The High Price of Perfection...and the Principle of Good'nuff

I spent the first 56 years of my life feeling like I wouldn't be loved if I were not perfect.  There, I said it.  This obsession with perfection led me down a path that ultimately defined me.  My basic formula (Formula #1): 

 Hard work + determination = success, excellence and possibly perfection.  

But excellence carries a heavy burden.  Once you've achieved it, it becomes your identity.  Let the perfection continue, or you will feel like you've failed, you will let people down, you will be considered a less-than.  Welcome to my world... 

By the time I hit my 20s, I had developed a careful plan of attack to avoid failure.  Here's an example.  I graduated from LSU in 1978, magna cum laude (almost perfect, right?).  So I've got my diploma in one hand, and a bar that I set way too high in the other!!  What happens if I interview and get a job in my field...and I fail?  Panic set it.  I put my diploma of excellence in my box of memories...and began work as a waitress at a sit-down fast food restaurant instead.  I knew I could do that, and do it well!  Here is my basic formula for avoiding failure (Formula #2):

When fear of failure + lack of confidence seem > my ability,

RUN LIKE HELL

There have been times in my life that I might have set the bar way to low, by using this particular formula!   (That might explain why I'm a prolific songwriter...never run out  of stories to tell!  Yet I digress...).  

NOTE:  For those of you who know me personally, did you know I graduated from LSU magna cum laude?  Probably not, unless I told you.  No one knows.  No one cares.  But the need to achieve this level of excellence CONSUMED my every waking hour. To commemorate this honor, was I awarded a special sticker on the diploma that is hidden in my box of memories?  I don't remember, but I think I'll check.  Think of all the fun I missed out on, seeking perfection, for a little sticker that no one knows or cares about.  

I'm developing a formula for my new life plan of attack.  I'm deleting the "P" word from my vocabulary as of now.  (No, don't make me type it again.  Just look at the title if you're in doubt.)  I'm resetting the bar and coining a new moniker for myself!  Ready?  Good'nuff.  I took my new attitude out for a test drive last night, and I gotta say that I sure had more fun when I avoided trying to be p*#%(#t.  

I'm a musician by trade.  Guitar is my go-to instrument, but I also play mandolin, uke, dulcimer and keys when called upon.  I bought a cello 3 years ago, and spent hours at home, working through books and practicing, but when I took her out to play, I wasn't, well, you know the word.  According to Formula #1, I sucked.  I decided either I had to IMPROVE or I was gonna give her away...I couldn't have something in my house that reminded me of failure!  

Three months ago, I joined a wonderful group, The Adult Music Club of Baton Rouge.  The brainchild of the ever-talented and amazing musician Dave Hinson, our club brings together a group of adults wanting to learn how to play music, in a group, under Dave's tutelage!  Just last night, my band (The Blue Meteor) had a gig at Chelsea's, a top Baton Rouge music venue.  We played 8 Beatles songs and me and my cello were part of the action!!!  Did I nail every lick and play every single note in perfect tone?  No,  I'm a beginner.  Did I have a few moments where my playing was pretty spot-on?  Hell, yes!  Did I have the most fun I've ever had playing music out in the world?  YES!  I can't wait for our next gig...and all the others to follow.

You know, I joined the club to have a place to make peace with my cello and I am, in fact, learning the cello!  But it's working out that I'm learning so much more.  Last night, on stage at Chelsea's, I learned how much fun you can have when you live completely in the moment, doing something you love, with no expectation of the "p" word.  I think you could ask everyone there, and they'd agree, I was Good'nuff!

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...dorothy

SEPARATION ANXIETY...and wait, DIDN'T WE USED TO START SCHOOL AFTER LABOR DAY?

The answer to the above question is a resounding YES.  In the 1960s and '70s, there were three glorious, hot summer months, filled with friends, summer camp, swimming lessons, crafting, visiting the bookmobile, playing basketball, and using our imaginations.  Oh, and not to forget the merit badges worked on and earned by my brother and his scout friends...and the Camp Fire Girl honor beads I earned with a vengence during free-flowing summer months.

