These Things Bind Together

Something big is happening. You’re a major player, not somebody on the sidelines.

You’re feeling exclusively happy about it. You’re ready to shout from the rooftops. Or it’s quiet relief. A sense that things are working out exactly as they should. 

You don’t know this yet, but you need to acknowledge the sadness. Let it lap over you. Every blessed event, no matter how anticipated, has loss attached. If you don’t wade out to meet it, it will come for you later. Meet it halfway. 

Maybe instead, it’s a shit show. You’ve been singled out for a private hell that has your name written all over it. It hits you where you live. 

Eventually, that dark feeling is going to have to soften. If this rotten thing has something okay attached, however tenuous, give it a name and let it sit at the table. 

You’ve made a brand new friend in the waiting room or wherever you find yourself that you never wanted to be. Also, now you have the get out of jail free card for all the crappy stuff you never liked doing anyway. 

All of this insomnia means you saw this kick-ass sunrise. The fact that you’d hoped to never see the sunrise, because that’s a time when people living blessed lives are still sleeping, shouldn’t dampen that moment because that’s exactly what I’m talking about.

Damn anyone who finds that silver lining before you. That isn’t their job.

Let it in on your time. 

If there is no nuance or gradation then you’re missing something. This is not meant to be sequestered or cordoned off. You hold them both together. 

If something big is happening and you’re feeling bittersweet and complicated, seeing some cracks in the foundation, seeing the foundation present in the cracks, then thank you for reading this, but honestly, you’re doing it already and you don’t need any help from me. 

From the archives:
These Are My Subjects
Shana Tova
Yes, Please

Rabbit Hole Day

A day without intention.

No need to stay on task. There are no tasks on Rabbit Hole Day.

Everything that needs reining in gets free range today.

Tomorrow is for responsible use of the internet. Tomorrow is for headsets, lists and schedules. Tomorrow is for focus on what is important. Tomorrow is for strategies.

Today is for wasting large swaths of time.

Google your symptoms but stop before it gets scary. Google what’s wrong with other people. Diagnose them in your heart and mind but keep it to yourself.

Read what you won’t to admit to reading. Do what you’d like to hide. Watch what nobody would believe you watch.

Mope. When that stops being fun, preferably before the crying starts, go on social media and dick around there for a while.

Read something cool online. Follow all of the links. Follow those links. Follow the rest. And so on.

Clickbait is perfectly fine. Nick Nolte Then And Now. Go ahead.

When the alarm goes off tomorrow it’s will be highbrow responsible time. You’ll be rocking goals. Winning at life. Maybe not winning, but giving it the old college try. Tomorrow will be the bronze medal of life.

But today is Rabbit Hole Day.

Stare off into space as long as you want.

Fantasize. Don’t snap out of it.


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If You Care

Unflavored

I don't care what your plans are for the election. I wrote this for you.

If you are sitting out the election, this is for you. Not voting may look like doing nothing. By making this choice you are doing something.

If you are voting for Clinton or Trump, this is for you. The more enthusiasm you bring to the table for either of these candidates, the more I want you to listen.

If you're dragging your feet to the polls to vote  for the lesser of the evils because your preferred candidate did not win the nomination in the primary, this is for you.

If you are settling for the lesser of the evils because of the past or present behaviors of either major candidate, then this is for you. 

If you are the undecided voter, keep this in mind as you live your way into a answer. Listening to me might make it easier. 

If you are voting for a third party candidate to make a statement, then this is for you. If you are voting for a third party candidate because you think this person will gather a groundswell of support and win this election, this is for you.

If you've put a decal on your car, a sign on your lawn or shared something on social media about your preferred candidate, then this is for you.

If you've kept your plans steadfastly to yourself, you're not off the hook. You have an inner life. This is for you.

Vote. Or not.

Just don't drink the Kool-Aid. 

Any action you take on Election Day can be done without opening that packet, mixing it with water, adding in ice, pouring a big glass and drinking it. 

The Kool-Aid Man will come to your house, bust through your wall and create a whole lot of havoc with a big smile on his face if you let him. 

Things will be a lot easier for you now if you think about this stuff. Not drinking the Kool-Aid will make those days and weeks after the election better whether your preferred candidate wins or not. 

