This post doesn’t have to do with the Deathlist, My Piano Hands, OR Giving My Self to the Wind. NOPE. It’s about climate change. It just happens that Margaret Atwood is one of my favorite authors, and she gets it.
We must all work together to do this thing… Keep our planet from imploding on itself because of our neglect. But “It’s Not Too Late!” YAY
Okay. That’s it. Be the change. Thanks, Margaret, for supporting our cause.
I don’t need anything more.
No nothing. Of that, I am shore.
I don’t need more stuff, it’s all just fluff.
More clothes? I’ll give mine to the poor.
I’m not taking a class or writing a post.
I won’t try putting extra butter on my toast.
I’ll refrain from checking my Facebook Page.
And won’t tweet a Tweet to vent my rage.
I will not compare. I will not look back.
I cannot look forward or fear an attack.
Today is today. And all I can say
To the people who’ve gone astray and lost their way…
EGBOK, my friends. Have faith. Make hay.
Believe me, Receive me. “Everything’s Going to Be OK.”
Now… Am I happy?
* * *
I think the entrepreneur and investor Naval Ravikant would agree with Andy Puddicome, founder of the meditation app, Headspace, that we only find happiness in the present. And we can only be in the present if we are willing to work hard to do nothing.
Do you feel the TENSION in that statement? I do!
When we meditate, we are trying to do just that. We work (at meditation) to pay attention to only one thing in the present moment. Thoughts of the future and the past and the emotions surrounding those thoughts rip us from our present.
Worry is a particularly useless feeling. It’s a projection of a future over which we have no control. Worry can also be a feeling that shoves us back to some previous time when we wish we had done or said something different. Wayne Dyer used to say, “You can’t should have done anything!” I miss him.
I smile at my own ineptitude. I’m not Naval, nor Andy, nor Wayne. (All men, by the way, and what’s that about?). I am, however, beautifully inept. I am wondering about the depth of my imperfection at this second. When actually, in this very next second, I am happy. Grateful. Here at this moment, to be writing this post and nothing else.
It’s bitchin’, I tell you, bitchin’!
I play music as I pass through my day.
Sometimes it’s harsh, and sometimes easy-breezy, hooray.
Each day it’s a choice to:
Curate the chords
Making majors from the minors.
Nurture each note and
Relaxing on the rests.
Dive into dissonance
Forcing fortes and frowns.
Invite
Pianissimos seeking peace,
Soft pedals pushed down.
Channel rock ‘n roll?
Relish Rachmaninoff!
Meet Miranda or Mozart.
It’s a joy, it’s an art.
The best news is
The music I play.
Is totally mine,
To make my day my way.
I assumed the misbehaving “poop” bag hitched a ride from the wind, gratefully escaping my pocket to evade its sure fate. As in, who wants to be a poop receptacle? In a former life, this spunky bag lived on a squished roll at the supermarket, on its way to having something yummy and edible stuffed inside like broccoli or red lettuce or maybe even artichokes! Being a produce bag is not fantastic, but It’s a J.O.B. and carries with it a utilitarian kind of respect.
So, maybe you want to know why we use plastic bags in the face of climate change? Seriously. Reusable produce bags are a carbon-reducing option. My friend Marilee uses them, as does Alexandra. That said, we justify plastic vegetable bags at the grocery store by repurposing them for doggy poop bags. Maybe we should use leaves, but the park doesn’t approve of leafed poop in the trash cans. I must remember to send them a copy of The Carbon Almanac.
So, this bag seemed determined to attain a better life: Freedom. Liberty. Happiness. Smart bag.
Okay! Game on!
As I chased it, the wind picked it up just before I reached it and scuttled it a few feet beyond my reach. “Almost got it!” I said to my dog (after all, it was her bag, albeit empty so far). The bag laughed as it scooted forward again. Did it look over its flappy shoulder taunting me, or was that my imagination?
I followed the gleeful little bugger for almost a whole block until I snatched it from out of the gutter. “Gotchya!”
The wind stopped, and the Universe smiled, knowing She had gently yet firmly guided me to a metaphor moment.
Huh?
I was chasing empty.
Because that’s what chasing empty does—it lands you in life’s gutter. That’s good to know, right? Well, but now… what do I do? Is the opposite of empty “full,” and how is that defined? Does not empty require living a life with Meaning (capital M)? What is and how do I find my Meaning and my life’s Purpose?
Next time I see an escaped, empty poop bag. I will pay attention. Or I may let it go. It’s too much work.
. . .But she doesn’t smell nearly as good!
Death has had all manner of bad press for centuries–even before there were media outlets. History, literature, music, and life are replete with death. It’s not something we can avoid.
