Ramani Durvasula's Blog, page 4

Happy End of Days!!

December 21, 2012. I awoke at dawn – struggling against my own demons, waiting for the conflagration, for the “end of days”. I was met with a pink sunrise that set the eucalyptus trees outside my window afire in every shade of violet– but certainly no end of days.

I am guessing that the Mayans were not speaking of an end but rather a beginning. I was raised Hindu- and our religious tenets, which often draw upon cosmology, hold to an ever expanding and contracting universe, and epochs that speak to new beginnings, clearing out the old, letting go of the junk we let define us.

Most of us will get caught up in the hung over haze of January 1 with clean calendars and datebooks trying to take on new years and new me’s and all of that. I am setting off on a book tour that day so it is a special year for me – but in the days that lead up, and especially today – I realize that the Mayans are telling me to wake the hell up.

But the Mayans weren’t talking about doom and gloom, but rather of clearing out one life and starting another. So perhaps today, on this longest night of the year, when we take stock, and try to find answers in the darkness, the stars, the moon. When we take stock as we stand in the midst of forced holiday revelry, some of us grieving, some of us joyful, all of us growing. It’s a day for a fresh start.

Perhaps if everyone took a moment today. Quieted the noise. Listened to their hearts. Asked themselves “what do I want my life to look like”. Authentically. And bravely walk into that future – then it truly is an end of days.

An end of business as usual. An end of living the scripts of others. An end of being unkind to ourselves. An end to abusing our bodies, souls and minds. An end to worshipping our iPhones and smartphones and tablets and instead worshipping a sunset or a sky full of stars.

I awaken to a broken toe and few other broken parts today. And today I intend to commemorate the end of days. I am taking my journal and a bit of sage and limping out to my special promontory and setting a path – of authenticity, of heart, of gratitude, of growth, of commitment, of self-care, of connecting with others. I am letting go of ghosts, and demons, and hurts. The end of days is a beginning and an end.

I leave it to all of you to find your ritual today. Let New Year’s Eve be the usual champagne infused bacchanalia (I intend to…) but let today and an ancient calendar be a wake up call.

Or as TS Eliot writes “What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”

Happy End of Days – I wish you a beautiful new calendar and life…..

Guns, Games, Mental Illness, Media, Mindfulness and Grief.

We are looking for answers. We aren’t going to find them. Lots of folks I respect in the field are pulling out some compelling data – but we need to look at the data altogether, in a complex quilt, and not just one piece at a time. And there are lots of anecdotes out there being pieced together from prior cases – but at the end of the day the plural of anecdote is not data – it’s just shooting in the dark trying to make sense of this.

Bottom line – we want answers, we want the madness to stop – but we don’t want to pay for it or change our habits. We want things the way they once were, before mass shootings, and dead children, and fear. But the world has changed too much.

I think we can make a dent in these tragedies – but everyone wants to fix just ONE piece of the machine – it’s a bit like fixing a flat tire on a car with a broken fan belt – it’s still not going to work.

1. Guns: Second amendment rights. Antiquated legislation. And does a hunter really need a weapon designed to shoot out 30 rounds in seconds? Guns and angry, agitated, unstable people do not mix well. At times of utter dysregulation and “snap” – every second counts – and guns work fast – which is why they are such a lethal combination.

The fix: Amend legislation, make it harder to get a gun, take draconian measures. Most people don’t kill – but lots of more us will if we have a gun in our hands when we lose our sense of control. Keep guns out of the hands of most – and we may see less of this.

The truth: Make them illegal, and they will go underground – people who want guns will always get guns, and the higher costs of black market-ism will incentivize gun production and ownership even more (is anyone out there familiar with the drug trade??).

2. The Media: This is such an easy straw man, and thousands of years ago, the media was brutal gladiatorial games in the Roman Colosseum where thousands of people sat in the sun to watch people brutally kill each other. Freud would argue we are working out our aggressive instincts that we all have when we look at violence in film, on TV, and in video games. But it is everywhere – and with guns available, it makes it easier to play out the fantasy. And mean spiritedness is the spirit du jour of too much of what we watch on TV. Mean sells media.