And lest you think I am talking about somebody else, Kool-Aid comes in all flavors. Hillary Clinton. Donald Trump. Jill Stein. Nobody's Good Enough For Me Flavor is still Kool-Aid if you make it and drink it.

The good news about analogies is that you can do things metaphorically that are difficult to do literally.

If you already drank the Kool-Aid take a few minutes now to un-drink it. 

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Important Advice for New Parents

Subtract One

It is always better to be slightly underdressed.

Coco Chanel

A lot of what we see, read, hear and consume is about adding. You need to add more servings of fruits and vegetables. You need to add an exercise plan. You need to add some key pieces to your wardrobe or a new positive habit.

And so it is with subtracting. You need to cut calories. You need to de-clutter and get rid of your stuff. You need to embrace a less is more attitude. Edit your Facebook friend list. Purge negativity.

This post isn't about either of those ways of adding or subtracting. This post isn't about Common Core Math either.

This post reminds me of an old allegorical piece of advice by Coco Chanel. I had trouble finding her exact words online - there were many different versions attributed to her. The gist of it is that a well-dressed woman puts on all of the clothes and jewelry she wants to wear. Then right before leaving the house, she looks in the mirror and removes one item.

She does not mean one shoe, a purse or a dress. What she means is an accessory. So if the elegant woman is wearing a necklace, earrings and a bracelet, maybe she removes the bracelet. Or she keeps all the jewelry and removes the silk scarf.

Just because I quoted Coco Chanel once and paraphrased her once does not mean that I admire her. But even if a person is a Nazi sympathizer and a terrible anti Semite, they have small pockets of usefulness and even wisdom.

Coco Chanel is not a person I would want to get to know, but she was a fashion expert. I am not a fashion expert and I am not anti-Semite. I am not nearly as well dressed.

This is not about clothes. It is about time. For today's purposes, it is about what we call leisure time. It could be applied just as easily to any old time. But I'm starting small.

It's the weekend. Or a vacation. It's a free evening or a wide swath of time when you are not at work. Whatever it is, it is a time when you would like to catch up on a few things and also have some fun.

So you make some plans. This is a good idea.  If you don't make plans, time will just be whittled away.

Some people make just the right amount of plans for that specific day. My mother does this really well. I like to think I do too. But it took some trial and error and a learning curve for me.

I got good at it. That's why I'm giving advice. If you're already good at it, you can stop reading now and go do something else.

Here is a weekend scenario.

You plan a Saturday. You'll get up early to play golf with friends you haven't seen in a while. You'll have lunch at the club. Then you'll swing back home to take Billy and Tommy to baseball practice and while they're with the coach you'll stop by the gourmet market for provisions for tonight's barbecue. You'll drive back and watch practice for a few minutes, and take the kids home. Then you plan to jump in the shower, crack open a beer and man the charcoal in time to greet your friends and their kids for some adult fun and conversation while the kids play together.

Maybe you're energized by this day. Maybe you've got this time management thing down.

Or maybe on closer examination, you aren't so happy. You feel frazzled. Your partner is angry because you were 20 minutes late in picking up the kids and in your haste you forgot the beer for the barbecue. Or maybe everything came together fine, but you didn't bet on the traffic and the shower became a casualty. You feel hot and sticky and somewhat grouchy for the rest of the day.

You can't wait to go to work on Monday because the weekend of relaxing activities has left you feeling exhausted.

Here's another scenario. You plan a romantic long weekend trip to NYC. It's a beautiful day and the weather is perfect. You surprise your partner with a day of fun including a view from the top of the Empire State building, a stroll through Central Park and an exploration of Chinatown topped off with dinner. After that a cab ride to the theater district for the hottest show.

The whirlwind may be perfect for just the two of you. Some people are invigorated by this wall-to-wall activity.

But maybe your partner wanted to linger at one of these places. Or it's actually over-stimulating for both of you. You find yourselves bickering at dinner, and secretly wanting to go back to the hotel and bag the Broadway play.

Add a child or two to the above plans and expect some meltdowns.

This is supposed to be fun.

If you're enjoying yourself most weekends, having a sense of accomplishment and rejuvenation, are feeling good and refreshed after an evening out, then keep doing what you're doing.

