It's All Chemistry to Me

A couple months ago I wrote a blog post titled "Why It's Important to Cheat on Your Spouse." It was a tongue-in-cheek perspective on how to put the "spice" back in your marriage. I suggested remembering your spouse as the person they were when you first met. Seemed to make sense to me: after all, who doesn't remember that amazing spark you felt when you first met the person you were destined to share a roll of toilet paper with? I figured that a little mental "time travel" back to when you first met your DH or wifey could, perhaps & with a little luck, bring back that spark.

And so lo! As I was reading this morning's paper (yes, I am one of the few who still subscribes to a daily paper) and came across an article that completely solidifies my rather nebulous assertion that it's all about the spark. "Why I Get a Kick Out of You" (above-the-fold, Health Section, LA Times) details how scientists have found a cocaine-like reaction in the brain when love "works its magic." So that heart-pounding-head-thumping-hands-sweating-inability-to-think-clearly condition that overwhelms when you meet "the one" is actually on par with illegal drugs! (well, that explains alot...)

Study participants (whom had been in romantic relationships at least one month but no more than 17 months) were put into MRI machines to scan their brain while they were shown pictures of their romantic partner. In case after case, the part of their brain which houses the reward and motivation systems was flooded with dopamine--with the attendant side effects of excessive energy, losing sleep, euphoric feelings and separation anxiety.

All of this was sort of "no duh" to me. After all, most of us have experience that obsessive passion that comes with the beginning of a new relationship. But what struck me about the scientific study, however, was that when they studied the brains of people who had been married for 20 or more years, 30% of those in long-term relationships had similar output of dopamine.

So you can look at it in a couple of ways: 30% of people are just as passionate about each other as the day they met (or at least one of the partners is; the study didn't specify if both felt that way about each other), 70% of people have fallen somewhat "out of love" with their husband or wife, or their love has changed through the years from passionate to companionable.

Those 30% are really lucky. I wonder if they realize how lucky? I'm a romantic by nature, but after a decade+ of marriage, I wondered if it was possible for anyone to even remember what it was like to be "in love"--much less feel it every single day. When I read that it is still possible after years of marriage and its attendant ups-and-downs to be just as in love with the person as the day you said "I do," well, I decided I want me some of that!

So how do you take a so-so marriage out of the doldrums? Is there even a way to regain the passion? I wish the study had said whether or not those 30% who are still madly in love with their spouses had ever gone through a patch when the thought of being single again held particular appeal. Since it didn't, I'll have to go on my gut instinct that those people really just chose well--and figured out a way to work through conflicts without jeopardizing their relationship.

So back to taking the marriage out of the doldrums (I've always loved that word, no idea why). According to the article, the people who were still passionately in love were still dong those "little things" you hear so much about. Yeah, blah-blah-blah. We've all heard it. But it is surprisingly difficult to keep those "little things" going after you've been committed to someone for a while.

So here's your cheat sheet, as it were:

• Call or text during the day to say hi.
• Pick up a thoughtful gift "just because."
• Listen and be supportive.
• Use a kind voice when speaking to each other.
• Do things together--even taking a walk in the evening strengthens the bonds between couples.
• Take a class together, just for fun. The excitement you'll feel about learning something new may transfer to your spouse, helping you recapture what brought you together in the first place.
• Know and respect what your spouse values: their careers, their spiritual beliefs, their political leanings, their hobbies and interests.
• Be a friend to your spouse
• And sex! Sex! So important to a relationship--perhaps the most important thing. The hormones oxytocin and vasopressin are released during sex. And these two hormones are what causes humans to bond with each other.

Personally, I'd add another: spend time with couples you know who are in the 30%. Of all my friends, I can think of three right off the bat who have the sort of marriage I've always envied. So with luck, by spending more time with these friends, both my hubby and I will see how they interact with each other and perhaps learn a bit about how to keep the passion in a relationship, through years and kids and finances and illness and all the other things that turn red-hot chemistry into lukewarm mush.

So while I am putting my own advice to work ( i.e.: remembering what it was like with my husband when we first met) I'm going to also put into practice some of the suggestions from this morning's article. Like most couples I know, my husband and I are committed for the long haul--but wouldn't it be nicer if that long haul was filled with passion, excitement and joy, rather than just that shared roll of toilet paper?

