Yes We Can. And We Absolutely Must!

11-2-11, the day after 11-1-11. Still an interesting number right? In metaphysical terms, the number 1111 is the signal that a portal has opened. All we have to do is walk through. Well, I think we’re walking through it people. Just this week, the 7 billionth baby was born. The Occupy movement is still going strong and Oakland went on strike today for the first time since 1946. Holy shit! Everywhere you look there is evidence of dramatic change, citizens taking things into their own hands, a society intent upon change.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town at the Palace Hotel, as I’m reading a text from my friend Ed, a conservationist who is marching in the strike, I am enjoying lunch with several hundred of my esteemed, well-dressed ad industry colleagues at the American Advertising Federation’s Hall of Fame lunch. We were celebrating the achievements of 11 of the top industry professionals under 40. I was specifically there to cheer on my past colleague and friend Brian Monahan, a real pioneer in the digital and social media space. Someone who was for me, a mentor, teacher, and collaborator in accountable marketing techniques. Someone who always sees around the corner with pretty astounding accuracy. But Brian is also someone who operates at a level of integrity far above the average “mover and shaker.” You can always tell he’s not just in this for the money, the fame or pure curiosity. He’s someone who understands the power of our media machine and has the best intentions for leveraging it. Brian was recognized not only for his contributions to clients like Microsoft, Wells Fargo, and Charles Schwab, but for the work he does to help the world. Brian uses his spare time to teach public school kids how to use Internet tools for good and help shape their notion of ethics and responsible use. He also helped get Bill Clinton elected. Brian must have used the word “change” at least six times during his acceptance speech and acknowledged the power and responsibility we have, as an industry to make the changes that need to happen as fast as possible! Almost everyone who spoke today, spoke sincerely of the power we have and the need for us to act fast as an industry.  It was surprising and refreshing.

Although I’m a big fan of Brian, he wasn’t the only impressive inductee. He sat alongside people like Carolyn Everson, VP, Global Marketing Solutions at Facebook, Eric Hadley, Head of Marketing at Bing, and Amy Powell (my daughter’s superhero) who helped make Justin Beiber just a little bit famous. One of my favorites was Hamdi Ulukaya, CEO and Founder of Chobani, Agro Farma, the yogurt company that gives 10% of its profits back to community causes and has revived small town New Jersey.

The ad business is an odd and intriguing place to be right now. So many of us are moving towards much more altruistic values and questioning the consumption choices we make on a day-to-day basis. I know that many of us are wondering what it is we are supposed to do to stimulate the changes that need to happen. It’s no longer about the really cool brand you get to work on, or the thrill of the hunt for the next great campaign. For many of us, it’s now about the power we have to influence the companies we work with to do something good with the resources they have and help them do it faster and more effectively than ever.

It’s been a personally interesting year for me exploring my own NFP venture to help shape the future of the urban agriculture industry while maintaining my commitment to the commercial world at Draftfcb. When I’m sitting in a board meeting for my NFP I am slightly sheepish wondering if the really crunchy change agents are judging me for being in the superficial world of marketing. Perhaps they think I don’t have the stomach for hard stuff (apparently they haven’t worked with Microsoft).  When I show them the creative work my agency has done for us (pro-bono in a week) they don’t really seem impressed. When I drive clarity in the meeting, refine the strategy, and articulate the approach in a clean action plan, they are impressed. I think they know I can get shit done even if I am slightly green to how the who NFP world works. I’m learning fast. So, I’ve been kind of wondering how these two seemingly diametrically opposed commitments might fit together and now it’s actually starting to make sense. Am I always going to be straddling two completely separate worlds or can I possibly be a conduit to bring the power of both together in a way that makes a huge difference?

Last week I was in New York giving a talk at a loyalty conference on the importance of connecting cause-related activities into structured loyalty and CRM initiatives. I was kind of wondering if anyone was seeing what I was seeing. I thought perhaps my latent hippy gene was pulling me towards brands who build their companies on causes like Seventh Generation a brand that grew 20% in market that declined 20% in the same year. I told myself I’d be surprised if anyone wanted to talk afterwards and I certainly didn’t expect that anyone would sit at my round table at lunch. Turns out, a lot of people are thinking what I’m thinking. We had to get extra chairs for my round table and I was pretty popular at the cocktail party. People, marketers, advertisers who are also citizens of the planet, parents, and conscious humans are collectively waking up to the the fact that Brands have the power to change the world, it’s just a matter of creating the intention and directing the energy. If you start to pay attention, you will notice that a growing percentage of the ads and messages you see are cause and/or change-related. In fact, according to Mintel, $1.7 Billion in advertising dollars were diverted to cause-related activities in 2011. There are even cool companies out there who will filter those causes for you or your brand and help you determine which one is right for you to support. The industry  of helping out is moving faster than even I could have hoped.

It was exciting to know that although my choice of action is not to march, or protest, or write my senator, but to do as much as I can from the vantage point of my skill set, I am not without worthy partners. The advertising industry does give a shit. They know the power they have and I can see that there are some pretty strong-minded, well-intentioned, get-shit-done soldiers who have infiltrated right to the top.

We’re doing this thing!

PS. As I was writing this my Aunt Sally texted me to say she’d just poured the potato water on her pansies thanks to my advice. See, word-of-mouth does work.