The fix: Have less of it, be more aggressive in enforcing warning labels on violent media, stop going to these films – studios respond to bottom lines. Most people who watch violent films or play violent games don’t hurt other people, but it does increase violent ideation, and in the hands of the vulnerable or suggestible it increases the possibility of danger. Visual violence through media reinforces a culture where human lives lose value, and murder and mayhem become glorified. Tell the networks we want programming that makes us strive to be better.

The truth: It isn’t going anywhere – again, it makes the industry too much money. Parents and teachers need to regulate these things – keep their kids from the imagery when they are most impressionable, keep a latch on the violent video games, talk about what is going on instead of playing naive. Regulating the media will also mean it goes underground, and You Tube would become a veritable treasure trove of violent videos – it is part of the landscape.

3. Mental illness. As soon as the tragedy erupted – everyone wanted a diagnosis for Adam Lanza – Autism spectrum? Personality disorder? Schizophrenia? Psychopathy? To what end? Most people with these diagnoses will NEVER do these things – does smacking these labels on people make it go away? As a rule – no. Treat the problem, don’t just diagnose it after the fact.

The fix: Mental illness is often associated with issues around judgment, decision making, and dysregulation. Not necessarily violence, but sometimes – yes and that can be directed at the self or towards other people. And the problem with mental illness is that it is costly because it requires chronic treatment, and most people who need it don’t want it or can’t afford it. Our ability to treat mental illness not just acutely, but over a lifetime is critical. And yet, not always enough.

The truth: People like mental illness as an explanation after the fact because it assuages our need to “understand” – but most don’t want to pay into systems that could ensure that more people get better care in the long term. We need to put the money into schools and other institutions that can provide the requisite support. We don’t.

4. A disconnected world. Ironically, in a world that seems so connected – we are not. The very way we are learning so much so quickly (sometimes too quickly, sometimes not quickly enough) about Newtown and other tragedies are the very social networks that may be pulling us away from our own core. We are all so distracted that we may not be paying enough attention to each other. There was a time when all we had to do was get ourselves fed, and sit around the fire at night. Those fireside chats of yore were how we kept an eye on each other. Now it’s every man, woman, and child for him or herself. Alienation can be a dark space, and can result in us not paying attention to others. Too many of us “keep to ourselves.”

The fix: We are a social species. We need each other, and that is just not love and conversation and connection. It is also awareness. And enough of a connection that more than a few people are are aware of the subtle shifts in one another. If it looks like someone is having a bad day – reach out. If that happens enough, some people may get help.

The truth: This doesn’t always work. We live in a litigious world – where if you call someone out on “possibly being off” – you could be dealing with accusations of defamation or worse. We may overinterpret some signs and underinterpret others. We don’t always get it. It’s easy to piece a story together backwards.

So what do we do? Just like in any good multiple choice test – when in doubt – choose “All of the Above.” We must do all of the above – we curtail the supply chain of weapons that can do this harm, we pay attention to young kids growing up with a steady diet of violent games and media, we treat and monitor mental illness, and we start paying attention to the people around us. That may create a net that will still have holes, but perhaps the holes would be smaller, and we could stop this more often. We will never succeed in eradicating it altogether – and I think the policy makers are wasting time and lives trying to create a dam that holds back all of the water. Let’s try to make it so that any step in the chain, we can minimize the harm and damage. And none of this is solace to the families in Newtown, Connecticut who are enduring inexplicable loss.

As we face down a new year, it’s time to stop trying to fix the broken systems one part at a time – we have to have the courage, the conviction, and the sense to roll up our sleeves, and take the entire machine apart.

Mean As The New Vogue

Bullying, teasing, taunting. It reached a fever pitch this week with the Australian DJ prank that resulted in the tragic death of a nurse at a hospital in London.

In that case it may have been less about mean, and more about outlandish behavior – in our information saturated world – how much noise does anyone have to make to get attention? It’s no longer enough to be good at what you do. In order to break in and hold your own in the world of media – you need to be meaner, noisier, sexier – it’s not just about getting attention it’s also about holding it. God forbid someone make a TV show about young people trying to get ahead by doing good, getting educated, being kind. Nope – it’s all about who can pull out another gal’s hair extensions. We don’t cover the news on people doing good, on issues that matter, but we do give extensive coverage to just plain nasty behavior. We can’t look away.