But Death has her job to do. Death, a.k.a. Coco, climbs aboard the train of life to complete her mission of passing souls from the Earthly plane to the Metaphysical space. When she enters the train’s passenger cars, she fills the closed spaces with her “aroma.” As we find out in Deathlist, her odor is compliments of God, and it’s a definite turn-off. We want to know why it’s there, and so does Death!
“Why couldn’t I smell like bacon?” she might ask herself rhetorically in a quiet moment.
We all have odors. I mean, I feel like our odors are the mistakes we make. They are the hurts we pass to our fellow humans. And to ourselves. We have things on us that we think we cannot expunge, although we try desperately. Bad habits. Sins, maybe. A divorce! Well, heck. I think we all have those, and yet, we save our friends (and sometimes our enemies), our pets, spouses, and ex-spouses because, in a brave moment, we come above our sins. Maybe we step around them. Or we push them aside, even for a split second, to do something we never expected we could or would do.
And at that moment, we realize that we aren’t so bad after all. We can even hug ourselves or at least pat ourselves on the back.
“Well done!” you say to yourself in the mirror.
AND we need to remember that day for the funky times when all looks lost. Those are the times when the “odor” of unworthiness surrounds us. And we’re in the dumps.
@AustinKleon, in his book Steal Like an Artist, says, “Keep a Praise File.” Collect the pats on the back and the hugs, so you can find them when you’re sad.
In the meantime, chin up. Help a friend in need. Or… heck…save the human race. We’ll be glad! And for you… You’ll smell like bacon!
Would you want to know when you’re going to die?
This is not a trick question. Think about your answer and let us know, please. Perhaps it would depend on the circumstances. Maybe it depends on if you’re old or young. Sick or well. Rich or poor. Death herself doesn’t care EXCEPT she cares about humans, despite herself and how they treat her.
The only way to know what Death really thinks is to read Kathryn Atkins’s book, Deathlist.
AND then you’ll know more about your fellow humans but also how sucky it is to be Death. She hates her job.
If you’re old enough, you remember Kermit the Frog’s song, “It’s Not Easy Being Green.” If you’re not old enough, you might look it up, but suffice it to say, it’s not easy being Death! It’s almost as bad as being a dentist. No one wants to see Death or the dentist, and people are afraid of both of them when they shouldn’t be afraid of either one.
Death, who also likes to be called Coco for Coco Chanel, is very tired of being feared and of her job of collecting souls. Here’s the thing. She doesn’t CAUSE death. She only collects souls and helps smooth the path between living and the here-after. PLUS — Death doesn’t send people to their eternities, Heaven or Hell, or wherever they are going to go. But people don’t get that about Death. They think she’s the one doing all the dirty work.
So, that’s why Death has a therapist named Nancy. And when Nancy isn’t available, Death uses retail therapy to get through the roughest days on the job.
She wonders if her therapist is real. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. But then she REALLY wonders if she needs therapy!
How about you? What do you do when you’re feeling blue? Bubble baths? Dancing? TV? What’s your secret escape? Let us know!
Maybe check out the Deathlist book trailer to see more about Death and why she’s tired of her job. AND why she buys so many clothes. No, she won’t bite! If you read the book Deathlist, which is a satire (and pretty heavy on philosophy), you’ll get to meet a pretty goofy God, a bike riding Jesus, and a fashionista Holy Spirit. They’re funny, although sometimes Death questions their idea of funny because they all drive her nuts!
Death plays golf with the Trinity when they’re talking to one another, that is.
The book asks: “WOULD YOU WANT TO KNOW WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO DIE?” Because that’s what the Deathlist will tell you. Take the survey here.
I’m often asked, “What was the inspiration for this novel?”
Well, pretty often. Um, so. Hmmm. Okay. I’m telling you now that you’ve asked. Thanks! 🙂
Here’s my ANSWER: Every time I saw someone on the news or heard of a person dying that seemed especially odd (like a child, for gosh sakes, or someone sitting on a bench eating a sandwich and a tree fell on them, maybe), I began to form a theory that everyone had a specified death date. Death was not by chance, happenstance, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. God had it planned out. He kept track of it in a big database, which someone or other dubbed the Deathlist.
I still believe there might be one somewhere. How do you explain those little times when you were two seconds behind that huge traffic accident? Or, okay, on a morbid but equally mysterious level, why do some suicide attempts not work? Without bogging down my explanation with statistics, we can all report anecdotal evidence of failed suicides.
Then imagine that humans were somehow allowed to know what their death date was. That was the germ of the book.
I could know how much time I had to finish and publish the Deathlist. Write a how-to book about anything. (I’m not sure, but I buy a lot of those fix-me-please books, so I think I should write one!)