Dads and Faith a Crucial Combo

I was raised in a very tight-knit, cloistered, fundamentalist religion which some might even refer to as a cult. There was a lot of love, and a lot of rules, and a lot of unnecessary angst over doomsday rather than looking at the possibilities that now might offer. One of the things that was drilled into my head was the notion of faith. From the fundamentalist point of view, this refers to faith in God, or Jesus Christ, or some other, intangible higher power ready and waiting to solve my problems now, but more importantly, at a later date in heaven. Fervent prayer was part of my daily routine. Fear of dying and not being “ready” was a constant. As I grew older, I eschewed this imputed faith preferring my own unique set of guidelines over a pre-determined, restrictive set of manmade rules and intangible rewards that only I might reap while my fellow humans went that other place. It never really made sense to me to live for a promise of heaven while I thought we were having one hell of a great time right here. If heaven is better than this, I would think, I’m not sure I want to go. So, I somehow lost my “faith” and focused on a path towards more heaven on earth. Faith fell into that realm of esoteric concepts to be studied elsewhere. I forgot that it’s actually a powerful tool for creating heaven here on earth and it’s in action all around us.

I can honestly say that today, I experience more magic, more angels in human clothes, and more bliss than anyone has ever described possible in heaven and I haven’t spent a moment of the last 25 years putting my faith in anything but myself and the Universe of beings all around me. Last weekend, visiting the enchanted forest retreat of my dear friends and human angels Joey and Molly, I was reminded of the true meaning of faith. Molly and Joey are two of the most enlightened, deep, beautiful souls I have ever met. Molly is a brilliant pianist and composer who gives of her time to teach gifted young children to create their own compositions and feel the harmony in everything. Joey, an original “hippy” and one of a handful of cool cats in the cast of Hair in Las Vegas in the ’70s, is also a wonderful musician and owns the house concert venue Strings. Together the two of them work tirelessly to continue to bring original, high quality music to the world. They’ve adopted me and both are helping me rediscover myself as a musician, teaching me to connect more deeply and allow my spiritual side to be out in the open more, and keeping me connected with the earth and my physical body. Most of all, they both have deep faith in me and knowing them and who they are, that faith makes me feel strong.

Last weekend, after a day of hard labor getting their cabin roof ready for the 100% humidity winter of a Redwood forest, the three of us were relaxing in the hot tub. I don’t really remember how we got around to it but I think we were talking about the role of parents. Joey made the comment that a parent’s job is to “empower” children which made me think of my dad. Then Molly piped up and told us how much she loved her dad and how empowering he was. Joey seconded that and I absolutely had to third it. The three of us just stopped and looked at each and recognized how odd it seemed for all of us to share a deep sense of connection with our fathers. We paused to express our gratitude and luck and just feel that connection together. 

It was funny timing because just last week I learned, although I already knew inside, that my father’s insidious lymphoma was trying to make a comeback. It was also a week in which I learned that a project I have put into action, one that fully expresses the person I am and the community I’m involved with, is starting to take off (more on that later). The best and worst week all wrapped up into a neat little package and handed to me by the Universe with a “that a girl, we know you can handle it.” All weekend, I worked alongside Joey and Molly, spreading asphault to insulate the cabin roof against the impending winter rains, digging steps into the side of the ravene, searching steap hillsides for the perfect redwood spears for railings, and playing music, while laughing constantly and feeling fully alive. Each thing we did from the manual labor to playing my father’s violin, included my dad.

In dad’s world kids were to be worked from morning ’til night but never alone, always together. Always guided by the hand of a powerful, gifted, can-do adult. Not only did he teach me to play the violin and appreciate music, but he taught me to do physical stuff, and he showed me the world. By the time I was 18 I’d shingled roofs, hammered siding onto a house, spread stain, driven a tractor, shoveled manure, performed in 21 countries, you name it. “Empowerment” was dad’s middle name. All weekend, while enjoying the bliss of being a human in a life I couldn’t fathom I’d create, was the constant presense of someone who had the utmost faith in me from day 1. I learned to do things, a lot of things, because dad knew I could. He would always tell me I could do anything I wanted and I believed him. Now, all of a sudden, the notion of faith makes sense. It’s not some ethereal notion of believing and then magic happens. Believing in myself and the people I’ve attracted to my life is where the real power lies. Faith is a shared gift of communities and families that when applied liberally and with love, makes growth and expansion happen. The motto for the week thank to George Michaels, “You gotta have faith.” Thanks Dad!

Hey MarketingSherpa, Wake Up and Smell the Muffins.

I admit, I may be a little sensitive having just stepped off the Playa. My expectations of innovation have been elevated. But come on people, just because it’s B2b marketing doesn’t mean it has to be boring. Actually, I’m being nice to call what I experienced last week boring. The ”demand generation” hit I experienced for Marketing Sherpa’s fall B2b summit was just plain ‘ol lazy. Not only did it daze and confuse me, but it conjured up images of nasty little muffins, stale coffee, bowls of rock hard candy, and zombies in coordinated Ann Taylor outfits. Yikes!! Not even the promise of oysters at Daniel’s can get me on a plane to Boston for this.

