Sometimes considered thought- provoking, heart warming or controversial, I enjoy musing about philosophy, societal concerns, politics, popular culture, and...as always, random fun.
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THE SONATA: a new poem
January 12, 2012
THE SONATA
The ivory keys of the piano
Danced with a vibrato into my soul
As if plucking imaginary strings inside
The melody drifted an intellect
Scaling down roughness built
And bestowing light in caves deep
As the pulsating caress of Beethoven's fingertips, lover's tease
A sway like swans I once watched on the lake long ago on an iridescent day
The sonata filled my darkened bedroom sonorously
With resonance to recall fondly as to not forget my loves,
Yet to chant spiritedly a new future arose from wall to wall, ceiling to ceiling
Notes that trumpeted with affettuoso and hope.
I took a deep breath of this melodious air,
And fell asleep with an enchanted smile...
Yours,
Johanna
2011: A SPIRITED UNION...A HOLIDAY POEM FROM ME TO YOU...
This is a holiday story of one man and woman...and the spirit that brings them together…
A Spirited Union
a poem by Johanna Vanderspool 12/24/2011
Frank was a scientist, researching often on his computer.
Shelly worked 2 blocks away, as an extroverted tutor.
Every morning, Shelly turned left to the Sweetie Pie bakery,
An establishment Frank thought was kind of unsavory.
Not to venture out of his comfort zone, Frank often watched Shelly from afar
But took notice of her beauty and shining star.
Shelly longed for a man so attentive and alert.
Frank certainly could fill that if he could only assert.
Twas’ the last night before Christmas, Frank awoke with a startle.
Outside his snowy window, lay a full moon so bright it sparkled.
A spirit showed itself in mid air, with a glowy light.
It whispered, “What are you waiting for?”
Frank found himself replying, “It’s easier to stay alone in doors.”
The ebbing specter advised, “Peace and courage will come if you explore.”
Suddenly, the energetic dust flew into his heart.
Frank felt his zest for life restart.
In the morning, Shelly turned her usual left to that pastry shop.
This time, Frank was inside waiting for her like he was on a mountaintop.
Shelly’s eyes smiled with a truth unknown,
She’d been coming to this bland patisserie with an ulterior undertone.
Hoping Frank would leave that window and say hello.
She placed herself daily underneath the door’s mistletoe.
Just then, as if a phantom made it happen, the holiday leaf at the entryway dropped,
Frank gladly swooped and picked it up.
Next to Shelly, with the holly evergreen held strongly in his hands,
Frank turned and kissed her as it demands.
The kiss was right and robust.
So glad was she, Shelly finally found her love, this she could trust.
Frank’s lips began to share stories concealed and unheard.
A new love started to occur.
(I may be a holiday nymph in the sky re-telling this tale,
With my omnipresent eye, it may be easier for me to align and unveil
But the truth is inside each of you every day
The will of every man to create peace and love starts today.)
Yours truly,
Johanna
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2012!
Happy Hanukkah!
Joyeux Noël!
Frohe Weihnachten!!
!Feliz Navidad!
メリークリスマス
THANKSGIVING AND THE GIFT OF THE MAGI
November 23, 2011
Thanksgiving means so much to Americans, but to me, it's a universal day that imparts much more globalization than our sea to shining sea. Perhaps, as a collective mankind, we can strive for continent to bountiful continent.
As the recession is hitting every US city and seemingly many nations, it is also the recommended season to examine gratitude. What does it mean to you? Who do you say "thank you" to? For what reasons?
My great grandparents used to tell me vivid stories of The Great Depression. They shared how they waited in lines for bread and milk; their meager earnings, the number of children per room; the imbalanced class lines. Remarkably, they made it through. Eventually, they prospered well. In fact, my granddaddy left this world a wealthy man.
In those intellectual circles at post Operatic dinner parties, everyone generally agrees WWII pulled America into action and commerce. Despite that I don't hold a poli-sci degree, nor am I a historian or a 60 Minute pundit...I have an anthropological intuition. I believe it was the gumption and heart of the human spirit that made us prevail.
What's wrong with today’s world isn't about money or enterprising ventures. It's about taking care of you, while you take care of me. It's not called Communism or Socialism. It's called Humanity. Cynics in the right row, feel free to call me an Idealist. Ya, so what if I should have it tattooed on my face?? The commanding interest is not lost on the many who are now in a class warfare once again; the masses are frustrated and struggling to find— the who, when, and how it will all be solved.
If you're looking for exact solutions in my subtext, I certainly can give you a few boldly in person. However, many of you might never speak to me again because I've got radical concepts that would be highly inconvenient to all, including myself. Yet, solving the budget crisis, creating jobs, providing healthcare, revising education-- these are minor discussions to a larger problem.
The problem and solution is easily recognized in one familiar story called “The Gift of the Magi.” Do you know it? It’s a great short story that embodies what Thanksgiving (and Christmas) is all about.