Meip Gies: What We Can Learn

Meip Gies died yesterday.

If the name is unfamiliar to you, don’t worry: it was to me as well. Yet the woman played perhaps the largest role in preserving the life experience of someone who, 35 years later, played a huge role in my life: Anne Frank. And I am talking, of course, about the one of the widest read non-fiction books of all time: "Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl.”

A Real Girl's Diary

I was 10 when I read the book for the first time, and it changed me at a fundamental level. Until then, I’d been pretty much unaware of the sheer brutality with which people can treat each other (minus, of course, certain experiences with schoolyard bullies). At first, I didn’t believe my mom when she said it was a real girl’s real diary. How could that be? I wondered. How could people kidnap and kill other just because they were a certain religion? It just seemed so wrong. I’d been fortunate to be raised in a mixed neighborhood with parents who taught that we judge people on who they are, rather than what we fear about them. I literally couldn’t get my mind around the concept that other people didn’t believe the same thing—and were willing to kill because of it.

I strongly identified with Anne. Like me, she wanted to be a writer when she grew up. I tried to put myself in the position of this girl, just a few years older than me, who was forced to hide out for two years in the attic of the very business her dad had worked in. Never leaving, rarely even moving around. Relying on others for food, protection, and simple human kindness.

An Ordinary Woman Faced an Extraordinary Test

And that’s where Meip Gies came in. For the two years the Frank family secluded themselves in the attic, she brought them food, blankets, books to read, and news of the outside world. A young woman herself, only in her 30s, and a Christian (so apparently “safe” from the German’s hunt for “undesirables”) she quite literally risked her life to protect the family. And we know how the story ends: the Frank family was eventually betrayed and rounded up by the German SS. Meip was nearly killed when they were discovered; it was only through the pity of a German soldier that she was allowed to escape punishment.

The death of Meip Gies saddened me, even though I was unfamiliar with her (I vaguely remember reading about her years ago and I know she is hailed as a hero in throughout the Netherlands and in Jewish community). I pictured myself in her position: what would I have done, if faced with the same choice she was: either help this family, let them try to manage on their own, or turn them in. One article I read about her quotes her as saying it was a simple choice. Had she not helped them, she would have faced a lifetime of regret and sleepless nights. And that, to her, was worse than the risk of death she faced.

Helping Others is Simple in a Civilized Society

We all like to think of ourselves as “good people.” I know I certainly feel good when I donate to charity, go to church, organize a fundraiser or help out a friend. I think (not exactly in words, but you know what I mean) “I’m a good person; I’ve made a change in the world today.” And then I can live with other things I do that are perhaps not so “good” (like arguing with my husband, yelling at the kids, or deliberately not letting in the car in front of me because I’m in a bad mood.)

But I propose that, even under the economic strain our society has been in since December 2007, it is relatively easy for us to be “good.” The majority of us have the necessities we need to get by—and often, more than the necessities. America is, by and large, a civil society. Not always, but much of the time. We don’t bludgeon our neighbor over the head because we want the steak he’s grilling on the BBQ. We don’t punch the server who is taking forever to take our order. Generally, we help each other out. We like to think that, even in extreme situations, we would stand up for others. Fight for them. And some do—certainly the members of the military do. Police officers and firefighters regularly take risks to help others that the rest of us find unimaginable.

A Uncivilized Scenario: Helping Others at the Cost of Your Own Life

But there is nothing civil about the scenario faced by Meip Gies in the spring of 1942: An invading army has captured your country. The officers of the law you relied on for protection have been murdered or have surrendered. All around you people are being rounded up—because of their religion or some other aspect that makes them “undesirable”—and taken away, never to be seen again. There are enemy soldiers everywhere. People all around you are turning in their Jewish neighbors for fear of being considered a sympathizer and having their own families kidnapped. You are literally at risk of imprisonment and death for even protesting against the treatment of your fellow human beings. And your boss—a man you admire and respect—comes to you for help.

You are put in the position of literally laying your life—and the lives of your family—on the line for others. This is not like donating a hundred dollars to the Fred Jordan Mission so the hungry can be fed. This isn’t delivering groceries to homebound seniors. Those are wonderful things, good things, and not to be discounted, but they’re not the same as actually risking death for another.