For those of you who’ve previously had the priviledge of recovering from Burning Man you’ll know what I mean when I say I had a little lul in my energy last week. In an attempt to keep my eyes open, I checked my personal e-mail. We do this sometimes. There was a note from someone on LinkedIn I didn’t recognize with this subject line: “Invitation for MarketingSherpa’s 8th Annual B2B Summit this fall.” The inappropriate case usage in the subject line caught my attention immediately. So I read on. In the first paragraph there was an offer to attend at a discount. “Wow,” I thought, “I guess they’re having trouble filling seats.” Given the event was in Boston I thought I’d give it a look. Who doesn’t want to go to Boston in the fall? The cryptic note took me to a video of people, marketing people I think, generically raving about past conferences. All of this was filmed in what looked like a hotel conference room. You know what I mean, brown walls, long skinny tables, low ceilings, people looking sleepy. I eagerly searched for specifics. Who’s presenting? What are the hot topics? What…were…the…outcomes? Nothing. So then I thought, there must be a link here somewhere with an agenda. Again, nothing. Just a generic video of talking heads at a conference. I could do better filming my clean up from Burning Man.

I responded to the e-mail with a thanks, but where is it, what is it, and why do I care? I got an e-mail apology back not only providing me a link to the conference details but also urging me to sponsor the event. Okay, now you’ve gone and done it. You bored me, gave me no value, showed me a glimpse of a not so turned on event and now you have the nerve to want me to sponsor you?

I’m really disappointed in MarketingSherpa for breaking three major rules of B2b marketing so blatantly:

1. B2b marketing is targeted at PEOPLE in business. People are people no matter where they go. In this business environment, you can pretty much bet that they are time-strapped, and crabby. With all the bids for their attention throughout the day, any little bit of time you request from them should be valuable. Give them shiny things to look at with valuable messages that provoke visions of renewed passion, and energy, and they’ll probably pay double. Give them brown, boring zombies, sucking on stale coffee and day old donuts and if you hit the wrong worker, well, you get a free blog post.

2. Make sure your value proposition is clear and easily recognizable within seconds. Back to the people and time thingy. No really, this is important. If I don’t get what you’re trying to get me to do it about 6.5 seconds, you’re screwed. Fortunately (well depending on how you look at it) I was curious because I have a lot of respect for and interest in MarketingSherpa. It took me a request back to the marketer to actually get to the point of the contact which was to ask me to sponsor the event. They didn’t really want me there and for sure they don’t now. They needed sponsorships for the event. I’ll tell you MS, sex it up a bit, put some really slick content together, get some smart, energetic people together, prove it, and I’m there. I might even spring for a sponsorship. In this case, the video, a testimonial piece, would have been nice as a reinforcement.

3. Know your target and speak to their needs. In business, understanding the role your target plays and creating a value proposition that connects to their needs is pretty basic. I know titles are weird these days. However, SVP, Director of CRM at a global advertising agency probably doesn’t indicate that I have a budget for marketing. And in fact, I don’t. My budgets come from my clients. Tell me I’m going to learn stuff that will make my clients think I’m a genius, now that might just make me want to walk to Boston.

So there you have it. My little Monday morning rant. MarketingSherpa, this is not personal. I still read you every week. I love your research. I respect your knowledge. Try taking some of  your own advice and maybe I’ll see you next year.

Don’t. Just Don’t.

“So, what did you do today?” What an oppressive question. I ask it of myself over and over and over throughout any given day. If you’re like me, you wake up on the weekend, especially for those of us white collar folks in the crowd, with a to-do list as long as Santa’s nice list. Clean the garage, pick up the dry cleaning, take the dog for an extra long walk, write that business plan for a start up, practice the Veracini Largo, make a soup for the week, go to the farmer’s market, rake, weed, plant, wash, organize, catch up on stuff I didn’t get to at work, see if I can get a better deal on the mortgage… But recently, I just don’t have it in me to do any of it. I’m not feeling particularly lazy. I did three hours of yoga today and have managed at least 45 minutes a day since I got home from Bali. I’m just rebelling against the incessant burden of “should” and allowing myself to follow a new path. A path with a lot fewer “should do’s” and a lot more “oms” and “awws.”

For those of you waiting for the written recap of my recent trip abroad don’t hold your breath. Sure, it’s coming. It’s in outline form, in pictures, dancing through my mind, inhabiting my essence. But I’m not sharing it yet. The trip to Bali taught me something super useful. Time means nothing. Time is just a sequence of numbers, a way to mark passage, a yard stick of sorts for the journey. But in Bali, whether it takes an hour, a year, or a lifetime to “do” something doesn’t really matter. What matters is the natural unfolding and observation of what is and it’s stunning. I’ve been back for two weeks. I’m still exploring the meaning of going from Beijing to Singapore and then to Bali. This was no accident. For me, now exploring the notion of our food system, our economy, and the ways in which we, in the Western World, have lost our connection to what’s important, I’m still in shock over what I saw in “modern” Asia contrasted with the precious gift of experiencing a still agrarian, aesthetic, truly spiritual lifestyle worlds away from my life yet so familiar and compelling. I can’t stop thinking of the exclamation of one of my traveling companions. “We’re so behind,” she would exclaim when observing commercial “development” in Beijing and Singapore. Each time she’d say the words, I found myself speechless, wanting to ask “behind what?” but not able to find the energy to engage in a dialogue about more economic growth centered around consumption of mostly plastic crap.

While in Bali I turned off electronics (aka plastic crap), disconnected from my wallet, and opened my heart and eyes to just experience whatever came. There was no agenda. I lost count of the temples I visited and shrines I encountered. I never allowed myself to pass a shrine (they are literally everywhere and it’s hard not to trip over the offerings) without clasping my hands, closing my eyes, and paying homage if only for a moment.  Most of the shrines are to goddesses since the female form and energy is revered in the Hindu religion. It was only three days but it was enough to wash away the stress and toxins from my intensely focused previous week trotting from one business meeting to another.