First days of school each year were exciting (and terrifying) for me.  I can remember, even in the earliest grades, looking in the mirror and saying, "This is the year I'm going to be liked.  This is the year I'll fit in.  This is the year I'll be the person that people wanna hang out with...".  And every year, after the first day of school, I thought, "I bet next year will be my year."  That said, there was something even more pressing on my mind in kindergarten and first grade...

I was the baby in a family filled with love and kindness.  I do not remember my mother EVEN ONCE raising her voice at us.  I had never even heard a raised voice, until I went to school.  The nuns at my first elementary school in Stillwater, Oklahoma were loud-speaking, easily exasperated women.  At least my first grade teacher was.  My mother recalled that Sister whatever-her-name-was scheduled an appointment with her, complaining that I would shake like a leaf every time she came near me.  I constantly complained of a sore throat (brought on my tension and nerves) and the doctor finally gave me a placebo to take every day, that my mom had to bring to school at lunch, to get me to stay for the whole day.  WOW, RIGHT?  I was terrified of that nun, and the world outside of my home! 

But what if I had been a PRESCHOOLER?  Granted, not all children are as protected as I was in my little world as a child.  That said, I've worked as a preschool musician at Baton Rouge early learning centers for the better part of eleven years, and I can tell you that some kids just have a hard time letting go of mom and dad...and some moms and dads have an even harder time letting go of their little ones. 

I wrote this song, "Time to Play", about separation anxiety, from a different perspective.  Please watch this PRECIOUS video song, filmed, edited and produced by Daniel Lee of Boonelight Productions.  In case you're wondering, that is the producer himself on lead guitar and pizza box percussion!  Another special thank you to the children, teachers and parents of the Child Development Cooperative in Baton Rouge, LA, for starring in my lil video song.  Please pass this on to parents, grandparents, teachers...just pass it on to everybody, because it's really precious (I know I already said that) and it will make your day...Here's the link!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2x1Y69vsGyY 

Wishing all of you a great rest-of-summer and an easy back-to-school transition for kids and parents alike!  Until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy

The Tree of Soles in Ossun, LA...a place to lay your burdens down

I have these moments as a mother to grown sons that I'll always remember...first day of preschool, kindergarten graduation, first Scout summer camp, first time standing on the pitcher's mound, getting braces off, putting letter jackets on, graduating, getting that first job.  You get my drift.  A year ago, I think I topped them all, down a gravel road, at the base of a tree, in sleepy little Ossun, LA, in the heart of Louisiana's Cajun country.

I'm no stranger to depression, and the apple did not fall far from the tree.  While both sons battle depression, my youngest son has fallen victim to depression, anxiety, and obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) as an internal manifestation of Tourette's Syndrome.  Yes, he takes medicines that do help, and there are alternative therapies, but at some point, you  have to accept your reality and strive for the most effective way to live inside this body that you inhabit.  Reading is one of his escape routes, and a book in the clearance section of a favorite store led us both on a life-altering excursion!

Let me back-pedal a bit...I've raised my kids in the Christian tradition.  I taught them prayers that I was taught as a child, including one en Francais.  We attended church regularly, including religion classes that were age-appropriate.  That said, depression, anxiety and OCD tend to muddy the waters.  How do you give your burdens to a loving God when your mind is constantly whirling in a million directions, second-guessing, questioning?  My life-long struggle, passed on to both of my sons...

Now, back to the book my son was reading...a travel book featuring off-the-beaten-path destinations in Louisiana.  One day trip caught his eye and spoke loudly to him.  He asked me to accompany him to the Tree of Soles in Ossun, LA (right outside of Lafayette), to lay his burdens down.  In a poignant gesture of faith, you bring shoes you've worn during a particularly burdensome point in your life and lay them at the base of the tree, or hang them from the tree.  At that point, you're asked to pray for peace.  

I will always remember how I felt, driving down this gravel road, when I finally spotted the 3 trees from the book.  I've had many spiritual experiences in my 56 years, but this was special.  We stopped the car, and my son picked up his black shoes he'd been wearing during a difficult year in his life, opened his door and slowly and methodically walked toward the middle tree, reading the sign welcoming him to the Tree of Soles.   I had brought shoes as well and joined him.  A million thoughts came to mind as I spotted baby shoes, cowboy boots, lady's pumps, tennis shoes...each telling a painful tale of struggle and an accompanying need for peace.  