William Sydney Porter, pen name of O. Henry, wrote “The Gift of the Magi” in 1906. It's a short story about a married New York City couple too poor to barely pay the rent; no less a Christmas present for each other. The wife has beautiful long hair that she terribly loves. Despite this, she sacrifices her hair to buy him a chain for his precious watch. Meanwhile, her husband decides to pawn his beloved watch so he can buy her a comb for Christmas. Unknowingly, both have sacrificed for the other because their love, respect and gratitude are so strong. Beyond the situational irony and plot twist this had at the time, to me it has become a symbol of what we all should strive for in our every day lives.
Excerpt from “The Gift of the Magi”—
"Jim stopped inside the door…His eyes were fixed upon Della...Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair...You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you—sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. Eight dollars a week or a million a year—what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick change to hysterical tears and wails...
For there, lay The Combs—the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims—just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!” And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
Closely related to “The Gift of Magi” is the story of the Pilgrims in 1621. Didn't the Wampanoag Indians sacrifice their time and resources to help the dying new Americans? In that scenario, the Indians would be considered the "rich ones.” Rich in knowledge, experience and, certainly at that time crops, aka their commerce—they had no incentive to help the odd white people from Plymouth. Yet they taught these colonists how to survive. Survive and thrive we did due to the generosity of thankful and giving people.
The adage is “gratitude consists of being aware of what you have, than what you don't.” While we gobble down our turkeys and fall prey to the advertisements to run to the nearest store to purchase more things we don't likely need (primarily appealing to our egos)...maybe we can truly honor “The Gift of the Magi” and Plymouth Pilgrim story. One is fictional, the other is our history. What remains consistent is the message.
It is the history in all of us. Otherwise, how did we get here? It was never about the money. It has been about the family and friends who supported us to health and prosperity. Look here, I'm a Liberal calling for "family" values not because we need or should have the nuclear family. Laws do not define a family. It is not defined by blood. It's defined by a set of people who choose to be…united. Family is about people who need and want each other. The new order in psychology is that we're not supposed to be wanted or needed. We're supposed to NOT want to be wanted. We're supposed to be independent. This mentality makes us dogs in a dog-eat-dog-world. Unless you want to go down on all fours and gnaw on each other (some of you may), I suggest we keep upright and try to demonstrate what makes us different from all the other animals…the ability for compassion and reason.
Contrastingly, in every patriotic song, we call to each other as “brothers” and “sisters”...but rarely do we act like it. As an insider looking out (and often an outsider looking in), our “problem” is that America is in an identity crisis. We've forgotten our larger family isn't just the one we grew up with in one home. It’s the families that live in numerous homes across the country....all over the world.
Look into the eyes of a stranger. Welcome them to your table. Give thanks to them by giving them today's joy, and they will return it, even if it's decades later. It's a pay-it-forward phenomenon well worth repeating during these challenging times.
Ultimately, Thanksgiving Day allows us to set aside the problems of the moment and solely give our attention to the one human constitution we sometimes fail to remember in bleaker times— LOVE.
As for my gratitude, I thank my family— particularly my parents. They adopted a foreign little girl (long before it was fashionable) who needed a good family. A family she was given. It wasn't sitcom perfect. They provided a palette of colors in which made her understand the full definition of thanks. Mom and Dad, thank you for your strength and bravery.
To my friends, long term and newbies— thank you for your cheerleading and laughter. You provide family to me every day in so many ways. I hope I do the same.
To the United States— thank you dear America for taking in the persecuted and homeless. Individually, we may be weak but as a whole family, in the best of who we are— we seek truth, freedom and kind-hearted strength.
This country was founded on Thanksgiving principles. It's our soul…our birth, our middle, our never end. As the season heads to Christmas/ Hanukkah/ Kwanzaa, we're not just ready for holiday spirit but also ready to return home to a grand family…who’s not interested in distractions but more focused on love. Cherish these moments. Cherish each other.
As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them. – John Fitzgerald Kennedy
Happy Thanksgiving. Many blessings and love to each of you.
Johanna
GO BIG OR GO HOME
August 30, 2011
As I sit here across from Waikiki Beach, readying myself for an incredible hike up Diamond Head...I'm celebrating this moment and examining this past year in all its splendor and glory. There have been many highs; and happily, I report not many lows.
When a year passes, I often think of Dr. Seuss's book, "
Oh, The Places You'll Go!" It's considered a long children's poem. As is often of Dr. Seuss's work, it is usually relatable, lovable and useful as an adult. For instance, read the depth in this passage alone:
I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.
And, what great truths and positive motivation are revealed in these stanzas:
I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.
You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.
You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.
And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.
NO!
That's not for you!
Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.
...Guess the unofficial doctor has the perfect remedy with his words. "Officially" for me, what is now true is that I am 34 years "old"er. With my mysterious birthday date still undiscovered, the inevitable fate operator with my drivers license in hand added another coin to my life meter. I am so lucky to stay one more year in this little life of mine.
If last year's post (
August 30, 2010) was about the Year of The Treadmill, this year is the Year of the Inner Guidance. This year I commanded this prose, more than ever:
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy/gal who'll decide where to go.
You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.
So many of us walk a walk that isn't even desirable to us at all. It's a complacency set from, perhaps, family expectations or; an inner deviant who tells you your true passion is too frightening or; life generally steers you wayward from your ultimate goal. Maybe that doesn't apply to you...and if not, be so glad of it.
