P.S.ssst

Here's what someone's husband emailed me from Italy after reading my blog post about Ahnold's travails:

"I think you give guys too much credit.  When they are thinking with the big guy, there is no
guilt or shame. ;-)"

Didn't Lance Armstrong warn guys over 30 NOT to use emoticons? ;) And yeah, maybe there's no guilt or shame during and immediately afterward, but what about when it's Father's Day unexpectedly? Don't you think they'd have some regrets?


"Also, what about these women teachers who are caught having sex with students?  You should include them in your list of naughties - it's not just men."

Uh, huh. YOU include women who sleep with their students on your list of naughties. Did you click on the NPR link on my last blog post? There was a mention of an Irish MP, Iris Robinson, who was found out to be boinking a 19-year-old. (What an unfortunate, unfortunate name for a political fornicator, by the way.) I believe incidents like these are comparatively rare because unlike our Irish Mrs. Robinson, who is past menopause, women can get pregnant and they can't hide a goddamned thing!

"But your overall point is good. There's lots of needless pain and suffering that comes from these
affairs."

Thank you to the critic whose head rests on the pillow beside me.

The Power of Recklessness

A high school classmate's Facebook status read simply, "Arnold You are a jackass."

That could have beautifully summed up any sentiment anyone outside the Schwarzenegger-Shriver family is allowed to have. This morning I made the mistake of reading an AP account of the story. I also dipped into an NPR analysis of politicians and affairs, which was disappointingly cliched. I never ever want to hear another news analyst describe power as an aphrodisiac.

It's about power, all right, but it's also about recklessness. Ahnold is in the same club as John Edwards, Tiger Woods, Hugh Grant and possibly IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kohn. Recklessness usually describes someone who's completely out of control. Perhaps the only thing out of these guys' control is their sex drives. They were willing to risk everything, even their self-respect, on sex. It's possible these guys get off on being naughty boys, and their wickedness is even more scintillating because they get away with it for so long, maybe even forever. Getting away with it feeds their sense of their power and reinforces the idea that they're a law unto themselves. That they're able to compel the silence of those who know about it is another sign of their power.

As someone who has had my fair share of doubt and pain, it's hard for me to imagine that these guys didn't occasionally suffer through sleepless nights, wondering what would happen when their covers blew. They had to have known that their wives or girlfriends, and the public who thinks they know them, were not going to take kindly to betrayal of this magnitude. They must have thought they could control it forever.

I almost wish they had. The suffering this has created for everyone involved is unspeakable. I'm thinking particularly of the son Schwarzenegger bore with a staff member. All of Arnold's money and power can't buy that boy the trust of his parents.

The path of sanity and openness

"I thought we were better than that."

So said a co-worker, after I asked her about her response to Osama bin Laden's death. We were both feeling queasy about the World Cup-type celebrations of a human being's death--even if that human being is not only responsible for the deaths of thousands he called infidel, but also unrepentant.

I don't think we're better than that. I do think there's a very human need to find closure- to the shock and pain and grief of 9/11, of two endless wars, of a floundering world economy--wherever we can. I'm thinking about that photograph of the sailor and a nurse passionately kissing in Times Square on V-J day in 1945. That was the end to a war that had gone on too long and claimed so many lives. Their joy at having the rest of their lives ahead of them is palpable. Osama's death might just be the end of a life that must have been devoid of joy. Not the end of a movement, or of violence.

For many who were directly affected by 9/11, Osama's death is something to celebrate. On the front page of our community's local newspaper, there was a photo of a young soldier who had lost his eye in Iraq. Can anyone truly blame him for being happy about the death of someone whose actions declared war on our country? Can anyone blame 9/11 survivors?

Osama clearly hated life. He was exiled from his own country. After 9/11 he was forced into hiding, basically imprisoning himself in maximum security. What kind of life could he have lived under these conditions?

I do think we can be better than this. And it's up to those of us who are committed to what Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche calls the path of sanity and openness to live like we mean it.

Of Taxes and Pinatas

After watching business at Cheese Importers come out of the post-Christmas doldrums, it fell off again during the first two weeks in April. When I mentioned it to my boss, she said, "Oh, business always falls off in April because it's tax time. Nobody knows how much money they'll have until it's over."

Because my husband finishes our return by no later than mid-February, we always know what our tax bill is well before April 15. I get why so many people procrastinate. No one likes paying bills, even if it's in the service of the good things in life, like paying off credit card receipts from a vacation, for keeping your home at a comfortable temperature all year around or for your childrens' education.

No bill has been more demonized than income taxes, which roughly 40 percent of Americans polled believe primarily goes to fund waste, fraud and abuse. And if we could just get rid of all that waste, fraud and abuse, why, we'd be living in an absolute Shangri-La, where taxes are low and maybe even non-existent and wealthy people finally feel secure enough to invest in hiring people again.

Well, taxes for the wealthy are lower as a percentage of income, and yet they still don't feel secure, according to a Boston College professor's study of people with fortunes of more than $25 million. And if you clicked on the waste, fraud and abuse link above, you'll see that while there is always room to reduce waste, fraud and abuse, its eradication would amount to about $220 billion. That's a nice chunk of change. But it doesn't come close to putting a dent in the U.S. national debt.

Let me just say I'd do my very best to live on $25 million. Really. I'll blog about my struggles as a newly-enriched person. Any super-wealthy people who want to ease the pain of having too much wealth and not enough security can contact me here.