Fact is, as any parent or teacher will tell you, if you want a behavior to stop – ignore it. But if we keep heaping attention on the spoiled adults – who engage in stupid pranks, inappropriate behavior, and plain old nastiness – they are going to keep doing it. And laughing all the way to the bank.

Being a talk radio DJ often means trying to get and hold your audience at a time when the competition is fierce – and so they went there. And in so doing, destroyed many lives in the name of a prank.

But they feel like a very public symptom of a much bigger problem. When my kids are watching tween oriented TV – every other one liner out of the mouths of the tweens and teens on these shows is a harsh and snarky barb leveled at peers and adults. When I was a kid and Jan copped an attitude on the Brady Bunch that’s about as nasty as it got.

Whereas once upon a time meanness would catch my notice, it has become so endemic, that I am actually more startled by kindness. When I am faced with kindness, I fall over myself to reinforce it. The mean people will never benefit from feedback – so I typically ignore it, and when possible, avoid them.

I think in the quest for attention, in the culture of bigger is better – we have created a culture where everyone is behaving badly and rudely – and getting away with it. It’s like a preschool gone awry.

What can any of us do? Don’t take the bait. Kindness and civility can come back into fashion. The “Real” Housewives and senseless DJs of the world will come and go (I sincerely hope in 40 years we are not watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians and one day hearing about their geriatric dating struggles). And as the DJs showed us – that meanness may not be a flash in the pan event, but can destroy numerous lives forever.

Kind up everyone. Leave the snarkiness and the cruelty to the bullies who will never get it anyhow – and stop feeding their egos and wallets.

Cleanse that dirty mind……

Lots of people like to talk about their “cleanses” – and I typically smile warmly and reflect internally on the sheer nonsense, quackery, and snake oil-y feel of this technique. Yes, there is lots of icky junk that gets into our intestines and hangs out – so a cleanse is an illusory weight loss – it’s 10 pounds of intestinal junk and a very HUNGRY person at the back end who looks at a steak like a long lost lover when the cleanse is over (and the weight typically comes back). I am a bigger fan of fiber and things that grow in nature as ways to kick-start the gut. In my clinical experience it is a recipe for yo-yo patterns, dysregulated eating, and downright dangerous for my patients who have disordered eating patterns. Deprivation typically begets dysfunction. When we are starving we eat and live like fools.

I understand the thinking – clean out the system, don’t introduce toxins, start fresh so you can clog up your intestines again.

So then I started thinking – instead – what about a psychological “cleanse”? Hell – if people paid as much attention to their psyches as they do to their colons – it could make for a kinder gentler world.

Think about it – on most cleanses the person eats like a loon for a few days – a sort of death row last supper. And then they drink something twice a day or restrict most foods or drink things that are supposed to remove toxins.

So ……what if a person surrounded themselves with all the madness of their lives for a few days- crazed extended family, ex-partners, wacky friends, angry children, distrustful coworkers – and also watched lots of reality TV and ensured that they were assailed with as much dysfunction as possible – in essence filling their psyche with toxins. Sort of a like a dysfunction binge. (most people call this Thanksgiving).

Then the cleanse. Cut them all out. Stop calling mom. Don’t respond to texts. Tell your negligent partner to take a powder. Hire a sitter. Take a few days off of work or lock the door. Don’t go to the mall. Turn off the TV, the Facebook, the Twitter, and anything else that informs you of your sister’s weekend drinking habits. During the cleanse, insert healthy things into your mind – meditate, breathe, read, journal, exercise, bake bread, spend time outdoors.

Imagine that? Most of our psyches are clogged with the broken people, institutions, objects, and devices that make us feel like there are toxins clogging us up psychologically. If you could do this from time to time – you would be astonished at how smoothly your mind could move (like that cleansed colon). If you could dump the junk, the naysayers, the distractions – you will be better equipped to lose weight in a meaningful way, pursue your dreams, and live authentically. Seems a lot more meaningful than time served on the toilet.

Before you deprive yourself and try and cleanse your gut in the name of removing toxins and pounds – think about trusting your gut and cleansing your mind and soul instead.