But if you are miserable, your friends are mad because you're always late, your kids aren’t having as much fun as you imagined, you've over-complicate and over-plan,  you wonder where the time goes, the neighborhood association is complaining because you never cut the lawn, dinner is always sneaking up on you, you have a pounding tension headache on vacation, and the office feels like a spa after your ski excursion, then I have a simple solution.

Make your plans for the day. Then remove one thing from the schedule.

There are fancier ways of managing your time. I'm suggesting something simple.  Tweak later when you're better at this.

Subtract something. Just one thing. It’s the little black dress of time management and it will change your life.

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I Will Say The Wrong Thing

I've been a member of a lot of support groups. Support groups for cancer moms. Support groups for grieving moms. Some have been on the phone. Some have been in person, with people sitting in chairs, arranged in a circle. Some have been email groups. I've never done the chat room.

These are the kind of groups I have done. Perhaps you have participated in groups yourself. If you've been to Weight Watchers meetings, then that is a support group. Same with AA meetings. There are message boards for people in treatment for almost every disease process.

The reason you are in this group, with other people with a similar profile is that you need some kind of support you are not getting from your day-to-day life.  At least some of these people get you. Like it or not, they might be the only ones who do.

Every support group is different. But here is a common thread I've noticed among all of them.

There will be a point at the meeting when someone - you or another group member - tell a terrible story about someone in your personal life who said or did the wrong thing. You can pretty much count on some or all of the people present to commiserate with you. Sometimes the social worker or therapist facilitating the group will be quiet and listen to what all of the participants have to say. Other times, if the wrong thing is bad enough, they will join in the commiserating.

If you are telling such a story, chances are, as unique as the situation feels to you, someone else will pipe in that their boss, mother in law or crazy neighbor said the same thing. You feel sorry for this other person. But it's good to be understood.

There was one time when Jeremy and I told a story about someone saying a wrong thing that no one else in the group had heard. The group members were silenced for several minutes. People just stared. Even the people who never stop talking stopped talking. After a bit, they shook their heads.

It is important to have a safe place to vent. It is important to feel validated.

For a long time, I was too busy telling terrible stories, listening to terrible stories and commiserating with people about their terrible stories  to think about what I am about to say. When I had a little bit of mental bandwidth I thought about it a little. Once I had more bandwidth I thought about it quite a lot.

I will say the wrong thing.

I will be that person who someone brings up in the support group.  No one wants to be that person.

People who haven't been to a lot of support groups might not even think about this. They don't know what goes on in these places.

I've been careful. If someone says they are on a diet and going to Weight Watchers, then I'm not going to bake a chocolate cake, cut myself a big slice and eat it lustily in front of them. I want to be supportive. I don't want to be branded as the food pusher at the Weight Watchers meeting.

It wouldn't occur to me to ever ask an adoptive parent who the "real" mom is, tell a grieving person to snap out of it, assume a woman wearing a diaphanous blouse is pregnant, or pat a man's spare tire. The only reason I know about this is either from witnessing or reading about it.

Then there's the things I think, but don't say. Shouldn't that kid be in bed? I think you're on the Autism Spectrum.

There are lists published daily about what not to say.

Part of what worries me is that there are so many lists of things not to say to new parents, the infertile, the childless by choice, the moms of kids with dyslexia, the moms with dyslexia, the newly retired, the newly religious, prodigies, insomniacs, people with chronic illness, the obese, people who have lost their jobs, people who have lost their pets, the Gluten Intolerant, and people who have many competing multiple issues that there are too many potential bad things to remember. I'm afraid that I might forget something I'm not supposed to say.

To further complicate matters, no two people are alike. Every cancer mom I've ever talked to hated it when people brought up the idea of them having another child. They're insulted that anyone would say such a thing. They feel that there is an implication that the sick child can be replaced with a healthy one.

It turns out that two people gently brought up more children after Jacob was diagnosed. In my case, I wasn't insulted. I didn't think they were asking me to replace Jacob. My feeling was one of support and encouragement. I'm left happy that these two people didn't get the memo. Because for me, they actually said the right thing.

In spite of being careful, I have said the wrong thing. My wrong things seem to fit into three basic categories.

