Coffee spills and sky lights

Photo used under Creative Commons by Algo

It’s that part of winter when you’ve had your heater sitting on the table by the couch so long that you forget that you ever used the table as a place to sit your coffee. Yesterday, I had the coffee and the heater on the table and I spilt a full cup on the cream carpet. It was really pretty amazing that it was the first time it happened.

After it happened, I moved everything, got some paper towels and cool soapy water and went about dabbing and scrubbing. It looked as if I did such a fine job. When I got home from work, the coffee stain was back. It looked up at me as if I’d turned my back and walked away from it.

So today I put the heater on the floor and wondered why I never thought of it before.

It’s kind of like sitting on the loveseat with my laptop. It took me a long time just to try it. Sitting at my desk was all I’d ever done.

I still haven’t adjusted. I haven’t found the ultimate way to do this typing from a curled up position. I start out with my feet under me and the laptop on my knees. It’s not bad, but I keep losing the mouse. I sit at an angle and have the laptop propped on pillows. I still keep losing the mouse. Sometimes I’ll leave the laptop on the coffee table and spend an hour leaning. The mouse is less of a problem but my back and arms get a little cranky.

I sit in the dark in the morning so that the two cockatiels who share the room with me don’t wake up (and wake everyone else)…and so that I can see the sky change. This furthers the chances of losing the mouse and spilling the coffee. I grope in the dark behind the glow of the laptop screen until the light of day begins to illuminate.

It’s coming now. There is a straight line across the horizon, a band like two cut strips of paper separating night from day. I keep looking without it registering, looking in that way you do when you know something is different, don’t really care, but then find that your eyes keep returning of their own to investigate. That’s what I’ve been doing since I sat down. It is literally as if the shades are pulled. A swatch of morning sky and then darkness…as if the sky itself is capped, a shade pulled to half-mast.

Then…okay, it’s been a half hour, my legs are falling asleep…stretch them out to rest on the coffee table. Okay. There’s the mouse, still on the arm of the couch. Okay…just checking in…the sky is still there. The bottom strip is orange now though, the top, gun- metal gray…but as fast as I can type, right before my eyes…drifting, drifting toward blue. Suddenly the line is gone, the blue changed so fast from gray, to almost white, the orange falling lower, almost disappearing, leaving in its wake a golden glow so momentary it is almost unobservable. Finally the whole affair seems settled and turns into a watercolor of muted pastels.

Man. What a life.

One of the things I’ve been writing about lately is how spiritual experiences happen in such a way that you don’t know what happened, only that something did, and that whatever it was is beyond dispute. I’ve compared the bewildered fog you can get in afterwards to the fog of grief. I’ve been imagining that one prepares you for the other, sort of like the morning sky prepares you for all the changes of a day…the stain that comes back…the sunrise that, even when you thing it’s done, suddenly bursts out with a blossom of neon pink.

You sit in the fog like you sit in the dark until it gives way to light.

Surprising Reviews

Gosh, I made the nicest discovery the other day. Found out that two of my friends had posted reviews of The Given Self on Amazon. There was an added enjoyment that came of being surprised. Neither of them had written to me and said they were going to do it or had done it. Suddenly, there they were. I've tried to attach a link but if it doesn't work, just go check out my page if you're interested, and if you're so inclined, write your own review. It sure feels amazing to find them there.



http://www.amazon.com/review/R31ZGP1D75FT7G/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

Prompts and Reasons ... to Write

There is a woman with the same name as mine who has written 501 writing prompts. I see her name on occasion when I’m on the internet. Today it gave me this yen to put down a few of my own.

The first would have to be "coming home." When you get home after being “out,” there’s a settling in that is conducive to writing (that is if you’re home alone or can go off to your own room for a while).

There was a crossword puzzle question the other day – a three-word alternative to “vent.” It took me so long to get it that I thought maybe the word “vent” was being used as it applies to heating or air conditioning. After I “got it” of course, I scratched my head about why I didn’t get it earlier. The answer was “let off steam.” Coming home feels immediately like letting off steam, and writing is like the whistle of the kettle.

Letting off steam is a creative indulgence, and everyone needs one (or two). You get home. You let off steam. It's letting off steam to take off your work clothes and put on sweat pants and sit down (or okay, go running if you're so inclined). We all have our own ways of letting off steam, even when the steam is just a puff. It’s a sloughing off. Wash your face. Put a few words on paper.