Get Lost

Get Lost……

 

Once upon a time, there was no MapQuest, GoogleMaps or GPS. People would say “get a pen” and they would give you directions to their house. You would write down their address, and then they would tell you the rights, the lights, the road names, and sometimes some enchanting details like – don’t make that first right, but wait ‘til you get to the rock that is shaped like a heart and hang a right ‘til you see the mailbox with flowers on it. And typically you found it just fine.

After the 1994 Northridge earthquake in Los Angeles, a section of Interstate 10 collapsed, and millions of Angelenos opened up their Thomas Guides to craft shortcuts through the mess.  (Thomas Guides were maddening books of maps (that were impossible to use while driving)). We would have to look up addresses in an index, find the page, turn lots of pages, and navigate there.  We were all modern day Magellans figuring out a way home.

I recently moved to a house in a relatively isolated location, a bizarre experiment in trying to return to nature in the middle of one of the largest metropolises in the world. It’s down a hidden dirt road and no longer do we hear horns and helicopters, but rather crickets and coyotes.

So now when I tell people where I live, I feel compelled to give them directions (turn left at the gate with an X, right at the eucalyptus tree). But they aren’t having it.  They turn to their smartphones and GPS and tell me they will “punch it in.”

Most recently, a repairman was attempting to come to my house, I told him it was hard to find, gave him the address, and clear directions. He called me several times lost.  I gave him verbal directions again.  He ignored me and said “my GPS said it doesn’t exist”.  It was an interesting existential dilemma – my entire being, my residence being denied by an IPhone.

The blind reliance on GPS over other navigational tools – the setting sun, a tree, our inherent sense of direction, the guidance of a person familiar with the terrain – is an interesting statement on society.   I would argue that GPS in some ways has led us to lose our way.   We have stopped paying attention to the landmarks, to the terrain, to others who can guide us, and instead listen to a device, tuning out ourselves.  (how many times have you made a right because your GPS told you to, when instinctually knowing that left was the correct direction, and ultimately finding out GPS was wrong?).   And by relying on GPS, we often get so lost in blindly obeying the directions it gives us, that we couldn’t find it on our own the next time.  The beauty of paying attention, is that you have also learned the way and then can rely on yourself next time, rather than the device.

Don’t get me wrong – I see the gifts offered by GPS – getting oriented to an unfamiliar space, being able to listen to the audio commands of a GPS instead of dangerously looking at a map or piece of paper while driving, quickly getting a handle on an address.  But most people too often use it and ignore themselves and their worlds.  We have become so reliant on a device that we have become disconnected from our world.  Is that progress?

Sometimes we need to get lost.  The most beautiful moments I have had in foreign cities were when I was lost – a surprising alley, a unique restaurant.  I may have spent extra hours walking the wrong way when using an old map.  But getting lost could take me down a hidden street that could change the course of my day. My friends chastised me for not putting a GPS app on my phone when I was abroad, but the trip was made richer by my tattered map, taking the wrong bus, and having wonderful experiences as I asked for directions in broken Spanish/Italian/Greek/Tibetan.  I keep those maps as a remembrance of sweaty mornings, spilled tea, and places seen.

GPS is just that – a tool. Too many of us are listening to tools, devices and things outside of us, rather than listening to ourselves.  Don’t let these tools distance you from your own inner compass or the outer world around you.  Learn to navigate by trees and stars, follow your nose, listen to yourself, and go right even when a disembodied voice tells you to go left.   When it comes down to it too many of us are outsourcing what we know and disconnecting in the name of convenience – but at what price?

Put your GPS away for a day, and see where you end up…….

And they lived happily ever after…..

It started as a farce.

I took my daughters for a 24 hour vacation with a Groupon-esque voucher we purchased for a luxe hotel on the California coast we could normally never afford. We figured we would enjoy the coast, the coves, the surf, and the trappings.

As we walked through the grounds, we saw a wedding unfolding – the setting was spectacular, with the bride and groom exchanging vows on a spectacular bluff overlooking the Pacific. Optimistic bridesmaids in purple satin and stilettos, happy guests, rose petals. My girls drank in the princess-like quality of it, and smiled at their divorced, cynical, albeit romantically poetic mother knowing I was rolling my eyes.

