It being a chemo weekend this Saturday and Sunday, I watched a few films.  Since I'm a writer, a weaver of meaning, I also tend to notice when the universe smacks me on the head with a theme and says "Pay Attention!"

That's what happened with the three films I saw: Grand Hotel, The Reader and The Day the Earth Stood Still.  First, let me say that these films were wildly different in quality, in story and in approach.  I liked all three films.  Grand Hotel is a classic and, as I covered yesterday, has much to recommend itself to the viewer.  The Reader is a tough, demanding film with touchy subject matter and thoughtful nuance.  The Day the Earth Stood Still is a much-reviled remake of a classic movie that had enough action and story to carry me through what most folks didn't care for...and I really appreciated the performances of Kathy Bates and Jennifer Connelly.  (I must also confess to being a sucker for Keanu Reeves even though most folks I know would find that inconsistent with my general tastes.)

Despite the differences in quality and story line, each of these films came across to me as a metaphor for what it means to be human.  In each film, deeply flawed characters express or experience moments of grace.  They do so in various ways.  In one film, an ex-Nazi guard (and arguably a child abuser) tells the truth about horrific things she had done in the past.  In one, a thief gives back what he's stolen out of compassion for the man he's robbed.  In the other, a woman and her stepson forgive each other and thereby (spoiler) save the world.

It got me to thinking, seeing all of these movies, about how we are capable...each and every one of us...of terrible evil and wonderous good.  How we make choices in our lives and sometimes they're the wrong choices.  How those wrong choices can inform us to make better choices next time.  And just how damn essential it is to understand that we and those we share this journey with are human.  Flawed.  And yet able to, in our best moments, approach the divine through mercy, kindness, understanding, and something so simple as reading a book to a person who's done nothing to deserve it.

As many of you know, I worked with the Santa Clarita Valley Food Pantry for about 10 years--from the late 90's until we moved to Orange County.  During that time, the Food Pantry grew in many ways.  Computer systems were overhauled to better track and serve clients.  The number of clients we served and the locations at which we served them grew.  The Board of Directors grew (in more ways than one!) and we went from a part-time manager to a full-time Executive Director.

Oh, and we bought our building and expanded our warehouse.

My work with the Pantry is one of the most fulfilling, challenging and meaningful "jobs" that I've done.  We asked ourselves a lot of questions as we grew.  Should we provide assistance to "illegal aliens" (or as I preferred to call them "undocumented workers.")  Our former President, Pat Rose had the answer to that one.  Any time we received a complaint about feeding these folks, Pat would ask the person complaining to come down to the Food Pantry "and pick which child we shouldn't feed."

We asked ourselves if we were in competition with other pantries in the area or if it was possible that since we all had the same concern, we were working together.  We built bridges between organizations and shared excess inventory with other nonprofits.

One question we never asked ourselves, however, turns out to be the one question that's changed the way an entire city manages the issue of food insecurity/hunger.  Is adequate food a basic human right?

The city of Belo Horizonte in Brazil answered that question with a resounding "Yes!" and then changed the way they approached hunger issues.  With a population of 2.5 million people, 11% of whom were poor, and with 20% of their children going hungry, Belo Horizonte established a policy that sufficient food was a basic human right.

Once they'd decided the question, they set about finding solutions based on the idea that we all deserve, rich or poor, to have sufficient food.  They put together a multidisciplinary committee and revamped the way food was produced and accessed, bringing local farmers into the process.

"The City that Ended Hunger," an article by Frances Moore Lappe', is eminently worth reading, imo.  It details the process and the changes that Belo Horizonte went through to meet its commitment that all citizens deserve to eat.  Belo Horizonte started with a problem and asked how to solve it in a new way.

Today, their success is an example to us all.

My niece, Deanna, sent me a bracelet a few weeks back that says (in beautiful calligraphy on silver), "Celebrate Small Victories."

So I thought I'd share some small victories with you from this week's experience as someone gearing up for and through day 2 of chemo.

-I got out and about on Monday rather than staying at home dreading chemo day.

-Despite needing to be poked twice before the needle went into my port properly, Day 1 of Chemo was a breeze.  I was a little more fatigued afterward than I've been in the past, but still...very little nausea and I got in a nice nap.

-I walked for half a mile on day 1 of chemo and a mile today.

-Day 2 nausea is up a notch but I'm staying on top of it by keeping bland food in my tummy and not overdoing.

-Erik and Mom are both here keeping me company and watching me nap...so it's also a victory (of somewhat larger proportion) to have loving family around me.

-I'm wearing a lovely bracelet from my loving niece that reminds me it's okay to take delight in the small things.

Had some great conversations with a few friends today who helped me frame my post chemo, low energy days in a new light.  My favorite idea to come from the day is that instead of asking myself HUGE questions every day (what's the meaning of life...in particular, my life; how do I wrassle this monster to the ground knowing so little about it; etc.) is to ask myself the particular question:

What do I want to create today?

For a writer and creative person (as I fancy myself), that's an energizing question.  And it allows for simple answers on low energy days.

So today, I got a few chores done.  I journaled.  Wrote a poem.  I'm blogging now.  I read.  I napped.  I created a nest of interest and care with the help of friends and family.

Not a bad day's work.

I've been on a universe-imposed hiatus from the blog since arriving here on Monday night.  For whatever reason, the internet decided not to work on Tuesday morning.  Nothing I could do (with or without the help of cable tech support folks) brought it back to life.

So I took it as a sign that the Power that is thought the world would chug along just fine without my armchair quarterbacking.  I made good use of the time, working on the house, shopping for replacements to items that have gone walkabout, meeting with folks, snorkeling, walking along beautiful Alii Drive and, today, golfing.

