I’ll write more about individual sessions soon, but here are the big themes -for me, at least- from Monday:

1. Give what you are. There is a sense of frustration that there is nothing for most people to do about the oil spill. We can all curtail our future oil use, call our congresspeople and ask to stop subsidies to oil companies and instead subsidize infrastructure for clean energy. But, as for what is happening right now, no one who isn’t working for BP can get within a hundred feet of cleanup sites, cleaning birds is best left to people who know what they’re doing, and the majority of people in the world are not brilliant engineers with intimate knowledge of deep water wells and how to repair them. So, what is a compassionate and concerned / irate / helpless-feeling person to do? The only answer there can be is to give what you are. If you make art, make art about it. If you write, write about it. If you do business, do your business conscientiously. If you raise kids, raise kids who will do better than we have. (A moment from Dave Troy’s opening remarks set the tone for the day: There are no grownups around to fix this. We are the grownups.) Raise the bar for conscientious behavior.

So, I’m starting to think more about what I am and what I know. I know writing and yoga and cute shoes. On the train ride home, I was talking with a student who has been in my classes many times. He said, “You advise people every day.” The statement caught me off guard, and I tried to downplay it; after all, I just lead people through what they already know. “You advise people,” he told me again. I end every class by thanking my students for being my teachers. Sometimes they teach me things on the mat, sometimes on a train. Now, what else do I have to give, and how can I use it to make my world, this world, better, happier, and maybe even funkier while I’m at it?

Photo: Duncan Davidson, TEDxOilSpill Expedition. Fishing boat covered in oil.

2. People are not evil. Even among a group of intelligent, balanced people, there is still some rumbling about evil corporations and their officers. I am certain that with the exception of a few serial killers and tyrants, the overwhelming majority of people are not evil. Unfortunately, though, the overwhelming majority of people have bad ideas, some worse than others. I refuse to believe that there are oil company executives waking up before their alarms every morning, hopping out of their evil beds, cracking their evil necks, and saying aloud, “How many millions of people can I endanger today?” Or, that they are sitting around conference tables saying, “Hey, you know what really pisses me off? The Gulf of Mexico. And pelicans. FUCK pelicans. Let’s build an rig that might explode.”

Rather, people do what they think is right. For some people, that means climbing the corporate ladder, and making as much money as possible for themselves and for their company, no matter what. Their success is measured by money, so if there is lots of money, there is lots of right. Right? People -you, me, and everyone- tell themselves all sorts of ridiculous stories to get the world to fit into whatever “right” is. That story could be anything from, “He’s just big-boned,” to “There’s no way anything will go wrong. It hasn’t yet.” Even when presented with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, people don’t want to let go of their idea of right. How many people have that friend who talks all about their wonderful marriage, when it’s obvious their spouse is running around? Everyone has blinders.

People are not evil, but people are delusional, and we pretty much have to be to get by. Related to this idea is the delusional notion that businesses have an obligation to be responsible. This is pointless rhetoric. A for-profit business has one mission: to make a profit. This is neither bad, nor good. It’s just profit. Corporations certainly should be responsible; it would make the world better. Of course, lots of corporations are responsible and ethical and still make big profits (and the definitions of responsible and ethical vary), but they are not obligated to do so. Yelling and screaming about a BP conspiracy is a waste of time. OF COURSE they’re covering stuff up. Transparency doesn’t make them profitable. Obfuscation does. It’s not a conspiracy, it’s marketing and public relations. It’s also appalling, but let’s recognize it for what it is: it is a business fulfilling its mission. Seen that way, there is more power to the people. Poke holes in the facade and show others. The emperor has no clothes, and so forth.

Photo: Kris Krug, TEDxOilSpill Expedition. (Weeks and weeks of leaking oil forms plumes of underwater gas. This gas is burned by large ships at the location of the spill. The ocean is on fire.)