There are times that everyone needs to take the moment(s) to assess who they are, what they want, where to live, who their friends are, what their life will be in one direction versus another. The key is not to stall, but the inspection/ introspection is absolutely necessary. More importantly, however, is the inner truth. Will you lie even to yourself? And...once you know what you know and want what you want...will you make it happen no matter what?
My reputation has often been something worthy to me. It usually means going beyond expectations. It often means people pleasing. It sometimes means sacrifice. This year, it has not. I believe I've surprised people. Cut people off, turned down decent jobs and walked away without many regrets. Close friends questioned me, but at the heart of it, they've understood...as many of them are also artists, musicians, directors, performers, et al. The choices we make sometimes comes not from the business (aka brain) but from the heart. As with everything a good mix is what we strive for in the great tier of happiness, but within the heart, it grows from there.
No matter if you consider yourself an artist or not, the choice of inner guidance is not for the faint hearted. It's to do what's best for you. Tap into it with a kind selfishness, and know the people who stand by you are the ones to love. And for those people who misunderstand you or the opportunities that fall around you, it is what is necessary. This is all said with greater faith and alertness than I've ever had in my life.
My motto has always been "
go big or go home," and now I understand the meaning not to be about accomplishing goals but rather knowing how to live grandly inside yourself and directing your life positively with your most authentic voice. Now, that's BIG...
For those that love little ol' me, thank you. I am truly blessed. You are appreciated more than you know. I bid each of you a wonderful year full of success, love and the greatness of life.
Now-- strong thighs, get me up that mountain! I wanna see the view. :)
Cheers,
Johanna
FOREVER IN LOVE
August 11, 2011
I'm so blessed tonight to be in the state of bliss and clearness. In the quiet of this late evening, after a radiating cry of pain, of happiness; of crystal awareness...to know what my heart truly wants. It's begging me to give it a say, to attend; to listen to a meek voice that isn't meek at all.
In the past five years, this voice started as a small throb in my chest and with every passing day, it's become louder and louder...reaching such great heights of audio that thunderous horses's hooves couldn't match its decibels. Hear me now, it isn't the noise of my ego. It isn't the blended lies; coverups I used to tell myself or line of defenses met from habits formed long ago...it isn't a brain power that pushes a steady flow of analytical thoughts from one synapse to another, as if in a debate toss. I am not the prosecutor or the defendant. It is only one guiding voice. I recognize it as safe because my soul, my heart says it is.
I am free to follow it as I am free to steer myself to make a cup of tea. And I will. From now on, I will.
I smile at the little girl in curls laughing in the sun and twirling about. She receives me with such great joy, like a long absent warrior finally returning home. I swoop her up with a great embrace that reminds me of the love that has always been there. There's no outer search for it. No outer remedy. No external need for peace. I could be in a crowded atrium or stadium...and yet, the peace drapes over me like a comfortable blanket.
Whatever happens tomorrow, I will be okay. I am freed already, no matter what. I wear no shackles. There is no tether to the past. I look out now, and there are fields of bountiful green.
I wish this for you, my friend. I beg of you, with no ulterior intent, to follow your heart. No matter what fears; no matter what judgment; no matter past voices; no matter what circumstances. Rise, rise, rise-- to take the loving hand extended out within you. Intertwine your fingers together like a lover, like a friend, like family.
Once reconnected, everything will be still. Don't run, my dear. Stay with the quiet; with the solitude because you aren't alone. There are so many others who are with you. If desired, I'll supplicate you to be your true self. In that openness, may your honesty finally give you the shelter and home you've always wanted.
Your wish is your command.
If it isn't now, that is okay too. You have recognized each other and the blindfold is no longer needed. Though there is no exact road map, you will be brought back to this counsel fire again...your destiny is to reunite...forever in love.
Yours,
Johanna
THE RESUME
June 8, 2011
A couple of days ago, my Dad, 53, asked me to help him put together a resume. I was completely flattered and felt a kind of thrill you get when your parents believe you are respectable in the world, and have come to YOU for advisement. Fortunately (or unfortunately), I can say that I'm an expert resume writer. Due to my chosen profession, every few months I am required to update it and send it out. Hence, I responded quickly to his request for help. It was just a small way to say "thank you" to the man that literally put a roof over me and my mother's heads.
It's been nearly 30 years since my Dad has had to write a resume, or even been asked for it. For twenty-two years, my esteemed father (Mr-Fix-It as I've always called him), has been with the same construction company in Florida. He's proven time and time again a valuable resource, and thus rightly, has been awarded, promoted and commended for his level of excellence. What I find notable is his loyalty.
That word, LOYALTY, means so little in today's world of immediate gratification and fluctuating fads. Fortunately, his company has been kind to him; and fostered an equal relationship that brings out prosperity in its workers and dedication through easy and rough times. My father is lucky. The company he gave his labor, sweat, tears, laughter and passion to was luckier.
