Millennial Madness

Okay, New York Times. I get it. Millennials are all the rage. You are obligated to comment. But seriously – this article says nothing. A lot of words are thrown around – Networked! “Girls”! Creatives! – but ultimately it is empty noise. Every generation has its traumas, technological advances, and values. This is not news, even for the Style section. Sigh.

Are Millennials costume material yet (the way that a 60s outfit means hippie means long hair and bellbottoms)? This article is like the description on a Halloween costume pack: H&M + idealism + tofu = Millennial.

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Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Death is scary. Where do we go? I was with my Dad when he passed, so this has been on my mind a lot. I’m suddenly afraid of flying and rushed to my doctor after I had what felt like a heart attack – but was in fact just a Times Square induced panic attack…

Heaven sounds nice – but a bit boring. Hell sounds like a nightmare – but how could it be worse than what some beings experience here on Earth?

Reincarnation tickles me. There is something freeing in the thought that when we die our spirit lives on, but our ego disappears into the ether. All the “ideas” we have about ourselves dissipate and our energy folds into something new.

The NYT did a piece years ago about the growing interest in Reincarnation – this quote sums it up nicely: Belief in reincarnation, he said, “allows you to experience history as yours. It gives you a different sense of what it means to be human.”

I wonder where Robin Williams’ energy went. Or Lauren Becall’s. Or my Dad’s.

This is just a musing, it isn’t something I need proof for or am even sure I entirely grasp. That being said, this story (while likely sensationalized for TV) is pretty crazy.

Oh Captain, My Captain

It has been a painful week. The world seems to be ripping itself apart and I can feel it starting to wear on me. From violence in the Middle East to injustice right here in the US sometimes staying in bed and hiding out under the covers feels like the only sane thing to do.

My heart is still breaking over the loss of Robin Williams this week. He was a childhood hero of mine. I found a list I made 10  years ago of people I wanted to work with – he was #1. There isn’t much to say – it is truly truly sad. He is sorely sorely missed.

Jimmy Fallon’s tribute was just perfect.

Sigh.

The Right Choice

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I’ve been trying to apply the same standards I’ve set for what I put in my body (food… get your mind out of the gutter!) to what I put on my body (clothing). IT IS SO HARD!

At least with food I have the luxury of a nutrition label. Researching ethical clothing is almost impossible because the major brands are not at all transparent about their manufacturing practices. Just tracking down brands that carry the Fair Trade stamp is a challenge.

After that terrible factory collapse in Bangladesh last year the idea of ethical clothing seemed to get a little buzz – but ultimately people appear unwilling to sacrifice a deal for ideals.

Digging around I’ve come across some neat sites – but these gems are few and far between!

Bhoomki – boutique in Brooklyn that features brands who source organic, recycled and/or artisan fabrics in addition to manufacturing as much as possible in NY.

ethical.org – breaks down the areas to consider when shopping. It is an Australian based company, so the alternatives section wasn’t that applicable, but at least it helps explain the different areas that make up a company’s responsibilities.

Prana – great site for yoga gear that holds to the mantra “A brand should give much more than it takes from the world”. It ain’t cheap though – shopping with a conscious never is.

Everlane – I’ve been a big fan for awhile. They provide amazing transparency into their supply line.

All this research made me realize it is going to take more than one hour of furious googling to figure out what ethical clothing means for me. Sigh. I should just move to a shack in the woods and forgo clothing. That would be a whole lot simpler…

Just Keep Swimming…

I’ve been trying VERY HARD lately to be more mindful.

It ain’t easy for a lot of reasons – we young folks like to be consuming media and avoiding real life whenever possible – but I was surprised at how much pain I felt. I am not great at dealing with problems head-on. I like to bury my feelings, thankyouverymuch. Unfortunately for me, that creates a big sadness fog that I just can’t seem to escape.

In my quest for guidance, I picked up Noah Levine’s book Against the Stream. The book is largely about the practice of Buddhism – which is a pretty fucking great guide to living right. He likens choosing a more mindful path to being a revolutionary, because it is a choice against the status quo. A choice against all the “shoulds” we are taught bring happiness.

Plus – Noah Levine looks pretty bad ass, so I’m inclined to listen to what he’s got to say:

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I was listening to a Dharma Punx (his organization) talk today and was struck by the following idea:

The consequence of love is inevitable grief.

Very true. I believe this was in reference specifically to the fact we all die, but it feels bigger to me. Taking the good with the bad sucks – but it is in meeting pain with compassion that we get to fully enjoy all the good stuff.

It just takes never-ending work to get there. Sigh.

Hello Old Friend

It’s been awhile…

The past months have been a lot of ups and downs, sharps turns and sudden stops. I feel okay – but this learning how to be a grown up stuff can be pretty frustrating. It is the journey of getting back to my self. That means change – breaking patterns, relationships shifting, and all kinds of exhausting endeavors. I’m getting tired just thinking about it.

All that being said, I am finding myself more present in the moment-to-moment, which can hurt as much as it can exhilarate. Along with this new sense of awareness is a craving for beauty that I must have always had, just ignored for a long time. I’ve being consuming art exhibitsreading good fiction, experiencing Neutral Milk Hotel in a storm, and listening to a shit-ton of Nina Simone.

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I’ll take beauty wherever I can get it:

This is so incredibly sweet. It makes you think about all the moments that are slowly absorbed into the fabric of life without you ever even realizing it. Beyond my polaroid collection from college, I wonder what artifacts of mine will survive my memory.

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I was just in Chicago for work and stole away to the Institute of Art – where I obsessed over this painting of (the rather scandalous) Lady Sarah Bunbury.

She was quite the rebel for her time and (eventually) married for love after a (gasp!) nasty divorce.

 

 

 

 

 

Maile Meloy’s Madame Lazarus ran in the New Yorker awhile ago. I promptly hunted anything by her I could get my hands on. Her writing makes me feel stuff.

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Memorials are strange things. We humans build these great big icons of suffering to… help us move forward? help us remember? The mind reels.

My sister was just in Berlin and told me about The Soviet War Memorial at Treptower Park. I never visited when I lived there – and am kicking myself now. The memorial was built right after WWII and is just so… SOVIET.

Left is a shot of Mother Russia crying at the entrance.

 

 

PURPLE HAIR. I’m seeing it everywhere in NYC. Apparently “kooky hair color” is a trend this summer – all the cool kids are doing it. I WANT.

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