We spoke no words.  I tearfully pondered the moments in life that had brought us both there.  Time stood still.  Slowly, my son found the perfect spot near the base of the middle tree for his shoes.  I followed suit.  Eventually we walked back to the car.  Still no words.  Just a quiet knowledge that we had, in truth, physically laid our burdens down.  What a powerful experience to share with my grown son as we both tried to faithfully lighten our loads.

I knew at that point that I needed to spread the word about the Tree of Soles.  A couple of months later, I asked my producer and videographer Daniel Lee to go with me to the tree and shoot some video.  (I had another burden to lay down as well.)  Turns out that many songs have flown through me, all because of the sleepy Cajun town and those 3 trees at the end of a gravel road.  I'd be so honored for you to watch.  I hope it moves you like it still moves me, whenever I watch it.  Here's the link:  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFZ4_cyEwH4&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g

My prayer for you would be that each of you find your "tree of soles"...and that your burdens would be lightened. 

As always, until next blog entry, peace and love to you. 

dorothy

Sometimes only a trip to the beach will do...

My first memories of the beach (mid-to late-1960s) revolved around a prime fishing and crabbing destination in Louisiana, Grand Isle.  Rising early each morning, my dad couldn't wait for the sun to come up so he could grab his hand-held crab net and wade in the shallow water, coming up with those soon-to-be-boiled Louisiana delicacies.  My mom loved to crab, too, but as a native Louisiana Cajun, the pull of the Gulf meant so much more than merely crabbing.  She actually learned how to swim in Vermilion Bay as a child in the 1920s and early '30s, so wading in the the dark, salty waters of the Gulf of Mexico was wonderfully familiar to her, a return to her roots.  

As a child, I loved searching for treasures, thinking every shell (or remnant thereof) was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.  I also remember the feel of the sand on my (tennis-shoe-clad) feet.  My parents' rule:  No walking barefoot on the beach at Grand Isle.  Taking just a few steps on the sandy shore made their reasoning perfectly clear.  This was a destination for sportsmen, and the beach collected many a fisherman's bent hook, just waiting to work it's way into the barren sole of an unlucky passerby.  

My parents taught me to embrace the Gulf safely, to marvel in its majesty, to smell the air and feel the salty, healing water on my skin. What a feast for my senses, in contrast to chlorinated pools, the only places where I had swum before.   Swimming at Grand Isle meant riding the waves, feeling sea animals pinch my toes, dodging jellyfish, and being unable to see the bottom!  I will always remember our yearly excursions to Grand Isle, LA and my earliest fascination with the mysteries of the Gulf. 

As an adult, I make a yearly pilgrimage to Port Aransas, TX for a songwriter workshop led by Terri Hendrix and Lloyd Maines, called "Life's a Song".  In truth, they can and do hold these workshops at other non-beach locations, but I am drawn to Port A.  There is just something about the beach to awaken my senses, clear my mind, and give me peace.  I guess it's MY turn to return to my roots, of sorts, even though only for a couple of days.

Shortly after my return home from my 2012 Port Aransas weekend, totally re-energized, I decided to write a song that celebrated the 5 senses.  I'd love for you to take a look at the video of my song, entitled Seaside Symphony.  Pictures and live footage were taken in November 2013, during my yearly "Life's a Song" weekend.  The video was masterfully created by Daniel Lee of Boonelight Productions. 

Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPlRpP3d0KA&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g

Special thanks to Betsy Braud (on flute), Dave Hinson (on bass), and Daniel Lee (production and lead guitar) for helping bring my song to life.  I hope my video brings back fond beach memories for you as well!  

until my next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy

LIFE AFTER ANOREXIA...I was one of the lucky ones.

Some of you may remember the story of Karen Carpenter and her eating disorder that originated in the 1970s and finally ended in 1983, very tragically.  Her disorder began in the throes of stardom, in reaction (among other things) to comments in the press that she was overweight, chunky.  What started as a 'diet' became the compulsive and unhealthy focus on food, calories, and starvation that would ultimately lead to her death.  Because of her high-profile status, her illness and attempts at rehabilitation shed light on something that I was living (unbeknownst to me) at the same time. 

