Indulge? Maybe in 2012

I don't have much time for indulgences anymore. I'm not sure when that happened. After the first baby, certainly. But even then I found time to curl up on the couch for a few hours and read a book or watch a movie or both. But then the contracts started coming in (no complaints here!) and hours spent reading for pleasure suddenly became hours spent reading for anthologies or promoting forthcoming books or writing stories and introductions and blog posts.

Somewhere between the first and second baby and fourth and fifth anthology contracts, I ran out of time for most indulgences. I know this to be true because this morning I attempted to schedule a massage. I honestly believe a massage should be considered medicinal and therefore necessary (like the cardiology appointment I have yet to schedule), but I still lump it in the indulgence category. However, the only reason I was attempting to schedule a massage was because I have a gift certificate. The gift certificate expires at the end of December. I have had this gift certificate for almost an entire year and have not made the time to indulge myself. Making the appointment felt like something I needed to do, not something I wanted to do. But I got off the phone without having scheduled the massage because they didn't have an appointment available at a time that was convenient for me. The woman was very understanding and said they would still honor the gift certificate in January if I can't get in before the end of the month.

How sad is that? Twelve months and I haven't had time to get a massage. Disclaimer: I did get one massage over the summer, courtesy of a friend who took me out and pampered me. That was certainly an indulgent day, but they have been few and far between the past two years and usually involved me leaving town or someone else pushing, prodding or abducting me. My definition of indulgences has become limited to getting pedicures during the months I wear sandals, going to the movies (though I can't remember the last movie I saw, it's been a couple of months) and getting a second coffee on days when I am really, really dragging.

What's sadder is that I don't think January will be any better for scheduling a massage. Surely there is something wrong with me when my thought process goes, "I don't want to waste this gift certificate, so I should just go ahead and schedule the massage and get it over with." When did that happen? When did planning a fun vacation turn into an adventure in scheduling readings or networking opportunities so the trip isn't a frivolous waste of time? (I actually said that the other day.) When did the holiday rituals of shopping and wrapping and card writing become chores instead of indulgences, taking precious time away from the hundred other things I need to do? The list is endless and includes things like sorting the baby's clothes and cleaning out closets and donating items to charity and scheduling doctor's appointments and sending thank you cards for Patrick's birthday and food shopping and doing a spreadsheet for my anthology royalty statements and overhauling my blog and updating my recent sales and getting new author photos taken and cleaning out the pantry... it goes on and on, my to do list.

I do indulge myself at times. I'm not a martyr, I swear. I have my wildly indulgent moments. (Stop laughing.) When a friend comes to town and I declare a temporary moratorium on all but the absolute necessities of writing/editing and housework (which is still a substantial list) so we can spend a few hours talking and drinking coffee. When I'm sick and I know the illness will linger for weeks if I don't get some much needed rest and I take to my bed for as long as I can. When I'm feeding my baby or playing cars with my toddler and time stops because the voice in my head says I need to hold onto these moments because they are fleeting and precious. But always, always, in these moments of indulgence (which I know are really just moments of a well-rounded life), there is a feeling of guilt that I should be doing more, multi-tasking better or squeezing in an extra chore. And so I find myself staying up until 2 AM on Thanksgiving to finish some stories I promised to an editor or emailing my publisher while the baby nestles sleepily in the crook of my arm or wiping off the layer of dust on the dresser when I am getting ready for bed or paying bills while I'm fast forwarding through the slow parts of a month's old episode of "Grey's Anatomy." There is always something to do and not enough time to do it and something must give. And it is the indulgences.

I'm working on it. I recognize that I'm my own worst enemy. I know there is no shame in taking an hour or afternoon or even day for myself. I realize it's important to have fun, to have adventures, to laugh, to relax, to recharge, to do nothing for a little while.

I haven't read Eat, Pray, Love or seen the movie, but this clip hits a little too close to home for me right now. I need to learn (or relearn?) "dolce far niente." The sweetness of doing nothing.



It seems frivolous (there's that word again) to be thinking about indulgences in this economy. To be thinking about indulgences when I have two babies and deadlines and a house that hasn't had a good cleaning since before baby #2 was born. To be thinking of indulgences when I know people who are doing a hell of a lot more than me. I promise myself rewards for doing X, Y or Z and often never find time to actually collect my reward. From myself. Oh good grief, what is wrong with me?