3. What the hell are we thinking? Every president since Carter has talked about energy independence and the need to reduce dependence on foreign oil. Across parties, generally everyone agrees that this is a very good idea, yet our dependence on foreign oil has continued to grow over the past three decades. Presently the U.S. imports 60% of its oil. That means that to achieve independence from foreign oil, given no growth in the rate of consumption, the U.S. would have to increase oil production by 150%. So, let’s talk scale. There are presently 4,000 rigs in the Gulf of Mexico alone, tapping into 32,000 wells. That would mean adding another 6,000 rigs in the Gulf of Mexico alone. Think about that one for a minute. Oil rigs are ten stories tall from the surface of the ocean, and drill thousands of feet below the surface into the sea floor. Six thousand more of those bad boys.

Even if my assumption about proportion is wrong -let’s say that production can be increased dramatically in current rigs- and there need be only a 10% increase in the number of rigs, that is still 400 more rigs popping up out of the Gulf, and 400 more opportunities for disaster, all in search of a finite resource.

Something is awry. The oil industry takes in three billion dollars a year in subsidies from the U.S. government, while there is no headlong charge to create an infrastructure for cleaner energy (Offshore wind and electric cars are imperfect, but exponentially better than what we have now.), .Even though everyone thinks energy independence is a great idea, we continue to spend gobs of money chasing a dangerous, finite resource instead of investing in an infinite and much less dangerous resource. It defies logic.

I started my career working for a non-partisan organization that advocated for public financing of elections. In the twelve years of voting and disasters since, I have developed much stronger feelings about the issue than I had even when I was raising money for it. Unfortunately, while there is no question that our government is bought and sold -it is so ubiquitous that we barely even see it anymore- there is no legislative solution to the problem. The first amendment applies to assholes, too, and some assholes are extremely loud and very persuasive with their bunk.

The only solution I can think of is to continue to ask: What the hell are we thinking? I mean this literally. What are we thinking? Is it true? No, really, is it true – especially if I agree with it? Who said so? Why believe it? And are you ok with it? With this?

Photo: Kris Krug, TEDxOilSpill Expedition. That shiny stuff is oil washing onto the beach in Gulf Shores, Alabama.

More photos from the expedition are on the TEDxOilSpill site and Flickr.

I’m still in my funny little bubble. I slept for a long-ass time (but not a long ass-time, that is something else entirely), did some laundry, and then wandered around for the afternoon. Just wandered, through errands and not errands. The exciting bit is that I am crazy in love with The Shins. I know, it’s so mid-aughts, but I wasn’t really paying attention when they became well-known. I haven’t been this giddy and smitten by a band since the first time I heard Ben Folds in college. I even got a little bummed when I had to turn off my iPod long enough to get from my living room to the car. It’s that kind of in love. In fact, I think I would rather be listening to them right now than writing this.

Which reminds me, one of the highlights of the trip last week was being at a stoplight with the windows open, and the person in the car next to me was blasting music, which is usually aggravating, except that she was blasting the first Ben Folds album. I was disappointed when she drove away. That has never happened to me.

Anyhoodle, other than the wandering and the love, I went all out and gave myself a pedicure this evening – lavender soak and everything. It was nice, but it is still nicer when some one else does it. Also, I swear, the more I paint my own toes, the less coordinated I get. Perhaps I can find a manicurist who will work on trade.

This video has balloons in it. With that, I’m out.

The buzz went on for quite a while, and it sounded even more like it was coming from inside the house than the dang bell. I got up, followed the sound, and quickly realized it was inside the house. Then I found the source. Inside the medicine cabinet, the battery-operated electric nose hair trimmer had spontaneously activated itself. When I reached for it, it buzzed into my hands, knocking various pill bottles and grooming devices off the shelf.

This is how I learned that we have a battery-operated electric nose hair trimmer. And not just any battery-operated electric nose hair trimmer, no, we have a haunted battery-operated electric nose hair trimmer.

On a thoroughly unrelated note, I saw this sign yesterday, and I like it. Sitting in my car discreetly using the telephoto to take the picture from across the street, I felt like a detective – a detective with very nice toenails.

So, yeah. I am those people on your block, the paranoid misanthropes. “But the guy seems so normal,” I imagine the neighbors saying. “I wonder what their story is.” Well, in my own defense, my story is that the dogs go freaking cuckoo when people stand at the door uninvited, I do not have any need for windows / meat / novels / alarm systems / furniture off the truck / carpet cleaning or any of the other things people have tried to sell us recently, and bringing in the recycling is Scott’s job.

