Amy Lu's View

NPR’s Marketplace Weekend show does a regular segment called “By the Numbers” (yes, I’m as surprised as you that I listen to it enough to know that) where they throw out a number so listeners can guess what it is. In that spirit, I give you the number 1,336.7. Is that:

1. how many glasses of wine I drank in 2017
2. how many bags of lettuce I ate in 2017
3. how many hours I spent at Target in 2017
4. how many miles I ran in 2017

Okay, on Marketplace they don’t actually give us a multiple choice, but I wanted to make this somewhat fair. Or maybe it’s not fair, as any of these choices feel plausible to me. The number 1,336.7 could also be how many dresses I bought, how many cat turds I scooped out of the litterbox, or how many times I screamed “Stop saying ‘going forward!” at the radio. (The answer is Number 4, just to be clear).

I’m usually prone to being obsessive about measuring things (probably one of the reasons I like running so much) and I’m especially in the measuring mood as it’s the beginning of a new year. I want to reflect a bit on the year we’ve just wrapped up as I start forming aspirations for 2018. But, to quote “Seasons of Love” from “Rent” (which I admit I’m not a super big fan of):

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure,
Measure a year?

In daylights?
In sunsets?
In midnights?
In cups of coffee?
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?

In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a year in a life?”

Unfortunately, or unfortunately, I can only know how many miles I ran in 2017 because that’s what my Garmin watch measured. I didn’t count cups of coffee, or cat turds, or hours of tv watched, or any  other markers of my life (although maybe Facebook, Google, or Alexa did…). I’m sure I’d be both bemused and horrified if I knew my actual stats of how I spend my time.

As one year turns into another, I’d like to go a little deeper than just recounting the “highlights” of 2017. Don’t get me wrong, I want to give those highlights their due and savor my achievements. I want to bask in my glory: 2017 was the year I ran my first marathon (Holy S*&t!), played seven Clusterflock shows, two Pigeons from Hell (reborn) shows, and was in five theater productions (one of which was award-winning).

But life is combination of those big, memorable, unique moments (first-time seeing a concert at Red Rocks) and the small, everyday, often repeated rituals (gazillionth time eating a soft poached egg for breakfast). Chad laughs at me for how obsessive I can be about my personal rituals (mostly related to eating) but I crave both the familiar and the new.

Looking back, and going forward (ARGH I can’t believe I just wrote that!!!) I want to pay attention to and appreciate what I’m experiencing…whether it’s a familiar comfort or an exciting new challenge. Luckily for me, many of my favorite things—wine, running, theater, Chad—can be both.

Yesterday Chad and I were in charge of the service at our church. This endeavor involved  choosing and stringing together a selection of readings and songs and presenting them. This is the introduction I wrote for the service:

When Marie asked Chad and me if we wanted to take responsibility for this December 31 service, we of course said “yes.” If you know us at all, you may have noticed that we love to get up in front of others and perform in almost any capacity (well, except dance, we do have at least some understanding of the limits of our ability). We also tend to say “yes” and figure out the details later.

So those details…what should a New Year’s Eve service be about?

“Resolutions” immediately spring to mind for many of us when we think about the coming of a New Year, but Chad and I didn’t want to be too obvious and focus on the type of resolutions that people make to improve themselves and their lives. (Besides, Chad doesn’t make New Year’s Resolutions). But we started turning the word “resolution” around in our minds. Did it have some other meaning that felt especially relevant at the end of a year?

Turns out “resolution” DOES have several different meanings, including, “clarity” (think computer monitors), decision, agreement (as in “conflict resolution,”) commitment, and ending.

Perhaps ironically, we first started pondering “resolution” as “ending,” especially in the narrative context, as the conclusion that comes at the ending of the story. But a resolution is not always quite the same as an ending. According to the website literaryterms.net:

“The resolution…is the conclusion of the story’s plot. It’s where any unanswered questions are answered, or “loose ends are tied.”… The resolution allows a story to end without trailing off or leaving the reader confused or unsatisfied.”

Wow, “confused or unsatisfied.” Personally, I feel that way a lot…am I suffering from a lack of resolution? I don’t just want resolution at the end of a story, I want resolution at the end of a party, a meeting, an argument, a relationship, a life.

My mom died seventeen years ago, and I’m still working on finding resolution to her life story and our relationship. I think I could benefit from the Tibetan Buddhist perspective as described inan  article by scholars Robert Goss and Dennis Klass:

“Tibetan Buddhism recognizes that survivors have many feelings after someone dies. Some feelings, such as regret, longing, guilt, or anger are problematic…because they stem from unresolved relationships with the dying person, what in the West would be called “unfinished business”…few living bonds are wholly positive, so when there are problematic relationships, there are [in Tibetan Buddhism] explicit instructions for resolving negative feelings. Once the feelings are resolved, however, it does not mean that the bond with the deceased is severed.”