Here’s the thing. The novel Deathlist is a satire, in the same way, that George Orwell’s Animal Farm was a satire. Satire is “penetrating wit, irony, or sarcasm used to expose and discredit vice or folly. Orwell’s satire took the form of his effort, “to fuse political purpose and artistic purpose into one whole.” [Wikipedia] In the case of Deathlist, I tried to fuse life’s purpose and artistic purpose into one whole.
The Deathlist is God’s way to keep his mind free to do other things. Keeping track of everyone’s birth and death dates is a huge chore that not even God likes to do. When the Deathlist gets released to the people of Earth, humans have a chance at achieving their life’s purpose with more urgency if they know when they will die. That was my original idea for writing the book. I wanted that urgency in my life.
The book started out with an entirely different main character, and he (a young man) was a mortal and found the Deathlist, and at the same time, there was another older man and his wife who also knew the Deathlist existed. Alas, that story (I really liked it) was taken over by the vain and gorgeous Death, so much so that the entire book changed from science fiction/fantasy to visionary & metaphysical/satire.
In some ways, the final scenes of Deathlist mimic the end of Animal Farm in that our main character Death is betrayed by the Trinity. However, unlike Animal Farm, the novel Deathlist is not as depressing an ending. Death learns quite a bit about herself during the course of the action, while the reader will have some pretty important questions to ask of themselves as well. Most importantly, it’s this one:
“Would you want to know when you’re going to die?”
You can answer the question in our survey here.
As a literary device or artistic form, an “allegory is a narrative or visual representation in which a character, place, or event can be interpreted to represent a hidden meaning with moral or political significance. Authors have used allegory throughout history in all forms of art to illustrate or convey complex ideas.” [Wikipedia]
The character Death conveys vanity, selfishness, and a host of other “deadly sins” (Did I say that? Yes, I guess I did.) But her character represents some aspects of hope, love, trust, and loyalty, too. SO. I hope you read Deathlist, take the survey, and let me know what you think of it!
Also, Deathlist is funny, but its messages are not. That’s kind of what satire is all about, I think.
Well, the Trinity is off playing golf while you and I are working. So let’s go back to work.
Hello and welcome. I’m Ana Cortez from ACME NEWS. Today, we’re sitting with Death in her penthouse living room in New York City where she often stays between gigs. If you’ve not met Death, you are in for a treat. Death has a history of being misunderstood for much of her life. In fact, she didn’t understand a lot about her own existence until the Deathlist was published and now, she’s much more relaxed and has time for interviews. Like today’s.
By the way, for you radio listeners, Death is wearing a très chic just-last-week’s Paris collection torn jean look with gold spike heels, a Vera Wang backless top, a John Hardy necklace and bracelet, and a Chanel scarf. Her hair is pinned up in an elegant chignon with not-so-tiny diamonds nestled throughout, sparkling against the camera lights.
Ana: How are you today, Death? You look amazing. As usual.
Death: Thank you so much, I’m fine. And I’m glad to have a few days off.
Ana: Days off? What happens to the souls you’re supposed to pick up today?
Death: I have assistants that help out. We’ve always had a team, of course, but I have to say some of the younger collectors are in too much of a hurry.
Ana: What do you mean?
Death: I try to help people at the end of their lives. I like to give them a chance to ponder their existence, revisit their purpose, and hopefully forgive themselves.
Ana: Who knew? You don’t take people’s lives then.
Death: No. I don’t. They’re already out of the earthly, mortal plane when I arrive. I’m the go-between.
Ana: So, who sends them to their eternity?
Death: That’s another department entirely. And people’s sins are tallied in the Sin Almagamator Department for that.
Ana: Um… Oh. Gee.
Death: Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re fine.
Ana: Uh… Well. Let’s talk about the Deathlist. What was that exactly?
Death: Everyone on the Earth has a designated time when they’re born. God makes sure they’re here when they’re supposed to be. [Death sweeps her arms around the apartment and out to the amazing view of New York.] Then, they have to have a time when they die, of course. The Deathlist is a big database where all that is recorded. We decided people shouldn’t know when they’ll die ahead of time. Although we’re still open to opinions.
Ana: Huh?
Death: Yes. If you’d like to take the survey, it’s here.
Ana: Oh. Great. I’ll do that. And our listeners can too! But I’m not sure if I want to know.
Death: Yes. Yes. Everyone has a different thought on that. It’s very personal. We get that. But, I’m afraid I have to go.
Ana: So soon?
Death: Yes. I’m very sorry. But I have to collect some souls now. There’s a terrible war going on in Ukraine, and we just didn’t put enough collectors on for today. Thanks so much for putting me on the air.
Ana: We’ll do this again! Thanks for coming on our show, Death. And listeners, would you like to know when you’re going to die? Take the survey and be sure to read Deathlist. Until then, signing off from ACME NEWS.
Ana: That’s a wrap.
Ana to self: I probably better scoot to confession.