Being Human: Personal Manifesto

I'm rereading Ray Bradbury's excellent book Zen and the Art of Writing. I've become so saturated with talk of craft and market and selling that I have to get back to my roots in writing, which turns out to be pure joy and hunger. The rest is for second draft. Or third.

I also had the epiphany that we spend a lot of our lives looking for advice from others on how to live our lives. People who have walked down the road we want to walk down, for instance. When are we old enough to start giving advice? When do we get to say, "This Is How I Do Things."? And when does it become valid?

I decided (just yesterday, in fact) that I'm old enough. I'll still take advice and look for ways to grow. But, as in all things creative, I think there is no One Right Way to live a life. There are only Methods. (Various writers will say, "You Must get up at this time and write. You Must write 1,000 words a day. You Must edit before you go on." And the next writer will be different. They have discovered a Method, not the only Right Way. Life is the same)

So I started thinking about My Way. (Not the song, although it's awesome). These are things that work for me. These are my practices of daily living that have developed me into a pretty healthy, almost always happy, productive, forward-looking individual. They might not work for you. But they are my method. And they are no longer things I have to think about doing.

I use my body. I walk when I can. I walk fast. I use the manual door that's always right next to the automatic door. I turn opening the fridge and picking things up into brief, minute Tai Chi movements. I stretch.

I eat what is good, and feel good about the rest. I have trained my mind and body to relish the good things from the earth - properly raised meats, vegetables, juices, whole grains. I envision these things empowering my body and making it better every day, as if I were gaining health points in a video game.
I visualize that my coffee habit keeps things moving, streamlined. I look up the good ingredients in coffee. When I indulge in amazing desserts, java chip frappuccinos and burgers and shakes, I pick out the good things in them (milk, calcium, protein, pure, unadultured delicious Joy) and know that it's good for my body too.

I don't add the weight of guilt and punishment to the luxury of eating whatever I want.

I rest.

I play.

I laugh very loud.

I read.


I watch movies that inspire me, even if other people might think that they're childish, simple and naive. Sometimes I think that's the best way to live. What's the point of being saavy and worldly if you're angry and bitter?

I listen to all music and let it strum the chords of my soul.

I notice odd things that seem to point to a universe full of poetry and fun. When I'm at the cash register, sometimes a customer's total is a perfect palindrome, or all the same number, or a special date in history. I notice if three red cars drive by, or five people all wearing blue who don't know each other.

I stare at red stoplights reflecting on wet pavement.


I turn the other cheek. (most of the time)

I believe in an unlimited, unknowable, inward, omniscient, omnipresent, loving higher power.
 
I don't obsess over conspiracy. Maybe someone's out to get us... but they haven't found me yet. And I'm still pretty happy no matter what else is going on.

I give a penny.


I flirt with everyone. I try to be kind and open to every human being until they give me a reason not to.



I believe I am beautiful.

I am optimistic.


I am grateful.