Yes, my mom’s life clearly had an ending, but though she’s gone, emotional loose ends (at least for me) have lingered.

I can’t help but compare my feelings of lacking resolution after my mom’s death with my feelings after the recent death of our dog, Oscar. (Yes, I realize I’m comparing my relationship to a dog with my relationship to a person, and I’m not going to apologize for that). The point, at least for our purposes this morning, is that while I’m extremely sad by Oscar’s death and grieving the loss of him as a part of our lives, I don’t feel unsettled by nagging questions. My relationship with Oscar had an ending that is terribly hard, but leaves me with a feeling of conclusion that I can best describe as peace.

Although the end of a calendar year is a mostly arbitrary milestone, we do observe it as a society and so collectively we are looking for resolution to 2017. And unfortunately for us, 2017 leaves a lot of loose ends. I think most of us can agree that many events of 2017 are leaving us confused and unsatisfied.

So at this time when our desire for and lack of resolution feels readily apparent, we’re going to spend this service exploring how we find, forge, and reach for resolution, and how we might deal with not getting it. We’re going to take a look at some other meanings of resolution that I mentioned, too—not just as an ending but as clarity, decision, agreement and commitment. We’ll share readings, stories and music from a variety of sources that have inspired—or at least entertained—us. We can’t promise you will leave today feeling less confused and unsatisfied when faced with a lack of resolution, but hopefully you will feel a little better knowing you’re not alone in this totally human experience.

Today is Day #22 of “40 Days of Awesome” (and yes I successfully continued the streak with a 5 mile indoor track run today).

The number 22 doesn’t have any special significance that I know of to running.  However, because of the play “Panache” that I was in this fall, I know it might have to do with awesomeness, as 22 was the favorite number of my character, Kathleen.

Kathleen loved 22 so much that she made her new friends Harry (Chad) and Jumbo (Gary) play Blackjack with 22, instead of 21, as the highest hand (Kathleen also “loathed and despised” the number 21). It was a pretty  funny part of the play, and great fun to work on, even when I forgot my lines. It was actually quite challenging getting the scenes when we played Blackjack down, because I know absolutely nothing about Blackjack (or cards) but friendship (and alcohol) made the hardwork a joy.

I also know nothing about Numerology, but I learned from Kathleen that in Numerology, 22 is the most powerful life path number. According to my extensive research (googling) Kathleen is right. I even tried to figure out what my life path number is, but quickly gave up because it involves too much math.

One of the many things I love about being a part of theater is that (to steal Current DJ Brian Oake’s catchphrase) I’m always learning. Okay, maybe I’m learning trivial things, like the basics of Numerology, golf, blackjack, and that Scarsdale is in New York, but I’m still learning and expanding my horizons.

Every play I’m a part of also helps me learn a little more about empathy, and how to see the world through someone else’s eyes. I always learn a little more about how to see the commonality between characters that, on the surface at least, seem very different.

I also love how theater weaves itself into my “real” life, and how those connections manifest in surprising and everday ways. I love how Kathleen came back to life for a bit today through the totally unrelated and mundane connection of the number 22 with my running challenge. I think THAT is pretty awesome.

 

I’m smack in the middle of “40 Days of Awesome.” For a variety of reasons (perhaps for a later post) I’m feeling much less than awesome right now, but the 20^th Day of Awesome still requires a blog post.

“40 Days of Awesome” is a running challenge issued by Runner’s World to run at least a mile for 40 days from Thanksgiving 2017 through New Year’s Day 2018 (https://www.runnersworld.com/rwrunstreak). I’m not sure what the significance of 40 is (beside Lenten associations) but it’s pretty cool that this year it happens to be 40 days from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. And today, the half-way point, is the start of Hanukkah. Whoa, that’s a lot of cosmic calendar celebratory convergence action going on there.

I’m happy to say that I have successfully completed the first half of the challenge, and have run at least a mile every day for 20 days. In fact, I’ve run 106.9 miles over the last 20 days, which is an average of 5.34 miles per day.

Running a mile every day for 40 days isn’t actually that hard in light of all the running I’ve been doing, except that it’s pretty challenging given the weather at this time of year. I got off to a great start, as Thanksgiving weekend was perfect for running and I ran just over 21 miles over the 4 day weekend. But in general, I suck at winter weather running. Not only am I not a fan of cold weather, I’m scared of falling when it’s icy (and dark).

