compromise - I'll eat chicken and fish. I've even allowed myself the expensive upgrade - free-range chicken and wild alaskan salmon, none of that farm-raised crap.

After reading that essay, I suddenly had a craving for meat, so there is now a free-range bird comfortably roasting in my oven. I guess I need grounding before the ancestors will talk to me.

cough...sneeze...hack...repeat

It turns out feline upper respiratory problems are all the rage now. The vet said they'd seen a lot of them lately. They took two x-rays to make sure that it wasn't the tumor in Louise's chest that was causing the coughing wheezy symptoms (it wasn't), and the tumor has shrunk a bit, which they think might be due to the prednisone that she's on for her cancer. So that's a small victory, and the way life has been going, I'll take them when I can get them. They gave me a liquid antibiotic to give her that is pink and I swear smells like bubble gum. I'm getting really good at pilling her and giving her liquid meds. I'm not glad about this.

little lambs lost

Too much lost lately - too many co-workers losing loved ones (some expected, some untimely), accounts lost. Whose turn is next? When will it stop? When will we gain (other than in weight)? When will we stop feeling uneasy and weird? Are we paying for something? It's only March. What does the rest of the year hold?