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Spin Cycle

I enjoy doing the laundry. Really.

Sure, it's not the most glamorous work I do. (Then again, my most glamorous work ain't all that much more glamorous.)

But Something Is Getting Done.
There is something deeply satisfying about a task where something actually gets finished.

My daily activities can be so abstract. There is nothing abstract about a stack of freshly folded laundry.

And what a modern miracle it is to use such glorious machines, crafted for just such purposes — now washing! — and now drying!

And I Am The Final Machine: Folding!
As the folder, I must be careful — not just to match the socks and deliver the right clothes to the rightful owner.

I must also be careful to maintain an attitude of happiness. I must employ what I have learned from Buddhist teachers.

Because, when I'm not careful about my attitude...

"There Sure Is A Lot Of Anger In Laundry."
Those words brought a great laugh to the Creativity In Your Life particpants at the Columbus Museum of Art recently. (Are you booked for the three occasional creativity sessions which start next Sunday?)

Perhaps you know this experience. When doing laundry, I can shift from la-de-da to what-the-heck in two shakes of a dainty brassiere:

"Just who the hell do they think I am? What are they thinking: I like standing here in the basement? That my time is less precious than theirs? That they can just throw their dirty clothes down the stairs: tee-shirts still nested in shirts, shirts still in sweatshirts? Tell me: just why am I the person to pull their socks right-side-out? Huh? Tell me."

When this is what I'm thinking during the sorting or folding of laundry, then the laundry can never become completely clean. And I end up even dirtier: a passive-aggressive folding machine. That's not healthy. And the clothes might get stretched and torn.

So I do laundry like I wash dishes: as if for the Queen (now played by Helena Bonham Carter, thank you very much). Or, as if for people every bit as dear to me as the Queen, even more: my beloved family.

Bella!
When my father was at Yale, he sent his dirty laundry from New Haven, Connecticut, back to Ohio, for his mother, Bella Lowenstein Isaac.

My paternal grandmother laundered her dear boy's clothes and shipped them back — with home-baked cookies wrapped inside. Family legend has it that the postal service was so swift those days that the cookies arrived warm. 

Jackie!
Here's to my own mother, who did so much of my laundry that it can be measured in years. (Now, my dear, you may rest assured I am doing my generational share of laundry.)

A Breath With Every Fold
Thank you for being a part of my life. Even this part! Here are your clothes, folded with love.

 

Death By Chocolate

Years ago, some restaurateurs were ignorant of mortality and depression.

They named their most delicious desserts "Death By Chocolate" and, much worse, "Chocolate Suicide."

Mercifully, the word reached them — probably in the quizzical eyes of bereaved customers — that death is rarely cute and suicide never is.

But this isn't about that.

This Is An Ethical Challenge.
Imagine you work for JELL-O brand gelatin.

And imagine you are a righteous, somewhat prim fellow. You live with pursed lips.

One day, you catch foul wind that your product — America's most classic dessert — after apple pie and vanilla ice cream and, say, brownies, and, uh, birthday cake — oh! and Toll House cookies, nom-nom-nom — Dang. Where was I?

Right. Yes. "Foul wind." You catch foul wind that your good nutritious offering, trusted by mothers who feed it to sick children, is being used by naughty people for — can you believe this? — JELL-O wrestling.

No! Please, Lord, no. Scantily clad women must no longer embrace and tumble in pools of our dear product. (Please do not linger on the image above, which is not taken from Black Swan.)

What are your rights as as the owner of the JELL-O brand?

Perhaps you might like the association, because it's hip and naughty, but not really so very bad.

But what if you don't like it. Can you prevent its improper use? "Hey, ladies. Please! I do say: cease and desist!"

What If It Were A Lot More Important?
What if you are the maker of a drug that is used to slow the heart during heart surgery? That's a nice product! Thank you for making such an important, life-saving product.

What if the State of Ohio decides to use your drug — an off label use, if ever there was one — to administer an overdose on death row? What do you think about your life-saving product being used to end lives? (Sponsorship opportunity?)

Can you stop it? If you don't stop it, are you ethically responsible? Even partly?

If you do stop it, might Ohio turn to drowning people in JELL-O?

 

Creative To Be Fit

Jack LaLanne died Sunday. He remains a worthy hero.

It might seem morbid for me to share an obituary, but The New York Times obituaries provide a stunning series of role models: very creative people who made themselves famous and, often, greatly improved the world. The only thing wrong with most of these folks: they're dead.

Glorious Oddball
LaLanne was a peculiarity, especially early on, but that's how innovators appear.

His introduction of fitness is a classic representation of the introduction phase during the product life cycle, though his "product" was a concept and a call to action. He focused his communications on technical superiority — you'll live better through exercise — which is the perfect brand messaging strategy for a new product introduction.

If you jog or lift weights, swim or stair-master, cycle or skip rope, then you have been influenced — however indirectly — by Jack LaLanne.

He invented Just Do It long before the adguys took over.

Be Inspired
Please enjoy Richard Goldstein's beautifully written "Jack LaLanne, Founder of Modern Fitness Movement, Dies at 96" in this morning's issue of The New York Times.

And — if you want to pursue your next (or current) creative adventure with me, I'll be at the Columbus Museum of Art's Center for Creativity three Sundays during the next six months, starting February 6th. Perhaps you have a friend you might recommend for this? Here are the details.

Because All Creatives Die
Someday I want to teach a course called Dead Creatives, with obituaries as the only reading assignments.

Though, as Mr. Goldstein writes about LaLanne: "'I can’t die,' he most famously liked to say. 'It would ruin my image.'"

Want to meet to discuss your current (or next) creative adventure?

How are you strengthening your creativity?

Is it worth study, work, investment?

Many of you have asked, "May I take your creativity class?"

Until now, the frustrating answer has been, "No." The room is full and Ohio State doesn't allow unregistered auditors.

But now the answer is "Yes."
Because — now — here's a creativity class for you.

Based on the sold-out success of last October's Creativity In Your Life, co-presented with my friends at The Columbus Museum of Art, here is a program that meets three times during the next six months. The goal: establish, maintain, and build your momentum toward a creative goal.

Here are the details:

Creativity In Your Life
open to the public
Sundays, February 6, May 15 and August 14, 2011
in the Center for Creativity
at the Columbus Museum of Art

Click here to register for Series One to attend all three Sundays between 1:30 p.m. and 3 p.m.

...or, for the same thing at a different time of day...

Click here to register for Series Two to attend all three Sundays between 3:30 p.m. and 5 p.m.

Featuring communal brainstorming on your creative plan: helping you determine your creative goal and pursue its accomplishment. We'll work in a group of not more than 30 like-minded people, each on his or her own creative adventure.

Sounds good?

Come along. I look forward to working with you.

The Cost of Being Human

In observance of today's national holiday, here The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s most famous speech.

If you have not listened to the entire speech recently, you might be surprised to see how rich it is beyond "I have a dream." His metaphor of the "default on the promissory note" and the "bad check" is particularly striking.

As I wrote my students this morning, "It is undignified to enjoy this day off without listening to this speech or otherwise studying Dr. King's legacy. Watching this video might not be required for this class, but it is an ethical obligation, a minimum cost of being human."

 

Let freedom ring.