self-helpless

The heat must be getting to me. As temperatures continue to hover in the triple digits pretty much everywhere from Albuquerque to Anchorage (105 degrees here so far today) the lizards are invading my house now in search of shade. One the size of a Gila monster just showed up in my garage while I was doing laundry. I jumped up on the washer and screamed until my husband came running in.

"Look look look!" I yelled, pointing down at the floor. The lizard shot his forked tongue out at me.

"What what what?" my husband yelled, looking straight at me and completely missing the monster, who turned and skittered under the car.

I have an absolute horror of lizards. I have nightmares about them wherein they invade my yard, my house and my closets, entirely covering the ceiling and the walls. They attack. I don't know what it means. It's a phobia, I guess. But I digress. It must be the heat.

So I found myself the other day in a place I never believed I would. There I stood, looking suspicious and vaguely ashamed of myself in the self-help section of my local Borders bookstore.

I have an aversion to the self-help industry in general. It isn't that good people haven't sought and been helped by some books/television shows/seminars/cults ~ I know that they have. There are legitimate practitioners with expert knowledge in their field whose primary goal is indeed to help people overcome serious problems, and they are to be lauded.

Unfortunately, these authors are overwhelmed by the glut of formulaic 'Pablum for the Chicken-minded Soul' style books written by opportunists with no more legitimate claim to a superior understanding of life, love, or how to lose 10 pounds than you or I. Common sense is repackaged as new and significant insight by some media guru or another, when in fact we all already know exactly what we ought to be doing to improve our lives: Eat less, exercise more. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Get some sleep. Share. Enjoy all things in moderation. Choose your friends wisely and seek their council. That way, when your boyfriend forgets your birthday and stands you up for the fourth time this month you won't have to shell out $24.95 for a book by an erstwhile stand-up comic that explains that "He's Just Not That Into You." You'll know. Your mates will tell you. Ask.

Besides, there is probably more wisdom to be found in one poem (the world is too much with us, late and soon...) and more truth in one novel (We live as we dream - alone...) located in the aisle dedicated to 'Literature' than in the entire 400 titles designated as 'Self-help'.

And yet, there I was.

I have been lately inspired by the blog of Danny Gregory; artist, author, teacher and genial journalist whose exhortations to just sit down, shut-up and draw something have jump-started a slumbering desire to take seriously and improve my own efforts. I expected to find his book, "The Creative License: Giving Yourself Permission to Be the Artist You Truly Are" in the 'Art' section but apparently wanting to draw better is a form of self-improvement. I never would have thought of it that way.

Looking around to see if there was anybody I knew, I risked eye contact with a middle-aged man with dark hair and glasses perusing a book in the History department. He quickly averted his gaze and I found myself hoping he didn't think I was there for that prominently displayed Dr. Phil "Love Smart" title. Why should anyone care about the judgement of strangers, you may ask. Well, I don't know, but I'll bet Don Miguel Ruiz, the author of "The Four Agreements" which promises to "reveal the source of self-limiting beliefs that rob us of joy and create needless suffering," does. I had no time to find out. I headed at once for the 'G's, grabbed my book and trotted off to listen to some music.

In retrospect, maybe I should have checked to see if Ruiz or Oprah or somebody could help me with my lizard phobia thing. If the weather gets any hotter and those damn reptiles any bolder (one just rang the doorbell and demanded protection money) I will have to go back for self-help or go on medication. You never know. I wonder if Phil's really a doctor. He might be able to fix me up.

In the meantime, I'm working the book. I'm enjoying it. It's opening up my tiny mind. I'd post pics, but once again I'm having difficulty uploading images. Must be the heat.