One day I hired a “yogi” to teach me the basics of Hatha. He spent 2+ hours with me taking me through the foundations of the practice and “brainwashing” me in broken English into the ways of heart-centered, peaceful living. Since that day I’ve been about as relaxed as I’ve ever been. Most things just don’t seem that important. I’ve been home just two weeks and have already traveled to Seattle, watched my kids pass from school into summer, worked with several friends on life passages and had my own, had an employee quit in a fit of panic, suffered through days of intestinal flu, and made endless to-do lists in my mind waiting for the mental chastising I expect will come when it doesn’t get done to my old ideal of perfection.

Today was my new ideal of a perfect day. I arose at 6:15 AM, late for me, and gently, slowly, and fully engaged, walked the dog, did some light stretching and prepared myself for a day of physical and mental restoration. My friend Heather and I went for a flow yoga session in Montara and I stayed for the next, a restorative yoga class. After 3 hours of yoga, I was finally ready to face the rest of the day. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the wharf in Moss Beach, went home for a nap, and then took our daughters to see the new “Judy Moody” movie for some laugh and color therapy. Next Sunday I’m hoping for a repeat. Meanwhile, there are weeds in the front garden, some laundry in the bin, no stock pile of meals for the week, and I’m sure I’m not meeting the western world’s expectations of perfection in any way. I do however, take consolation in the fact that I’m pretty sure they’d like me in Bali.

My Mom. My Hero.

All my life I’ve had to contend with people wanting my mom to be theirs. Really, even into adulthood people will tell me, “I wish your mom was my mom.” If I had a dollar… Yep, I got me the best and I knows it. I’ve always known it. But does my mom know it? That has always been the question. And if she knew, what specifically would she know or need to know that would touch the heart of who she wants to be as a mother? Sometimes we’re appreciated for things we don’t actually appreciate about ourselves.

A woman on a mission. A favorite photo of mom in graduate school in the 70s.

So, all weekend I’ve been thinking, “How can I express to my mom the ways in which I value her.” Some of them are traditional like her love for creating and maintaining a beautiful home, mine is such a reflection of her tirelessness and attention to the little details. Her attention to feelings and human development. Her never ending concern and attention. Her affectionate nature. But this can be said of so many good moms can’t it? My mom stands out to me in a different way.

All of my life I have valued vision, intellect, passion, creativity, and hard work. Those are some of my top values. I got those from my parents. And my mother, in particular, a woman driven in a non-traditional way, was my role model. This is a woman who changed the way nursing is taught so that more people could become nurses faster. This is a woman who never stopped trying to solve her family’s disfunction, striving for a healthy acknowledgement of some serious hidden issues. This is a woman who will willingly engage in battle if she sees inequality, or that something needs to be fixed. This is a woman with a vision for things to be the best they can be. She is curious, focused, and generous with her time to make this work. And you know what, these are things I learned from her. These are the tools I use to make my life work.

So I came to the conclusion that of all the things a mom can teach a kid, the very best thing my mom taught me was “We are never done! There is always something to do to make things better.” Yup, that’s about keepin on keepin on and my mom is all about that.

My mom has vision

My mom has insight

My mom has style

My mom has discipline

My mom has patience

My mom has love.

So as I’m thinking all of this today, and lying in bed having been instructed by Georgia that I was to remain in bed (hearing clinks and bangs in my kitchen). As a special breakfast arrived on the tray, along with it came my gifts, the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” (tears already), a handmade card with Georgia’s beautiful way with art and words, it all came clear. Georgia had written exactly what I wanted to say about my mom without knowing it. Here’s what she wrote (punctuation kept to maintain integrity of poetry):

Mary Gilbert

Who wonders what life will be like without me

Who hears my cry when I am hurt

Who sees me getting into a great college

Who wants the best for me

Mary Gilbert, a mother who never gives up

Who pretends I will never grow up

Who feels pain when I am hurt

Who cries when she gets something wrong

Mary Gilbert, a mother who never gives up.

Who understands that my life is not always easy.

Who says that nothing can stop me

Who dreams of me being successful

Who tries to be the best mom

Mary Gilbert, a mother who never gives up.

Love, Georgia

Mother’s Day, 2011

Here’s to you mom, grandma, aunties, and friends. We’re getting something right!!!

Flexitarian Veganarian Rockatarian

A few years ago I started meditating in earnest in the hopes of discovering my true life purpose and quiet some of the demons that perpetually scream in my head. I didn’t realize that meditation was really a way to sort through the voices in my head but well, that’s what it became. One particular voice, one that I associated with my crunchier-than-thow self, kept asserting herself. “Go Vegan” she’d say. “Shut up. What about ice cream,” I’d reply. But she would persist. “Go Vegan. You will be happy you did. It is best for the planet, best for your health, best for your wallet, best for those size 8 jeans you keep shoving to the back of the closet.”

“But I get meatimony,” I’d say referring to the regular gifts of free range, grass fed beef, pork, etc., from my ex who works at Hearst Ranch. “That’s for the kids,” she’d say. “You don’t even really like meat.” “F-off,” I’d say. “There’s no way I can get enough protein  and what about the milk in my morning constitutional?”  ”Green tea is better and your allergies will benefit from local wildflower honey,” that damn voice replied. “I’ll prioritize vegetables,” I pled. After all, I am the mistress of all things close to the earth in the oven. My friends said so. But it wasn’t enough. The crunchy little extrovert was not letting me get away without the dietary equivalent of a daily colon cleanse. She sent my best friend after me with the carrot I couldn’t refuse, the promise of slenderness. That’s right, Rebecca, that trail-blazing hussy handed me the book “Skinny Bitch.” She’d read it and was hooked. She went vegan first damn her! The voice inside me wanted to go vegan first. Now there was no stopping me. She went vegan first. I would go vegan best!