Later on we noticed that the wedding party had moved to their cocktail hour and the site of the wedding was just a bunch of chairs with rose petals strewn about. But it was still set up for a wedding. And the setting was still spectacular.

My daughters looked at me mockingly and said –“Hey mom, why don’t you get married?”

And I thought – “Why not?”

So I picked up a few of those cast off roses. And walked in that “bridey” way down the aisle. All of us humming a wedding march. The bride wore a gray peacoat and brown leather boots– a sort of post-modern nuptial wardrobe.

Then I took off the ring I recently purchased myself and handed it to my precious and precocious 8 year old who offered to officiate this nuptial nonsense.

Then I proceeded to vow to love, honor, cherish and respect myself- I said it out loud. To stay true to myself. To look after myself in conditions of health and illness. For richer or poorer. For better or for worse. To remain fearless at times of challenge.

And the “‘til death do we part” part – well that was sort of axiomatic.

My kids looked at me like I was nuts and asked if I was drunk – but my preacher daughter sweetly handed me the ring, I placed it on my finger and gave myself a kiss. We took pictures with the setting sun behind us.

Then we went ordered room service – tomato soup, grilled cheese, and red velvet cake – it was a lovely reception.

It was an interesting exercise. What if we made ceremony out of respecting ourselves, honoring ourselves? What if we invited our friends and loved ones to watch us promise to authenticate ourselves (my friends probably wouldn’t care what they were witnessing so long as I gave them free food and booze). So far Ramani and I are doing well – I have stuck by her while she is broke, taken care of her when she is sick, lost weight to help her health, and never let her shirk away from fear. Sometimes we fight, but I promise to make each day with her the best I can.

Perhaps if we engaged in this sort of public and ceremonial vow taking with ourselves – then I think we would be in a better position to do it with someone else.

I have nothing against marriage and love. I have EVERYTHING against using marriage as a place of fear, false security, and inauthenticity. I cringe at wedding shows that are more about about dresses and DJs and less about commitment and growth. In fact, I am in very much in love with someone extraordinary, and hope to make an honest man of him someday. But I can only do that if I can hold to these vows to me. On a daily basis. My kids said “Mom that wasn’t really a wedding”… I said “Why – because I married myself?” And they said “No, because there was no one else there.” I told them that wasn’t true – they were there. They rolled their eyes at my psychobabble. A wedding doesn’t make a marriage. And pleasing others is no reason to stay in something broken. Teach yourself how you want to be treated, and then someday, invite someone in to share in the wonder that is you. A beautiful relationship is a mirror.

In lieu of gifts I decided to settle for debt. But I would love a cocktail shaker……..

And I enter a honeymoon period with myself now…….

Wish us luck.

Penn State and the danger of window dressing………

Trauma is a lifelong legacy.

And that seems to have been forgotten in the Penn State debacle.

With all the debates about who should take the heat, who is to blame, what are our policies, what are the implications for college sports – we keep forgetting what this event means for a trauma victim.

For men and women who have been victims of childhood trauma, particularly sexual trauma, it often sets off a cascade that pervades their adult lives – a cascade of secrecy, shame, mistrust, anger, guilt – that punctuates every day, sometimes in ways they do not recognize. As a psychologist and researcher, I have worked with numerous survivors of trauma, and there isn’t a a day when I don’t see how the legacy – of even an event that occurred once – can impact their lives decades later.

There is an interesting parallel process unfolding here. The reason trauma can unfold so pervasively in institutions like churches, sports teams and youth programs is that those institutions are like the other more revered institution in our culture – family. Families are our glue, but they are also often glued together by secrecy, with family members invested in putting a certain face to the world. Families and institutions often try to hide dirty secrets – which can result in making the victim feel as though they did something wrong. While no one is denying that Sandusky’s alleged actions were wrong and criminal – the hand wringing about how to do this so we don’t shake the institution up so much is troubling. And at the end of the day – we are often playing a game of dodgeball with the legal profession – universities afraid of lawsuits often taking conservative courses of action in the name of risk management.

