No Artificial Ingredients

After I wrote about how I have no specific subject matter at all, I thought of a possible theme: balance.  For a triple Libra (sun, moon, and ascending) this would make perfect sense.  (Not that I’m that into astrology; when I noticed that my tendency was only to check my horoscope when I was under stress or unhappy, I stopped.)  But it seems the more components that my life encompasses, the more challenging it is to keep it all in the air, which is crucial to my well being.  Once I was 20 something, living in a rent stabilized small one bedroom in Manhattan, doing my internship and residency, I was working on passing licensing exams, attempting to pay my rent on time, and keeping myself and two cats fed, clean, and stylish.  When I finished my medical training in my 30’s, and had more time for myself and a more comfortable monthly budget, I subtracted worrying about the rent, added in loan payments, working out, and dating.  Now in my 40’s I have a still newish marriage, a child, and a body that’s been ravaged by cancer, pregnancy, and a recent C section, a growing colony of grey hair and a few wrinkles and joints that ache.  I still don’t have a mortgage.

Through it all I’ve had a creative life that ebbs and flows according to the available time and free mental and emotional space.  When I was single, I did much better.  I worked on a novel; I took writing workshops.  I practiced guitar after work, took music classes and lessons.  When I was heartbroken, that’s when the juice really poured: songs, short stories, pages of journaling.  When I was in a relationship, happy and content, the angst tap slowed to a trickle and so did the free time.  My one conundrum was that I couldn’t manage to stay creative in a relationship.

Now my guitars and ukuleles are un-tuned and piled in my basement family room.   My last writing project, a short story that is only half finished, is on my hard drive somewhere and hasn’t been touched in two years.  During my pregnancy my creative project was reworking our living space and creating a nursery.  Slowly I found myself turning into exactly the sort of grown up I didn’t exactly look up to in my training—one who trudged to work and let go of their dreams.

During the 3 ½ months I was away from my paying job for maternity leave, and in the small amount of time I had to contemplate things other than sleeping and trying to figure out how to care for a newborn, I thought that maybe I should stick with the kind of writing I did the most naturally—personal—and let it out on the internet for someone to stumble on.  Its better than keeping it all on my hard drive, and its not much different than putting a story into a brown envelop and sending it off to an editor somewhere.

Now, how to get all the balls in the air:  a clean orderly home, a happy functional marriage, a thriving and joyful child, a balanced and healthy diet, enough exercise to stave off decay (perhaps enough to wear a bathing suit in public again), while still giving affection to my sweet cats, and making time to keep writing and reading. Oops, and performing well at my day job.  And: to keep shrinking my environmental footprint and live within my means!

Music just has to sit on the sidelines for now.

This is not a mommy blog.  Though I am a new mother, and reserve the right to discuss things like sleep deprivation and learning how to raise a child.  But my writing has been part of me for all of my adult life and I don’t want to tie it down to one topic.  I know I may write into the void as a result, since people like to know what to expect when they visit a website.  We may not know that when we open the New York Times that there has been a massive earthquake and tsunami, but we do expect that any major pertinent news will immediately be reflected to us upon the page loading.  And the people with whom I’ve shared this project ask me that question almost immediately, “What’s it going to be about?”  In fact my husband has asked me a couple of times, which sometimes makes me nervous, like he’s trying to give me a hint.   And he’s got a good business mind (as well as taste in clothing,  a good quality in a husband.)

I told him, “I don’t know.  I just want to have an artistic project that I can say I completed.  And I know that when I re-read my old journal entries, sometimes I’m surprised that I wrote them and think that someone else might actually like to read them.  And also, I hardly read anything lately that I can’t digest in under 5 minutes.  Usually on my computer.  And they do say to write what you read.”

He said, “OK…”   his voice trailing off  like he was confused, or I was crazy.  Or both.

We’ll see.  I still have to figure out how to use Word Press so for now things may be a bit rudimentary.

I’m not a vegetarian, although I rarely eat meat.  I’m not an environmentalist, although I try to make eco-conscious choices.  When I was a patient in the hospital and the nurse came to ask why I hadn’t selected a religion, I said I didn’t have one.  When she asked if I was an agnostic, I said, “I don’t know.”  I just don’t think about those things. I’m a doctor who prefers to be called by my first name.  Titles have always felt constricting.

I am someone who watches the sunrise and set—from mountains and beaches when possible—and gets the wisdom of Buddhist monks creating sand masterpieces that blow away in the wind, who rediscovers my ignorance in a telescope, or my own child, and lives in the small insignificant feeling of standing in front of Michaelangelo’s David, or a volcanic eruption, or the bird-like magenta blossoms perched on the magnolia tree next door.  I guess what I am is “In Awe.”

I don’t meditate, although I think it’s a great practice.   I have tried, and found that it’s deceptively hard and simple all at once.  If my child ever sleeps through the night and I have time to do yoga in the mornings, I’ll try sitting again.

The welfare of animals is paramount to me, and yet if someone cooks a meal for me that has meat, or if I’m somewhere where there’s no other appealing choice, or if its something amazing like a Frankie’s BLT, (which just has to be experienced) I do indulge.  And since I wear leather shoes, I figure I’m already responsible for some animal death.  But the thought of an animal being abused makes me cringe in pain.  So I keep it to a minimum.

I know the world would be better off if I could figure out how to use a lot less plastic and packaging, although avoiding it altogether seems impossible for a modern consumer with a husband who loves gadgets and fashion, as well as an infant.  But it’s my goal to reduce my use, and to compost.  I do cloth diaper, which is not only easier than people think, and good for the environment, but cheaper, healthier, and cuter.  Breast feeding though: a total fail.  However: not for lack of trying.  For now we’ve settled for organic formula.  (And my son definitely prefers a stroller to a baby carrier.)

I am passionate about natural personal care products, and avoiding any and all unnecessary chemicals in one’s body. I’m almost a cancer survivor, but since my life was never really in danger, I can’t really claim that title either.  However, I know what it feels like to hold a pathology report that has your name and words that you don’t want to read on it.

So I’m a little crunchy, almost a vegetarian, and I respect Buddhism, but not enough to meditate.  Whenever I die—if there’s anything left of me, because I’m OK if there’s not—I want to go where the people like me are.