So November it was. After the Thanksgiving meatimony Heritage Turkey it was time. Out with the meat, cheese, milk, chicken, fish, chicken stock, baked goods, and nail chewing (meat) and in with nuts, grains, fruits, vegetables, greens, greens, greens, and more greens.

The first few weeks were a little rocky. I struggled with commitment. Was I totally vegan, vegan on the weekdays, vegan on ash Wednesday, or vegan vegan, like a religious thing? If a little chicken stock ended up in my meal would I freak? What about the eggs in pasta? These are all the questions waiters would ask, friends would ask, I would ask when faced with a food choice. I just kept telling myself, “prioritize vegetables. Fresh vegetables.” And so it went. For me it really wasn’t that hard. I’m a big cook the meals for the week on Sunday kind of a person. I make a pot of beans, whip up some quinoa, chop salad veggies, and roast a pan full of interesting vegetables. I’ll do curries, and granola, and make up weird (to my kids) casseroles with stuff I find at the farmer’s market. And I’d eat it all within the week. I’d pack snacks and big salads and giant plates of casserole and think to myself I couldn’t possibly eat it all but somehow I did. My office mate would look on in wonder as she struggled with the food choices in the local cafes and quick stop lunch spots.

The first big pay off came a few weeks into it when I realized that my jeans were not only not snug, they were hanging off my butt. My arms were leaner and my thighs were definitely displaying some muscle I hadn’t seen in awhile and I wasn’t doing P90X. I was only walking the dog and doing my usual yoga. So I kept going.

The second big pay off was my joints. I’d been suffering from bursitis in my ankle from skiing too aggressively without stretching the previous year. I’m a show off on the slopes. It was really painful to the point of needing daily icing and hot/cold treatments. One day, a few months into the vegan thing not only was the pain gone, but the persistent swelling was gone too. “This can’t be right,” I thought. But after talking to a few nutrition experts I learned that a mostly plant-based diet helps alleviate joint pain.

The third big pay off was mental energy and clarity. I’ve always had a knack for mental work and been accused of displaying exceptional perspecacity but to my perfectionist mind I was always confused and lagging behind. One day I just felt clear, focused, and on top of it in a way I’d never felt before. Perhaps it was the fact that I could no longer drink much because my body just won’t tolerate toxins. I’m not sure but the effect continues. I think it has to do with the fact that I’m truly listening to my body and making sure I do what it asks of me or maybe the aliens have inhabited my body. Whatever, it feels good and I’m sticking with it.

I haven’t found the magic pill but I also haven’t suffered from colds or flu this winter. I sometimes get bored with food but not in a way that makes me want to binge on Ben and Jerry’s. I haven’t become a zealot. Just the other night I was eating out with my kids and my daughter had a New York Strip. She offered me a bite and I took it. I can’t say I wanted another one but I sure enjoyed the bite and the memory of good steak.

In my quest to make my body a temple, I’ve found some phenomenal resources. First, “Clean Food” by Terry Walters is a must. It’s a seasonal guide to eating close to the source and has lots of recipes and information about dealing with food you’ll find at your local farmer’s market. “Color Me Vegan” is a wonderful cookbook by Colleen Patrick-Goudreau who is an expert on plant-based cuisine. It has recipes even my kids will eat and helps put into practice the most important nutritional concept which is color and variety. I love her views on potatoes in particular.

Now that I’ve passed the phase of “what the hell do I eat” and moved into the world of endless possibilities, I look forward to food in a way I never have. I am continually surprised, which is weird given I was raised in a vegetarian culture, at the variety, flavors, and excitement of the food choices available and no matter what I choose, my clothes fit great, my joints feel awesome, my mood is stable, and I’m a happy hippy camper.

Home Sweet Homestead

This weekend was the best I’ve had in months except for the previous weekend which I spent with a friend in the Redwoods helping her clear land during the day, and playing violin and piano together throughout the dark evening. Most of you who know me well, or all 20 of you who read my blog posts, know I’m pretty much a “midwest farmer’s daughter California girl.” Yep, if the Beach Boys had known about me, they would have changed the song. I’d rather be gardening than raving. I’d rather be playing my violin alone in my living room than chatting up 20 new people I’ll probably never see again at a bar. I’d much rather be canning than shopping. In fact, I’d rather eat fried worms than shop. Just the other night, returning from a rare evening out with “the girls” shouting at each other over the din of Friday night at the hippest place in town, I was reminded of what I value. Having been with the young cool crowd, I felt under-dressed and old but when I returned home, I found deep satisfaction in the fact that there was an emergency animal issue awaiting my attention. Yep, another skunk incident. (Note to self: Warn new room mates of the dangers of letting the dog out on the farm after dark.) From looking into the dark sad eyes of a friend who can’t connect to watching my own child melt down after an evening playing Wii at a sleepover, I’m continually reminded of how far we’ve come from our true nature as humans and our need for connection to the earth we come from, that sustains us, and to which we return.