Anyway, that’s a big prompt for me – that coming release of constraints. It's my number two prompt rather than my number one though, since my number one has to be morning. That freshness you feel (if you’re a morning person), especially if you can begin to write before thoughts of the day ahead enter. If you can sit down with nothing on your mind…that’s the prompt.

Then there’s the really troubling states of mind that aren’t the same as letting off steam states of mind ... like the one I’m feeling today for it being the last day with my old guy. Holy cow, I got attached to him, and imagine him being attached to me, and am feeling all those feelings I was afraid I’d feel if I started a job like this, only worse because the situation isn’t hypothetical, and he’s got a cold, and I left him today, lying on the side of his bed listening to a talking book I’d picked out for him, and that he liked, and that I was so pleased he did --. How much I enjoyed pleasing him and appreciated his appreciation! The other day it was for my chili. And another day he called me prompt. He said, “I was just thinking, ‘She’ll be here in a minute,’ and I turned around and there you were.' You’re very prompt.” You could have knocked me over with a feather I was so touched. That’s the way I want to be, want to see myself, I guess…that I’ll be there when someone is expecting me. I hate the feeling of letting him, or anyone down. I feel like shit to tell you the truth. Feeling like shit has definitely got to be high on my list of writing prompts.

I don’t know why, but it makes me feel a small bit better to get it out – to say how bad I feel. Sometimes, you know, if you say it to someone in the next room, they take it the wrong way, as if you – or anyone, can do something about it – or as if you’re regretting the decision you made. It’s a damn shame that you can’t get through life without wanting to be in two places at one time, but there it is. It's not about wishing it could be otherwise. It's about feeling it for your day, week or hour: "Darn. I feel bad about that." Letting everything else wait while you hear and feel your heart. (The Given Self is a lot about that.)

And so you mourn a little in your private way and you say your small, wistful prayers, and you let the image of your old guy lying on the side of his bed rest in your mind’s eye instead of scrunching your eyes tight as if trying to block it out and never see it again, and you just hold on in some loving way. And you write.

Here’s some writing from Sue Monk Kidd that feels comforting just now. There are prompts for writing, and then there are reasons you write. You write for comfort and sometimes it gives comfort to someone else:

“. . . a strange gracing of my darkness . . .”
“I was caught suddenly by a sweep of reverence, by a
sensation that made we want to sink to my knees.
For somehow I knew that I had stumbled upon an
epiphany, a strange gracing of my darkness. . . .
For that was the moment when the knowledge
descended into my heart and I understood. REALLY
understood. Crisis, change, all the upheavals that
blister the spirit and leave us groping—they aren't
voices simply of pain but, also, of creativity. And if
we would only listen, we might hear such times as
beckoning us to a season of waiting, to a place of
being, a place of fertile emptiness.”

Sue Monk Kidd, When the Heart Waits

The line in the sand

You know how you have an advance sense that something is going to be important, or that it needs to happen…but not why? I am bowled over by the difference in myself since the book launch (which I had that feeling about), and it came in a funny way.

Let’s just say that in my family, it was my “big day.” I’d accomplished something; I was being recognized for that accomplishment; they were going to let me have “my day.”

Donny asked what I needed from him and I told him, “A few days of quiet.” He did his best to give them to me. My daughter wanted to talk of something I knew would end up being stressful the night before the launch, and I felt free to say, “We can talk about it later.” But what really did it was the smallest of things: I wanted to drive to the bookstore alone with my husband. I didn’t want to wait for anyone still getting ready, or have the usual noise of a carload, or even Henry in back in the carseat. I told Donny, “I want to get ready, and when I’m ready, get in the car with you, like two adults, and go.”

Okay – so this was the advance – the things that happened beforehand – the externals. And given that I’d honored my own nature (this is what I figure all this was), the externals of the launch event went fabulously. I felt confident, calm, and relaxed.

What happened after, the internal happening that’s stayed with me since, is a new kind of inner stillness – the kind where, instead of thinking about what you need, or what you’re going to do – you’re seeing what you need, inside and outside – and simply going with it. It arose spontaneously and it is a form of spontaneity.

It was only later that I thought about the change and got that kind of excited feeling about an intuition being so spot-on. Something in me quietly changed with the book launch. I saw that I didn’t have to have accomplished anything to have days that flow with my nature. I’ve been taking small steps in this direction. It’s really what The Given Self is all about. But something about the launch event seems to have taken me the rest of the way. I’m “there” rather than on my way.

