Monthly Archives: September 2016

I don’t need to be Mighty Mouse

Last week a colleague emailed me frantically from London. She was due to deliver a client program in three days in the States, and had just been denied entry. Did I know anyone who could step in for her, she asked.

Now, my calendar was full the days she needed help, but that didn’t stop me from feeling compelled to drop everything and help her. Even after I found someone else who could easily help her – and who was more trained in the method she was planning on using than I was – I felt compelled to drop everything and help her. Numerous times during the day I turned to my business partner and asked if I should drop everything and help her. Numerous times my business partner said “no.”

I think I have a Mighty Mouse complex. I hear the theme song playing in my head – “Here I come to save the day! Mighty Mouse is on the way!” I think I don’t need a Mighty Mouse complex any more.

I get where it comes from. It was hard-grained in me to rescue and save. It’s also a huge bit of being too full of myself – maybe there are still times I mistakenly think that no one can do it better than me. Maybe I can still be “addicted” to adrenaline and running too fast and doing too much. And pushing too hard. And being perfect. (Even in my not being perfect).

It amazed me that I kept asking my partner if I should step up and take on the gig. It amazed me that even when I knew I shouldn’t, and even didn’t want to, I still felt somehow compelled. It amazed me that old habits can die so hard.

Each time I sang the Mighty Mouse theme song to myself, and I keep singing it now. I want the reminder that I’m acting like Mighty Mouse, and that I don’t have to. I don’t have to save anything, or anyone, and nothing needs saving.

It’s a good song, and a good visual, but I don’t have to be Mighty Mouse any more.

PS – I did step up and do a short gig for her on Friday, but that was out of care and concern for her, and wanting to help. And that’s okay.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!

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Careful, this post in blatantly sentimental – and dedicated to Stuy ‘81

I should probably be more hesitant to share this in “public,” but I attended my 35th high school reunion last night. That’s right 35th. A damn long time ago.

What I noticed most? How lucky I was to have attended the high school I did (Stuyvesant) with amazing, amazing people. I know many people don’t stay in touch with high school friends, or feel like they have much in common with them, but that doesn’t seem to be true here. Maybe it was something special about our school, or our class. Maybe it was because most students traveled to get to Stuyvesant. (It was my “local” high school, being only 11 blocks away, but I was one of the few who were lucky enough to walk.) Maybe it’s because the late 70s and early 80s were a different time – and especially a different time in NYC.

I don’t know what it is – except maybe what a friend of mine expressed this morning. “It’s good to see people whom one has known for so long. Even without seeing each other for years, there is an understanding I have with you that I don’t have with people who have only known me as an adult. We helped each other become adults and that is something we will never share with anyone else.”

As always, he is well said. I couldn’t agree more. These are people who knew me when, and who knew me through. Many of my dearest friends literally and figuratively held me up as I stepped away from the Church to start anew. They listened to my agony. They showed me a life – and joy and laughter – that I had never known. And many people had no idea, and approached me last night and said that exact thing (because they’ve read at least some of my posts) – “I had no idea.”

I hid it relatively well back then. My life as a Moonie was something to hide at school; it was something that I didn’t think anyone would understand. And I didn’t think they’d approve.

It kept me apart from people. Or so I thought. Because spending a few too-short hours seeing faces I hadn’t seen in too many years, made me realize that it didn’t keep me apart. Not that far apart. It made me realize that so many of these people mattered, and matter, to me more than I know on a daily basis.

To those of you whom I see more often (though not often enough), let’s see each other more. To those of you whom I see every five years, let’s see each other more as well. To all of you who made Stuy what it was, and still is, and who stood by me and with me on my journey into adulthood, as I said last night, “I love you.”

As I’ve written numerous times, for me life is about noticing, calling out, and holding onto the blessings that could pass us by if we’re not paying attention. In many ways high school was one of the toughest times of my life. In many ways, and many ways I remembered yesterday, it was the sweetest.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!

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How do you live with being hypercritical in yoga?

I think people sometimes think I’m really Zen-like. That I’m evolved and calm and almost always coming from a high-energy place. I wish that were true. Especially when I watch – and hear – myself being hypercritical during a yoga practice.

I criticize myself, my pose, my breathing, my focus and concentration. Even worse, I criticize others. I don’t even want to admit that. But I do.

I watch myself watching what everyone else is doing on their mat. I hear myself commenting, assessing, critiquing in my mind. Then I tell myself to shut up, and I turn my eyes back to my own mat, or to my drishti (a focal point to gaze at, to steady the body and mind).

I wish I weren’t hypercritical, but sometimes I am. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’m more fault-finding than I pretend to be, or than I’d like to be. I know I’m recovering from hyper-judging myself. I’m learning (or at least trying) to let go of hyper-judging others.

I’m remembering (again) that good enough is good enough, and that there is no perfect. I’m thanking my judge-full mind (and inner voice) for their contributions, and choosing to go somewhere else with my thoughts. I’m accepting a part of me I don’t want to accept, and letting it be. And letting it be okay.

Yeah, I’m not always as Zen-like as I’d like to be, and I analyze – and maybe criticize – myself and others more than I’m comfortable with. It’s just one more thing to not be critical about, one more thing to take responsibility for, and one more thing to embrace.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!

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