More and more I find my sensibilities aligning to a term I’ve heard in the back ground but have just figured out what it means. For you hipsters, I know you’ve got it, it’s “Urban Homesteading.” For those of you really homesteading (you know who you are Troy), I’ll take all the advice I can get. For those of you scratching your heads reading this on your iPhone heading out of Target, Urban Homesteading means living off the grid on the grid. Or, living as simply, frugally, and environmentally healthy as I possibly can.

To be honest, I can’t really say I’m over-achieving in this area but I’m working on it. While I write this using PG&E power, the dishwasher whines in the background. The compost pile aka Mary’s Might Muck, could support the neighborhood, the brussels sprouts are planted, arugula and romaine grace my table nightly, and the biodegradable hot tub water is regularly drained into the holding tank for irrigation. I’ve done nothing in terms of “renovations” to my 40+ year old home even though I continually get asked by my friends “so when are you going to do up your kitchen?” But I could do more. I want to take the whole neighborhood off the grid. I think I could convince a few of the folks to share garden plans, solar panels, and grey water systems. But that will probably have to wait another few years until the situation around here gets really dire. For now, this Easter Sunday if you’re in town you can join my mom, my kids, and I for our Spring garden planting. Forget the fake pink grass and chocolate rabbits. We’re celebrating Spring the way the homesteaders did by putting our soon-to-be food into the ground.

While we wait for the garden to deliver it’s bounty, we’ll out with the foragers (there’s a festival in the Mission on the 23rd), creating more and more space in my garden to plant food, and working on ways to get my community involved in food swapping and sharing the garden chores. I’m waging a campaign to get the neighborhood kids off the Wii and out into the garden. “Device free summer” is my mantra. Let’s see if I can make it stick.

2011: A Honeysuckle of a Year

The best day of the holiday season for me is always December 31. No, not because I drink desperately and dance like my life depended on it although with the right dress… It’s because I love a nice annual retrospective to prepare myself mentally for the coming year. There’s something about knowing that it’s the last day of the year that makes it seem so profoundly important to wrap it up, label it, and launch it onto the pile of accumulated time (thanks Geoff Bouvier) to serve as feather bedding for what comes next.

What a rich year to look back on. I tend to make 1 big declaration each year and consider all the other little “resolutions” as steps, components, inextricably linked tools to accomplish my mission. The big declaration never seems to be hard to come up with. It just comes out. Sometime during September or October, the messages begin to come. The little things I’ve fixed, the things I find make me happy, give me a sense of purpose, sitting snugly in  my soul, waiting for my attention, the “f’ing growth opportunities.” Glutton for beauty that I am with a prevailing wish to have been Dorothy Parker, my declaration for 2010 was, “I want to bring even more creative people into my life.”  “Bang” said the Universe and gave me a double treat. Not only did I discover new creative souls, my old friends just seemed to become more, let’s just say “colorful.” People I’ve known for years evolving into something even more spectacular than the things that first drew me to them. The new people added intrigue and dimension that signaled an expansion of possibilities. There was a loosening of comfort zones testing my emotional boundaries, bringing amazing rewards. While there are many, many highlights, a few seem so significant they signal a focus for 2011 that can not be denied. My sub-slogan for 2010 was “slow down and wait for my children to catch up.” More on that later.

One of the best treats was reconnecting deeply with my childhood partners in crime Jolie Runyan Finkbiner, and Gaye Colvin. After high school and college we all went our separate ways living lives divided by geography, disparate priorities, and a lack of Facebook. Thanks to the Internets, our shared mid-life musings, and remembered connections brought us back together in a more focused and profound way. We have come full circle to a familiar place with a richer perspective seasoned by our very different lives.

After 25 years of separation Jolie and I treated ourselves to not 1, but 2 joyful, sun-filled reunions in Southern California speckled with dancing and singing to her husband’s band Baywood, laughter that tested the boundaries of my post-partum bladder, and tears connecting the dots of experiences that led us to now. But most important for me was being reminded that I have great taste in people. Even at 5 or 6 when we met, I knew this person was special in a way that few are. She is present, tender, deep, poetic, and a big, big personality who people fall instantly in love with. And her life’s work, directing a creative outlet for at-risk kids in rural Illinois makes her a hero in my eyes.

Gaye is a talented writer, visual artist, and deep intellectual who is considered a soul mate and guide to so many. Her gentle, thoughtful spirit has always influenced me in ways that made me want to be a better person. She has loomed large this year sharing the finds of her curious mind introducing me to the work of Bill McKibben, reminding me of Rumi, and Mary Oliver, always with a timely tome that fits my mood exactly. She has an amazing ability to hear the underlying themes in everything. The three of us share a bond of sisters, conspirators, and reminders of our past, a loving lens to reveal the truth of all that was and still is. This is love and creativity combined in such an unexpected way.

Then Claudia, the realest foodie on the planet came into my life. What  a bright light she is. Wow! And so cute on film. She has connected me with food, writing, and creating, all passions of mine, in a way I hadn’t expected to connect this year. She brought new people, new possibilities, and a sense of being needed. I can’t wait to see her new idea fly!

