Stay True

If ever a brand seemed to be easily built— it would be “the makers”  A word that describes the passionate hobbyist, the tech geek, the science geek, the green geek, the rocket geek, the astro geek, the tool geek, the robot geek, the gadget geek, and yes the pyro geek each who live to tinker about with do it yourself projects (DIY).  Makers are described as backyard/garage enthusiasts who love to build, craft, hack, play and make.  The faire is the brainchild of Make Magazine a wildly successful publication catering to the mastermind, leisurely pursuits in the tech age.

Last weekend the Second Annual Maker Faire was held at the San Mateo Fairgrounds.  At the Maker Faire an entire world of DIY geek projects are captured and are on display.  One feels like the 50’s are back, kind of—the faire reeks of good ole’ American values, ingenuity, and resourcefulness.  With that in mind, I bet makers could get Congress to create an American Maker Day—a day that celebrates American inventiveness and creativity.  Makers are apple pie a la mode made with a solar oven and robotic ice cream churn.  They are the anti-tech revolution, but they are the tech revolution.  Charge your cell phone with a USB kit in an Altoid tin, or make a family programmable control board—it’s all good at the Maker Faire.

But perhaps best of all there is finally an event that caters to the whims and maker fantasies of boys (okay pls don’t deluge me with trackbacks, I know there are plenty girls out there who found the faire engaging, but personally I witnessed a whole lot of testosterone).  I had 3 young males in tow, one 11 soon to be 12, one 13, and one 14.  My posse was pretty much interested in the combat robots – especially the ones that burst into flame upon serious impact, motorized rockets, and the beyond mom computer stuff.  They were busy and I was left to wander about on my own.

Aside from the electric car that boasts 100 miles per gallon, mom’s personal favorite was a blender attached to a stationary bicycle.  One could work out while making a smoothie or in my neighborhood a batch of Margueritas.

Microsoft showed up as the Microsoft Makers, seemingly missing the point.  Makers are their own brand, not to be qualified as someone else’s.  Although most likely any maker is happy to tinker whenever an opportunity arises, so if Microsoft is now employing makers for the sake of making, I doubt anyone is complaining.  I hit their computerized bar—and was poured a Bacardi and Coke mixed by technology.

Driving away I wondered, could Maker Faires be the next saving grace for America’s bankrupt fair grounds?  Hopefully as long as the makers commit to clean tech and remember to put out the recycling bins.

Stay true,

M

Sitting with pain, the very words evoke a Buddhist meditation.  I can envision His Holiness with his world class smile, reflecting on the teachings of pain.  The guru of compassion would openly share his wisdom and acknowledge what I believe to be a humble truth . . . . . . .

In order to have compassion one must experience some form of pain, be it emotional/physical or mental/spiritual.  It is through our journey through pain that we are offered the gifts of compassion.

As I sit in pain recovering from a nasty bicycle accident, I found myself reflecting on all the times I have tried to teach my son compassion.  Compassion, forgiveness, (toward the self, as well as, others), and acceptance being my optimum “lesson agendas.”  But today, I’m not convinced true compassion can be taught—it seems to me that the most compassionate people have experienced horrific episodes of personal loss, trauma, and pain.  They have allowed themselves to be swallowed by life’s uncertainties, been on a dark journey or two or three emerging each time more humble, accepting, and compassionate.  They openly acknowledge and maintain a reverence for a great mystery; for the unknown.  They don’t deny there is an otherworldly power that in an instant can humble even the most self-absorbed or power-hungry elite.

Often, very often, those full of compassion have come to know that there is no answer to why.   Compassion teaches us to accept and ask, “What can I learn from this?” or “How can I heal from this?”  By answering these question we can better help others when they are in need, as true compassion moves us more into our own humanity and acceptance of all things realized and true.

Sitting in pain, here is what I know to be true:

”We are responsible for right action: We are not responsible for the outcome.”

“We can have whatever we want, so long as it is divine will.”

Stay true,

M

Making our way back through late afternoon traffic from SFO, a dear friend of mine told me about his mother who recently committed to green living standards.  “Yeah,” I cheered.  “Yes, but,” . . . . .  he continued.  Full of enthusiasm, she signed up for an “eco-tour”, which apparently buses, then helicopters eager eco warriors to see the melting glaciers.  Hmmm, we both shot each other a look.  A bit of disconnect—bring in more humans and fossil fuels to do what exactly?  Create photo ops?  Pretend they are Al Gore for an afternoon?  What exactly does this type of “eco-tour” accomplish?  We wondered.

Will commercializing global warming work?  When I take a moment to think about this, my answer is a resounding yes—I mean, look what the caveman has done for Geico (are they really going to make a TV series from these characters?—probably).  Extend this thought further, and let’s begin to wonder how we may then create responsible green commercialism.  It might take us Americans a bit of convincing, but I believe we’d give up the frills and thrills of a helicopter ride for more education, more discussions, and consequently take more action (not helicopter rides).  We are a nation of trust after all, we believe in ideals, which much of the world still argues over.  Do we really need to see up front and personal a melting glacier?  Can we trust the glaciers are melting, the seas are warming (ask any insurance company), and the time to act is now?

Yet, I do understand that if you haven’t been to the ocean, an online adventure experience can’t compare or come close to the majesty.

True, I haven’t spoken to a glacial eco-tour company, but I’d like to know what their objectives are.  Perhaps they have studied Masaru Emoto (The Hidden Messages In  Water) and are asking people send their positive vibes, pray, or to visualize the glaciers growing full again.  Better yet perhaps they “give-back” by shuffling Buddhist monks back and forth to sit and pray over the glaciers for– like a year.  I could support this, but for some reason it’s difficult for me to support wealthy Americans, spending thousands of dollars, flying over the disappearing glaciers.