I was a high school senior at an all-girls' school in the spring of 1975.  I remember it like it was yesterday!  I had a lunchtime ritual, which would keep me isolated and, more importantly, away from the school cafeteria. I did NOT want to draw attention to the handful of lettuce I would nibble on for 30 minutes.  (Total:  5 calories during the middle of the day.)  It was much easier to sit outside, under the flagpole, and work trig problems or read.  One day, I brought my new Seventeen Magazine to peruse.  I stumbled upon an article about anorexia nervosa.  I had never heard the terminology...but I understood that article because I WAS LIVING IT. 

The article sounded like it was about ME.  It spoke of a teenaged girl, a compliant perfectionist, not particularly attractive, valedictorian of her high school, excellent athlete, very active in extracurricular activities, a loving daughter...who was starving herself.  She felt like her life was spinning out of control, but there was one thing she could control!  No one could force her to eat.  She lived on little more than the 'high' she got as she watched and measured every ounce of normal, necessary body fat disappear.  I began at a normal 135 pounds, and 3-1/2 years in, I bottomed out at 94 pounds on a 5'5-1/2" frame...hair falling out, kidneys failing (but thank God, heart still pumping.)  I shiver to think of my fate, had I not found that magazine article, and had I not had friends who rallied around me with encouragement and compassion.

I had a very small core group of friends who had known me for 10 years at that point.  I showed them the article.  They were shocked, as was I, to read my story in print.  They came up with a plan and, before I knew it, I was in self-help rehab!  We had a senior trip planned in a few months.  I needed to gain 10 pounds before then.  Each of them, in turn, wanted to lose a little weight.  They would gingerly walk me into the cafeteria each day at noon and proceed to trade their mashed potatoes for my salad, filling my plate with higher-calorie and healthy foods as they feasted on my low-cal favorites.  If I ate the appropriate portions, they rewarded me with a chocolate milk shake...and a lot of pride and praise from my friends, who were actually helping to save my life.  

There is so much more I could share.  I would love to personally thank the writer of that article.  I would love to hug each of my friends and acknowledge their bravery and dedication in starting my healing journey.  I opted for a more comfortable approach, to write a song that would:

• explain the realities of anorexia to loved ones of sufferers; 
• offer support and understanding to sufferers;
• offer hope of recovery, that will probably span a lifetime!  One day at a time...

Please watch this song about my own struggle that I would later acknowledge as anorexia nervosa.  I recorded this myself (so the sound quality won't be that of my professionally done videos) and had my producer insert some pictures of me at different stages of my disorder and recovery.  I would love to know that my song brought attention to or simply explained the pain of this condition to people who are struggling, in some capacity, with the disease.   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggQ6aH1z90c

Please please please forward this to anorexics and their loved ones, to fellow survivors, to guidance counselors, to teachers.  I want to do my part to enlighten, just like Seventeen Magazine did for me in spring of 1975.  

as always, until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy

Celebrating a life well-lived...Doyle Chambers (1918-2005)

He was born in 1918, the first-born child to a sharecropping family in rural Line, Arkansas.  By the time he could stand, he was picking cotton.  His family relocated to Bonita, Louisiana, because his father felt his children could receive a better education there.  He studied by kerosene lamp, and delivered his lessons in a one-room schoolhouse.  

He was by no means the perfect child!  If he got a whippin' at school, his little sister would run home to give Mom the news, and he was sent outside to 'prune the peach tree'. (He got a whippin' at home, too, with the very switch he picked.) 

He laughed as he recounted the one pair of shoes ordered from the Sears catalog yearly.  As his mom was placing the order, she would ask, "Doyle, how do your shoes feel?"  He was a kid and his response was, "Fine," and he would spend the coming year squeezing his growing feet into shoes that couldn't accommodate them.

He worked hard each day, and studied hard each night, by kerosene lamp.  He excelled in Latin, and his teacher decided that he was destined for an undergraduate degree at LSU.  Before his formal education was completed, he had received his Ph.D. in Animal Genetics from Oklahoma State University.  He would retire as Vice Chancellor for Reseach in the AgCenter at Louisiana State University.