As for moi, I'm a freelancer. This means I generally take joy in short projects. At least that is what it means to the documentary TV world. As an independent producer/director, I attempt to create loyalty wherever I get hired. My commitment runs deep. No one could say I'm lazy, and my passion spurs excitable discussion in certain communities. Yet that said...however long I stay in the edit bay; however precise I get with my scripts; whatever conditions I endure; no matter how little sleep, food or lack of pee breaks I get-- I seem to maintain a loyalty. Perhaps this has been passed down from my hard-working father and mother that have swallowed their pride or taken one for the greater team....living by Aristotle's philosophy for the greater good. I have adopted some of their impressive workman perspectives with an understanding that it may not serve to the best of me. With no dependents, who am I serving for the greater good? Oh ya, the production company and their success!
I ponder, as I usually do, the question that I believe I know the answer to-- Are there any loyal companies left? If you, as employee, are loyal in service, spirit and skill-- is that even respected these days?
There is little to no fear that my dear ol' Dad will be able to turn the construction deficit into a win, but as an old fish out in a new stream, will he fight the uphill battle of ageism into abundant clear waters? Or will he trail behind, as many do? Even with youth on my side, I ask the same questions of myself in this frenetic and fickle marketplace.
As an example, one of my producing friends is 55 years old. He's what I call "Retro Boob Tuber," because he's still considered a member in the Age of the Sitcom, aka 1950-1990. However cool he gets with his haircut, whenever he networks with young Hollywood; whatever new Red Camera he learns to use...he's still stuck with the label of the Age of the Sitcom. How does he land jobs? He diversifies, but it doesn't discount that he can't get employers in either genre-- documentary or narrative-- to call him back. This is a man who did 15 years in sitcoms and another 10 years in documentary TV. Who has given him the same level of loyalty he gave and now deserves in return? When did organizations believe you're easily expendable? What turned the tide? Reaganomics?
Youth has always had the upper hand, of course. Well, most of the time. I've always said, "You're only expendable as you let yourself be. Age doesn't matter, your dedication does," but I know this is my sheer optimism and not entirely the truth.
Notably, the clauses I sign on my paradoxical deal memos are "at will" employment. At-will employment by definition is a doctrine of American Law that defines an employment relationship in which either party can break the relationship with no liability. Under this doctrine, any hiring is presumed to be "at will"; that is, the employer is free to discharge individuals "for good cause, or bad cause, or no cause at all," and the employee is equally free to quit, strike, or otherwise cease work. In everyman terminology, it means—
Employer: "Yo! I don't want you to work here no more!"
Employee: "Boz man, that's awrigh, cuz I don't wanna work for ya either. I'm outeee heeeree."
Employer: "Fool...I'll just call Asia."
Employee: "Fool..I'll just call unemployment."
Where's the compromise? Where's the joining efforts to make a relationship work? Does this human sociology and psychology not apply to the professional sphere anymore? How many more resumes will I help generate for those friendly fish now in waters uncharted? With the baby boomers being laid off and competing with Generation X, Y, Z, what will be assessed during their interviews? Age, loyalty, old philosophies...youth, trends, easy expendability?
In the past few years, I have learned many lessons on this subject matter and now give my loyalty to the most deserving. It can be hard to distinguish with so many false promises, but I've managed to find a few equitable working relationships where I now feel a rewarding sense of peace.
I bark not because this is applicable to me, per se. To be honest-- I have fared well for the most part. I have swam upstream. I've got stamina and youthful exuberance to see me through any rough waters. I'm in the Age of TransMedia. I will be okay. But what about the others? Who will care for them?
Yours,
Johanna
THE NEVER ENDING DATE
Thursday, March 24, 2011
From THE WEDDING CRASHERS
Jeremy Grey: "I got to get outta here, pronto. I got a stage five clinger. Stage five, virgin, clinger."
...So I'm going to just say it. I've been dating myself. A lot. And I've been a bit clingy...to myself, that is. It's not virgin territory, per se, since I've been dating myself regularly off and on since I was 16. But lately, it's been a lot of work.
I reminisce often about the 18 year old Jo and say to myself, "wow, wasn't she clueless?" Ignorance is truly bliss. I know far too much about myself to be natural; at times I feel like Sybil. A complexity of different Jo's. What Freud would call the Id, Superego, and Ego perhaps...but I just call them the JoJos. They loom over me like a Greek chorus, encircling and chanting out the obvious undertones of my motivations, fears, hopes, joys, past and possible future. Frankly, I kinda want to b-tch slap them, but I'm not prone to violence. So, instead I listen (this current Jo) and try patiently like a good girlfriend to really understand what they're trying to convey; to learn from them.
Needless to say, psychology has always been a fascinating subject to me; to which I have put in good practice. "They" say you must love yourself before you can love others. I think I got that one down now. But what has always perplexed me is dependency, connectivity. That one concept eludes me sometimes because in the non-brainy sense-- people need people. Not to validate--but it's a known fact that it's not healthy or considered good to be an island.
For validation or attachment issues, SEX AND THE CITY comes to mind:
Charlotte: "I've been dating since I was fifteen. I'm exhausted. Where is he?"
Miranda: "Who? The White Knight?"
Let's not get us started on Carrie Bradshaw...wouldn't any other woman ditch Big a long time ago? He's a prototype of the chase in all us, both men and women; the carrot dangling; the tweak that never happens; only in urban myths.
From New York City island to the other island concept in CAST AWAY:
Chuck Noland: "The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself."
