karen rutherford, freelance writer

I know I’m depressed when I start googling people who aren’t in my life anymore. Nobody in my past life spent as much time at a computer as I still do, so I rarely find much of anything. It’s not a hopeful exercise. Or not hopeful in a positive way anyway. I’ve also run across too many men on their best behavior, which has always unnerved me. My weekly predictions all agreed that I would hear from someone I haven’t heard from in a long time, but that didn’t happen. So I know I shouldn’t believe them when they say that I just entered my birthday month and crazy-good things are going to fall from the sky.

“You may be feeling the empty nest thing, but I’m not.”

I did make an attempt to enjoy a weekend errand by deciding to make my trip to the store early Sunday morning. I actually almost looked forward to it, thinking it would be peaceful and, it being so early, the workers would be friendlier. I wasn’t there five minutes when I heard her talking in her outside voice on her cell phone. Apparently, they were agreeing that a mutual friend was crazy and that neither wanted to attend said friend’s daughter’s birthday party at the end of the month (an obvious emergency conversation that must be had at 7am on a Sunday morning.) I was in produce. She had to have been in the cereal aisle at the very least, but I heard every word. So, of course, I spent the next thirty minutes trying to anticipate where she was going so I could be as far away as possible. That didn’t happen. And I was reminded once again that I will never fit well in this world, because, at my age, I should be able to not let things like this bother me. But, as usual, it stole my entire day and another minute or two to type this.

“You’re going to have to work on that.”

So, I’m in a depressing spot. I want friends and a more active post-single-mother life, but I’m not so good with people, especially those you find in public. Besides, I’m sure I don’t have the most inviting face while I’m expecting the worst.

But what worries me most is that the things I’ve wanted for at least ten years don’t excite me anymore. I don’t know yet what to do about that. I guess the use of the word “yet” is hopeful.

I’ll get there, I suppose. Wherever that may be. I do have faith. And I do have gratitude. I’m very grateful for all our blessings. But too much gratitude and depression don’t mix – they make you feel even less deserving and that the moment is as good as it should be - so I know what I already knew - that the answer is faith.

Eegads, I sound like a country song. How depressing.

Who knew we were smack-dab in the middle of Random Acts of Kindness Week!!

For some reason, I haven’t received their newsletter in a while, but according to a link to the Foundation's Website that I stumbled upon today, the celebration runs from February 11th through the 17th.

Today I also received an e-card from a wonderfully supportive friend about a class I’m taking that begins tonight and about which I am a little skittish. It was so nice to be thought of period, but especially nice during a particularly worrisome time.

And about four hours ago, the sun finally returned to Indiana.

Now, I’ve been griping all week – mostly about a few people not doing what they said they would and wasting significant amounts of my time - but this morning put a stop to all that. (Besides, I do realize that if I had any real problems I probably would have to be institutionalized.)

I already know the synchronicity is a Sign that I have nothing to complain about and need to get my mind off myself. I also already know that I have a great friend not too far away who has no idea what her card meant to me.

And until I know otherwise, I will believe the Universe is supporting tonight’s “Creative Leap”.

I love this place: http://www.indyarts.org/

I got my IndyArts card in the mail today, too. Now, not only can I find a database of artists (of all kinds), search calendars, apply for Arts Council grants, find out about the hundreds of FREE events at the ArtsGarden (an incredible seven-story glass enclosure connecting hotels, shops, restaurants and the convention center), I can also get discounts and e-mail newsletters.

One thing you cannot complain about in Indianapolis is the city's dedication to its artists and art organizations. The Council has a new site as well: PAL or Public Art Locator, which pinpoints public art exhibitions on a map of the city.

I feel so artsy.

The late humorist Erma Bombeck once wrote about a recurring dream she had:

"[In it]...I am asked to give an accounting of my...life to a higher court, it [goes] like this: 'So, empty your pockets. What have you got left of your life? Any dreams that were unfulfilled? Any unused talent that we gave you when you were born that you still have left? Any unsaid compliments or bits of love that you haven't spread around?

"And I will answer, 'I've nothing to return. I spent everything you gave me. I'm as naked as the day I was born.'"

From a 2003 entry in Mark Daniel's Better Living blog: "We find our purpose in life when we commit ourselves to giving ourselves, our time, our talent, and our treasures in service to God and neighbor."

I read an article this morning at http://www.wthr.com/Global/story.asp?S=7540715 about a group of people who distribute food specifically to the elderly (who could be more deserving of help, I ask). I think I may have found my New Year's Resolution.

I’m reading more and more heartwarming holiday giving stories online. I wish I had one to share. If you know me, you know I have always liked to volunteer and donate as much as I can. You also know all about my year-round freakish magnetism and my unfortunate experiences with the less fortunate over recent years (the girl at IndyReads who had been in their "system" for years, didn't bother to show up most of the time and only wanted to play cards when she did, the $100 worth of concert tickets I was told to buy as a Big Sister, the Salvation Army coat and toy store horror stories of liars and thieves, the highway ramp beggar who lived in the suburbs, the gift shop co-volunteer who yelled at me on Christmas Eve, I could go on and on).

My most recent jaw-dropping encounter: Our CFLC group meets monthly in a room adjoined to a tiny café known for welcoming the less fortunate (it has shower facilities, for example). A gal walked into the meeting room mid-meeting last month and whispered to someone who pointed her to our President.

The group was told that she was collecting money for bus fare. She needed $30 to get to a family member’s funeral that afternoon in Ohio. Our leader asked us if we would like to "pass the hat".