The insecurity described in Professor Paul Schervish's study makes me think of the pinata parties that were a mainstay of my youth in California. It was always the biggest and strongest and most aggressive kid who broke the pinata open, and the other big, strong, aggressive kids in the crowd who were the first to throw themselves on top of the candy and toys. The rest of us grabbed a few pieces and ran off with them before the kids on the ground noticed. I doubt those kids particularly enjoyed the treats. Maybe that's because they were so busy making sure no one else got much. It also didn't endear them to those of us who had the quaint idea that this was a party and everyone would get their fair share.

Maybe this is where insecurity creeps in. People with this many resources can fool themselves for only so long that they don't care about those of us with less. A few of the worst of them may actually enjoy the resentment they inspire. Think Leona Helmsley. This may be me being quaint again, but I think most people can only hide behind their financial and emotional fortresses for so long.

Life is an adventure, and as such, it can never be secure. I suspect Hosni Mubarak and Zine El Abidine Ben Ali might know something about this.

Small Island

For such a small island, Japan has had a lot of problems.

Usually I'm an eager consumer of news. But the earthquake, tsunami and threat of nuclear meltdown make me want to turn off the radio and skip the newspaper coverage. It's what I did during 9/11. Though I missed the video of human beings throwing themselves out of burning buildings, I watched the towers of the World Trade Centers crumple, almost as if it had been planned, over and over again. Too many times. For more than a year afterward, I simply went on overload and shut off all news.

This time I'm doing it differently. I'm not turning away, because the human beings in Japan who are living a nightmare that hasn't ended yet need those of us who are are luxuriating in uninterrupted daily routines to hang in there with them. To know some of what's happening without experiencing it firsthand, and hold them in prayer. And to give generously to their relief effort.

During lovingkindness meditation, you begin by repeating the phrases, "May I be safe, May I be healthy, May I be happy, May I live in ease." Then you extend it to a neutral person, like the mail delivery person or the handsome man who lives a few blocks away and walks his golden retriever past your house every morning (although it's possible I'm not so very neutral about him after all). Next you extend lovingkindness to someone you admire, like a beloved yoga teacher, or your spouse, or a co-worker whose health has taken a ruinous turn. This last one I have the hardest time with--you say these words for someone you don't admire. Sarah Palin leaps to mind every time. But I'm doing it.

Since the earthquake, I've been especially struck by the completely lack of safety and ease the people affected by these catastrophes are experiencing. I feel these phrases are futile, and maybe even Marie Antoinette-ish, given their circumstances. The best I can say is that I'm more grateful than ever for the safety and ease in my life.

Some of the news focuses on the whammy Japan's economy, and possibly the world's, is facing. Others report on how nuclear meltdown will affect Japan's fisheries, and of course, how nuclear fallout does not honor borders. In case we didn't get it, we're all interconnected, folks.

We all live on a small island. Let's be precious to each other.

In the Black

My best ideas often come to me when I'm doing something mundane, usually washing dishes, taking a shower or on a run. Last night when Don and I were washing the dishes after the Academy Awards, we were talking about the budget crises across the country, when a possible solution came to me.

Nonfinancial Fortune 500 companies that are sitting on $1.8 trillion could lend to the states. No handouts, but a business relationship. Keep people employed, and eventually the budget crises will be resolved, allowing these companies to be repaid in due time, even earning a profit. Sounds like the patriotic thing to do.

I can already hear the familiar refrain: "But that would be socialism." So tell me, how well are those companies going to fare if hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of state employees are laid off because their states are bankrupt? Unemployed people aren't buying GE refrigerators or smartphones--they're living off the government dole, they're cancelling cable, eating Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and doing whatever they need to do to make sure the bank doesn't foreclose on their houses--those who manage to keep their payments current under these circumstances. How's it going to prosper major corporations if elementary-school students are stuck in classes of 40 or more because a couple hundred or even a couple of thousand teachers in their districts were laid off?

Our country has asked thousands of people to defend our interests in Iraq and Afghanistan. Many have died or been severely wounded. If we can ask soldiers to spill blood, it's not too much to ask corporations to spill their black ink.

I don't have any problems

I started writing this blog to talk about worth and worthiness, for what my two cents on the subject of worth is worth. I figure I'm uniquely qualified to write about it because I spent most of my life not feeling like I was worth much. I don't write this to get anyone to feel sorry for me, or to be curious about why. I write to get as close to telling the truth from where I stand as I can. Starting with myself and my one wild and precious life seems as good a place as any. If you've been reading The Low Three Figures, you'll have some idea why. Hell, if you're human, you'll have some idea why most of us walk around feeling unvalued.

I was listening to the program "Outlook" on the BBC this morning and heard Liz Murray's story. Hence, the title of this post. I don't have any problems. She has written Breaking Night: A Memoir of Forgiveness, Survival and My Journey from Homeless to Harvard. It's already on my list of books to read. She had to teach herself how to ask for what she needed, which for her began with wanting a high school education. After knocking on a lot of doors, she was finally accepted into a high school in Manhattan. That led to her being one of six socially disadvantaged kids who got scholarships to Harvard from the New York Times.

But what if you don't know what to ask for? What if you've given up asking for what you want, in the face of so many rejections? What kept Liz going?

I have the idea that she kept going because she was becoming someone who would teach others how to identify what they have to offer, what training they need to hone their natural skills, and then to gather the resources they need going forward. That is precisely what Ms. Murray is doing with Manifest Living, the organization she's created.