The canary in the coalmine

I'll notice something. I will often be the first to notice something. Other people do not notice or are not ready to notice. They feel I am being ridiculous. I have said the wrong thing. Then weeks, months or years later, they notice the same thing I did some time ago. But when I said it, it was too early. Now I try to wade in more gently. I made this improvement the other day and it worked out. But I'll probably say the wrong thing again. It's not easy being this canary.

Letting the cat out of the bag that I didn't know was in the bag

Sometimes I talk about things that are taboo to other people. I seem to have fewer topics that feel taboo for me. I'm not big on certain kinds of euphemisms. I don't know why people are ashamed or secretive about such things. But I need to remember this and respect them.

So I will inadvertently let something drop that was supposed to be covered up. It isn't a surprise party kind of thing. It isn't something that someone told me in confidence. Its something I was supposed to know not to talk about.

So now if I have something like that to say, I might just have to zip it. Or use a whisper voice.

Giving the wrong advice when the person just wanted to vent

The person will seem to be asking for advice. I give some advice. I give reasons for my advice. Then it turns out that my advice is crappy. I have said the wrong thing.

The next time someone seems to be asking for advice I'll ask them directly if they want advice or if they really just want to vent. If they say they want advice, I might remind them how crappy my advice was the last time.

There are probably people who do not care that they said the wrong thing. I'm not one of them. When I say the canary in the coalmine wrong thing or the cat out of the bag wrong thing I remember it forever. It becomes a hot memory.

Just thinking about being that person in someone's support group gives me the same deeply embarrassed feeling that is hard to live with, even though I won’t be there to witness it.

After a long-suffering time, I decided a different approach was in order.

I've come to accept that in spite of my best efforts and in spite of my awareness of what gets me into the most hot water, I will say the wrong thing. Allowing myself to think about patterns of saying the wrong thing and admitting that saying the wrong thing is something I do took some of the sting out of it.

The next thing is to figure out what to do when I say the wrong thing again.

I've apologized of course. But I'm thinking that maybe asking the other person what else I could do to make them feel better would be good. I might put forth some suggestions.

Sometimes I'll be the one saying the wrong thing. Other times I'll be on the receiving end.

A person I have known for a long time said something to me. Unfortunately, it's playing over and over again in my head like a broken record. I feel unmoored. They have said the wrong thing.

If this were a bereaved parent bad thing, I could take it to a chat room I've been invited to. I could call my very best Camp Sunshine friend.

This particular wrong statement is homeless. I'm not in that kind of support group.  I've thought about joining a support group about this topic. Unfortunately this topic has me so busy that I haven't looked for one, which is ironic.

This wrong thing that someone said needs an audience. I'm thinking if I'm this upset that the support group might need to move from the back burner to the front one. Things that don't bead up and roll off are a message. The message isn't for the person who said the wrong thing. The message is for me.

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A Stressor Is A Stressor Is A Stressor

There is a list for everything. Life stressors are no exception. There are lists of life stressors. Life stressors are ranked.

A quick Google search located several of these lists. There are differences between the lists. Everyone can agree that divorce, moving and job loss are major sources of stress, even if their place on the list can vary from list to list.

But there is one life stressor that everyone can agree on. The number one life stressor, according to people who compile such things, is the death of a spouse. The death of a spouse sounds like something so terrible that I never want to experience it. Unless your spouse is someone you really can't stand, then this is going to be tragic.

The missing stressor on the vast majority of lists is the death of a child. This is a glaring omission. The best explanation I can come up with is that no one wanted to think about it so they didn't put it on the list.  It was as if this possibility was too much of a downer for anyone to consider.

I did not do an exhaustive search for a list with the death of a child on it. But I did find the following statement on a website called be happy 101. Quite, honestly it did actually make me happy to read this.

"I noticed (as maybe you have) that there is nothing on this list about the death of one of your children as one of life's most stressful events - which I would consider as THE most stressful event imaginable. I have experienced this in my family (not me thankfully, but two of my family members have had their children die in accidents). This, I believe, would rate even higher than 100 on the stress score (which is the rating for the death of a spouse). And while the death of a spouse would certainly be unbelievably traumatic (i.e., stressful and deserving of a '100' score) the death of my child would be at least as painful/stressful. I'm not sure why the psychologist(s) who created this list left that off the list. In any case, if you've experienced this terrible event, rate it at whatever level you feel is appropriate."

www.behappy101.com/stress-list.html

The death of a child is the life stressor to end all life stressors. Many other life stressors can at least be re-framed and organized. The loss of this job might open new doors that wouldn't have been possible at the old job. Maybe you can see, even in the heat of the moment, that divorce is in fact the best thing. Maybe in retrospect if you weren't able to do that at the time.

