What if. Two words that may be a source of inspiration or desperation. ‘What if’ applied to the future may help us act toward a goal or create a paralysis of action. ‘What if’ applied to the past may highlight accomplishments or generate anxiety in the face of poor outcome.

How futile it is to rid oneself of the constant adjusting and re-adjusting of the relationship of I and AM, shortcut terms for our ‘doing’ self and our ‘being’ self. We spend our early years mustering the I to grow (our awareness of ’self’ or ‘I’ emerges at about 18 months of age), to gain mastery over the environment (childhood), and finally to gain independence (adolescence/adulthood). We then send it off into the world to make a Name for itself – to build, accomplish, and succeed – at tasks such as career and family. Life’s circumstances (interplaying with our genes) shape our I formation and situations like the recent ‘piracy case’ in Somalia, where young men commit a heinous crime, reminds us of how destructive the I can become without proper guidance and love.

I’m not a very tangential thinker — as in, I am someone who sees ‘the big picture’ or cuts to the chase sooner rather than later. I do pick up tidbits of thought often idling along the side of a conversation and reflect on them later, but I tend to, in the course of a conversation (at work, home, and even with friends), see goals or endpoints (from A to B) and move rather quickly toward them. I’ve always known that about me and remember times when I would grow impatient of others for not seeing things as clearly and as quickly as I might. That arrogant way of thinking hit me hard on Sunday when I stopped into a day spa while on a long walk with my husband in Los Angeles.

“Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again…”

~Simon and Garfunkel: The Sound of Silence)

I’ve read how small car sales, including hybrids and Smart cars, are declining disproportionately to larger less fuel-efficient models in this economic downturn. As gas prices drop it seems so too go our good intentions to buy fuel-efficient vehicles to help others and the planet. As I filled my Smart car with gas this morning ($10 for about 2-3 weeks of driving), it made me think how easy it is to be lulled into complacency. It happens all the time, especially when we feel anxious as in the current climate of financial stress. In times like this, we seek what we are used to, that which is most comfortable, that which we know well.

We often forget the temporary nature of life soothed by an illusion of stability in our day-to-day routines, lulled into a false belief that we are somehow permanent. We are reminded of this temporary nature when untimely deaths occur, like that of Natasha Richardson or the less famous faces of so many others. On Monday I spent the afternoon at a funeral where my friends were celebrating the life of their eldest son, merely 19 when he died in a tragic accident. The loss of life, particularly when young, jolts us into remembering the fragility of life.

I’ve been feeling ‘lost’ lately, in transition, and uncertain of my direction in life, a feeling as if I am standing on a microcosm of the earth’s land plates, with my left foot on one and my right foot on another, not quite sure if they will move together or split apart. I attribute my current sense of it to my children leaving home for college along with an increased awareness of my own inevitable end of life.

Yesterday was my birthday (February 18) and I am celebrating many joys – family, friends, but perhaps most importantly – me. At 54, I have come to enjoy my own company. I particularly enjoy my newfound patience in life. Perhaps my husband and kids don’t see it as clearly as I do (I’m still a bit controlling at times) but equanimity has shown its still face to me. Equanimity according to Webster’s means ‘right disposition’ or ‘evenness of mind, especially under stress’. Its synonym ’sangfroid’ literally means ‘cold-blooded’ implying a coolness of nature or self-possession under strain.

The other day at the end of a meeting, my colleague remarked how much I doodle – in the course of our conference call, I had ‘defaced’ a holiday card, an article we were reviewing, and created an entire landscape of doodles on miscellaneous papers lying nearby. I confessed that I love to doodle and only apologize if I’ve doodled on someone else’s papers. My 40-something-year-old academic colleague confided that in second grade (catholic school) he had been caught doodling to the horror of his teacher/nun and punished severely. He never doodled again.