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self-acceptance
I Went All the Way
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Aug 18, 2019 by Janet Zinn
Sometimes something so simple can be hard. I had the idea of riding my bike on the last Summer Streets on Park Avenue down to the Brooklyn Bridge. I keep my bike in my office. It’s a short folding bike, allowing for both my feet to touch the ground when I stop. It’s in my office so I can get out when the impulse strikes. It rarely strikes. I call myself a wimpy rider since I want to easily touch the ground, and I am not skilled enough to weave in and out of traffic. I will only face the streets to get into Central Park or ride on the East River promenade to Randall’s Island where there are few...
My Super Power
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Jun 03, 2019 by Janet Zinn
When I was in the fifth grade I had a recurrent dream that I could fly. I was elated that I could soar past the bullies and the teasers. I loved that they had to look up to me in my dream. I soared in the air down Haral Place past the mailbox on my way to Stafford School. I held onto that dream. It gave me a sense of being special when I felt anything but special.
But the teasing got worse in junior high. Patty Craven howled at me as if I were a dog. She bribed a classmate to ask me out so they could laugh at me. She was cruel, but I took it. I found small...
A Show Under the Stars
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Sep 04, 2018 by Janet Zinn
It was around 1974. It had to be since it took about four years for my mom to perfect her tennis game. She played every day at the Cherry Hill Tennis Courts. She started out at the free outdoor courts in Kressen Woods, but it didn’t take long for my mom to realize that indoor courts were her best bet. It was winter so playing indoor tennis made sense. On that chilly Wednesday I answered the phone, hopeful that a friend was calling. But it was for my Mom. The rich, low voice on the other end said he was Gladys Knight’s manager and wanted to see if Arlene, my mom, would play mixed doubles with them. I could not believe...
A Trip to Africa
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Jul 05, 2018 by Janet Zinn
What can I say about a dream come true? Shall I say that I spent most of my life believing my dreams wouldn’t be fulfilled? I lived much of my early years longing for the things that others had. The thing about my longings is that it kept me out of the loop. There’s an unspoken presumption that it was beyond my reach. Growing up I heard about the trips to Florida my classmates took. I longed to audition for a traveling high school production of Godspell, but had to work, and couldn’t afford to take time off, let alone pay for a ticket to California. I felt left out. Moving to New York in the early 80’s, there were apartments...
Running Again
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Apr 23, 2018 by Janet Zinn
I ran my first race in over a year. It was slow process, both recovering from benign injuries, as well as running 15-minute miles this morning. In the past months I went through acupuncture, medical massage and physical therapy putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. So, tentatively, step by step I took on Central Park’s Drive.
What I noticed right away was the throngs who passed me as I inched my way forward. I am no stranger to being left behind. In elementary school I often was picked last in kickball, more for my lack of popularity than for any inability to kick and catch the ball. In junior high school I was not asked to parties. I awkwardly went to school...
One Step in Front of the Other
![One Step in Front of the Other One Step in Front of the Other](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2017_09/proportion/9bcc6173bfec0f98_w140_h140/9bcc6173bfec0f98_02090743.jpg)
Sep 05, 2017 by Janet Zinn
When I was 10 years old I was allowed to walk on Haddonfield-Berlin Road, crossing highways entrances and exits to go to The Woodcrest Shopping Center. For a short time they had The Jerry Lewis Movie Theater, and I could get in for 50 cents, the amount of my allowances after chores. Or, I would go to W.T. Grant’s, deemed a twenty-five cent department store, but more of a five and dime. that sold colorful birds, toys, clothes, plastic jewelry, and featured a lunch counter. I was much too shy to go to the counter alone. But I loved getting lost in the aisles ending up with some sort of sweet. There was also Crest Lanes where I could bowl....
Free Shakespeare in the Park
![Free Shakespeare in the Park Free Shakespeare in the Park](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2017_07/proportion/unknown_11_w140_h140/unknown_11_02090743.jpeg)
Jul 31, 2017 by Janet Zinn
On a sweltering Tuesday in August, in my first full summer as a New York City resident, I was nervous and excited about the prospect of obtaining free tickets to A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park. The day in 1982 was hazy, and the great lawn was full of picnickers all with numbers for a place in line. I was number 26. I had gotten there so early, maybe 7 AM to ensure my audience participation. And, I was far from the first one in line. But with a coffee and an H&H bagel for breakfast, I felt well-prepared. Hour after hour of baking in the sun, I was a lucky recipient of two tickets...
The Fluctuating Value of Sleep
![The Fluctuating Value of Sleep The Fluctuating Value of Sleep](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2017_07/proportion/images_w140_h140/images_02090743.png)
Jul 15, 2017 by Janet Zinn
When I was ten-years-old I was going to sleep-away camp for the first time. I was leaving for 2 weeks at a bare-bones Y camp in Medford, New Jersey. The night before I left I was atwitter with anticipation. What should I wear? I want a low key, yet cool look. In 1970 that meant hot pants and a tight colorful tee. I’d save my red hot pants for a dressy camp night. And, while awake, going over my list of flashlights and swimwear, I decided I’d arrive wearing denim shorts with my tie-dye t-shirt. It wasn’t snug, but it was cool enough to appear nonchalant.