This cloak of secrecy often results in a retraumatization for the victim who is confused, doesn’t know where to turn, and has lost a safe harbor. A person who has experienced such trauma may feel responsible if bad things happen to their program, school, coach or family. Adults who learn of such events ostensibly want to “do the right thing” – e.g. make the report – but few want to run the risk of really bringing shame upon the system or face litigation by going all the way to law enforcement or the like. And the fact is, many of our social service and child protective agencies often do an anemic job of following up on reports of abuse and violence against children due to poor staffing, poor training, and poor follow-up.

We should not solely make this a discussion of the culture of athletics and the culture of blame. We hate having our idols besmirched – Joe Paterno’s association with the scandal was like finding out a beloved relative was asleep at the wheel.

But there has to be a greater accountability – we have to do everything in our power to shelter young people from sexual predation – and sadly the ones who are victimized are often brought into so called environments of trust – religious communities, sports teams, youth programs – that were meant to keep them safe from the dangers of the world.

The Penn State scandal needs to be a wakeup call that every time our systems fail and a child is traumatized – we have permanently changed their history, the kinds of choices they will make in their lives, and at some level their identity – and as a result, we have changed our world.

Institutions and families need to stop living in an illusion and fight for those who do not have a voice. Any less is unacceptable.

I don’t know how she does it……..

I do.

She doesn’t do it.

I enjoyed the book – I will see the movie – and whether or not you think it has a happy ending depends on your point of view. But just like “Eat, Pray, Love” or “Bridget Jones’ Diary” those other manifestos of women and love – it IS a fantasy.

The protagonist in the book is wealthy, lives glamorously, has a hot, moderately patient husband, and an engaging, remunerative, albeit demanding career. She has a fabulous body, amazing wardrobe, lovely home, and other than some nagging bouts of lice and other comically perverse moments – has a nice life. And the punchline is all about compromise and love.

The reality version of this story is a lot uglier – I lived it yesterday. Ironically I am sitting in meetings in Washington DC meant to forward the cause of women. In the midst of the meeting, phone silently rings, school calls, child in trouble – general implication – “we know you are out of town …….and your child screwed up again”. While women sit and attempt to craft policy about how to champion women’s issues, we are often our own worst enemy. The rest of my afternoon consisted of intense conversation with the ex-husband, school administration, teacher, tears, and subsequently feelings of inadequacy. Watching my female colleagues without kids getting frustrated because I had to keep stepping out of the meeting, outpublishing me, kicking my ass, and subsequently feelings of inadequacy. Today I am attempting to surreptitiously IM with my kids to make sure they have what they need today for their music lessons, keeping them glued together, while simultaneously engaging in discourse about women’s health policy.

We are selling women a bad bill of goods.

Raising kids requires resources, patience, luck, support, and endurance. And a THICK skin.

The poster children have to stop being the moms who gush about how easy it is to balance growing organic produce and a career as an entrepreneur while jetting off to Paris as their handsome husbands change cloth diapers. The poster children in my field can’t just be senior professors who chose to never have children. Honestly, I would find it refreshing to hear stories of failure, of mistakes, of messes – honestly – of raw footage, of reality.

You cannot have it all. You cannot do it. Something has to give. I am the patron saint of coming up short. In my case, I am no longer married, I made some real compromises in my career, I am not there every day for my kids. I come up short as a woman, a mother and a professional. Every single day.

And I wouldn’t trade for a minute. Yesterday was a nightmare – I cried my eyes out, I felt like I let my daughter down, like I let my colleagues down, like I let my children’s school down, like I let myself down. Most days I feel like McGyver – putting life together with safety pins and duct tape. But we learn from those days. My girls are the light of my life. My career is engaging. Every day brings something new. I am in love. Each day is full of messes and miracles. And I rarely get it right.

And that’s how she does it.

Back to school…….

Since I was 5 years old, my year has begun in September. And since I have spent my entire adult life either as a student or a professor in a university, decades later that still holds true.

September is a new beginning……

As a college professor – I love the beginning of the academic year. Now I am a mom, and today is the first day of school for my girls. Our day began with the chaos of breakfast and backpacks, routine and rushing.