Luckily, indoor running also counts for the challenge, so it’s been off to the gym for me. Ugh. Running on the track or the treadmill is SO boring.

I’ve never run on a treadmill much. I did 10 miles a couple of years ago before my first 10 mile race and it almost killed me. But I decided to give the “dreadmill” another chance, and I can confidently say I still think it’s worse than track running. Perhaps it’s because I have to pay enough attention to not fall off.

This is also a good time of year for running on the track, because the gym is usually quiet enough that I don’t have to worry about running around, in my opinion, totally clueless and rude walkers who are walking three abreast. Yeah, I may suffer a tiny big from track rage. The upside is at least being irritated is mildly entertaining.

Indoor running is so tedious that some days I can only handle a couple of miles (supplemented by working out on an elliptical or other machine). At one point I harbored the fantasy that I could complete 200 miles in 40 days, but that means I would still have to run 4.65 miles a day and I just don’t think I have that mental fortitude. Plus, unless the weather really cooperates, running is going to be really tough over Christmas when we’re visiting relatives.

So, I’ve done a lot of bitching about this 40 day challenge and made it sound anything but awesome. Then why am I doing it? It’s probably mostly because of ego, and I like having a goal. And I got to join a Facebook group. I also really like tracking and counting things and holidays. I even figured out that if I did 48 Days of Awesome for my 48^th birthday, it would start on Martin Luther King Day.

I think I’m also better at challenges that involve doing things rather than giving up things. I don’t see myself participating in a Dry January any time soon. Although I’ve yet to successfully complete a 30 Days of Gratitude. It’s not that I’m not grateful…in fact I get overwhelmed by what to pick each day (that doesn’t involve eating or drinking). Maybe I like the 40 Days of Awesome because it has such set parameters. Perhaps next year I should try 30 Days of Gratitude but limit it to eating and drinking.

Or maybe I like 40 Days of Awesome because I’m a child of the 70’s and this challenge is being cleverly marketed as “streaking.” I’m pretty sure this running challenge is as close to a streaking as I’ll ever get.

My temporary tattoo that says “Be Present” is fading away more quickly than I was prepared for it to.

If I view my tattoo as an aid in realizing a spiritual truth, this is highly appropriate. My tattoo is a real-time lesson that things don’t last, everything is ephemeral, and all we have is this moment and we need to fully live in the moment to truly experience and savor life.

Intellectually I get this and I aspire to mindfulness, but in actuality, my mind, body and soul are usually lightyears away from the present. To quote Master Yoda’s description of the young Luke Skywalker: “Never his mind on where he was, hmm? What he was doing. Hmm. Adventure. Heh. Excitement. Heh. A Jedi craves not these things.”

I wouldn’t exactly say I crave adventure (unless you define adventure as a band gig or a theater performance or Happy Hour with friends or a glass of red wine) but I am usually craving things. So I’m also usually planning how to make these things happen, and sometimes (but not as much as I used to) worrying about how my plans are going to go.

Yes, yes, I know Master John Lennon, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

I live in the past, too, and certainly spend time re-hashing it. Luckily, I beat myself up over past mishaps much less than I use to, probably in large part due to the influence of Chad’s “that’s over so I’m over it” attitude. I do think I would benefit from a little more reflection (not critical obsession) on the past, especially taking time to enjoy life’s wins, big and small. I want to learn how to give myself a metaphorical cookie.

And I want to treat myself with more temporary tattoos. I’ve become surprisingly enamored with these mini words of wisdom that I discovered as a form of marathon inspiration. The company I get them from (Conscious Ink) sells tattoos for all kinds of circumstances, and my current “Be Present” tattoo was part of a grab bag. I love my tattoos that I associate with the marathon, but I also like the idea of a having a changing variety of wise sayings that I can interpret in different ways.

Although it’s a bit hokey, I like how “Be Present” can also take on a different meaning in this season of presents. Being present with others is really the best present we can give and receive (not claiming I came up with this idea)—which doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to actual tangible presents. Let’s not get radical here.

I’ve already blogged about the unexpected meaning in my “Choose Love Now” tattoo, and I have an aspiration to keep blogging about the wisdom of my tattoos. (“Aspiration” sounds so much more spiritual than “plan”).