I don’t want to be those people, but I it has gotten excessive and disruptive, especially since I work from home. I also don’t want to waste the time of people doing a job that is hard enough, and frankly, I am running out of nice.

Still, I suspect this is the first step in becoming the people with the crappiest house on the block that has iron bars on all the windows, and evidence of large dogs everywhere but you never actually see the dogs. WHERE ARE THE DOGS? I really don’t want to be those people.

Every so often I get a pang of anxiety before going somewhere – usually on a long car trip, but occasionally for more mundane stuff – and I won’t be sure whether it is anxiety or intuition talking. So, I have a script that I run through with myself, and 99.99% of the time it goes like this:

If you don’t want to go, make the decision. Don’t go.
Ok. I’m not going.
Do you feel relieved?
No. I feel stupid.
Then go.
Ok, I’m going.

I have done this so many times over the years that I shorthand it now in my head:

Decide. Not going. Relieved? Stupid. Go. K.

But, every so often, I have the conversation and I do feel relieved and I skip whatever it is. This was different, though. It was a physical sensation that I didn’t really recognize, then I heard it, clear as day: Lauren, go home. I got off of 83 at Northern Parkway to turn around, and heard it again. “Take Falls Road.” I got out of the lane for 83 and took Falls Road home, feeling like kind of a nutcase. So, what was I supposed to do, I wondered, go home and await further instructions? Is this when the mothership arrives? I expected to come home and find the house on fire or one of the animals dead. Or the mothership waiting. But, I am home, and everything seems ok. I called to check in with my mom and she is fine.

I am not sure if this is a “something’s wrong” ick or some other kind of ick. Actually, I am not certain that it is an ick at all. I am just sitting here, feeling quite a bit weird, and awaiting further instructions, I guess. Maybe it just was not my night for a yoga and meditation experience, or maybe I would have gotten mugged or broken my foot or something if I had gone, or maybe it was the combination of green tea and Fritos for dinner. Or, maybe I am a nutcase… but I don’t think so. I know better; I have learned to trust these things, however strange they may seem.

January 14, 2010

For just an instant, I was surprised. It looked like a date that should be in the future.

So far, 2010 is proving to be a bit surreal.

*WAIT. That just reminded me of an idea I had years and years ago – a porn version of The Incredible Hulk. “Don’t make me horny. You wouldn’t like me when I’m horny.” That was hilarious after a couple of pitchers and some jaegermeister.

Outside a store, a woman in a wheelchair looked up at me and said, “It’s soap.”

Later, this conversation happened in a parking lot:

Woman with cart: What does your shirt say?
Me: Hilton Head Island.
Woman with cart: Where is that?
Me: South Carolina.
Woman with cart: Oh. Thank you for telling me that.

1. lauren flax
2. green and yellow shoes
3. “lauren flax”
4. “people born in 1988″
5. “reading glasses”
6. alife yellow shoes
7. annie hall black soap
8. calendar stickers, exercise
9. can i wear yellow shoes in september?
10. chocolate top cookies
11. chocolate-top cookie
12. creative male pug name
13. fake cleavage vest
14. famous yellow shoe
15. feeling the earth turn
16. flax net
17. food in fiction
18. green yellow shoes
19. guess green and yellow shoes
20. josh lauren flax
21. lauren flax, josh
22. most requested chocolate pie recipe
23. octopus rex
24. otopus rex
25. phyllbert
26. pitfalls of growing up
27. sitting by the beach writing
28. spouse excerpts
29. the black soap in annie hall
30. vagina farts in inversions
31. when does green meet yellow?
32. yellow and green shoes
33. yoga inversions queef

Some people look like fingers. I had a French teacher in high school who looked like a thumb, and his name sounded like “thumb,” which made for a great nickname. It was perfectly innocent, but at the risk of being slanderous, I’ll keep it to myself. Actually, now that I think of it, I know some one now who looks like a thumb, and even though he is a cute thumb, I will keep that to myself as well. Not everyone considers “You’re such a cute thumb!” a compliment.

Oh, also, I know two guys who look like toes. But that’s totally* different.

*Or should I say “toe-tally different?” Thank you very much! I’ll be here all week.