Chuck created Wilson, the volleyball, not to be alone. That was his Sybil perhaps. I talked to Bobby Zemeckis a few years ago for POLAR EXPRESS, and he specifically talked about the psychology of the island. He reminded all of us our great need to be interconnected. Hence, I think of Facebook; my love/ hate and gratitude/disgust for it.
By the way, for those that haven't seen the 1976 TV movie SYBIL, it's terribly good but painful to watch. In Psych 101, we had to watch that famous Sally Field film that won her an Emmy and Golden Globe...to which a few years later, her internal Sybil came out when she accepted her Academy Award (for another film) stating, "You like me, you really like me."
And isn't that the truth? We all just want to be liked; to be loved; to be rescued from the island that can and certainly does exist...in all of us. Some have it a little less with a larger metaphorical city. Others simply island hop.
The verdict is still out on me. Have I been comforted by the great independence I've always had? I'll never leave myself (well, I won't; some people do). In that way, it's so easy to date myself. Yet, I love the thrill of meeting new people. I enjoy the sounds, sight, smells, experience, stories, education that arises from others. In fact, I thrive on it. I can share myself (and ironically this note is this moment)...but to a point. And then, no one can have me. I'm that jealous girlfriend that guards her Jos. You get it?
So what to do? God, no. No more thinking!! You don't want to be Sybil (I'm sure you've encountered a few on Hollywood Blvd). So, instead you JUMP. Another approach. The other is FREE FALL. There's a difference.
Lately, I've been JUMPING. Jumping into a lot of things actually.
Recently I went on what I thought was a fairly good date...this one outside of myself. It was an interesting dynamic that has left questions about dating overall and those connections. Am I too far off base to say that I guarded myself? A self protection to those out there that seek fun for the sake of fun or fun to take to take. Or was it a true connection that time is re-shaping like some kind of ADJUSTMENT BUREAU?
Golly. These questions float like alphabet soup. Personally, I think I have simply forgotten about "lust." There's no need to go to "extremes" as Billy Joel may croon out, but lust is a powerful dating technique. Have I been off the market too many times to have forgotten about lust?
Lust is perhaps the only thing in dating yourself I believe I have forgotten to do. Maybe that is why I don't recognize it. Making love to yourself is one notion (and super), don't get me wrong. Go do it! But lusting after myself? Well, I don't even know if that is a concept.
To which leads me to discuss MAE WEST, one of my ultimate favorite actresses. She was the cat's meow, a big Leonine; with complete sassafras. She's been credited for incredible quotes-- some of which I should remember more often because, well, they're useful in not only dating externally but also internally:
"Sex is emotion in motion."
(For her, she may have actually lusted after herself) (Love that crazy b-tch!)
And her other good one:
"I never loved another person the way I loved myself."
So while I'm figuring out my current date with Jo (and the state within that date), feel free to tell me either:
1) Your island story
2) Your never ending dates of...yourself for yourself
3) If you confirm I am crazy (of which I reply in advance, "Thanks, that means I'm doing something right.")
So, maybe just tell me your #1 and #2.
Wishing you all NO validation, but simply some comfort in love...whatever form or approach that is for you...and NOT to be lonely. You never have to be. Not in today's world. Not ever. But also, if you've got yourself (via your God), you're in the right direction.
Lastly, in a pseudo related topic, choose your own adventure book and turn the page.
Yours,
Johanna
THE UNKNOWN
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Tonight a girlfriend said something to me that resonated deep within me. She said "I'd rather experience the unknown than stay in unhappiness." I share similar beliefs...
However, sometimes life encourages you to stay in something (be it at job, a relationship, friendships, et al) as a way to love, learn more or bring you a new perspective on an old lesson. And yet sometimes you even encourage yourself to stay in a situation in fear of losing control or giving up an investment. There's a lot of sometimes. Luckily, all situations are particularly unique and personal...but what remains is the choice.
Dictate your own life because you only have one. I've always been attracted and an advocate of the unknown primarily because it was my thrill and adventure. Thus far, I've not jumped out of an airplane because I was thrust already into the deep end of the pool. As years go by, the word "attachment" to various commitments and goals have lingered over my head as "responsibility" and "freedom" seem to teeter on both sides of the see-saw.
Yet what is audible to your adult heart is the same sound you heard as a child.
I like the unknown. And if you're truly unhappy and unsatisfied, I encourage you to take "the path less traveled by" like my dear poet Robert Frost advised.
It may not be popular. It may be judged as selfish. It may be labeled like "divorce, loser, flake." So be it. It's just conventional rules. Rules set forth by a generation, a society, your upbringing. But rules nonetheless. It's no one's fault. Only yours if you stay in dissastisfaction. That's not to be said there will never be compromise, but leap if you dare to conquer your dreams.
And when you are leaving that job, that lover, that life...I pray for you to have someone that also honors not only you but the unknown too. Because then you can leave with the truth that a life was there and not scratched out.
I'm in the unknown...and truth be told despite my pangs of worry sometimes (of my age, my status, my toys; things so very trivial it bears no mind), I am truly a teenager happy to have it.
Too idealistic for you, reader? Perhaps. However, I've learned so much in the course of 10 years that I'm just now having the reigns on who I am, what I want and where I'm going...in the way that far exceeds my outlines, Blackberry schedule, 50 year life plan. It's something internal that has to do with accepting yourself, letting go of internal shame and giving up rules that were never your own. And once you have those philosophies within, then enjoying the unknown becomes even more joyous.
Walk in the pitch dark and find your way to the door. Blind yourself in the woods to hear all the sweet noises. Paint a canvas with all your desired colors and then fall into it.
Can I tell you a secret? There is nothing ever unknown because you have everything to know by using your strength, intellect, experience and an unlimited love for yourself through the highs and lows. This is your reserve, and everyone has it. So all in all, I am certain the unknown will bring you happiness if you just give yourself some faith and no judgment.
As for now, I plan to explore the unknown in my dreams...goodnight. :)
xo,
Jo
WATER TO RINSE
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
From the tub surface, water streams down in rivulets.
Drops collide, form together and separate.
They fall across my extended legs; a canvas of skin to cover.
Heat rises in my knee caps and to my toes.
The water is an unknown painter and draws with the color of red.
But I am blanketed by the degree.
Such a small frame I am I notice.
Remembering at five with a sponge bath and a rubber ducky.
Then, I sweep my soapy hand across my breast.
I am a woman, creating bubbles on my epidermal layered heart.
Counting the years the last time someone took their time to make love to me...
And the genuine moment I let them.
So petite I sit as the shower head towers above me.
I look up, closing my eyes to let the steamy water hit my face.
I see Cocoa Beach, wild waves and the thunderous blow that pushes me back to the shore.
Opening my eyes mid-stream as hydrogen and oxygen sting across my pupils,
Enjoying the sensation like a kid banishing goggles to explore the true nature of the pool.
A rub down across my shoulders ensues by the pelting rain that I not only sense inside this bath,
but hear also outside my apartment window.
In a half hour, I've been engulfed in a heated womb.
Taking me to the lake day. I was in a cocoon, sleeping in a canoe under the hot Florida sun.
I am showered. I am clean, but I sit still and listen.
Like a school fish frenzy, the water splashes up, down, across, all around.
I breathe in the calm and imagine the aroma of those rose petals,
placed years ago in another tub to wash away tears of heartbreak.
Now I've got myself a new tub with a glorious waterfall,
but no fall I will take as I am safe.
So when I rose, turned off the water and stood naked,
I felt rinsed and fully understood the beating of my own heart.
Johanna Vanderspool
TO WITNESS A LIFE
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Who witnesses you?
The new year often brings great reflection. Resolutions, regrets, goals, to-dos, bucket lists, who's in your life, who's not...perhaps prodding yourself to ask the pivotal questions of who you are and what you want...
Through the trainers at my gym I overhear them gripe about their decrease in clientele. They say there's always an increase in gym memberships right after New Years Day but by the end of the month, the gym is empty again. The only attendance are those that never had resolutions to be at the gym in the first place. These remaining few are the true gym brats.
Now that it's the end of the year, I am not scrolling through my roll call of resolutions (although I may have a few). I am thinking about the word "witness." Fortunately, I have only known a handful of loved ones that have died: Charlie, Eddie, Granddaddy, Grandma and Rudy. I can add another to this experience, even though I couldn't say we knew each other as well as we would have liked. Two days ago, my great grandmother passed. Fortunately, she died quickly and peacefully. She was "witnessed", supported and loved for many years by my Grandma Ellen and Aunt Jackie. As she died, she was surrounded by family. "Family" has always been a curious word and concept for me in particular because I'm adopted. So many questions arise through adoption that many will never know or understand. People may take their families for granted, and so often do. Given my great stake in family and what I've been challenged to experience, I've taken great interest in relationships; all kinds because it is in these personal connections that tell you most about who you are and what you want.
Upon graduation, I moved to NYC to conquer my dreams. At the time I wanted to be the CEO of an entertainment company, a media mogul. I wanted to accomplish something amazing and leave my mark on the world. I paid little mind to personal relationships, although I was fortunate to have a few. So, what happened? Why am I not the CEO of NBC? Let's just say New York City can humble a girl, even a girl like me. And after 9/11, my career values radically changed. What was my life to NBC? So what if I became the next Oprah? Many accomplished people died on September 11th, and I sincerely doubt upon the moment of death they thought about what their time at XYZ company meant to them. I'm guessing they thought of their loved ones and who had actually witnessed their life. For the first time, I truly examined the words "witness" and "family." I was 24.
Perhaps too proud or still quite young or too attached to living in the now, in only two short years I quickly reverted to my habits of hustling and ambitiously conquering career goals. If life is so darn short, why not make my mark on the world, I debated? Not to say there is anything wrong with that, nor would I say it is characteristically unlike me even now...
However after living on my own for 16 years, I've been thinking a lot about the word to "witness." Recently, I witnessed someone's life. Day in day out. Nearly every moment. My reward included a secret society of two. It was divine to share this time. Yes, tough at times but blissful. Some people who know me well or for a very long time may consider me a lone wolf; a person who only showed people what I wanted them to know; an independent gal to her own detriment at times; a woman who ran away from most relationships. Look, I will always be career oriented. I doubt I could ever be content in being only a wife, a mother...because perhaps it still means something to me to make a mark on history (or I'm just too darn curious about too many things to stay put!). Optimistically, that's not to say you can't have it all, but something always is going to give. We're so busy making and accomplishing grand plans. Sometimes, these plans are resolutions that are met and sometimes not. To those zen enough to make no plans, I congratulate you but I doubt you can bate the one certain plan...
Death will make you stop. It stops me to listen. Listen to the silence. It's loud, isn't it? Perhaps I now enjoy the loud chatter of others. Perhaps I now can handle the journey not alone. I used to believe it's just damn easier being solo. No one to attend to; no one to annoy you; no one to challenge you; no one but your dependable self. Adventure freely because there aint nothing holding you down. Though a lot of that mentality is still oh-so-true, I take great comfort in the fact I've learned to attach myself. Maybe it's the biggest accomplishment I've ever had to date. To fully commit, to share yourself; every morsel of you, good and bad. It's something I've always been afraid of doing. Confession: I still plot disappearing acts with great joy; and it still freaks me out when people invite me to their weddings. The former cynic in me often shudders at the idea of monogamy and how that might limit my life. But no, I don't take being grounded/making roots/sharing my life without editing to mean being imprisoned. Now I see your eyes, ears and presence like an invisible carpet ride to wherever I want to go. I announce: ground me, witness me...this will set me free...this has set me free.
To those that witness me, I thank you...and I hope I witness and truly invest in you as much as you invest in me (or more). Equally, I hope I make good history in your life...you are my family. Without you, I haven't grown.
Rest in peace, Granny Griffey. You may be gone from this world but you will always be loved.
Johanna
Forrest Gump: I'm sorry I ruined your New Year's Eve party, Lieutenant Dan. She tasted like cigarettes….
Friday December 31, 2010
The days and nights leading up to New Year’s Eve have a range of emotions and brings about a plethora of concerns for most. How, why, who (with) will you celebrate? How, why, who (with) will you not? Go big and club out? Go small and simply reflect? Scoff or rejoice?
Perhaps you may not take the extreme and you’ll plan all events out with measure and balance…a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Like a potion that renders someone under a spell, I have always found New Year’s Eve taunting and mesmerizing at the same time; like the gravitational pull of two magnets; like a boy pulling on my pigtails at school just asking to be wrestled; like an exam over your head that you must finish within the hour. You can be mesmerized by the marketed holiday that invites, encourages or perhaps forces you to be among a throb of people, that which provokes questions of true connectivity. Or it can torture you endlessly with questions about your status in life, that which is like the changing of guards in year counts of what’s left in your stack of cards. On the lighter side, New Year’s Eve is the refreshing and much sought out “clean slate.” The concept of “out with the old and in with the new.” Think writer T.S Eliot said it most eloquently in his poem “Little Gidding”—“For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.”
Whatever your mindset is about New Year’s Eve you can bet it has or will have an affect. Will yours be the Lt. Dan (Forest Gump) hotel room night? Or will yours be the Harry love declaration (When Harry Met Sally)? Or will yours be the Bridget Jones drunk singing fiasco?
Extraordinarily, one of my friends plainly said he wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. No ball drop watching. No mass crowds. No vomiting in the toilet. No meditating or chanting to candles. No hors d'œuvres. No friends. No clinking of champagne-filled glasses. Just an ordinary day and night. I looked at him puzzled, aghast what seemed to be a lie. Could this wonderful man friend of mine, so popular and in demand as he is, be completely unaffected? Should we commit him to science and study him?? What made him free of all the affectations that this holiday brings upon so many people? Well, he’s Larry. He’s refused the holiday because he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want it. Nor does it generate any validation, duty or impression for him. Sure! Unknown to us, he may have those latent reflections possibly lurking around the stroke of midnight, but if you knew Larry he’d probably be jamming on his drums; spellbound by his own universe. I like that visual.
So. The beat on the street is that 2010 has been the year of calamities, personal strife, big losses, high tribulations and overall chaos. And if you’re wondering, yes, I took an accurate poll; and I can share with great camaraderie my vote. For “scientific” means and reader’s reassurance, I am sure I can get some mildly interesting astrological reasoning behind all of it, such as Mars is hiding behind the Moon, Pluto jumped over the Sun, Mercury is yet again in retrograde. (F**K Mercury and it’s retrogrades). I can also quote the great philosophers, religionists, et al about how they regarded New Year’s Eve, aka “No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left. It is the nativity of our common Adam.” –Charles Lamb
But, before I digress into a variety of related and somewhat unrelated topics:
I wish for each of you on this New Year’s Eve holiday to be spellbound by your own personal universe in the most positive way. I encourage neither a detailed event schedule or a total non event, but rather that you are happy. Truly, deeply happy. That’s all we can ask for as humans. It’s a tall glass that if we’re lucky enough to order for another year, we can dictate how full or empty it is. With that said, bring in 2011 with a hydration and strength…because you made it. You really did! If you can, keep that perspective and maybe avoid those emotional questions that stir you up inside. Maybe it’s enough to stand outside ourselves and just be human. Flawed but oh so…beautiful. That may be idealism, but to answer what I’M doing for New Year’s Eve—I’m going to be me. An elusive answer perhaps. Not if you really know me. Here’s a quote that may make it clearer…
"Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us." –Author Hal Borland
As I’m wiping down my 2010 etch-a-sketch, I wish you all a Happy New Year! xox
Johanna
HOLIDAY FOR THE GINGERBREAD MAN
Thursday December 23, 2010
The gingerbread man was baked in a little oven
In a house full of merry
With all the traditional holiday stuffin
So excited was he on the counter top
He ran to find his home made of jelly drops.