What Would I Have Done?

So when I put myself in the scenario Meip faced, it becomes more difficult to “be good.” Some people will instantly and righteously claim: “Oh, no doubt, I’d help them out.” And some of them likely really would say “yes” immediately. But others might not—they’d fear for their lives, the lives of their children, they’d fear for their livelihoods. They’d need time to think it over and access the risks. As I walked the dog this morning I thought about what I would do, if the situation in the Netherlands in 1942 suddenly became the situation of Orange County in 2010. If someone I knew came to me for protection from being hauled off God-knows-where, would I help him or her? I like to think—and I do believe—that the answer is yes.

But what if it was someone I didn’t know who desperately needed my help, in that situation? Again, after some thought, my answer is yes. What if it was someone I deeply disliked? Again, yes (perhaps with some reservations...). But of course, in real life we often act differently than we do in our heads.

She Couldn't Save Anne, But She Saved Anne's Experience for Us

Meip Gies was an ordinary woman, a secretary. She acted in real life the way most of us hope we would act if faced with that situation. In the end, two years of effort couldn’t save the family—Anne and her sister died of typhoid, their mother of starvation (she intentionally stopped eating after her beloved daughters died) in the camps. But what Meip did manage to save was Anne Frank’s life experience. A terrible experience, to be sure, but one millions of people all over the world have learned from and made changes because of. After the SS soldiers took Anne and her family (and two others who had taken refuge in the attic) away, Meip went upstairs and gathered what was not torn apart by the Germans. Among the papers strewn about was Anne's diary. When Otto Frank returned years later after being liberated from the concentration camp, Meip presented the diary to him as a memento of his little girl. Evenutally, Otto had it published, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Meip herself put it in a Washington Post interview many years later, she was “glad that (I) could help fulfill Anne’s lifelong ambition of being immortalized through her writing.”

Why It’s Important to Cheat on Your Spouse

Haha! I knew that headline would grab your attention! Hey, didn’t cha know? I’m a swinger. Riiiiiiigggggghhhhhttttttt. Sure, I may joke about running off with the super hot guy who plays Dean on “Supernatural,” but I’m sure after a couple weeks his snores would annoy me with the same level of irritation that my husband’s do.

So no, I’m not advocating cheating. But what I do advocate is finding a way to rediscover what it was about your spouse that caused those stomach-flipping butterflies and that nervous smile when you first laid eyes on him/her across the crowded room. What it was that made you check your messages every ½ hour to see if they’d called. Or that made you take a little extra time to get ready for a date (did I say a little extra time? I used to spend hours trying on outfits before dates with my not-yet hubby)

When you’ve inched past the decade mark in your marriage, it can be exceedingly difficult to recall the thrill you felt the first time your and your beloved’s lips met. Especially when it’s just past 8:30 in the evening, you’re folding laundry, and your husband is asleep on the couch, snoring loudly with his mouth wide open. In the day-to-day act of living (and all the lovely and annoying things that go with it, like paying bills, cleaning toilets, the ups-and-downs of careers, leaky roofs, morning breath, that extra 10-lbs you swore you’d lose by now…not to mention the sometimes ugly arguments that are part of even the best marriages) the fire that made your heart race uncontrollably whenever you were around them is now just a thin wisp of gray smoke wafting lazily up from the dying embers of romance…

Okay, that’s a little hyperbolic. And I do have married friends who swear their flame is hotter than ever and if that’s so, then I say, “Rock on, sista!” But for the rest of us, perhaps not so much. And that’s not to say we don’t love our spouses as much as our “flames still burnin’” counterparts. It’s just saying we need to find a way to re-ignite that flame before it burns out completely.

And that’s where “cheating” comes in. I reach down into my memory and pull out my image of my DH as he was when we first met. Younger, of course—but at 48 he still is smokin’ hot for an “old” guy, thanks to daily work outs, a rigorous regime of vitamins and good genetics (and hair—still has most of his hair, graying of course, but it’s there). But what I try to envision in front of me is the 36 year old who impressed me so much with his intellect, his travel (he’s been to 30 countries), his commitment to healthy living, his willingness to go along with me wherever I wanted, be it roller-blading at the beach or out to Julian to pick apples. He also had a ton of friends who took me in like I’d been part of the group for years. Plus, he was a flowers-and-cards kind of guy. Hard to believe now, but he was. He even wrote poems to me.