The death of a child defies this. Your child dying has no silver lining. Excuse my language. Your child dying is royally fucked up.

Jeremy and I experienced the death of our son Jacob. In the days, weeks and months following the loss, I had the following, seemingly opposing feelings with frequency.

Since I was still alive after childhood cancer treatment and the death of my child, this implied I would be able to endure anything or any stressor.

Since I was forced to endure the death of my child, this implied that I would not be able to tolerate any more stressors.

In general, I had no patience with other people's stressors unless that stressor was the death of a child.

Over time, these feelings tempered and became more nuanced. I realized I was able to sustain other life stressors as long as none of my other children died. I could listen patiently while people complained about the weather, the grocery store line or whatever.

Losing a child does a lot of things. One of the things it did was put everything else into perspective. Being up all night with a child with croup was a privilege because I knew a steamy shower followed by a 3:00 AM walk in the brisk air  would cure my child. Sure, it was scary. But I was in control. If I could see one child through hospice, I could certainly handle croup.

Same with the NYC public school application process, various non-cancerous medical emergencies, crappy clients, neuropsychological labels, PTSD and indignities of all kinds.

It took me a bit longer to admit that I wasn't superhuman. For the most part, it took me until about three years ago to realize some of that. The rest happened sometime last week.

Here is what I figured out. It's great to have perspective. It's awesome to know what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Using grief and loss to help other people infuses what could seem senseless with meaning.

It turns out that the death of my child eclipsed all other life stressors. I was able to eventually develop the capacity to support other people with their problems. I was able to listen with empathy and compassion. But when it came to extending that same kind of understanding to myself, I often fell short.

In accurately recognizing that home renovation, Christmas, an ambiguous medical test or an unexpected financial expense were not as stressful as losing a child, I failed to recognize them as stressors at all. It's hard to accommodate something you don't recognize.

It was time to stop ignoring my lessor stressors.

I don't have any big answers yet. So far, I am just naming them stressors. I'm not looking to get rid of stressors. I am looking to calmly take care of myself when things come up.

Soon there will be college applications, financial aid packages and tours.  We are planning to re-do our closets. My son keeps outgrowing everything. The prices of everything have gone up. The holidays will be here before we know it.  The anniversary of Jacob's death is soon upon us.

I will need accommodations when it comes to these things. I will need to ask for help. The first thing I'm doing is admitting that they are stressors. In recognizing that this makes me just like everybody else, I'm already feeling better.

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What Support Looks Like Now

Everybody needs support. I'm no exception in this regard.

I've always had support. I know how wonderful it feels to be supported. It's one of the best feelings in the world. I don't take it for granted.

I also know what it feels like not to have support. For me, this feeling is usually temporary. The sense of free fall or flailing is uncomfortable, but eventually I will find the help I need or it will find me.

Support is important in regular day-to-day life. If there's a particular ongoing challenge then it is of upmost importance.

For me, support takes many forms. It can be friends, Jeremy, close family members, doctors, social workers, therapists, teachers. It can be support groups, retreats, seminars and lectures. It can be books, blogs, podcasts and even TV. It can be Facebook and Twitter.

It can be designers, carpenters, painters, or a fantastic professional organizer.

It can be medication, exercise, particular foods, and extra sleep. It can be a smile from a stranger, the right words, an unexpected gift. It can be a kick in the pants.

There are times when arranging support for one of my children also feels like support for me because of the peace of mind it gives me.

Sometimes I seek out support, and sometimes it just lands in my lap. I will say one thing. I must be very lucky because the universe seems to have plenty of it to go around.

When it comes to inanimate sources of support - things like books - I don't have to worry about wearing out my welcome. I can re-read the same chapter, put a post it note there, or memorize the words.

When it comes to people, I am mindful not to go to the same well too many times. I don't want to be a nuisance. I don't want to be cringe-worthy.

