Friday, July 6, 2007

It's not much, but it's ohm...not

Since I have not invited friends to my blog, nor have I mentioned to anyone at all, that I am, indeed "blogging," I think my nine minutes of writing might truly be considered my diary. And in considering this a diary or "private" writing, I began to think about secrets I have kept in my life.

I kept quiet about a few things for my older brother when we were both much younger.

And I suppose I kept secrets from certain people, but probably revealed them to others.

The only secret I know I have truly and totally kept is my personal mantra.

I initiated into transcendental meditation many, many years ago when my then boyfriend suggested it. We went to a small frame house that was very clean and spare and saw a video message from the maharishi and we attended a few other information sessions. We brought offerings of flowers and we wrote big fat checks. At least I remember it being a lot of money at the time. I was working as an advertising copywriter at Marshall Field and Company in Chicago and the job did not pay well.

At our last TM session, we went off into separate rooms and chanted with our teachers. At the end of the chanting, the teacher seemed to be handing off my mantra to me by repeating the same three syllables over and over, smiling and nodding to me to "take it and run with it." At least that's how it felt. I chanted away while my teacher beamed at me.

We were told that if we ever re-initiated anywhere, anytime, we would receive the same individual mantra. I could not figure out how they could guarantee this. Did they link it to our initials? No, we could change our names. Was it somehow connected to gender or physical features? Those things can change, too. Couldn't be that.

I finally decided that there must be only one mantra.

I can't test the theory, though, because I might have to reveal my mantra, tell my only secret. I could ask others to whisper their mantras in my ear, but they might only tell me if we promised to exchang mantras. And I can't do it. I no longer practice TM, but I have kept my mantra a secret.

I might have revealed it here, in this private space, but, alas, nine minutes is up.

Limits can save people from themselves.

Thursday, July 5, 2007

The Back not about golf

Plunging into my self-allowed nine minutes...
I saw the movie "Once" yesterday. A good choice for Independence Day. A wonderful movie--truly a movie that is full of wonder and longing and yearning and remembering a lot of what-ifs and forks in the road.

It made me remember a July 4th from many years ago. I was eighteen and heading off to college in the fall. I had the kindest boyfriend who was brilliant and sweet and who really liked me. We had attended such an innocent high school and grew up on the cusp of the chaos that would envelop us in college and after a summer theater program, I was ready to dip my toe into the pool of chaos and adventure and this nice boy was the last person I wanted to spend time with...and yet, he was lovely.

So, on an outing to the beach--we lived in a midwestern river town and had to drive a few hours to find dunes at the edge of a lake--I broke it off with him in a manner that still makes me cringe. I was flip and thought if I was funny and light, it would make everything okay. I told him that since it was the 4th of July, I felt the need to declare my independence. So stupid, so mean, so blind, so unfeeling. We were with a few other couples and we had a two hour drive home and I had just tossed him aside. It's not that I was such a prize. It's never about that. It's that he liked me and I came out of the blue and socked him one in the eye--with a kind of light jest, thinking that would make it allright.

It has been so many years, and I am still embarassed at how I behaved. If I were ever to see him again--highly unlikely--he probably would not even remember the day or me--or maybe he would and could make it all light and unimportant and make me feel as badly as I think I made him feel.

My time is up...maybe this is about golf--we were in a sand dune...and I was trying to get out.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

The first nine

My first blog, my first blog entry...
Now, what's the hook? Am I painting a picture, trying out a recipe, writing a haiku, driving a golf ball, composing a song, sharing a secret, revealing a private desire--every day--and writing about it here?
Maybe. But more important, I am testing anonymity in this e-world, in this blogosphere. I am not revealing my blog to anyone--not to family, not to friends. No invitations to "visit" or "comment." I am simply starting it, writing in it daily, and seeing if anyone finds it. I'm not trying to hide it , but I I'm not trying to flaunt it. Are there really readers out there who long to communicate with strangers who post their thoughts for the world to see? Or are blogs just another one of those things that one begins, hoping to stretch out of one's comfortable circle, only to pull in everyone whom you already know. "Have you read my blog? I talk about it on my blog! Here's an email with the address for my blog!"
Let's just see if I build a blog in the forest, anyone is around to hear it.

I will blog for nine minutes. Why nine? What is the secret energy behind the number?
Twelve minutes was already taken by another blogger. So was ten and and eleven. A cosmic admonition to me--do not spend more than nine minutes on this particular experiment.

And although I wanted to share a really good independence day story, I am almost at my nine minute I will wait until I start the clock again tomorrow...and I will learn to time my typing because when the alarm rings, I will quit...discipline...