Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went to a play last night that was full of slapstick humor and pratfalls.  I laughed a lot and with vigor.  There was nothing really to think about, but the physical comedy was delightful.  The play, "One Man, Two Govn'ors" should have been cut by a third, because if you really have nothing to say, 2 1/2 hours is too long.  It could have been a silent presentation and I would have laughed as much.  The production also had a lot of live music, but the lyrics were forgettable, and the music energetic but uninteresting.  I often wonder, when I see a play or movie, why someone with authority didn't edit it down to manageable length.  Come to think of it, I also feel that way about some books, like "The Goldfinch".   Why didn't anyone stand up to the writer and say, "This would be so much better if it were shortened or condensed"? 

Is more better?  Often more gives me a generous amount of time to be hyper critical, because if it's going to be an endurance test, then I'm going to be asking what is the big deal?  If I'm totally satisfied at intermission, and have to come back for another hour, something really amazing had better be happening, because I need my sleep.  I got to bed at midnight last night, and now I'm tired and critical.  Oh, dear. 

There used at least to be book editors who shaped up unwieldy manuscripts, but now, the writers who make money seem to be curried to without any honest feedback.  The editor is the smoother over, not the collaborator on a project, and it shows.  It must be terrible to pander to talent without any mutual respect.  Truth telling doesn't appear to be an option these days.

I may email the theater group and voice my concern, which I believe would be right speech, even if it falls on deaf ears.  More is not necessarily more.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My eye check up discovered a new bleed in my bad eye.  I have macular degeneration, so it's disappointing, but not a shock.  I have to have treatment to stop the bleed next week.  There is some risk, but it's worth it to halt the loss of vision.  What I noticed in the office is how tense I was waiting for the doctor and then overhearing other patients talking and laughing with technicians distracted me, and a sense of not being alone comforted me.  I thought:  millions of people are in doctors offices right now are feeling nervous and afraid of the worst.  This is a part of being a human being, if you're lucky enough to be able to go to a doctor.  And I love my eye doctor.  He's my favorite doctor I see.  He was empathetic and genuinely dismayed that the lazer scan showed the fluid.  I'm not alone in this struggle, and these stresses are a part of life when you are getting older.  The alternative, as they say, is worse.

So eavesdropping comforted me.  I highly recommend it.  Yes, I'm facing this alone in one way, but I have supportive family, friends and doctors, and I feel blessed.  Even though my eyes are still dialated, I'm appreciating my sight and my good eye, and will do what it takes to save as much of my vision as I can.  So a shot in the eye is not the worst thing.  The worst would be if there was no treatment to try.  I'm grateful.  Bless those cheerful patients joking and teasing and facing their challenges.  I'll follow their example.

Wandering Along the Path; Right Speech

I just finished a novel by a writer I've followed for a few decades, Rafael Yglesias.  I'm a great fan of his book and screenplay, "Fearless".  This new book is "The Wisdom of Perversity" and it is a powerful evocation of three people who were molested by a pedophile as children, and many decades later reunite to expose him.  It's a disturbing book, but not at all voyeristic.  The graphic scenes are nightmarish and horrifying.  Evidently, Yglesias experienced a molestation himself as a child, and there is no flinching from the consequences.  This is a brave book, and he has kept careful control of his subject, so that there is no pleasure to be gained by reading it, only increased empathy for children put through such life altering experiences.  Would I recommend this book?  Not for the pleasure of reading, but for the novel's ability to show a world where powerful adults alter forever the lives of their victims.  I feel I now better understand what such acts do to the child, and the shame and secrecy that that child carries on his back forever. 

Wandering Along the Path; Right Speech

I'm feeling discombobulated this morning.  I went with my husband to the lab to get blood tests before we have our yearly checkup next week, and couldn't pee.  This never happens; trust me.  I joked around with the lab person and she was funny and supportive.  She let me take the sample jar home and I ate breakfast then took it back to her.  Her kindness made me feel okay about wasting my time and hers.  I like seeing her and we did a bit of dog talking.  She has an albino boxer and I, of course, have my two aged labs.  She described her dog with her grandbaby, and it was so sweet it cheered me right up.  So her right speech was a pick-me-up.