So far, I've been talking about being on the receiving end. I also give support. Oftentimes this feels natural. I am competent because I offer support in areas that represent my strengths. In other words, I might offer to cook, babysit, listen to you, go to a meeting with you, help you organize your stuff, talk about your art, or make recommendations. I can help you find the silver lining.

I won't offer to fix your car, put together IKEA, bake a cake, or drive you somewhere because I either dislike doing these things or have no competency in them. But I am resourceful. I can match you with someone who is good at it.

I can listen to you vent but if it goes on too long, I'm going to shift gears and be solution-oriented. Some people find this annoying.

I recently found myself in the uncomfortable position of seeking support from two different sources. I'm not going to say more than this about particulars. It may have been a who or a what. It may have been a place or a thing.

The who, what, place or thing used to be supportive. Now unexpectedly they were not.

This felt bad. Then I felt bad about feeling bad.

This got me thinking more deeply about the concept of support. Once I started thinking

like this, I felt better about it. Thinking differently about support started feeling like an actual support.

Here's what I came up with.

It's easy to believe that when a place, person, food, thing, book or group has been so supportive that they will keep on being so. Sometimes this is true.

But sometimes without warning that who, what, where will no longer be there for you.

The reason could be concrete. It is discontinued. You no longer qualify. The person leaves. The resource lost its funding. The store closed. There is no more pecan pie.

The concrete stuff can sting. But I manage. There are other pathways. There are other resources.

Other times things are nebulous. The chemistry is wrong when it used to be right. The book that was a tonic feels lacking. The group is there but no longer a fit. What used to work doesn't. The friend is permanently distracted. The doctor has too big a caseload.

Sometimes its not the who, the what, or the where. I can't figure out why, or I decide that there is no good explanation. Sometimes it's not any of this. It's me.

The book hasn't changed. The institution is the same. The dose is unaltered. The person is present. What happened is that I changed.

What felt like support one week or one year ago isn't. It's inadequate, not enough, off target or off kilter. It may need a tweak, a nudge or a complete makeover. It's either untenable or somewhat negotiable.

What was good for point A isn't for point B.

Here's something that came out of my analysis. Wanting support isn't a sign of weakness. It doesn't make me a hopeless neurotic. Self-awareness will hopefully keep me from being a pain in the neck. Frequent thinking about support will keep me from barking up the wrong tree.

Using my talent to give support to other people means that the river flows in more than one direction.

Thinking about support this way takes the critical voice right out of it.

Today, I accepted support from someone whose advice was razor sharp. Because of her, I feel revitalized and excited by my next steps.

I served as a combination of the voice of perspective and a distraction for a different individual.

I am ordering some good books to augment my talks with people. I've said this before. When the going gets tough, the tough get reading. The time may be ripe for a support group. I'll be researching that as soon as I'm finished with this.

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Advice For Myself: It's Only Lunch

Oftentimes, I find myself at home for lunch. Sometimes the matter of what to have for lunch is a no brainer. I'll have leftovers from the night before. It's already been planned. I'll have this for lunch tomorrow I’ll think while eating dinner.

Then there are the other times.

I have no prepared leftovers. But there are a myriad of other healthy options. I could make tuna salad or egg salad. I could have a ham sandwich. I could make a cheese omelet with feta or cheddar. I could have a tossed green salad inspired by a Greek salad but not slavishly so.

I could have any number of options on an open-faced sandwich, a closed sandwich, or a bed of greens. I could have a baked potato with fixins’. I could have an Amy's Frozen meal.

I could fashion last night's chicken breast into a gourmet chicken salad. Or I could simply heat it up and have it just as I prepared it.

I decide against pasta salad because it will take too long. I decide against scrambled eggs because I had that yesterday. I'm saving the hummus and the avocado for something else. Bagels with cream cheese and lox or peanut butter on whole-wheat toast beckon.

I think you probably get the idea by now.

This type of back and forth will eventually start to announce itself to me. I will recognize it for what it is. I have spent between two and five minutes contemplating lunch. I will not have spent 10 minutes on my lunch menu because I've never been at it that long before catching myself and giving me some much needed advice.

It's only lunch.

