From Astrud to Leonardo

 Righty-o. Apologies to those of you who can't get the subscribe button to work. 

So, what gives at Casa Donneliscia? 

The skinny: 

Elder care is, and probably will continue to be our number one priority. We're at those ages where the news doesn't get any better, not for us and not for them ;-)  My dad seems to have overcome some of his significant health challenges, thank goodness, and my mom keeps trucking without a peep or a complaint, even though she's in a lot of arthritic pain. But hey, they're frail. They seem to be surviving on stubbornness alone. Think about next time your elders are driving you crazy because they're being pigheaded. It's how they're sticking around. 

My dad's brother Georges, who's 92 like my mom, just had a pulmonary embolism. Pretty bad. It was handled pronto, but the treatment was almost as destructive as the ailment. It left him incredibly confused and robbed him of coherent speech. Oy. 

On the brighter side, our elders in New-York seem to be holding up ok. 

Elba, my father-in-law Bill's second wife, is having rage episodes. She may be losing her marbles. Or going through a manic fit of meanness. Who knows. This person has had a very hard life: she lost one child to murder and another to an accident. Maybe the trauma is coming out as aggression. 

Lisa is on the frontlines of this madness tornado, and is exhausted. Her brother Doran (whom she's very close with) has kindly stepped in to take on some of the responsibility. The transition will take time. I'm feeling angry and powerless as I see my wife enduring a thousand paper cuts. That's my journey, and I have to learn to contain my stuff. 

Other than that, as they say, we can't complain. I mean, we could, but we'd be nuts to. We're in a good place as a couple, we still have our original teeth, and we're debt-free. Lisa will be taking four days off up in Sebastopol, with her long-time friends John and Mary. She really needs the peace and quiet, and I'm hopeful she'll come back feeling refreshed. It'll give me time to wrap up some of these new guitar pieces I've been studying, in particular a trio of delightful Fernando Sor studies that are taxing my (admittedly limited) technique. Hey, I'm never going to be a concert guitarist, but I'm starting to get a feel for what it means to play well, in a heartfelt way, and with some understanding of composition. 

I figured I would do a few shout-outs to some of you, whether you've shared some cool links with me or are going through a difficult time. 

To Nancy and Hal down in SoCal: may medical technology bring you back together. The separation must be awful. We're thinking of you and plotting a visit in the not-too-distant future. 

Eric alerted me to this odd techno remix of Hava Nagila: https://youtu.be/QzJ2ziplOvQ?t=140 

If you're planning a Bar/Bat Mitzvah, a wedding, or just want to spook your Proud Boy relative, I recommend perusing. 

Paul, who is our Philadelphia expert extraordinaire, took us deep into the intersection between Philly and Brazilian music: from Astrud Gilberto's recent passing, in a Rittenhouse Square penthouse; to Melody Gardot's revelation, after she was hit by a car in ... Philly, that she had a golden voice, and now has a repertoire of Brazilian classics. If "Mira" doesn't fill you with absolute joy and wonder, you really need to have the earwax buildup removed from your cauliflowers. 

Lisa D. turned me on to London-based Markos, an artist featured in her Instagram feed... He's bed-ridden with intense Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but it hasn't stopped him from making mind-blowing art. I bought two prints from him. Can you tell which original paintings they were inspired by? I guessed right. Higher education comes in handy when it comes to parlor games. Hint: the names help. 

The Ascension of the Rocks  (this one is worth ten points) 

The Cessation of Narcissus (this one is twenty) 

If you figure it out, drop me a note. I'll mention you in the next blog ;-) 

Laure in France, shared this picture of the tiny burg of Salee, not far from Marcoles where she was attending a story-telling festival. It oozes so much French charm, you'll probably want to book your tix tomorrow for a baguette and brie getaway. 

That manor is older than the American Constitution. By a couple of centuries. 

I'm zeroing in on the conclusion to my "Lucy On the Vine in the Evening" Story, which is set in the near-future universe I've been developing. It features fraternizing AIs, CRSPR wars, gene-editing run amok, and impending climate doom. As well as non-binary love. Fun for the family, but only if you're not devoutly Christian. The latest artwork to "grace" those pages: 

The cute little critter in Dr. Kipogiek's lap is Lucy. Yes the same Australopithecus Afarensis discovered by the Leakeys (remember the story about Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds?), and now misguidedly brought back to life in my own version of Pliocene Park. 

I would be remiss if I didn't share a few words about the wisdom we've been taught. Last time the focus was on the second arrow, the way we add to our suffering by ruminating on it. 

This time let's talk about hatred, which is rampant in our society. 

Hatred is the second poison, in Buddhist lore (after Grasping, and before Ignorance). I'm going through an ugly crisis of hatred. The target doesn't matter, there's always a target: Putin, Xi, Trump, the neighbor with the rescue dog who attacked your loved one, and won't admit there's anything wrong with his dog. Make your own list.  

There's a part of me what's willfully hateful. It's not that I can't let go of my aversion, I won't. Why am I doubling down? 

There's a technique we're taught in meditation called "R.A.I.N". The acronym stands for a process of coming to terms with one's emotions.

R: we recognize what we're feeling. In this case hatred. But when I dig a little deeper, I also see anger, the desire to lash out, and right behind that, fear. Fear that the object of my hatred will hurt someone I love. 

A: that's the acknowledgment that all this is going on, and rather than rejecting the unpleasantness, we bow to it. Our feelings are powerful forces. That they're so strong is a product of evolution, like everything else. In some ways, these feelings are trying to protect us and the ones we love. That's why we  bow. We're not in charge. 

I: time to investigate. I don't mean a therapy session, although we all could use one. I mean: where does this live in our body? Hatred can be an unpleasant warmth in the chest. Fear is typically a cold pit in the stomach or a knot. And so on. We pinpoint that and we hang out with it. And we realize that there's so many other places in the body that aren't going through this experience. There is a degree of freedom, elsewhere. It doesn't mean we ignore what's going on. We also realize that our experience is not JUST hatred, or fear, or anger.  

N: depending on your school of thought, this step is called non-identification, or nurture. But the result is the same. When we remind ourselves that our whole being is not stuck in hatred, we can explore how to let go. We're not identified with the hatred. A nice way to do this is to pat ourselves on the shoulder, and say, wow, a lot of hatred there. "I get it, buddy, you feel hurt and scared." This friendly "I" doesn't feel the hatred. All of a sudden you see that you can live from a different place. 

Easier said than done, yeah? 

And on that note, may you and your loved ones fare well.