Amanda Palmer: The art of asking
Please visit her site…
An amazing story. An even more amazing storyteller. Please watch this:
(Again, Ht to Andrew “Even More Panicked Than Last Week” Sullivan)
This is the story of a nine year old boy named Caine who built an elaborate cardboard arcade inside his father’s used auto part store. A dollar gets you four plays, and two dollars gets you a five-hundred turn FUN PASS. Business was slow until independent filmmaker Nirvan Mullick spotted the arcade and plotted to change Caine’s life forever. Watch the short film and if you feel as weepy and joyous as I did, head over to his newly established scholarship fund. And can I just say, what an amazing dad to support, encourage, and allow his son to pretty much overtake his storefront for the sake of fun and creativity. (via mefi)
I had never heard of Tara Brach until today. She’s a “leading western teacher of Buddhist meditation, emotional healing and spiritual awakening. She has practiced and taught meditation for over 35 years, with an emphasis on vipassana (mindfulness or insight) meditation.”
I have a feeling this is the beginning of a long term relationship. You can never have too many teachers.
I listened to this podcast — instead of my usual musical soundtrack — while running today, and felt it was a healing balm washing over me. It’s titled Alchemy of Wise Effort. Namaste.
I found this Psychology Today article by Abby Ellin on the subject of aspirational hell when I googled the “On The Waterfront” quote. Please read it.
I have never written a best-selling book.
I have never won a Pulitzer.
I have never reported for 60 Minutes, won a gold medal in gymnastics, or thanked my parents and God as Barbara Streisand handed me my Oscar for Best Actress/Writer/Director.
I do not have a Ph.D. or J.D. Nor, for that matter, did I spend my undergraduate years frolicking amid the ivied walls of Harvard or Yale.
I have only one home, a one-bedroom in New York City. No Tuscan villa. No French chateau. No yurt in Sonoma.
In sum, I am not living the life I expected—the life of, say, Diane Sawyer, Julia Roberts, or better yet, Barack Obama. And this bothers me.