He’s still the same guy, now buried underneath a high-stress account manager job, work-related travel (he’s gone every couple weeks for days at a time), a second mortgage, the needs of two growing kids, a tough economy (we said bah-bye to more than half of our net worth since December 2007 thanks to the stock market—and wouldn’t you know it, the stocks that are coming back around again now are not the ones we still own), commitments at church (he’s a deacon, and feels exceedingly guilty that he’s missed the last three Sundays because of kids’ activities—as opposed to me, who is pretty happy to have an excuse not to sit in the third row), and, well, just life.

And I’m not the same, either. I don’t like to admit it, of course, but it’s true. And it’s not just the extra “baby” pounds that never seemed to go away (oh, you have to exercise to lose weight? Go figure!). And it’s not just the smile lines around my eyes that are there even when I’m not smiling. I’ve got my own stuff to deal with—from the proverbial “family” issues, to career uncertainty (do I go full-time somewhere with a guaranteed paycheck, or continue to build my freelancing career?? *sigh*).

So when I fantasize about the guy who used to live in the skin now occupied by my husband, it’s not cheating, exactly, but it is sort of being with someone else—the person he was when we first met, and it was all exciting and new. It may sound strange, but it’s actually helped us. Because knowing that guy is still in there, buried just under the surface of the husband, has made me want to be more of the person I was when we were first together. Less quick to complain when things annoyed me. More willing to see his point of view. Eager to partner with him and give him my support, rather than roll my eyes or give one of those heavy “whatever” sighs.

So if you’re looking to strike a match to that last unburned coal of romance, try summoning up a mental vision of your spouse as a lover—as your lover, the one you would have done anything for. And keep that picture in your mind when you kiss them, when you take them in your arms…or even when you watch them, asleep on the coach, mouth wide open and snoring, at 8:30 in the evening.

PS: And going to a romantic restaurant once in a while doesn't hurt either--and I mean one that does not include chicken fingers on the menu. Leave the kids at home and pretend you're still young and hotter than you-know-what for each other. Here's some of the OC's best romantic spots for rekindling the flame...

French 75, Laguna Beach

La Cave, Costa Mesa

Manhattan Steak & Seafood, Orange

Mozambique, Laguna Beach

Orange Hill Restaurant, Orange

Rusty Pelican, Newport Beach

Studio, in the Montage Resort, Laguna Beach

The Cellar, Fullerton

An Obvious Lesson it Took Way to Long for Me to Get

Yesterday, I clicked the "follow" button for Tony Robbins on Twitter.

Tony Robbins, you say? Tony Robbins, the toothy, tall-haired self-help guru of the '90s? He of the ubiquitous life seminars, personal growth tapes and Personal Power workbooks? Yup. Him.

Years ago, his face, with its long-tooth, almost predatory smile, was inescapable--it peered out at passersby from bookshelves, billboards, and late night infomercials. Tony Robbins was part of the background landscape of my life, like the Mazda Miatas that zoomed around on the freeways and the self-consciously sarcastic TV shows like "Roseanne" that were so popular at the time. Back then, I always smirked at him. I was in my 20s in the 90s, Tony Robbin's heyday, and was pretty certain I already knew everything. I figured anyone who'd buy into the change-your-life schtick he was selling was a loser and I had no use for them anyway.

Now that I actually have some real life experience under my belt, I'm a gentler judge of character than I was back when I thought everything--relationships, career, the world--was all about me. I realize now that many people do find themselves stuck at various points in their lives. Learning techniques to move forward is far better than wallowing in inertia. Some people take community college courses. Others go to therapy. Still others find a guru, ala Tony Robbins (actually, I believe he goes by Anthony Robbins these days). And people like me, try to muddle through it on their own.