I think I'm getting my granddaughter's cold from last week, so I'm going to have to cancel with her tomorrow.  I'll use my right speech so as to not blame her mother, but really, it would have been better if she'd kept her at home.  She gave me no warning about the cough, which was relentless.  The poor girl coughed once a minute at least, through cough drops and card games.  Nothing helped.  She'd been awake an hour and a half the night before, so it didn't just come on at school.  Oh, well, touchy subject but necessary.  Life is full of these tiny right speech opportunites!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I wonder about my language sometimes with my husband.  He is very defensive at times, and I respond by telling him to cut the crap.  It does not sound very nice, but then he stops, gathers himself and admits he's attempting to throw up smokescreens to obscure his guilt about not having tackled something we agreed upon.  What's the good of having been married over forty years if you cannot stop the record without listening to a tune you've heard so very often?  He knows he's doing it, but hasn't the will to stop himself.  I feel I have the right to say I don't want to listen to his self-defense, because I'm not the enemy.  I don't label him or analyze him, but I'm not going to willingly be part of an age old pattern.

When I opt out, I don't get angry at him.  I've decided the marriage contract did not include game playing, and I can choose to give myself a time out from listening.  He sometimes gives himself a time out before he begins his list of complaints.  That's best.  But when he goes on automatic, I halt the process, because it will net us nothing but grief.  In a weird way, I feel I'm being kind to both of us.  I jump out of the rut, and then he does as well.

Wandering Along the Path; Right Speech

Yesterday was another day infused with the joy of fabrics.  My younger son's signifigant other and I shopped for fabrics so she could make a baby blanket for her brother and his wife, who are expecting.  She quickly developed strong opinions about various materials and I could practically see the ideas forming in her mind.  She had clearly thought about it before, so she knew she wanted supersoft flannel and she wanted a furry material for the stuffed dog she was also making.  The fabrics she chose were wonderful, and we came back and set to work cutting and sewing.  You could see her falling in love with the fun of creating something.  In 3 1/2 hours, we went to two fabric stores, she bought material for two blankets and a stuffed dog, and she had completed the blanket/comforter, taking home the material and pattern to cut out the dog.  The blanket is gorgeous.  The print side is little elephants with mustard colored ears and a gray background.  She found just the mustard color to match for the back, then came up with the idea herself for a strip of the print fabric on the back, in the lower third of that side.  It is brilliant, and the whole thing looks fresh and modern and so soft.  The other material she picked is a soft aqua with bits of gold.  It's unusual, and will make a lovely blanket.

My language job was to explain clearly and succinctly and be encouraging.  I'm far from a perfectionist, so that helps.  It was so pleasant to watch her solve problems, develop strong opinions about what she wanted, but scale back when I said something might be too involved or complicated for a first blanket.  We talked about nothing personal the whole time, but I got a better sense of who she is being a witness to her decision making and creative imagination.  I feel closer to her, and connected in a way I hadn't before.  Before I was happy she was making my son so happy, now I can see why.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

One of my favorite kinds of speech is enthusiastic speech, where two of us, at least, are sharing our admiration of something.  Often it happens in an art museum or after a movie, but yesterday my friend and I were fabric shopping and we oooed and awed over various materials.  We both have a grandchild due the same month, and were on the lookout for baby quilt fabric and various themes our children would appreciate to have in their baby's room.  It was such a feast for the eyes, and at the second shop we both took the plunge and bought fabric for a baby quilt, and I additionally got material for a dress for my seven year old granddaughter.  We checked our selections with each other, and received support for our choices.  Since this project takes a lot of time, and we are going to be staring at the quilt again and again when the baby is born, we wanted to get it right, to FEEL that the quilt would be pleasurable for the parents, baby and us.

Simple joy is what I experienced yesterday.  I came back home smiling, and later looked at my choices again and smiled.  These quilts will be made with love.