It was my first ever time to go for a round of golf by myself.  I was a bit nervous but I went anyway and am so glad.  My tee time was 6:28 a.m. and I was scheduled to play with a couple from Canada.  When the woman said nervously that she didn't really play much, I offered to play ahead since there weren't any other folks scheduled on the course for an hour.  She looked quite relieved and off I went.

Which leads me to the lessons.

#328:  Ask for what you want, but be prepared to participate in making it happen.  I had said a quick prayer, asking for the opportunity to play alone.  When I got to the pro shop and found I was scheduled with this other couple, I gave an internal shrug and was prepared to play with them.  But when I talked to the wife, and observed that the husband was a bit slow getting out there...it seemed to me like God was saying, "It's up to you."  So, I asked for what I wanted again and lo and behold, I was playing alone.

# 976:  I am primarily responsible for me.  This one seems obvious, so bear with me.  Sometimes, on the golf course, there will be better players ahead of one's group and also behind.  This results in an uncomfortable "squeeze" where the group behind is waiting for you and the group ahead is off the green before you make it to the tee. 

In such a case, one needs to "pick up the pace."  This has been a source of discomfort for me over the years because I try to not only pick up my own pace but to compensate for everyone else's pace as well.  So I rush.  I don't concentrate.  And I play even worse (and thus slower) than before.

Playing by myself today reminded me that the only thing I can control on the golf course is my own game...and imperfectly at that.  I am responsible for my game, not anyone elses.

In life, I think it's much the same for the most part.  Unless one is a mother or father, or a caregiver to a dependent adult, one is only responsible for oneself.

This is not to say that we don't have responsibilities TO one another.  Of course we do.  We make commitments and want to fulfill them.  We are in relationships that require compromise and investment.  We love people and so want to be helpful to them, of use.

And in each of those cases, we are not responsible FOR the other party.  We are responsible for our own actions and others are responsible for theirs.

In life, and in golf, we can only play our own ball.

 

I've been struggling for the past few weeks with my golf game...hitting some great shots amid a field of not so great shots.  I took a lesson that helped while the pro was there, but not the next day.

One of the things that I've not been doing is focusing on playing within my own limits or "playing my game."  I've been spending a lot of time worrying about how I "should" play--how far I should hit a club, how easily I should be able to get out of the sand, etc. 

But not today.  Today, I accepted the realities of my game.  The limitations of my ability plus practice plus luck (there's always luck on the course).

And voila!  I shot my best ever on this course, a 95.  Only the 2nd time I"ve posted a score that low.

Now, I don't pretend the entire answer was my zen-like acceptance of my game...but I do think it was about 80% of the battle.  Golf is nothing if not a mental game.

And I think it's a good metaphor for how powerful we become when we let go of the "shoulds" in our lives.  When we put away the ideas we've absorbed about others expectations of us.  When we get nice and comfy in our own skins.

That's when we are at our best, not some imagined level of perfection.

And what can be better than our best?

I've been struggling a bit with my drives since I got back from vacation, so at Dan's recommendation, I took a lesson yesterday from a nice young man named Alex.  Alex is one of two pros at our club and he has a casual approach to teaching that really works for me.  It relaxes me and lets me think about what he's saying.

He had me hit about five drives and then gave me the pointer that's been bouncing around in my mind ever since.  Focus on the target, not on the ball.

He said I have a lovely backswing but when it comes to my forward swing, things get very mechanical, very tight, very focused on the ball.  We worked for about 40 minutes on getting the feel of "throwing the club toward the target."  After the lesson, Dan and I played a few holes at the club and darned if I didn't hit the longest drive I've hit in quite some time--177 yards.

I even tattooed a fairway wood about 30 yards farther than I normally hit that club.  Clearly, there will be some golfing adjustments that need to be made once this lesson "sticks."

It occurs to me that there is something in this lesson for our lives, too.  How often do we get focused on the mechanics of our day?  What time to get up, how often to work out, what to eat or not, whom we owe a call (or twitter or text message to), the myriad little tasks that demand to be done now.

There's nothing wrong with planning.  There's absolutely nothing wrong with to-do lists and accomplishments of tasks.  But the question crosses over from golf into life.  What is your target?

Once you know that, life becomes much easier when you're focusing your momentum "out there," on the target.  The extraneous, the things that trips us up, the mechanics of life give way to pursuit of the goal.

So, tee it up folks.  And swing toward your target.

I've embarked on a new process aimed at refining my golf game.  I am keeping track of how far I hit the ball with each club.  The theory is that, having that information, I will have an easy choice when making club selections and thus more confidence.

About midway through today's nine holes with Tom, Renee' and Dan; however, I slipped over the edge from "data gathering" into performance assessment.  As if there was some ruler in the sky that categorized hitting my 9 iron 100 yards as "good" while hitting it 80 yards is "bad."

Nothing, I repeat, No-Thing is worse for my golf game than when I start judging how poorly I'm doing against any measure.  If I'm concentrating on the current shot, the current lie, the current obstacles--I have a great time whether or not I hit a great shot.  But when I want to hit a great shot, when I invest it with meaning and importance...well, then it's practically guaranteed that I'll be miserable.

It's funny how much golf teaches me about life.  Because it's the same deal in living day to day.  If I focus on the here and now, the task that is before me, the moment I'm living--then I usually am fairly productive and even when I make mistakes, it's an opportunity to learn.  But if I focus on "shoulds" or on the pursuit of some gold standard of perfection, I often fall short and am, as in golf, miserable.

Funny how miserable and miser share the same root.  Wretchedness. 

I can be generous with myself in golf and in life by accepting my circumstances and doing my best, learning from challenges and mistakes.  Or I can be miserly with myself--holding back approval and building unrealistic expectations.

I vote for generous.  Data is good for growth and learning.  I'll leave the judging in more capable hands.