May 03, 2006
mo.jo n 1: a snapping turtle in a whiskey bottle 2: sex appeal 3: a toilet paper tube stuffed with sheets of fabric softener into which you blow marijuana smoke to cover up the smell 4: your cool style or essence 5: a small bag worn under the clothing in which magic resides.
A vase on my desk is filled with perky peach roses except for one which has drooped its head and started to shed its petals. Yep, I thought, that's me. Have you ever felt that you've lost your mojo? That you are Tinkerbell when everyone is saying, "I don't believe in no f***'in fairies," or Superman on a steady diet of kryptonite? Most of us know when we're on top of our game — when we feel confident and attractive and walk around with others looking our way and smiling (and it's not because your skirt has gotten tucked in your panties.)
The question is, once you've lost it, how do you get your groove back?
We tend to develop rituals of depression. When I'm sad, I pick up my dog and let the tears flow as I sing "you are my sunshine" while trying not to get her soggy — which she hates. I have one friend who will bake a Betty Crocker cake, ice it, go to bed, and eat it out of the pan for the next week. Others may be inspired to wild tequila drinking binges or online shopping sprees or watching the entire two seasons of "Lost" back-to-back on DVD and becoming increasingly paranoid. While these are all useful distractions, none of them is particularly helpful in regaining your joy.
Feeling blue is actually a rational response to the state of the world. Our country is a mess, unless you are in the top 2% of the wealthy. As working people, we're facing an approaching asteroid. By the time we pay our heating oil bill, fill up the gas tank, pay health insurance, car insurance, and home insurance and figure out what the hell we're going to do with rising interest rates on mortgages, credit cards, and home equity loans, we realize that we're on the edge of disaster. As concerned citizens, we're horrified by the war in Iraq, global warming, and the despicable display of corporate CEOs gone wild. "Show us your big bonuses," we yell.
So what to do — pray, write your congressman, run down the streets shouting, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it any more"?
The problem is that as we become more worried and stressed and negative, this filters into our other relationships. Some will band together to support one another and some will say, "Hey man, I have my own problems, I can't possibly help you." So unfortunately, many of us feel scared and alone. You can learn to rely on yourself or you can turn to a life of drugs and prostitution (see mojo def. 2 & 3.)
I've decided to attack my mojo problem with great vigor. I have taken up belly dancing. I am on a regimen of Holly a Bach Flower Remedy for anger and Sepia for mood swings. I am planting an entire fabulous-looking and smelling garden in pots on my porch. I have promised my dog daily visits to the beach for our silent stand and stare since she doesn't walk so well and my singing sucks. I am sending out all sorts of inquiries for higher paying writing assignments. And I am eating soy products.
That should be enough to put a big S back on my chest, and if not, I'm gonna give that snapping turtle in the whiskey bottle a go.
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