He was an avid traveler throughout his life, crawling across Europe in the 1940s, and revisiting with his wife after his retirement in the mid-'80s.  He was a loyal and devoted  husband to my mom for 53 years (until her passing), and a consistent and loving dad to us kids.  He treasured marriage and family so much that he remarried after her passing and his family increased in size.

Grand-parenting was his specialty!  There was a gentleness about his approach to my children that warmed my heart, as he encouraged them in life with wisdoms like, "You can choose any profession.  The cream always rises to the top."  That was my dad.  His name was Doyle Chambers.  He died in September 2005. 

I wrote the tune 'So Far' after his passing.  He was very pragmatic and consistent...I am very exuberant and artsy-fartsy.  I understand now why, over the years, he would look at me and grin and shake his head at the way I looked at the world!  I always knew he loved me, though. 

If I could say one thing to my dad this very day, it would be this:  You taught me by your example how to 'stay headed in the right direction and keep it between the lines'.  I'd say that's the best gift a father can give a child.  Please take a look and listen at this slide-show video of my dad, alongside the rest of our family, over the years.  

Here's the link:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkOiM0ixCdM

Special thanks to producer and videographer Daniel Lee, and to string player Dave Hinson for making this song come to life.

As always, thank you for reading, watching and listening...and a very Happy Father's Day to all the fathers and father-figures out there.  Until next blog, peace and love to you.  dorothy

MODERN CONVENIENCES vs. OLD-SCHOOL METHODS...What does simplification mean in 2014?

MODERN CONVENIENCES VS. OLD-SCHOOL METHODS:   As someone who has lived through so many technological and societal changes in the past half century, I have been wrestling with a few questions:

1. With all the time-and-energy-saving conveniences that have cropped up over the past century, why does it seem that there are never enough hours in a day? 
2. Is it possible that we get more work done in less time with modern conveniences, yet the process and experience is less satisfying?  
3. We all have more 'leisure time' since so many difficult, mundane chores have become much easier to accomplish (sometimes with the click of a mouse).  Is the satisfaction we get from our leisure time enough to feel whole?  
4. How important is it to occasionally 'step back in time'  and rediscover the satisfaction of a job well done, the old-school way  (i.e., write a letter, a song (or yes, even a blog) by hand, or with a manual typewriter)?

Let me give you an example:  When I was in high school in 1975, I did a term paper on "Governor Huey P. Long and his effect on LSU".  I would say that research might be considered a mundane chore.  There was no internet at the time.  There were not many books on the topic, but I found the microfilm room in the basement of the LSU library and I plowed through HOURS AND HOURS of film of the 1920s-1930s LSU newspaper, The Reveille.  It was actually  more like DAYS AND DAYS of film of The Reveille, finding occasional references to Huey Long and his role in developing the university.  I took notes by hand, on note cards, noting date of article, aspect of Huey's involvement, etc.  After a couple of months, I compiled information I obtained from this and a few other sources, and created something I was really, really proud of.  Was it a quick, click-of-the-mouse process?  NO.  Was it a source of pride and satisfaction to do the paper without the modern conveniences?  YES!  I bet I could write the same paper today, with my computer in my lap, the weekend before it was due.  I would have missed out on so much.

No, I don't want to go back to sweeping my floor every day. I love my vacuum cleaner that does not spray the dust back into the air.  Yes, I am glad to have an oven and a stove in my home that will let me cook inside.  THAT SAID, I am glad to have had the experience of only having a broom when I was a young adult...and glad to have learned to cook on a campfire and even on the surface of a wood-burning stove in my youth.  There's something about the simplicity of the swoosh of the broom on the floor...and having to wait patiently as the food cooks a bit more slowly, without electricity.  Maybe it's the simplicity of doing things a more natural way that feeds my soul...that makes me feel complete...that satisfies my very being...that simplifies my life.

I would be honored for you to follow my link and give a listen to a song I wrote a few years ago, called Simplify.  It's about appreciating the simple things in life, the things of my youth...those very things that I often turn my back on to keep up with society.  Here's to slowing down and simplifying when the world is moving way too fast!  Like on a lazy Sunday, like today. Thank you, as always, for reading.  Here's the link:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2ODwQp6L-U

Until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy