My social life has enjoyed a dramatic upswing.
To be honest, I can take hardly any credit for this.
Indeed, it is almost entirely due to Vlad’s popularity.
Prior to his arrival, beyond my next door neighbors, I had at best a nodding acquaintance with my fellow residents.
Given that Vlad is basically the Harry Styles of the puppy community––charming, talented, playfully provocative, and yes, just a little bratty––I find myself engaging with dozens and dozens of locals.
Indeed, the WhatsApp chat group alone for the dog run on our roof has 92 participants.
Although my newfound––albeit second-hand––popularity is mostly a blessing, it has necessitated many small hostess gifts.
Fortunately, there’s a perfect (and dog-friendly) hipster gift shop a 7-minute walk away.
Vlad and I arrived there early in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve, intending to pick up a scented candle for our Jan 1st invitation.
As we entered, however, I spied a bin of scattered items with a handmade “Free!” sign above it.
It was filled with holiday goods that just hadn’t sold, mostly because they were too quirky––even for Bushwick.
To my surprise, however, I found a very stylish 2023 calendar.
I know calendars go on sale in the first weeks of January but since it was December 31st, it seemed the store manager had made a rather impatient decision.
As we checked out and Vlad got his anticipated treat, the clerk told me that the calendar was free because it was a return item.
Apparently, the month of March was printed twice.
That didn’t exactly seem a dealbreaker, although it probably eliminated the possibility of me giving it to someone else.
When I returned home though, I found out that it wasn’t only that there were two months of March, but also that there was no April or July.
The calendar––attractive as it was––was broken.
This week I watched Kaleidoscope on Netflix, the tale of a failed heist.
The concept behind the series is thatthe eight episodes––each named for a color––can be watched in any order except for White, which is always offered last.
Apparently, that means according to The Guardian and other sources ––note: I’m not exactly sure how the math works––there are 40,320 viewing combinations.
There are numerous opinions on the best order to watch the episodes, ranging from the straight-line chronological to the most Quentin Tarantino-esque,
And you could do as I did, not overthink things, and simply follow whatever randomized order Netflix has selected for you.
I mostly enjoyed the series––although its design results in a score of confusing, messy moments and many unanswered questions––but that may also be because my own outlaw past makes me a natural fan of heist flicks.
Or it might just be that between working on my Nonchronological™ project and being gifted with “broken calendars,” nonlinear storytelling might have some mysterious added appeal for me.
(And/Or, finally, it might be that more and more, I’m accepting reality being “out of synch,” at least from how I think it should proceed.)
Speaking of which, I failed at my major task of the week.
More accurately, I barely got started.
Perhaps you’ll accept this defense: a portion of the delay is attributable to Mercury in retrograde.
(Note: Mercury is in retrograde about 30% of the time in any given year so it’s unwise to overplay that excuse card.)
Anyway, it took several hours to activate our new corporate Visa (in theory a 2-minute task) to pay for a new media calendar scheduling program, one our wellness startup requires.
Once I leapt over that unexpected hurdle, however, the greater challenge was my own internal resistance.
Despite its challenges, whether it’s writing books, courses and workshops, or even composing this newsletter, I mostly enjoy creating long-form content.
It’s an entirely different beast, however, to design and plan out months’ worth of content for four or five platforms with 3-5 postings a day.
I’m reasonably confident I’ll soon find the right rhythm and plug into a flow, thereby transforming the feelings of drudgery and overwhelm into creative excitement…
And yet right now part of me just wants to schedule everything for one of those months the broken botanical calendar conveniently omits, letting it all evaporate during an invisible April or elusive July.
The hostess gift I purchased this New Year’s Eve was for a drinks and appetizers moment at the home of dear friends before we went off to see the final performance of a broadway show.
Specifically, Jefferson Mays’ brilliant performance in a one-man adaptation of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.
He played all the parts and it was beyond astonishing.
As perhaps Dickins’ most popular work, and having been adapted in every possible genre and medium, we all know the plot.
In one miraculous night of time travel––visiting past, present, and future––Scrooge is entirely transformed, reborn to a new life of generosity and openheartedness.
In the final scenes, hopping back and forth beyond any earth-bound calendar limitations, he’s astonished that the spirits managed all their tasks in just one night.
Who knew that Ectoplasm came with such scheduling advantages…?
A friend just recommended another Netflix series, the one about Bernie Madoff, synchronistically tossing in that one of the reasons Madoff got caught was because his firm listed trades on a day the market wasn’t open.
(Although time is an illusion, apparently ignoring the calendar entirely has its own set of risks.)
Anyway, the focus of this coming week is about restructuring my schedule on what feels like a cellular level.
On one hand, this seems needlessly self-dramatizing.
And yet on another, no less than Bruce Lee reminds us that:
“If you love life, don’t waste time,
for time is what life is made up of.”
Having begun the new year with a series of calendar snags, I’m already giving myself a mulligan, a “do-over” off the score-card.
Ultimately, I realize this is part of the price of expansion, the theme of this month’s meditation HERE.
And a lot of it might be “Cosmic Jet Lag,” the feeling when your soul has arrived in new territory but your body and the rest of your life hasn’t quite caught up.
(Perhaps you’re feeling a little of that now as well…)
In any case, the only cure is staying present…even when the calendar seems to be missing a month or two!
Namaste for Now,