Psychologically and spiritually – it’s like a cleanse for the soul. In contrast, New Year’s Eve (Dec 31) largely consists of bad parties, regrettable drinking, or just plain loneliness. That so called calendar driven fresh start consists of hangovers, holiday bills and hopeless diets.

But September is different. As kids it was new teachers, new desks, fresh notebooks, fresh starts. True reinvention. You could vow to read every word. Try to be a cheerleader. Get all A’s. Be someone new. Summer often erased past mistakes. We don’t get enough of those chances.

Simply – it’s hope.

Since time immemorial – September has been a time of harvest – of crops being pulled, feasts, shorter days. The transition is palpable. And as I watched my girls pack their backpacks with new pencils, put on their new sneakers, and express anxiety about new teachers and new chances – it was like watching the rendering of a brand new drawing – I have no idea how it will turn out and that is the magic. It was a harvest – of taking on the new, and letting go of the old.

We talked this morning about how change is good even though it is scary. And though anxiety characterized the drive to school – ultimately, they ran out of the car gleefully.

The verdict at pickup time: We love school (I have no doubt a revisionist opinion will be delivered by week’s end).

They made me excited about starting my Fall teaching again. Cracking the textbooks. Writing exams. Learning my students’ viewpoints, imparting my own. Meeting new students. A fresh start for me. For my students. A harvest. Were it not for the pay, there are few more wonderful jobs than being a professor – you are always surrounded by curiosity, by transition, by youth – not just chronologically, but the youth that comes from wanting to grow and wanting to learn.

TS Eliot writes “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.” Every September is an end and a beginning. A chance to learn new words and let go of some old ones.

So even if you are not a student – take heed from the millions of children and adults going back to school. Change, grow, try something new, celebrate something old – and find your new voice.

Happy new year!

Cones of Uncertainty:

I am a storm and weather junkie so I am watching news of Hurricane Irene (from warm and sunny Los Angeles) with fascination. I grew up in New England, and I have once had the experience of getting caught in the midst of the direct hit of a Category 3 hurricane in St. Croix – it was a humbling, noisy, and wet experience.

The psychologist in me is even more fascinated by the concept of the “Cone of Uncertainty”. This so called Cone reflects the range of tracks the hurricane is expected to take based on computer models. It allows preventative evacuations and preparation to take place, and accounts for the potential swath of damage. Makes sense – a hurricane often fakes left and goes right – thus the uncertainty. As time goes on, we have a better handle on the Cone – but it is never precise. The further away they have to predict – the wider and less precise the prediction becomes. Thus the Cone shape.

I liked the term and thought about applying it to people. Because at the end of the day – most people have a “Cone of Uncertainty” – we don’t know exactly how they are going to behave, or move and we sure as hell don’t know how they will behave further down the road. We think we do, but we really don’t (that’s why more people consult psychics than psychologists). We expect people to do one thing and they do something different. However, most people don’t REALLY surprise us – they behave within a certain “Cone” – unless they get a big knock on the head, most people behave in relatively predictable ways.

People don’t change – liars lie, cheaters cheat, scorpions sting – they act within their Cone of Uncertainty – but predictability gets trickier the further in the future we attempt to guess. Fact is, people may be able to be on their best behavior for a certain amount of time – but something in the environment – for a hurricane it is the warm Gulf Stream or the cold Labrador current, for a person it may be stress, or anger or disappointment – can throw things off track.

How do the meteorologists figure out where the Cone will go? They base it on past experience and the current conditions. They toss all the past data into a fancy computer model and it bangs out a course that accounts for those current conditions. It’s like handicapping a horse race – when an odds maker sets odds on a horse – he does it based on what the horse has done in the past, and the conditions of the track. And on race day, he gets even better at the odds making because he knows if the track is wet or the jockey is heavy.

So when you are trying to figure out the Cone of Uncertainty around the people you know – think about what they have done in the past, the current conditions, and the prevailing winds. How do they behave under stress? How do they act when they are happy? What pushes their buttons? Stick all of that data into that fancy computer called your brain, and you will know their Cone. And then you are prepared – to respond to their possible behavior, or at least cope with what might come and perhaps even evacuate.

So batten down the hatches, and always make sure you have extra batteries and water – just in case. Good advice for storms and for life.