 

Clipped from: www.realfoodies.com (share this clip)

The nicest surprise, towards the latter half of the year, was meeting entrepreneur, artist, educator, and tender guy Scott Locker. What a gem of a human. Someone who elevates the meaning of the word compassion, caring, commitment, and enduring focus on progress. The work he does serves so many. Through his deep appreciation for the arts, he has created a one-of-a-kind performance environment to celebrate local artists. He has introduced me personally to some amazing artists including Joey Lent, a soulful guitarist who runs his own house concert venue called Strings in Oakland, Annie Bacon and her amazing Folk Opera, Geoffrey Bouvier, a poet who has just launched a “Rap Epic,” a work I believe will take on a life of its own if only to deliver its powerful message for diversity, humanity, and the beauty of this twisted, imperfect journey. Scott’s work is only getting bigger and stronger highlighting, uncovering, and nurturing new artists, old artists, and connecting a community around it all.

There were too many aesthetic encounters to mention, but there were also encounters of creativity of a different kind. The other kind I’ve been really searching for. The kind that might just make the world run a little more smoothly. People doing all sorts of things to change the world in food justice, documentary film, environmental work, and radical local economic development. I even ran into, and started working for a long-time ad agency veteran determined to turn the agency world into a place where real people can not only survive, but thrive and grow.

Two “low-brow” pleasures rounded out my year with “Shrek (get your freak on) the Musical”, and a visit to Disney World, “The Happiest Place on Earth” with my entire family, sponsored by my folks. As commercial as they come, both experiences reminded me of the impact of big creative endeavors on the spirit of children. Although Disney World was hot, crowded, and ‘spensive, my children were in awe. My youngest, overwhelmed and too small to really take it all in, reminded me that there is always another time, and we spent many hours just lounging in one spot or another watching the park go by. The highlight of Shrek for me was the message that everyone has a little “Freak” inside including a hot pink dragon that sang like Aretha Franklin. And sometimes, as I’m so often reminded with my aging body, “beautiful isn’t always pretty.”

To top off this year of living creatively, I learned that Pantone has declared Magenta the official color of 2011. Honeysuckle actually. Number P18-2120 to be precise. Looks like Magenta to me. I think it’s a good sign. Magenta is vibrant, creative, action-oriented, alive, but most of fun. So fun! It’s the “let’s party” color with an edge of purpose. In my mind I might have made it the 2010 color but Pantone knows best. Here’s what they had to say:

While the 2010 color of the year, PANTONE 15-5519 Turquoise, served as an escape for many, Honeysuckle emboldens us to face everyday troubles with verve and vigor. A dynamic reddish pink, Honeysuckle is encouraging and uplifting. It elevates our psyche beyond escape, instilling the confidence, courage and spirit to meet the exhaustive challenges that have become part of everyday life.

From www.pantone.com (share this quote)

 

Clipped from: www.pantone.com (share this clip)

In my recap of 2010 so much is missing. More, I’m sure will come out as the lessons surface. But what became so clear to me was that creativity is the vital force of humanity and kindness is vessel. Held in a kind, unhurried, no-judgement way, creativity can bound forth from anywhere. What struck me about my experiences in 2010 is not the entertainment factor, or the thrill of the new, or the depth of feelings, but the incredible sensitivity, and necessity for gentleness with these souls. Mine included. We have a lot to do as a human race. We’ve dug ourselves into a big deep hole and it’s time to dig out. But pushing, prodding, driving, and yelling is not going to make it happen. The only way to get it done is with vision, patience, and kindness. Enduring, persistent, warm, nurturing kindness. Yep, that one that seems to elude us in the moments when we need it most. It dawned on me (Magenta: the official color of dawn) that these beautiful people who have come so willingly into my life require kindness, love, nurturing, something I can usually give but not always. It’s something I personally must declare, focus on, and just do. It’s so important and I ‘ve got so much to learn that it’s gotta be part of the slogan. Hell, it is my slogan!  Mary Alice Gilbert: ”Practice kindness with a touch of honeysuckle” like warm spring days, sweet, sweet flowers, and precious moments and the color of the sky at dusk as I wrote this. A reminder that for creativity to flourish one must slow down, speak softly, and wait for the inner child to catch up. Seems like 2011 might just work out great!

Laser Focus on What Matters…To Me

Lately everyone I talk to seems to be going through some transition, transformation, or major life challenge. People are struggling with relationships, finances, career choices…you know the drill. For those of us privileged enough to make it to middle-age, life tends to get bigger, more intense, and the decisions we make are now more important than ever. I’ve been doing my own soul-searching lately. For the last several years I’ve been sorting through my priorities. Everything can become a priority right? I’ve been looking at them from my perspective, or what I thought was my perspective. I observed what caught my attention, what made me want to stop and focus, what activities left me with a feeling of peace and satisfaction. I also have been taking the time to notice which faces come up in my mind when I choose a path. Is it something I think my parents would be proud of? What would my friends think? Is this choice I’m making for me or for someone who’s approval I desire.

Last winter I shared an e-book compiled by Seth Godin called What Matters Now. These are words of wisdom by some of the most respected business leaders, writers, and transformative thinkers of our time. In January the stories that caught my eye centered on connecting with community, myself, and creating sustainable business. Those ideas were useful during a period of much internal work and are still very much in the foreground of my thinking. Then today, like clockwork, something universal slapped me upside the head and made me stop and look even more closely at something I thought I’d already seen.