Once I say it's only lunch I switch gears. I pick something and have it. I realize how lucky I am to have plenty of food in the house and choices. Not everyone has this. I realize that this is not my last meal. There will be lots of other lunches.

I realize that what I don't choose today I can have tomorrow. I realize I should be saving my mental energy for more important matters. There are decisions that merit contemplation. Lunch is not one of them.

I've taken this advice from myself so many times that I don't usually need the reminder. I'll just give myself the advice at the beginning of the lunch preparations.

It's only lunch is a construct that can be applied to a great number of things. It's only shoes. It's only eye shadow. It's only a diner menu. It's only an evening out. It's only a throw pillow.

It helps with the bigger decisions too. Decisions with farther reaching consequences. I've done my research and doing more research would have diminishing returns. After being thoughtful and thorough I decide and then see what happens. If it doesn't work out, I'll have more decisions available at that time.

There a few things in life where there is one crystal clear path that is perfect. There is usually more than one good option. There are forks in the road. The dead ends are few and far between.

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When You Hit Publish On One Thing, Be Working On The Next Thing

It's a lot of work publishing a book, having a gallery show, releasing an album. It's a lot of work to finish and screen the documentary, stage the dance and unveil the new collection.

It's a lot of work to create something good. It's also a lot of work to release what you've created to the public.

This is for anyone who creates something and then shares it. You may have an audience of millions of people. You may have an audience of five people. Most of us fall somewhere in between.

This applies in a direct way to artists, writers, designers and musicians. It also applies to people who work outside of what we think of as creative fields in the traditional sense. It isn't for the person working day in and day out in total isolation. You would need a different sort of blog post.

It's for people who hit publish. It's for people who perform. It's for people who sell their wares. It's for people who reveal. Other people read it or don't, show up or not, buy it or decide not to.

You're working in a single-minded way on the finishing touches of that memoir and the publication date and book release party are finally in sight. You've got the author readings and book signings scheduled. It seems tempting and intuitive to just focus on that book. You'll decide what to do next after the book tour. After the party. When time frees up a bit. Take a breather. Bask in the accomplishment.

I get it. But here's why my idea is better.

Once the work gets shared with the world, the room, the stage or the conference audience, it’s out there. By the time other people have the chance to review, comment, respond, share, ignore, purchase, watch, listen to, re-tweet, wear, read, write about, rank, hate on, misunderstand or worship your work, it needs to be like old news to you.

It needs to feel like old news to you when it feels like breaking news to everyone else.

Here it is in practical terms.

You're a painter hanging your show of exquisite paintings using re-claimed wood as a surface. They're all about color and knotty texture and beautiful interaction - collaboration - with the wood. Your show opens, and you're accepting congratulations and sipping - okay guzzling - white wine.

But earlier that day, you were in the studio that doubles as a guest room. You were already working on the second painting in a new series. These are on white linen, are soft and ethereal. They seem lit from within. You've made a bit of a departure.

This is good.

You can show your finished work in its best light, have the most beautiful packaging and the state of the art sound system. You can work with the best graphic designer for that book cover or collaborate with the dream producer. The acoustics may be perfect. The cinematography sublime.

You still don't have much control over how your work will be received. The truth is, it probably won't be unanimously praised. Most people may love it, but a few might hate it. Most people may hate it and a few may love it. People might feel apathy. People might find it derivative.

People adore it. That love may be close to universal. But then no one will want to buy it.

Critics hate it, but it's flying off the shelves.

Try as you might to influence it, you can't control it.

Better that it feels like old news, this work you're presenting. It's still yours. But it's not you.

You're a moving train. You could bomb. It's better to be halfway through your comeback when this happens. You don't want to be staring at a blank screen or canvas.

You don't want to get all bogged down in how you'll follow the wildly successful show, blog post or lecture. For better or worse, it's already happening. You're in motion. It doesn't mean you can't change direction. But that's not the same as starting from scratch.

No one thing should canonize you. No one thing should destroy you. Working on the next thing prevents either of these things from happening. It keeps you current. It keeps you running ahead. You’ll never be yesterday’s news.

I like dispensing advice about the creative process. You can read more at the links below.

Have More Than One Thing Going At The Same Time

Leave Me Wanting More

Jeremy Doesn’t Get Writer’s Block

I’m Consistent

This Book Changed My Life