Of course, it’s only been seven days, and I suppose that, as with any change, I’ll backslide and act out of habit. It’s already happened once – a perfect opportunity to say, “This is not a good time” that I didn’t rise to, but hey – I noticed it. It was no longer as automatic as usual to accept getting needlessly paused or distracted. I can still address things that need to be attended to, but often they can wait. This is big deal stuff to me.

To make it even more exciting, I’ve been having exchanges with A Course of Love readers who are responding in similar ways. Suddenly – as it always seems (even when you’ve been on the path for years), something is new about “you.”

One of these friends spoke of it in a vocational way that makes sense to me…and is an example used in The Dialogues of A Course of Love besides. The way he put it was… When you’re training to be a doctor, you’re still in training. You’re still a student. When you become a doctor, you put aside your student status. You can't really be a doctor if you don't do that and begin to occupy yourself with the practice of medicine.

This is kind of what this feels like. I suppose it’s partially due to it coming as it did, with the book launch. It’s as if there was this line in the sand and I crossed it. I knew it would be there someday, but I didn’t know what it would look like or when it would arise.

And then I got in the car when I was ready and drove off with my husband – like two adults.

Thanks

There were posters of The Given Self dotted around Barnes & Noble Thursday night

The other day my son came by to drop something off and then called me to ask where I was. I said, “I was right here – in my room.”

“Didn’t you hear the dog bark?” he asked.

“The dog,” I said, “barks a lot.”

Writing is a medium that lets you begin to ignore the dog barking.

Thursday, Donny drove me to a bookstore, dropped me off at the door, and went and parked the car. At the information desk, I said, “I’m here for a book signing.”

“Are you the author?”

I said, “Yes.”

Writing is a medium that lets you be an author and, if you’re really lucky, lets you feel like one once every ten years or so.

I felt like one Thursday night. Friends came out in frigid weather, the community relations manager had me all set up, offered pens and water, introduced me in a very fine way, and brought out extra chairs as people arrived. One daughter brought a vase of flowers that matched the book cover. The other brought Henry. My son, who was in the Navy the last time I had a launch, strolled in. A teenager told me I was awesome. There were pictures and hugs and tears.

Having my book launched did what I felt it would do. I told those in attendance, “A book is like a journey. When it’s done, you feel like you’ve been away a long time, and like you’re coming back from a far off land. Tonight, you have met me at the terminal.”

Thanks to everyone who was there, and to all of you who have shared this part of the journey with me.

Launch Day

7:00 tonight, Barnes & Noble HarMar, 2100 N. Snelling Ave., Roseville.

It’s launch day and it’s below zero and the snow is falling. In case my advance thoughts had anything to do with this, I’m thinking how the snow is going to let up and the roads be clear before evening.

When I first sat down this morning I thought I’d left the yard light on…that’s how bright it was outside. It wasn’t only from the fresh snow though. It was from this small light over the kitchen sink. It’s the one we leave on overnight and that I rarely shut off before daylight. I’ve not ever noticed it making a speck of difference in the yard, nonetheless a beacon across the snow.

A friend called me yesterday to say she’d gotten thrown all out of whack by The Given Self so she knows there’s something about it.

Things that throw us out of whack tend to build, snowflake by snowflake/word by word, until they become a powerful force that can bring down tree limbs or inner walls. There’s seldom any real explanation for it. It’s not often from the greatest writing in the world or a coherent kind of thing where you can turn down a corner of a page and say “That’s it – the part I want to remember – the thing that got to me.” Things that throw us out of whack do it in a mysterious way.

All of which (or at least the “speck” part) may relate to me watching “Horton Hears a Who” with Henry as much as anything. Horton the elephant finds that there’s a whole world living on a spec. No one believes him. The idea of it – of something unseen and unheard (by anyone but Horton) – is threatening. But in the end Horton is vindicated, forgiveness is offered in the form of a chocolate chip cookie, and the final line is, “People are people, no matter how small.”