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Today something urged me to re-read the book for the first time since January. My intention was to share it with those who’ve just started reading my blog. I thought I was being lazy but in reality, I was being thorough. Several new things caught my eye and resonated with things that are happening to me right now. But there was one essay that stood out. It’s called “Harmony” and what surprised me about it is that I don’t remember seeing it the first time. Me, the girl that focuses on Kinanda (Swahili for harmony) didn’t see that last year? Well, apparently I wasn’t looking hard enough or perhaps I wasn’t ready to see it. But damn it encapsulates my philosophy and the aspects of my life that are manifesting now. Here it is:

“The word harmony carries some serious baggage.
Soft, namby-pamby, liberal, weak. Men who value
harmony aren’t considered macho. Women who
value harmony are considered stereotypical.
Success is typically defined with words like hard
(sell, line, ass). Successful people are lauded for
being argumentative, self-interested, disruptive.
But those assumptions are the dregs of a culture
that celebrates the lone hero who leads with
singular ambition all the while damning the sheep
who follow him in harmonious ignorance.

No.

Harmony is a springboard. Harmony supports
teamwork. And teamwork creates energy. An
energy that fuels creativity.

When focusing on harmony, success becomes
defined by different terms. Contribution.
Dedication. Cooperation.

Harmony takes bravery, an open heart. It takes
lying awake at night when one of your co-workers
is having a rough patch and dreaming up ways to
help.

In the true sense of karma, to achieve harmony,
you must always do the right thing with no eye on
a reward. The reward will come because there is
trust on the other side.

Harmony creates a workplace where you and all
the people around you love to be.”

Written by: Jack Covert, the head honcho at 800ceoread, and Sally Haldorson who is
the company’s resident wordsmith.

As I read these words today I am reminded of the people that I’ve attracted lately. The opportunities that are unfolding for me and am realizing that without even trying, harmony is here. It’s worth pursuing and for me it’s the the primary pursuit. And now, I have a clear definition of what it means. Download “What Matters Now” for yourself. Enjoy and please share the tidbits that matter most to you.

Wishing you all harmony.

Hubris Thy Name is Facebook

Now that Facebook is down, it seemed a good time to share my thoughts on a pretty serious and popular topic. Thank the Lord for Twitter because where else would we have gotten the breaking dialogue on this exciting, or as some people might see it, tragic outage.

First there was alqaeda (okay fake alqaeda) taking credit) which kind of made me laugh and feel sad at the same time.

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Then there was the guy who discovered a whole world out there.

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And finally, as expected, declarations of the end of the US recession due to increased productivity.

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Of course my real concern was that Facebook would come back and I’d have a whole new identity which is kind of a shame since I’ve just gotten used to the one I’ve been creating for the last two years. My friend Ben Greenberg Tweeted that perhaps Facebook wasn’t down at all. Reality may have crashed. Now that’s something to think about!

But really, to some people this is a serious, serious issue. A friend of a friend who is just a tad addicted to this medium texted (isn’t texted a recognized verb yet?) said friend to ask “Are you okay? Facebook is down.” It’s like there was an earthquake or a deadly explosion, or perhaps a tsunami? When confronted with his addiction, the texter replied, “I’m down to four hours a day.” That’s like saying, “I’m just taking a little meth.” Of course, like a true addict, he’s now focusing on the unfairness of the intervention.

So now, a social network that I consider to be one of the most wide-spread virtual tests of human intention, self restraint, and will power is taking a little break. Phew, just knowing it’s not available right now is a huge relief in the way that it feels when someone eats the last Oreo and it wasn’t me. (Upon finishing this sentence, I just heard via a human voice, that Facebook is back. What a temptation but I’m finishing this post.)

So here’s the human dilemma. The other day a friend told me about another friend’s 11 year old son who’s on Facebook. Apparently he posted his favorite body part and big surprise, it was boobies. Of course we had a lengthy debate on so many things like whether or not it might affect his reputation, his ability to get into the right high school, and ultimately his future because of the public nature of Facebook. That debate brought us to the discussion around the notion that there are many things that now happen on Facebook that used to happen in private and whether or not this type of transparency is a good thing. Then we talked about what age someone is really mature enough to actually filter themselves. I’ll have to admit, after a few glasses of wine, I question my own maturity on Facebook let alone that of an 11 year old.

Incidentally, for full disclosure, I am a firm believer that children should not be permitted to have a Facebook account for many reasons. Most importantly, you’re only a kid once. You should actually be interacting with people, playing ball, learning the violin, practicing your drawing skills or acting as slave labor for your parents (oops, that just slipped out). There’s really no need for you to be sitting in front of a computer expanding your social network.

So as I was contemplating this issue over the last couple of weeks, I ran into this article by David Rowan, editor of Wired, UK outlining the six reasons why he’s not on Facebook.

Clipped from: www.wired.com (share this clip)

Now here’s what I would consider to be a forward-thinking, technologically savvy individual. In fact, probably in the top 10% in the world and he’s NOT on Facebook. He gives some very, very good reasons why not and actually makes me think all the reunion stuff might be a Red Herring.

David focuses on the lack of transparency and provides six reasons why over-sharing even just a little bit might actually come back to bite. He even goes so far as to suggest that defining a persona online may actually limit one’s offline potential.

As the writer Jaron Lanier said in a recent lecture, if Robert Zimmerman, of small-town Hibbing, Minnesota, had had a Facebook profile, could he really have re-created himself as the New York beatnik Bob Dylan

From www.wired.com (share this quote)

Wow, think about folks. Our kids, in the prime of their youth, need live interaction, parental oversight, and the safety to mess up and not have it permanently stored in some database somewhere. This is a really big deal. Managing this requires a serious commitment on a parent’s part to actually know what their kids are doing, and being their guide (without controlling) the choices that kids are making in their developmental experiences. Because that is truly what they are. Developmental experiences. Will they be helpful or harmful. It’s up to us.