For about a year I've been muddling. The girls are older and don't need me as much, my frantic days of volunteering are mostly behind me (I have taken a sacred, cannot-under-pain-of-death-be-broken vow to never be the committee head of a silent auction/dinner dance again), and I can only have so many lunches with friends before feeling useless (not to mention bloated). I do have things going on--I'm co-authoring a cookbook, plus working on a spec article for Runner's World about youth running clubs--but I've still felt that I haven't moved forward with my life for a very long time.

I suspect, from the casual and sometimes intense conversations I've had with friends, that many people are in a similar situation. At least, I'm reassured, I'm not alone.

So what to do? That is the questions I've been wrestling with for the better part of a year. How to move forward. Then, last night, in a rare conversation with my husband (the man is so busy at work he rarely has time to eat dinner, let alone engage in long conversations with the likes of me) the answer--at least, what I think may be the answer--revealed itself.

Acknowledge your strengths, and build upon them. Let everything else go.

Seems obvious, I know. But let's delve into it a little deeper. I'll be the subject. My greatest strengths are writing and interacting (on both a social and professional level) with people. I'm also pretty good at art, public relations, and marketing. I make a fair pass at decorating and design, too. And therein lies the problem for me--and for most people in my situation, I suspect. I'm pretty good at alot of things--but don't really excel at any. The reason I don't excel in one particular area is because I haven't focused on developing any one talent. I've been all over the board--I've taken art classes, writing classes, I've made abortive attempts at re-starting the public relations consulting business I had when I was in my 20s, I started a less-than-successful mural painting business. And the result is that I haven't made any forward progress. I've been floundering around in a mess of my own creation.

And last night, Dave gently suggested I let it all go--and just pick one thing, one thing, to strengthen. And once I'd pick that one thing, I'd need to commit to it. So that's the decision I've made. And when I brainstormed by list of strengths, the top one was writing. And since I have already started (albeit a short way) down that path, I will (try to) let the other things fall to the wayside and put my effort into building my writing muscle. That's not to say I won't still paint the mural or two. But instead of scattering my efforts around in alot of places, I'm going to pull them in and focus on the main thing.

Sort of like Michael Jordan. I know--not exactly a right-on comparison, but it will do to underscore my point. Basketball legend. Tried baseball--not as good. Tried golf. Not his true thing either. So it was back to basketball, where arguably he should have stayed all along.

And as for Tony Robbins--ahem, Anthony Robbins--while you won't find me at any of his seminars any time soon, I have to admit that the daily affirmations that come across in his Twitter feed are pretty encouraging. And I guess when it comes down to it, when you're stuck in a rut, sometimes one of the most important tools to get yourself out of it is a belief in yourself--and a bit of encouragement from others.

How to Feed Your Soul on $3 a Day or Less

In a parallel, just-like-ours-but-ever-so-different multi-verse (see the TV show "Fringe" for a definition if you're not a sci-fi geek like me), I am a professional artist. You've seen my paintings  in galleries from San Francisco to Laguna Beach and right on down the coast to La Jolla. You've read of me as the premier California artist. You may even be holding in your hand this instant the glittering invitation to the grand opening gala of my new gallery in downtown Laguna.

I've just given you a peek at my daydreams when my  life as an ordinary person wears me down a bit. Driving the kids to practice or folding laundry I often lapse into this fantasy. It's a fun fantasy, and one that some times makes my heart hurt a little because I might have made a pretty good artist (altho I am not arrogant enough to say I would ever have come close to the unparalleled success of my daydreams).

Truth is, I was blessed with some artistic talent from the time I was a small child. My mom saved some of my drawings from when I was around 3/4 years old, natch. I was astonished when I saw them--I had gobs of talent. But as I grew up I never thought much about it. I used it alot--one of my favorite presents to give to childhood friends were drawings, which they always seemed to love. I made intricate hand-made cards for my parents. 

One of my mom's forever favorites of these was one I gave her and my dad for their anniversary when I was about 8. On the front it showed a couple holding hands as they gazed into each other's eyes, with a glorious sunset in the background. On the inside I'd written "Make Love Each Day." Naturally, being 8, I had no idea what sent my parents into gales of delighted laughter when they read the card. I remember distinctly my dad saying, "We do!" My mom still has that card!