That decided, I stayed up all night nervous about the friends I’d make, and wanting...
What I'm Not
![What I'm Not What I'm Not](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2017_02/proportion/unknown_1_w140_h140/unknown_1_02090743.jpeg)
Feb 06, 2017 by Janet Zinn
We just took a trip to a resort in Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic. It was beautiful. The weather was warm and clear, and everyone was friendly. I wanted to enjoy this vacation. Last year was hard and I was looking forward to some R&R. But the food, though plentiful, went from bland to awful. The amenities promised were elusive or not as advertised. The other travelers seemed to be content, but I couldn’t help notice the missing details, the absence of my desired holiday away. I would go for a run on the beach, grateful for the easy breeze, and the laps of the ocean. Yet, I kept thinking of all the things I didn’t like about being...
Back to the Basics
![Back to the Basics Back to the Basics](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2016_07/proportion/unknown_1_w140_h140/unknown_1_02090743.jpeg)
Jul 04, 2016 by Janet Zinn
I learned to iron from my mom, but not before I scorched a shirt or two. Cotton and Polyester were the fabrics of my childhood. And, although I liked my Danskin striped shirts and ribbed pleated pants, cotton was the classier choice for anything other than playing in our Haddontown neighborhood. When inside I had chores, one of which was the ironing.
I would set up the creaky ironing board in the kitchen close to the counter with the electrical outlet. And then I’d carefully plug in the Sunbeam, aqua iron until it was hot enough to smooth away the folds. I would iron my father’s shirts for work, my sister’s and my blouses, leaving the trickier ironing of dresses to my...
Blog Break
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May 23, 2016 by Janet Zinn
I wasn’t planning on taking a break from my blog, but that’s what happened. I’m glad I took this break. I’ve needed a breather in general for a while, and the blog was just a part of what I needed to put aside. I enjoy writing, but I noticed something as the weeks went by without penning a word. I noticed that I felt relieved at times, and frustrated at other times. Same circumstances, different responses.
As the weeks went by I started criticizing myself. I was hard on myself for not writing even as other obligations loomed large. I’d think, “If I don’t write on a regular basis it’s predictive of not publishing later.” I questioned myself. “Could my attention...
Stop Everything
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Mar 14, 2016 by Janet Zinn
Picture courtesy of MedicineNet
For the past few days I’ve spent most of my time in bed with a hot water bottle. I had a lower back spasm that seemingly came out of nowhere. The first two days were difficult to get up and down. On second thought, difficult is an understatement. But with the pain came some important lessons I apparently needed to learn.
Image via web search
The first was how kind and generous my family and friends were. I am usually a do-it-myself kind of person, sometimes to a fault. I am strongly independent. But there are moments I can become resentful when others don’t pitch in. It’s in these moments that I realize that I could use some help....
Slowing Down
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Jan 25, 2016 by Janet Zinn
(Image from online database)
This past week I had jury duty. My first reaction was one of annoyance. I’ve done a lot of jury duty, even one stint for three months. So as far as I was concerned, I’ve done my time. But then I thought again. It’s an enforced day of quiet. I promptly changed my schedule around and planned my reading accordingly. First were some back issues of The New Yorker. Then, much to my delight I was going to be able to read Paul Lisicky’s The Narrow Door. The book came out the day prior to having to serve and I made sure I had my copy.
Years ago when I walked downtown to the courthouses, just north of...
Years ago when I walked downtown to the courthouses, just north of...
Letting Go in '16
![Letting Go in '16 Letting Go in '16](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2016_01/proportion/unknown2_w140_h140/unknown2_02090743.jpeg)
Jan 10, 2016 by Janet Zinn
Stock picture online
What a concept! Letting go has been used as a catch phrase describing a way of not feeling what we don’t want. I am not amused when I make a complaint and I’m told, “just let it go.” If I could have let it go I wouldn’t be complaining in the first place. But 2016 feels like a good time for me to let things go. Partly because I haven’t liked what I’ve felt, but mostly because what I have previously over-enjoyed isn’t serving me right now.
(stock pic online) I usually make lots of plans, however, my plan this year is to plan less. I’m letting go of being too busy. It means more Yes time to do less, and...
What a concept! Letting go has been used as a catch phrase describing a way of not feeling what we don’t want. I am not amused when I make a complaint and I’m told, “just let it go.” If I could have let it go I wouldn’t be complaining in the first place. But 2016 feels like a good time for me to let things go. Partly because I haven’t liked what I’ve felt, but mostly because what I have previously over-enjoyed isn’t serving me right now.