I was told recently that part of my "brand" is that I am a superwoman who does it all. First of all, I didn't think I had a brand at all. Second of all, I don't know if that's the brand I want. It doesn't feel accurate, if nothing else. I'm not doing it all. I wish I was. It is an illusion that I am superwoman. What I really am is a crazy person running from one thing to the next, never satisfied with my efforts and always trying to do more than I really have time for in any give day. Is there a brand for that?

I'm going to start indulging myself more. Really. I am. I am going to make it a priority to do silly, frivolous things for absolutely no reason other than they make me deliriously happy. I will do things I enjoy with no hidden agenda and without multi-tasking. I will be happier in my indulgence. That is reason enough to indulge, right?

And I will start with a massage.

A Little of What You Fancy

by Jean Roberta

Here is a little snippet from my story, "A Dowager's Hump," which was published in Ripe Fruit: Well-Seasoned Erotica, an anthology featuring women aged 50 and over, edited by Marcy Sheiner (Cleis Press, 2002).

The narrator is a kind of Mary Sue character: a menopausal (or post-menopausal) woman who is not afraid of time because she doesn't believe in depriving herself of anything she really wants. She is bisexual, for lack of a clearer term. And in this case, she wants to show her distraught sister-in-law the pleasures of self-indulgence.

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I came home from work on a day cold enough to freeze a witch’s tits, to use a vulgar expression. As I walked into my welcoming house, its warmth hit me like a burst of hormones. The phone was ringing.

“Margaret?” begged the voice on the other end. “I kicked him out. I hope you can forgive me.”

This melodrama from my ex-sister-in-law seemed to match the extremes of temperature in a Canadian winter. “Pfft,” I told her. “It was overdue. You’d better come over. Otherwise you won’t eat -- or you’ll binge.”

Sarah was pitifully grateful, and she arrived at my door before I had had enough time to confer with myself. Emerging from her parka, she looked sodden. She shook her brown hair like a cocker spaniel.

“Have a drink to warm up,” I told her, “then we’ll go out for dinner.”

She seemed childlike as she sat on my sofa, sipping a scotch-and-seven as though it could restore lost hope. I had catered to her taste: old scotch ruined by the adolescent fizz of Seven-Up. A good hostess, like a cruel
ancient god, gives her supplicants what they think they want.

I noted that Sarah’s breasts were fuller than they had been; she must have gained weight. I knew that she must consider this a disaster. We both sighed.

“I mean,” she was complaining, “I can see why he fools around. Men have this biological need to find younger women as long as they can. It’s just in them, no matter what they promise. But what’s left for us?” I glanced ironically at the framed print hanging next to my bookcase. It is a sepia-toned photo of Emmaline Pankhurst giving a speech on women’s rights, watched admiringly by her grown daughters. Sarah missed the reference.

“I’m thirty-five,” she complained. “I have to face it.”

“So you do,” I agreed. She remembered that the digits in my age were hers in reverse. She was embarrassed.

“Not that we’re too old for some things,” she assured me, politely ignoring the near-generation gap between us, “but we can’t pick up guys the way we used to.”

I was wearing my favorite royal blue knit dress with the pantihose that are supposed to stimulate my legs. I considered whether most male patrons of meat-market bars would like the way the dress skimmed my breasts and hips.

I asked myself whether Sarah would sputter with envy if I explained that I stay slim enough by eating only when hungry and by traveling on foot whenever possible. I realized that better food for thought was on the table.

“Do you want another man so soon, girl?” I asked her. Better to wallow in scotch-and-seven, I thought.

Now she looked deeply distressed. “I don’t want to end up like –“ she blurted. “You haven’t been with a man since David died, have you?” Cancer, my only successful rival, had taken my husband ten years before.

“Not often,” I agreed. “The ones I meet usually lack depth, so I don’t keep them long. They’re appetizers. But I wouldn’t underestimate the value of a good fuck.” Sarah stared, obviously wondering whether the combination of
alcohol and gassy bubbles had affected her hearing. I smiled. “I don’t need their money any more,” I explained. “Sometimes they need mine. I believe in noblesse oblige, of course, and I don’t mind helping them, but when they
assume I’m a fool, the romance is over.”

I could see that my thinly-veiled advice was whizzing past Sarah’s ears like pub darts missing their target. I reached for her empty glass, took it to the kitchen and refilled it.