Which does bring me back to the tragedy of my fading temporary tattoo. Although these tattoos are designed to fade away, I’m discovering that they do so more quickly in the winter. I like having the tattoos on my forearms where I can easily see them and remember their inspiration. Someone in church asked me if my tattoo was “instructions” and that seems really apt, so I want to be able to see my instructions. Unfortunately, the long sleeves I wear more frequently now that the weather is cold rubs on tattoos on my forearms, and I really can’t think of anywhere that I don’t wear clothes at this time of year. I guess my face is (usually) free of clothing, but again, I can’t easily see that.

What to do? I’ve considered filling my tattoo in with a Sharpie, reminding me of the days when I used to draw “AC/DC” on my brother’s forearm at his request when he was in high school. Yeah, we were badass out there on the tundra in 1982.

So I’m off to make a temporary tattoo maintenance plan….

In my last post I celebrated a new twist on our Christmas tree traditions, but tonight, we kept it Old School and put up our real Christmas tree while we listened to our CD of the Muppets and John Denver.

So Christmas tree traditions are on my mind. I don’t really have family Christmas tree traditions that I remember. We always had a tree, and  I always loved it, but I think it was usually something my mom handled putting up by herself when she had time to do it.

I don’t feel I have family traditions about too many things. As an adult, I’ve been learning how to navigate traditions…to create and celebrate ones that are meaningful but not presciptive or limiting.

I feel the Chamy Christmas Tree hits this sweet spot. We had all the key ingredients: 1) a real tree, 2) the Muppets CD, and 3) some alcohol, but this year we had some updates. Most notably, we deviated from our custom of having our “classy” color-coordinated ornaments on our real tree. Instead, we included many of our most-notably kitschy ornaments that we usually only have on our fake tree (now bedecked soley with race-finisher medals). And, we drank martinis (our alcohol choice has cycled through eggnog, Irish coffees, and wine…).

Whether classy or kitschy (and the line between them is certainly fuzzy for us) most of our ornaments are infused with memories. There’s the Santa ornament I’ve had since 5th grade, the red drumset our friend Gary gave us, and the Cats First Christmas ornament.

And then there are the mostly remants of the ornaments from the very first tree we had together when we lived (in sin!) in Iowa. I remember my mother gave us $50 to buy decorations for that tree, which I at first thought was crazy extravagant, but soon realized went pretty quickly, even in 1993. I’m still struck by how sweet and thoughtful it was for her to realize that “Hey, these mullet-headed kids might be in love but they don’t have enough moola to pull together to decorate a Christmas tree.”

The next year, we (Chad) had to tie said tree to the planter hook that was convenientally on the ceiling so that our very first so that it didn’t fall over when our very first, and much-loved, cat, Rogue, climbed it.

Rogue eventually lost interest in climbing the tree, although she and Jubilee usually “re-decorated” it a bit every year. Our current cats, Pepper and Sprout, have surpisingly never been too interested in the Christmas tree, but we still keep all the breakable ornaments up top, just to be safe.

 

Tonight I saw a good friend who I haven’t seen for the while, so of course, I had to make him look at my marathon medal. No, I wasn’t actually wearing it, and I don’t even always carry it with me, but since I knew I was going to be seeing him I came prepared. And yes, I also made him look at the medal I got for running the Twin Cities Ultra Summit Challenge (a 5K, 10 Mile, and Half Marathon in 2017 in addition to the Marathon).

So I’m going to indulge in some more marathon reflecting. More specifically, a compare and contrast between running a marathon and being in a play, as three weeks after I ran the TC Marathon I had a lead role in  “Panache.”

Tackling two such intensive undertakings back-to-back was exhausting and exhilarating, and I couldn’t help but think about the similarities and differences. The biggest similarity is acting and running (at least at this scale) both take a lot of time and discipline. They both require pushing through boredom (“argh I do NOT want to spend any more time learning my lines/running”) and doubt (“I CAN’T DO THIS! Why did I ever think I could this? Why do I want to do this?”).

It might seem weird that runners often get nervous before a race (I certainly do) but I think that is a normal reaction for any situation where the stakes seem high. You’ve put a lot of time into preparing for this, and so much could go wrong. But although I was worried about the marathon and how everything would go, for me, acting is more nerve-wracking.

This might seem obvious…there is an audience (hopefully) watching you if you’re in a play, but the spectators at a race aren’t there to observe in the same way. Yes, I did do my best to wave at friends that I ran past and to give a good performance as I crossed the marathon finish line because I knew there was a camera, but there wasn’t the same expectation to entertain.

The key difference is your responsbility to other people. While I couldn’t have a lead in a play or run a marathon without the support of other people, the impact these endeavors has on others definitely varies. At the end of the day, I knew my marathon performance really only affected me–unless I tripped and fell and knocked over a bunch of other people.