Book Reviews and other Accidents

Read on for a review of The Given Self by Dr. Monte M. Page

Got the paper and brought it in my room. It’s 6:17 and I’m not really disappointed. It’s kind of funny really. The whole “Sunday Life” section of the paper is strangely about half the size of usual and Mary Ann Grossmann has no book column at all. The usual book “page” isn’t even a column long, and most of that is NY Times Best sellers. Below that there is the Literary Calendar of the Week with six items, of which my book signing is one. The order is alphabetical. Underneath that, which I swear I never saw before, are "Hot Tickets", the first of these being the Café Accordion Orchestra; and "Movies opening Friday", which begins with “Youth in Revolt”. That’s it. That’s the book page for today. Oh well. I would have been disappointed on a normal Sunday; disappointed even if I wasn’t hoping to be a little more a part of the book page than this:

Mari Perron: Minnesotan celebrates publication of “The Given Self,” her new book about living authentically. 7 p.m. Thursday, Barnes & Noble, Har Mar Mall, 2100 N. Snelling Ave., Roseville.

Life is accidental in so many ways. I remember writing a while back, that I’d hope a January 7 launch date wouldn’t be in the midst of freezing cold or a blizzard and that people might be ready, after the holiday rush, to think about newness in the new year. I’ve got a feeling the Pioneer Press staff is on vacation. They must be tired after having to fulfill all those deadlines for Christmas books and then the inevitable 10 best of the decade lists for the beginning of 2010.

I think that for me, the “book page” is a little about recognition among peers. You read something like that so faithfully for so long; see the advent of small presses and self-published books beginning to get more space; see the respectful way that good writing and fresh ideas are lauded; the way local authors get some space, and if you’re a writer, you hope to be there someday.

So I don’t know what to call the way I feel, since I wasn’t really expecting much and my feelings more general than specific, more of a longing for that peer recognition than for unknown folks to show up at a book signing.

Peer recognition feels like an honest sort of desire, a natural human longing to be counted among those you are drawn to and admire. You don’t have to be a writer to appreciate good writing or the kind of book review that tells you more than what a book is about. And so with that in mind, I post the only book review that The Given Self has received. It’s one of those that “tells you more.”

The Given Self by Mari Perron
A Review by Monte M. Page, PhD

I am a 74 year old retired Psychology Professor. I have spent a lifetime reading books trying to find out who I am, what the world is and how the two are related. Of course I’ve also tried to experience life full force in a quest for answers to those same questions and it’s been over 30 years since I realized that my quest was a spiritual quest. I don’t read nearly as many books as I used to. Quite frankly, I have found that most authors don’t have the answers to the questions I am asking. I read mostly channeled books these days as I find them to have the seriousness and the depth I’m looking for. For a long time, A Course In Miracles (ACIM) was the center of my spiritual quest.

It was about five years ago that I first encountered the name Mari Perron. She was the “scribe” for a series of channeled books starting with A Course Of Love (ACOL). I have called these books more advanced sequels to ACIM (see my article in “Miracles Magazine” May/June, 2009) Mari tells us that ACOL is intended to do for the heart what ACIM does for the mind (see her article in “Miracles Magazine” Jan/Feb, 2009). ACOL came to me, synchronisticly, just at a time when I was realizing that the heart was more important than the head in spirituality. Indeed, ACOL taught me that the goal of the spiritual quest was wholeheartedness or the integration of head and heart. ACOL was written in a formal, philosophical voice that claimed, along with ACIM, to be Jesus.

Now Mari is back, only this time speaking in her own voice. I had wondered what her life would be after the momentous experience of scribing ACOL. Would she be able to put it into practice or would she end up resentful and depressed as Helen Schucman, scribe of ACIM, had done. The Given Self answers that question. She is doing just fine and has some profound insights to share with the rest of us. She is presenting a new vision of spirituality that is less perfectionistic, lest otherworldly, more feminine, more compassionate and more livable. She is not recommending that we return to the small, separated and fearful self called “ego”.

At the same time she is debunking the myth of enlightened perfection. We have a true self and a given self that should be embraced along with our given world after we have purged the ego. She is really talking about a very advanced spiritual state called “the elevated self of form.” This comes right out of ACOL which, in the latter portions, challenged us to live free and wholehearted and to create a new self and a new world. I have thought for a long time that the upcoming shift in consciousness would be led by women and this book is an example of that. It’s interesting that the scribe of ACOL is the first one to write a book about really putting it into practice.

It is surprising how different in voice and style the ACOL is from “The Given Self”. This is one thing that convinces me that the channeled writings are miraculous. Mari’s own voice is very personal, autobiographical and subjective. This is on purpose and part of her message. She is illustrating that it’s ok to be who you uniquely are, your given self, in her very writing style which I like a lot. She also shows a bit of “attitude” at times. I think this is also deliberate to show that you can be spiritual, have attitude and really care about earth-plane stuff.