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Bribing Heaven

By Lisabet Sarai

Selling indulgences - Woodcut circa 1500

What does it say about me, that when I learned this week's topic, “Indulgence”, I thought not about chocolate, sex, or tropical vacations, but of ecclesiastical indulgences?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indulgences

I'm not going to even speculate about the way my mind works. Once I'd fastened on this interpretation, though, I decided to stick with it, since I suspect my worthy colleagues will provide more than adequate explorations the alternative meaning, namely, immersing oneself in extravagant pleasures.

For those of you who don't have time to flip over to Wikipedia, I'll summarize. The Roman Catholic doctrine of indulgence allows the temporal punishment for sins (that is, the amount of time the sinner will be required to spend in hell or purgatory) to be reduced if the sinner performs certain types of activities: prayers, pilgrimages, acts of charity or acts of renunciation. These acts do not forgive the sin itself – that requires the sacrament of confession, and subsequent absolution – but address the issue of punishment after death, which remains due even after the sin has been forgiven.

Indulgences became infamous during the Middle Ages, when various individuals handed them out wholesale in return for money – often very large sums. The cash received for indulgences financed lavish (indeed, “indulgent”) lifestyles for bishops and other powerful clergy, the building of grand cathedrals (not to mention palaces) and the expenses of the Crusades. The abuse of indulgences was one motivation for the Protestant Reformation.

It's clear that these abuses weren't sanctioned by official doctrine. However, it seems to me that even the orthodox view of indulgences, as I understand it, smacks of bribery.

Please note, I have no interest in getting involved in theological disputes. The opinions expressed in this blog are my own possibly benighted views, and it may well be that I'm destined to burn in hell. (Certainly, my mother, having seen the portfolio from my nude photo shoot, thought so – and she never even read any of my books.)

Consider the basic idea, though: do something “virtuous” or “holy”, and your punishment will reduced by a certain amount, the degree of reduction determined by the Church-assessed value of your actions. Sounds like bribery to me. The economic, tit-for-tat nature of the doctrine becomes even clearer when money, such as a donation to charity, is involved.

Although I'm not conventionally religious, I do consider myself a spiritual person. The doctrine of indulgences doesn't fit at all with my concept of the Divine. For one thing, if you've been forgiven, why should you still require punishment? I'm not talking about making amends; I think if you've harmed someone, it's only just to try setting things right. Punishment doesn't address the issue of damages. It's sole purpose is to make the sinner miserable and aware of his or her guilt.

I can't believe in a God so petty that He'd want His creations to suffer after He'd pardoned them. On the other hand, my vision of God (to use the conventional term) is not as an entity or Supreme Being (even though I may sometimes use that shorthand mode of expression). My God doesn't have opinions or desires. My God is the pure creative energy at the heart of the universe, the Infinite Intelligence underlying the astounding diversity of the external world, the awesome power of imagination, the Spirit that infuses us all.

I know that traditional Christianity disagrees, but I find it difficult to accept that our sins “hurt” God. I definitely do think that certain actions normally categorized as sins hurt the sinner. In a similar fashion, in my view at least, mindful prayer or meditation, acts of generosity, spiritual voyages, don't change God – they change us, making us (hopefully) more compassionate, more careful in our choices, and perhaps, more at peace with ourselves.

In all fairness, religions other than Christianity (at least as practiced by ordinary people) embody similar economic concepts. Theravada Buddhists in Southeast Asia (Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar) “make merit” to improve the quality of their next life. Making merit includes everything from giving beggars alms to building new temples. I remember years ago our Thai teacher told us she donated to buy coffins for the indigent as a way of making merit. Hindus, I believe, bring offerings to the altars of their gods and make pilgrimages to sacred sites, and expect favorable rebirth or even enlightenment in return.

I suppose it's not surprising that people think of salvation as something with a price tag. Humans have been engaged in commerce since the earliest tribal societies – and we have always tended to create gods in our own image. It's much easier to understand a deity who thinks like we do.

Nevertheless, I still find the literalism of indulgences surprising. Even today, a plenary indulgence can be granted on any day (but only once per day) for, specifically, piously reading or listening to Sacred Scripture for at least half an hour or adoration of Jesus in the Eucharist for at least half an hour.

If I only read the Bible for 25 minutes, that's not enough for God? If God is eternal, why should He care about clock time?

Just doesn't make sense to me. On the other hand, maybe the mysteries of the Spirit are not supposed to make sense.

And maybe I should have written about chocolate and sex after all.