Sure, my loved ones would feel happy or sorry for me based on how I did in the marathon, but that’s not nearly the same as being on stage with me if I forgot my lines. I would be the only one suffering for the 4-5 hours of the race (in reality, a time of 4:16:34 in case you forgot…) but a stage meltdown could mire me, my fellow actors and the audience in an extremely awkward experience.

The flip side is there isn’t anyone else to rely on if you get in a jam during the race. Yes, there are people to cheer you on and encourage you and medics to pick you up if you are totally done, but no one can run that race for you. And while no one else can say your lines for you, they may be able to cover for you or feed you a line (even if they are pissed off  about it).

Not sure what this all means, except that I’m really grateful that I’ve had both of these opportunities to challenge myself and hope I’ll have more. And both of these hobbies involve my body, mind, and spirit in ways that I never realized. Acting is way more physical than I ever guessed (not as demanding as running for hours and hours but you don’t just stand around and talk) and running is definitely a mind game. Most importantly, both running and acting involve feeling all of the feels and making yourself vulnerable and taking big risks.

Both activities also throw my eating and drinking habits way off balance. Or, more accuately, give me an excuse to eat and drink like a madwoman.

That does bring up another important difference…I have much more control about if I run another marathon and don’t have to compete to be in one (unless I want to run Boston). As long as I think I can run a marathon and want to do it, I just need to be able to afford the registration fee and I’m in. There are definitely times when I wish the rules of acting were the same.

I guess I alway have the option of writing my own one-woman shows and peforming them for the cats.

And I should get a medal for being a show. And going to work. And unloading the dishwasher.

 

 

 

I think I am mostly recovered from my post-play (Panache) hangover (although I still haven’t unpacked my bag of show supplies) so let the blogging commence! And hey, look, I have moved my blog to WordPress with the hopes that it will look snazzier.

Truthfully, I also had to mentally recover from my colonoscopy, which in many ways was no big woo but I was dreading it SO much but I won’t subject the blogiverse to any more about that, suffice it to say all, thankfully, is well on that front…er, end?). And I’m also finished with some work presentations and an awesome return gig of Pigeons From hell, so hey, here’s this thing called “free time.”

Actually, it feels a little like New Years’ to me so some “resolutions” seem in order. Or maybe more accurately a “to-do” list now that I do have some time to do some things that were simply out of the question when my schedule was so packed. Or maybe, a list of things to focus on to help keep myself from feeling too ansty now that I have said free time.

So, Where Do I Go From Here? In no particular order, I would like to:

• • Learn to actually play aforementioned songs on the Pigeons From Hell set list. Last night was a blast, but turns out knowing some lyrics and chords would be helpful.
  • Learn to play some Christmas songs on piano
  • Learn to play some Christmas songs on ukele (and learn to actually play the ukele while I’m at it)
  • Read. This is actually a huge category that includes “catching up” on the pile of magazines I’ve been building (I think I have heard that is the first sign of hoarding) to reading all my saved Facebook posts to reading Actual Physical Books Printed on Paper. I make no apologies for my love of and almost excluse use of audiobooks, but don’t want my forearms to become too weak to hold a book.
  • Maintain a level of cleanliness and order in our house that promotes personal and domestic harmony. In other words, I don’t want to be constantly digging through piles of clothes, papers, dishes and whatnot and tripping over crap. If I’m really dreaming big this will involve giving away some of those clothes.
  • Edit and share (with people who might actually be interested) all the various recordings I have of various musical endeavors.
  • Blogging, journaling, writing in any form that helps me reflect, appreciate, and impose a little order to my chaotic thoughts.
  • Learn how to use WordPress to make my blog aethestically respectable. Sorry, blogger, but I just can’t handle how you mangle captions any longer.
  • Brush Kitty Boo Boo every day. Well, every other day.
  • Remember that I did a whole day on a liquid diet that did NOT involve alcohol and try to replicate this restraint with mini-stretches of responsible chip and alcohol consumption
  • But most importantly…reconnect with people, by actually spending more time with them, and being more present and less distracted with the time we do share. Which may lead me to…
    1. Getting to a new bar/restaurant or two
    2. Taking up latch hook again. I need something to do with my hands other than surf the internet while Chad and I watch TV. I’m not sure latch hook, which takes up a lot of lap space, is going to be a Kitty Boo and Mama Pepper aproved activity, though.
  • Have time to be kind and helpful, and a little spontaneous, and a little less freaky if things don’t go exactly as scheduled.