Breathing fast and slow

One of my favorite jokes to tell is an elephant joke. Elephant jokes by their nature are like knock-knock jokes, which means they run the gamut from the absurd to the sublime. My favorite elephant joke has proven a bit too esoteric for most crowds, but it always gets a laugh. This is due, in large part, I suppose, to the fact that the joke never fails to make me laugh, which in turn makes others laugh. Granted, they may indeed be laughing at me, or laughing because I could find the joke so amusing. Whatever the case, I enjoy the few moments of merriment shared even if it is at my own expense. A good laugh is not overrated. Maybe it is no coincidence that in the Hindu religion, Ganesh or Ganapati , recognized as the elephant-headed deity, is known as the remover of obstacles. In my experience, genuine laughter has helped to transform many a perceived impasse.   Last Saturday, I attended a workshop led by the ebullient yoga teacher, Erika Burkhalter. The theme of the workshop was abou

Saturday night, I had trouble sleeping. I woke up in the earliest morning hours feeling irritated about soccer of all things. Not professional soccer or the World Cup. I am not a fanatic about any particular sport or team. No, I was irritated about the American Youth Soccer Organization (AYSO) and our local region and the recruiting politics that persist year after year despite the organization's claim to fairness and balance. As I lay awake, I composed countless e-mails in my head to the assorted guilty parties with the intention of exposing bad practices among coaches and restoring some integrity to the bylaws of the youth league. When I had begun to exhaust myself with this mental exercise, I realized that I had already waged a version of this campaign via e-mail only a couple of seasons ago. Nothing had changed. Lying there in the dark, I asked myself whether another volley of e-mails--composed at some expense of time and energy on my part--would make a difference. I understand

The marathon that has become the holiday season is spent, and the new year has arrived a bit like Aesop's tortoise, slow to clear the starting line. Give it a few weeks, and it will be difficult to remember that we were anything but the hare. Speed does its best to define us, making us feel by turns über-efficient or woefully behind. And by speed, I do mean technology, all those gadgets we have learned to carry with us so that we never have to miss what might happen. Because I come from a time before so much technology forced its way into our lives, I do my best to adapt. I accept a certain amount of wireless connectivity, but I prefer more tangible encounters. I accept, too, that there is much that I will potentially miss in the way of networking. Nevertheless, I confess that I am not fond of technology's 24-hour "noise," and the distance it is intended to fold has failed to bring me closer to those I care for in the ways that reflect what closeness means to me. It