Stay True,

M

It’s true, sometimes they wear Burberry, Ann Taylor or INC, right off the sales rack (shudder) at Macy’s.  Whatever it takes to flaunt the image of control, more control, and then even more control.  Indignant know-it-alls, we all have had the experience of coming up, over or across on their “wrong” side.  There’s no arguing here, for God’s sake don’t even engage in conversation or try—simply agree.   It’s the only way to come out with your sanity and emotional health in tact.

So often in these power-tripping, control freak situations our only real choice is to resist or allow . . . . and for those devils in Prada, I suggest allow.  Why? because they thrive on putting us on the defensive.  For some reason they get their kicks out of us warm, open-hearted optimists attempting to argue with them—it’s their in.  Their opportunity to confront, to argue, to state their “rights” and your “wrongs”.  It’s a no win.  But guess what? when you allow, you agree, the conversation or shall I say rant stops  and there is this momentary albeit awkward silence that the devil who doesn’t always wear Prada might just reflect upon.  She might wonder about her actions, her word choice, and herself—if not the first time around, perhaps the second or third.

Coming together as women in positions of influence and leadership is not about control, micro-managing or mistrust.  It is about embracing the emblematic feminine mystique. One business built upon another with wonder, intuition and trust.  No hard sales, simply endless circular collaborations-sensible, strong and sincere.

Stay true,

M

Four years ago a handful of us in Sonoma County were fortunate to spend the weekend with Molly Ivins. The occasion was the First Annual Sonoma County Breast Cancer Symposium, where Molly was the event’s evening inspirational speaker and fundraiser.  Molly arrived a day early where host Jean

Arnold Sessions re-created a Final Friday salon in Molly’s honor.  Back in Austin, Final Fridays were Molly’s signature events.  Held the last Friday of each month, Molly turned her home into one big performance art stage.  Storyteller, poets, authors, actors, singers had their 15 minutes of fame, not to mention the proverbial political rants and raves, along with her shenanigans that fueled Final Fridays.

Now as our guest, Jean threw a Final Friday Sonoma style for Molly—a wine-soaked, foodie event, full of laughter lasting until the wee small hours—one of those nights you will remember your entire life through and through.  A night you bond with people you’ve never met by divulging secrets and stories (some of us are still keeping a secret or two about the evening) – something oddly personal, yet oddly familiar was told to everyone in the room.  I had the feeling though, that Molly had many of these evenings during her life.  She created them.  She was a master storyteller who made memories.  She had the uncanny ability to make you feel so very welcomed in her world, wherever her world was.  Even the most reserved souls found themselves opening up around Molly.  (I remember her cautioning me, “Always watch out for the quiet ones they usually have the most interesting things to say”)

By sharing herself, her deeply personal self, she took you in and out you came ready to commit to the connection, the conversation, and share.  Molly wanted to know about you and about everything really.  In the true spirit of a Final Friday she was able to get us all to listen and get us all to talk while we sat around the dining table that evening.  She kept it human.

Just before dessert she said asked, with her long Texan drawl “Do y’all mind if I take this damn thing off?”  Pointing to her wig we said, Of course not,” and within seconds Molly plopped the wig on the dining table.  “Now that’s better, this thing has been bothering me all day!” she smiled.  Even during her battle with breast cancer she made us all smile.

The next evening at the benefit event she began her speech with a hilarious take on attempting to find a prosthetic breast, la grande mama, while in Paris.  Due to a luggage delay and a fancy dinner later that evening her quest began.  She cracked us all up with what they French thought she was asking for—and our laughter did not stop there.

You might want to host a Final Friday in Molly’ s honor, a playful salon were voices can be heard, stories told, where laughter reigns as the best medicine.  Make a memory and bless Ms. Ivins.

Thank you Molly for the great memories, for your courage, your playful high-jinks, and for making us all laugh. . . .  and George W thought you were trouble while alive, won’t it be fun to see what mischief Molly inspires from the other side????????

I wanted to blog to get back to writing again.  For the past decade plus  I wrote the Remedies column for Country Living Magazine and before that I was the Healing Editor (a newsy word for health editor) at TAXI.  For those of you who remember TAXI was a slick Italian glossy that had about a 7 year US run.  Now as a single mom, of an 11 year old boy, no doubt I will write about what I affectionately refer to as the momma boy blues, but not today.

Reportedly there are more of us single moms now than ever before, but I wonder if the trend is easing off a bit?  It seems that I know many women who stay in their marriage due to financial reasons.  They’ve witnessed the emotional and financial devastation that divorce handed to their sistahs.  It’s true study after study has shown that divorce hits women and children the hardest.

A no fault state like California (and 42 other states), translates to: no one is required to take responsibility for their actions, yet alone take a moment to reflect upon their actions, regardless of how unethical, cruel, or just plain wrong these actions were.  After my California divorce is when I began to wonder where has no fault gotten us?

Consider that 79% of college students admit to cheating, and consider now after Enron, World Com, and Arthur Anderson — all who sent a strong mesages to their employees that cheating is okay- especially cheating that gets you to the top, I wonder if integrity is beginning to make it’s way back into our lives? Could ethical pedigree, sustainability, and spiritualty be the new business buzz words?

Home they say is where your story begins and I don’t really know if more women now are living on their own than ever, regardless, I hope that a grand part of their story is living a life of integrity and  are passing this on to their children.  Especially as we women take our place as leaders, caregivers, teachers, artists, CEO’s mentors, visionaries, and authors —

Stay True Ladies, Stay True.

M