As a psychologist, I taught Theories of Personality for over 40 years. A central theme in modern personality theory for over a hundred years, starting with Freud, was the nature of the human self. Freud started out with a very small and almost insulting but somewhat accurate vision of the ego as an adaptive mental structure designed to both cope with and defend against internal and external stress. This is called the modern psychodynamic approach and without this foundation, neither ACIM nor ACOL would be understandable.

The psychodynamic point of view was perpetuated into a second generation called “Neo Freudians” and a third called “Ego Psychologists”. They gave the ego a more positive, powerful and creative spin but they were still talking about a “healthy ego”. Then, along came Humanistic Psychology which elevated the ego to almost saintly status with “self-actualization” and the “fully functioning person” (Carl Rogers).

Alongside this obsession with the ego self, there was a parallel and less mainstream development (starting with Freud’s best student, Carl Jung, moving up through Abraham Maslow and into Transpersonal Psychology) that saw human selfhood as more than mere ego. Jung, for example, saw the ego as a necessary and inevitable part of the human condition, but not who we really are. The” higher Self” (capital S self) was the true goal of human development. The Self was more balanced, whole and spiritual and emerged in the second half of life for those lucky enough to grow into what he called the “individuation process”. Mari’s given self reminds me somewhat of Jung’s Self. It also has the flavor of Rollo May’s “destiny” concept. The given self is the draw that pulls us towards our highest transpersonal development, but at the same time it is our unique and creative response to the genetic, environmental, personal, familial, cultural and national influence on our lives. No human being is without a given self, but it can be ignored, denied or repressed. It can also be confused with the ego.

There are two competing views of the spiritual goal. The first is what I call the “no self” option. I know a great deal about this one having spent nearly five years stuck in the crown chakra of the higher mind and thinking that was the goal of spiritual attainment. This has been imported into contemporary spirituality largely through Buddhism; or at least an Americanized interpretation of Buddhism. This point of view over emphasizes meditation which is merely a tool for opening the higher mind. This point of view says the world, including ourselves, is an illusion so ascend to the mountain top; take an other worldly perspective and leave the mess behind. I’ve been against that perspective for many years and at one time I developed quite a bit of “attitude” about it. I felt that this point of view involved an attachment to higher consciousness and “being enlightened” that was potentially unhealthy and not very practical as a solution to the human condition. I adopted the term “romancing the void” to describe this state of consciousness.

Mari subscribes to the other point of view. Towards the end of her book she states, “where we find ourselves is not a place of higher consciousness devoid of self, but a place of self imbued with higher consciousness.” This understanding goes beyond the open mind to the open heart. The goal of the spiritual life in this point of view is to embrace your true Self, your given self and the world in compassion.

These two points of views may not be incompatible. Rather than being in competition, they may be sequential stages. To me it is very important to get rid of the separated ego and this is a big deal that historically few have achieved. However, with the up-tic in spiritual interest and the advent of teaching tools like ACIM, this is something that is more frequent now. I view ACIM as a high-powered solvent for the ego. It makes sense that purging the mind of the ego would leave an experience of no self. But, is that really the goal of spiritual life? Or do we need to go on and open our hearts and reclaim our given selves as Mari is advocating? This is also, in my view, what Jesus Christ was and is all about.

I have one slight reservation with Mari’s presentation. She conceptualizes our loss of self as “identity theft “and the embrace of the given self as if it were a recovery of what was stolen from us. This is a catchy way of putting it but it doesn’t match my experience. My identity wasn’t stolen by contemporary alternative spirituality; I couldn’t wait to give it away. I did it because I was still rebelling against this crazy world. We are all responsible for our own choices. I think Mari knows this and for the most part we are on the same page, but I just think the identity theft theme might be misunderstood.

This is a very radical book. It probably will be quite controversial. Not everyone, even those in the new consciousness and alternative spirituality movement, will be ready for such a demythologized and liberating point of view. The author admits the book is not perfect. I say that the first editions of anything tend to be flawed. Mari has produced a masterpiece and the flaws are part of what makes it a masterpiece.

Mari is calling for a movement of people who have embraced their given selves and are “coming out” for God and as their given selves. This is not a call for crass and insensitive evangelism but a call to be authentic and to teach by the way we live. But, wait a minute, we can’t just “come out” to those who aren’t ready or won’t listen. Or can we?