(stock pic online) I usually make lots of plans, however, my plan this year is to plan less. I’m letting go of being too busy. It means more Yes time to do less, and...
Grief Shaming
![Grief Shaming Grief Shaming](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2015_11/proportion/unknown_31_w140_h140/unknown_31_02090743.jpeg)
Nov 24, 2015 by Janet Zinn
Last week on Facebook I had changed my profile picture to one with a transparent French Flag on top of my face. When I was in college I had gone to school in Paris one summer studying Art History and French. The art history stayed with me, the French, not so much. It was a seminal summer for me. Memories surged after the bombings and I responded based on my relationship to my past and those in my present. Yet, shortly after that, so many people started writing pieces or making comments about how wrong it was to change our profile pictures when so many more had been tortured and killed in Damascus, Beirut, Jerusalem, Sierra Leone….. And the shaming...
Dropping the Ball
![Dropping the Ball Dropping the Ball](images/Life-SizedCourage/cache/images/Life-SizedCourage/blog/janetzinn_files_wordpress_com_2015_08/proportion/unknown_w140_h140/unknown_02090742.jpeg)
Aug 12, 2015 by Janet Zinn
I’ve dropped the ball. I haven’t answered emails, returned calls or followed through on making plans. This is not like me. Well, the me I used to be. Apparently, it’s very much like me at the moment. Usually I’m on top of things. Often I’ve stayed up late to make sure everything gets done. Not now.
Tonight I almost missed a terrific show. I tried to purchase tickets at the last minute, even though I planned to go weeks ago. And when I went online it was sold out. My friend Kathy bailed me out and gave me her ticket, so I was able to enjoy Brad Freyman in Pimm’s Mission. I was lucky this time, but who knows the consequences with...
Tonight I almost missed a terrific show. I tried to purchase tickets at the last minute, even though I planned to go weeks ago. And when I went online it was sold out. My friend Kathy bailed me out and gave me her ticket, so I was able to enjoy Brad Freyman in Pimm’s Mission. I was lucky this time, but who knows the consequences with...
My Shade of Gray
Aug 02, 2015 by Janet Zinn
Some changes are easy. Changing my clothes after a walk on a hot day, changing my mind, when I go for a walk rather than a yoga class, easy. Changing my hair, not so much. I’ve sat in many salon chairs, tears in my eyes, feeling helpless while scissors cut away the vision I tried to communicate to the hairdresser. Conversely, I loved the artists who gave me so much more than I had hoped. But the last few years I’ve gone back and forth about going completely gray or continuing my once a month trek to my local salon, tediously covering my roots.
Like my dad, I went gray at an early age. Like my mom, this wasn’t something I...
Like my dad, I went gray at an early age. Like my mom, this wasn’t something I...
Memorial Day, 2015
May 26, 2015 by Janet Zinn
Traditionally today is the day you can safely wear white. The unofficial beginning of summer. Staying in Manhattan is a treat when so many go away. It’s such a simple pleasure. This afternoon I went for a jog on the East River and enjoyed the array of characters I encountered. The row of men fishing. Most had rods and used fish meat as bait. But some had traps and used chicken gizzards. I got thumbs up as I slowly ran by. Appreciating the encouragement I smiled back with my thumbs up for their potential catches. It was a New York moment. I passed a family ready to barbecue, a plastic checkered tablecloth on top of which were a rainbow assortment...
Anger Management
May 04, 2015 by Janet Zinn
Shortly after a lovely run in the park, and a chat in the colorful garden on this beautiful Sunday, I was crossing the street when a red mini SUV made a fast right, cutting me off. I slowed my walk so as not to be hit. I yelled into her open window, my right arm up,
“HEY!”
She gave me the finger and yelled, “Fuck You.”
I was pissed. Then I saw that she went onto my block. I silently wished her no parking space. A private revenge for scaring me, then blaming me for getting upset. As I arrived at my apartment building, I saw her car parked at a hydrant. Angry, I walked over to the vehicle. She was unloading stuff,...
“HEY!”
She gave me the finger and yelled, “Fuck You.”
I was pissed. Then I saw that she went onto my block. I silently wished her no parking space. A private revenge for scaring me, then blaming me for getting upset. As I arrived at my apartment building, I saw her car parked at a hydrant. Angry, I walked over to the vehicle. She was unloading stuff,...
Napping; A Ground-Spirituality Post
Apr 13, 2015 by Janet Zinn
I admit it, I take naps. They are a small delight given my crowded schedule. I used to think that naps were a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to get on with life, seizing every moment. Days were filled with activities, proving how busy I was. Somehow being busy justified my existence. Or, rather, I defended against the notion that I was lazy. It all started when my Grandmom Becky called me lazy when I was a teen. To her it was a nasty trait, with filth as a close second. She spent hours mopping her white tiled, kitchen floor. When finished she’d scrub any perceived grout from her bathtub. If she wasn’t cleaning she was exercising, staying fit...