Scurrying to red and green paths, so bright and airy
He came upon a decorated tree big and tall
Alas, alas that was not his home at all.
Riding the steel train round around the trunk,
Bells and whistles he clearly debunked
This too was not his home, he thunk.
Then, crossing the yuletide hearth
The gingerbread man braved terrains
Past those fiery logs with excitement and mirth.
“Yippee skippee, cheers to adventure!”
“Yet where oh where is my realm, to call my sugary domain?”
“Maybe I’ll find it in this red stocking fixture?”
Down and down he rummaged through the toys
To find a motorized plane made out to the neighborhood boys.
The gingerbread man took the challenge and deployed
Up and up he went to see a new vantage point.
Over the land of evergreen reefs, snow filled windows and presents
Was a joy to see in the corner of his raisin eye
The aromatic kitchen, a sweet smell that filled the sky.
From which he came, landing the jet on the counter top
Was that delicious cookied home of gummy drops.
Suddenly it all made sense…
The gingerbread man laughed with glee
As he realized you don’t have to run very far or flee
So may you look about, be aware and self compose
Your home may just be right under your frosting icing lil' nose
The gingerbread man walked through his cookie crumbly abode
Laying down to sleep, wishing everyone a holiday peace so bestowed.
To every ginger heart, Merry Christmas and a Happy start to 2011!
With love, happiness, success and health.
Yours truly,
Johanna
[a poem by Johanna Vanderspool, 12/23/2010]
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LAST YEAR'S HOLIDAY POEM
(December 2009)
Dear friends, family, colleagues and my worldly buddies,
"Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas," says Kris Kringle.
With a twitch of his eyes and while his little nose wrinkles.
Embarking on his yearly voyage and setting his course,
He reminds us that everyone should be kind and to rejoice.
Because 'tis the time of the year for charity and good cheers.
To remember your fellow man and wom-an alike
To cuddle your children and show them the glory of light
To smile and be friendly is what makes this holiday bright.
So nurture your friends and be jolly.
And enjoy the egg nog and the seasonal follies.
Tomorrow's the big day and all I have left to say...
Is Merry Christmas, and to all a good night.
Many x's and o's,
Johanna
Happy Hanukkah!
Frohe Weihnachten!!
!Feliz Navidad!
メリークリスマス
TO MISS...
Thursday October 12, 2010
What I miss...
Is the connection of love. That peaceful sense that someone knows you completely; to be utterly exposed to someone who loves you any which way. A lover who knows you before you utter a word; a spiritual union you can feel without them being next to you.
I miss the look of love. The twinkle in the eyes of the man who is excited to see you; the nervous touch of a lover who wants to make love to you; the eager bend of his neck that wants to hear every audible sound from you...and you want the same of him and react equally.
I miss the intellect of love. The sharing of stories. The new thoughts. Insights from another's perspective and experiences. The collaboration of projects. The uplifting, heartbreaking, astounding, contradicting, motivating conversations.
I miss the power of love. Knowing that someone has your back, and you have theirs; like an exclusive gang that only two people will ever really know and understand. An invincible force that is banded together. It can move mountains and frequently does.
I miss the patience of love. The only person you can totally lose it over and will instantly forgive you. The one who will wait because they believe in you. The one who will accept you even when you're at your worst.
I miss the commitment of love. The daily routines that arise from caring enough about each other to be involved completely and wholely. These include the phone calls, follow through, how to cook the chicken, what toothpaste to buy, letting go of your pride, stroking some ego. The small alterations, modifications become yours. They're not seen as compromises; it's renamed as care.
I miss the romance of love. The first kiss, unexpected flowers, sweet letters, personal songs, inside jokes, pleasant teases, anniversaries, candle light dancing.
I miss the playfulness of love. The consistent laughter, wrestling, giggling, chasing each other naked, butt smacking, pinching, poking, joking, serenading, jumping, improvising. The zest to impress. The quirky twists and turns to fun.
I miss the adventure of love. The weekend excursions, plans for rainy days, vacations, vision boards, barbeques, games, parties. The numerous paths chosen by two partners destined for the spirited journeys.
I miss the harmony and tenderness of love. The wiping of tears, forehead kisses, a shared quiet; the strong hug that feels like a hideaway of strength.
I miss the friendship of love. The trust of a person who is reliable; who bears witness to your highs and lows. A friend for life no matter if sex is forever restricted.
I miss the growth of love. When choices are hard and love is tested. The moment your lover reflects, gets in touch internally and comes back to fight for understanding.
I miss the attraction, passion of love. The lust, fire in the pit of your stomach, racing heart, the epidermal ravaging of each other's bodies. The attraction to which begins, builds, maintains and flows. The great and consistent sex! The passion to which only gets better with age.
I miss...
You.