But life happened and I never did anything with my talent until it hit me in my mid-30s that maybe I should have done the art route instead of PR. I did end up taking art classes, but I didn't have the time to devote to learning all the basics I so desperately needed to know (I have a screwy thing with proportions--all my people look like long-limbed mutants with overly large eyes). It ended up okay--I spent a couple years doing murals and painting furniture for friends & family & the occasional customer, and countless hours drawing coloring pages for my two daughters, who much preferred my drawing style to that of the Disney coloring books (gotta love my girls; always my biggest cheerleaders). It's all good. I would have made different choices had I known then what I know now, but who, when you really think about it, doesn't feel that way about something in their life? Which explains why "If I knew then what I know now..." is the most overused phrase in the entire world. 

Very luckily for me, one of my best friends did take the art route, and the world is a better place for it. Larissa Marantz (yup, she of the Obama inaugural painting--check out her blog at www.larissamarantz.blogspot.com) is an amazing artist whose work has been featured not only in books, shows, the OC Register (cover of the A & L section, natch) but also, you guessed it, Laguna Beach. In fact, if you are headed down to Laguna Beach, take a look at the light posts. The one right on Ocean & PCH (right near the big white lifeguard tower--or is it a lighthouse? All these year's I've been going there and I still haven't figured that out) you will see the huge banner she painted to celebrate the city of Laguna. She also happens to be an instructor at LCAD, so she has real ties to the community. 

So last night she and I and her hubby Keith went down to Laguna to see her huge banner on proud display. It was very exciting for me, because just such a thing has been part of my "me-as-famous-artist" fantasy since the very beginning. Seeing her success is thrilling for me, not just because I adore her and am glad for the good things in her life, but because she actually took that God-given talent and is sharing it with the rest of us. While my art is limited to the occasional mural, drawings for my kids, and doodles on the church bulletins during services (yes, I have earned many a scowl from my husband, a church Deacon, for covering the words to the hymns with drawings of women in evening gowns, but dude! Ya gotta admit, sermons can be pretty dull!) hers is out there for all of us to enjoy. And as her recognition grows, more and more people will have the same warm feeling in their chest as I do when I look at her work. 

So after taking several pics from a variety of angles of her banner, the three of us toured the many art galleries along PCH and in down town. Since it was the first Thursday of the month, it was Art Walk. Galleries are open until 9:00 and there's wine and cheese. And if you know me, you know art and free wine and cheese will get me every time (don't even ask what I'd do for a piece of dark chocolate!) 

With each gallery we went in, I felt the stress of the day literally falling away. Art does that for me. Looking at art fills a hole in my soul that I usually don't even know is there. Art feeds my soul. While I typically like images of people, a bold landscape will get me every time. With each painting, my soul filled a little more. (I overstuffed myself at the Louvre in Paris, tho--spent 10 hours there and at the end of the day I couldn't remember a thing I saw...)

One of the best parts was actually getting to talk to the artists themselves. Regular people who just happened to have an amazing talent. One of the best artists and friendliest people we met last night was Patrick Whelan, an amazing illustrator and fine artist whose ability to paint people (my fave subject) just blew me away. And finding out that each of these oil paintings took just a week to complete was astonishing. (I, on the other hand, have been working on a painting of a girl getting ready for a date since the last months of the Bush administration. And it's only 1/3 completed!) And Patrick even indulged my request for a picture--lucky me! 

On the far end of the spectrum from Patrick (art-wise, anyway; he was just as friendly & open) was a young guy who goes by the name "Boey." You ever have a drink out a Styrofoam cup, then doodle all over the cup after you're done? (say you're sitting in a really boring meeting and it's all you can do to keep yourself from going insane?) Well, Boey has created an entire mini-empire out of Styrofoam cups and Sharpie drawings. Seriously. He has drawn intricate pictures on ordinary cups, encased them in plastic--and viola! Art. Really, super cool. I took a pic of them but it didn't come out well...you'll have to check out his website to see for yourself. www.rectangletriangle.googlepages.com. 

There's soooo much more, but if you've made it to the bottom of the page I salute you. I do tend to run on a bit! Next month, Larissa and I are headed down to Art Walk again. And if you, too, feel like feeding your soul (you don't have to be an art lover--the gorgeous sunset over the glowing blue ocean will do it) you're welcome to meet us there. 

And as for the $3? Parking. Right, Keith? (wink, wink)