I think I like this book so much because it speaks to my heart. It gives me words to understand myself and my own spiritual journey. I’m one who climbed the mountain of higher consciousness. I rode the ascending currents of the subtle mind until I attained “beginners mind.” I became attached to “choiceless awareness.” I became stuck in “the experience of no self.” Eventually I discovered this was a foothill and not the mountain. I then became a recovering mystic on a quest to reclaim my “given self.” On this second more sober trip, with the help of ACIM, ACOL and other tools, I allowed my heart to open and forgive this crazy world. I don’t feel like an “enlightened sage” anymore, but as plain old open-hearted me. I am much happier and much easier to live with.

The blue light special and the special blue light

Blue moon photo by Noel Zia Lee


Courtesy of Creative Commons.

The Given Self is now at the MOA

There was a blue moon last night. People say “Once in a blue moon” when they’re talking about something really unusual, and I’ve got one for you. My friend Bob wrote me this:

We went to Barnes & Noble at MOA yesterday with the grandkids and there you were on a shelf above Eckhart Tolle. Four copies in stock.

For those of you who don’t know, MOA is Mall of America. My husband, in a moment of true Christmas spirit, actually took me to the MOA a few weeks ago seeking shoes. The ones I wear all the time had gotten embarrassingly shabby and I’d asked for new shoes for Christmas, not knowing the MOA would be the only place left in town to get the brand I like. I hadn’t even thought, while I was there, to see if The Given Self was on the shelves. After Bob wrote me, I had to run tell my family (if not run back out there to see for myself).

I don’t know how long they’ll stay in stock, but it was a pleasant surprise that this non-traditional publisher had done what I heard they could do – get books on shelves.

Books being on shelves doesn’t mean what it used to, but when I told Angie about it, she said she’d called the library and that two local ones would love for me to donate copies of The Given Self. They’d put them in a special area where they highlight local writers. I guess books on shelves still means a lot to some people…and to me. I’m actually pretty psyched about it.

I suspect my books being on shelves at the MOA (or elsewhere) has nothing to do with the “blue” moon, but this morning, I noticed my first blue-light morning of the winter, and it feels as if a little of the magic or the mystery is continuing. I don’t know what creates this light. Maybe, since it’s very cold today, it is the cold. Regardless of how it happens, my back yard is bathed in blue, perhaps not a “light” but a “hue”. A hue of blue.

But I’ve gotta tell ya, when I first thought “blue light,” what followed wasn’t deep thoughts about magic or mystery but “blue light special.”

I can’t recall which department store had or still has blue light specials, but it’s one of those popularized phrases that got stuck in my brain.

We actually talked about this at my sister’s table on Christmas. I think it began as a discussion of creativity and kids, and she and I talking about our youth and how we played library, and put on plays and made up songs. One of our songs was composed entirely of commercial lyrics. If you’re old enough, you might remember them:

Halo, Halo, Halo everybody. Halo’s the shampoo that glorifies your hair/
So see the USA in your Chevrolet. America is asking you to/
Brush a brush a with the new/
Brillcream, a little dab’ll do ya, one spot glorifies your hair, so watch out, the girls will all pursue ya’. They love to get their fingers in your/
Campbell’s soup. Have you, have you, have you had your soup today? Campbell’s of course. Campbell’s of course. Once a day every day have a bowl of/
Mr. Clean he’ll clean your whole house and everything that’s in it/
From the land of sky blue wa-a-ters. Comes the flavor fresh for brewing. Hamm’s the beer refreshing. Never stops refreshing you.

My son then talked about the movie “Demolition Man” where old commercials played constantly on the radio and people used the ditties as common phrases of conversation.

Henry had Spaghetti O’s the other day and I found myself sing-songing, “Uh oh, Spaghetti O’s.”

I don’t know why the commercials of my childhood seem more benign. Maybe because there were fewer of them. How many shampoos were there? Breck, Prell, Halo, and VO5? Remember “cream rinse?”

Okay. A bit of nostalgia. And maybe a warning, or at least a caution, about what gets in your head and stays.

Even something like The Given Self. I ended the book saying that once you get the concept, you can forget about it. You don’t need to have your given self stuck in your brain, just like you don’t need rules or memorized bits of information or TV commercials. You can let go. Move on. Live a bit more spontaneously. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.