The CFLC fights for a living wage for the working poor, so somebody in the café must have told her we would probably be givers. We passed the hat (literally) and went back to our meeting.

This gal took the money from the hat and counted it – in front of us. Then, to the group and at the top of an entitled and accusatory voice, declared, “This isn’t enough” to which someone replied that she needed to move on.

She thanked us, not with a thank you but, with one of those offended hmmphs and stormed out. I wanted to go after her, grab my money out of her entitled little hands and hmmph her right back. But I didn’t. I was there to be charitable and helpful, after all. :\

So, this year, and until I’m over the last five years, I’ve decided to stick with political causes. This country’s populace (and specifically our collective middle class and working poor) is in dire straits and I think it’s where my time and money are best spent. I know I will still have to contend with certain ingratitude and entitlement, but hopefully in a much more impersonal way. This is best for me right now. And best for others. Perimenopause and all.

Peace on earth. Goodwill toward men.

I attended A Very Phoenix Xmas at the Phoenix Theatre with some new friends last night. I had not heard of the theatre, but I was so glad for the invitation and the experience. The show was a series of somewhat irreverent holiday plays written by local playwrights and starring a handful of players who could do it all: dance, sing, act, play instruments, and deliver lines with believable accents. They call their performance edgy and that it was. One play that cracked me up was based on the munchkins who Dorothy left behind to clean up the dead witch mess (who they discover wasn’t undeniably and reliably dead like the coroner – who blames her error on all the dancing and singing at the time - said).

The Phoenix Theatre is housed in a renovated turn-of-the-century church in the heart of the historic Chatham Arch residential district of downtown Indianapolis. The theatre mission was to fill a niche in the Indianapolis theatre community with issue-oriented plays and professional production values in an intimate setting.

I’m an “indie-wanna-be”.  I admire unique thought, music, movies, books, you name it. And now I can add the Phoenix Theatre to my list of things to appreciate.

And some new friends to enjoy getting to know.

I distinctly remember praying last week for new experiences, new directions, new anything. The message was received, the Universe delivered and I am grateful.

I looked up karma in the thesaurus at dictionary.com and the first two entries are: destiny and doom. Perfect. Yin and yang theory applies to all things Karen – especially in answered prayers and new things.

Just One Example of a Yin
I had an appointment in Hel…I mean, Plainfield, Indiana, Friday.

If there is some mix-up in all things heavenly, Plainfield is what my view from Hell will be. I’ll be eternally walking through a parking lot during the shift change at an unnamed, but the opposite would be “stupid and whatever the antonym of point is”, warehouse in Plainfield, Indiana.

Apparently, Plainfield is the perfect place for warehouses and warehouse workers, because they were everywhere. It is right behind the airport, logical for distribution. Airplane soot (I’m assuming), car exhaust from non-existent mufflers (I think that’s right), one huge continuous cigarette smoke cloud formed from a hundred or so individual clouds moving in the same direction (the nearest bar, mobile home or WalMart, if I had to guess), booming car stereos (the kind that can make you nauseous if the red light is too long) and really lengthy discussions to explain the obvious over and over and over.

Just thinking of driving back there makes me want to drink again. I hope to make it out of Indiana, being able to contain myself to the civilized parts I’m comfortable with (and which I love).

Therefore, this yin was actually a yang. The Universe was throwing a couple of wrong signals at me amidst a slew of new ones, just to help me keep my eyes on the not-to-Plainfield road.

Just One Yang
At a meeting this weekend, I asked a Professor friend of mine about her recent trip to Canada. Before I knew it I had invited myself to go with her in the spring to the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake.

This is so unlike me in so many ways. I never ask to horn in on other people’s activities. I never have things like this in common with people. Nobody actually says, “Let’s go” and means it when I say, “We should go to that.”

The last out-of-town trip I’ve taken with a friend was….hmmm. Definitely not in this century. I don’t remember there being one in the 90’s. Maybe in the 80’s. Yes, the 80’s. Journey concerts and weddings, if I recall.

And, I’m no Socialist (though I do seem to be enjoying their company a lot lately and I do love Shaw’s plays). I get really riled up by things like today’s headlines about Clinton’s proposal to put a 90-day freeze on foreclosures and a five-year freeze on adjustable mortgages. I mean where’s the economic fairness to people who actually try to save themselves? If we want to kill what’s left of American ingenuity and motivation…..but then again….but I digress and that’s not remotely related to my point.

This yang (and the yin turned yang) are, I hope, answers to questions about what’s to come. There were actually more Universal tugs last week and I am grateful for each. It’s time to start working on my annual gratitude exercises for the year. And my daily prayer life. Come ye boldly to the throne, right?

An Interfaith Prayer Service is being held at the Carmelite Monastery in Indianapolis tonight. I’ve never been to such an event, but I feel a calling to go. The event is part of Indy’s annual Spirit and Place Festival whose theme this year is “living generously”.

According to the website, this interfaith worship service will feature prayers for peace from the perspectives of American Indian, Baha'i, Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Jainism, Judaism, Islam, Sikhism, and Unitarian Universalism.

I should be in much better shape after attending, considering I will have joined a pool of people to pray to all the proverbial Gods. Wednesday, I’ll be more tolerant, more understanding, more patient, more supportive, more inspired, more grateful, more expectant, more generous, more thoughtful, and just plain ol’ more better.

Hopefully (prayerfully), all that goodness and light will last till at least Thursday.

(The tree. Significant shedding and not its best side, but this week's prayer is right outside the front door.)