Hope, Mojo, & Tiger Woods

Originally posted on February 19, 2010

"Oh rats! I've lost my Mojo! Has anyone seen it? Here Mojo! Here Mojo!"

Mojo is one of those things that we didn't necessarily realized we had -- until we've lost it.  Without Mojo, at best we feel flat, ineffectual, or listless.  At worst, we feel like our world is falling apart. Wasn't one of the plots in the Austin Powers' franchise that Agent Powers had lost his Mojo and he had to get it back?  Right here is where I could type a "Yeah baby!" just for old time's sake, but I just can't bring myself to borrow from The Kathie Lee Gifford Dusty Old "I Love the '90s" Joke Collection. 

Mojo is now loosely defined as "magic" or "power."  Its root is thought to be most likely African by way of the Gullah Islands' word "moco" meaning "witchcraft."   Ninety years ago, give or take, using Mojo meant casting spells or charms.  Now, however, it has taken on a much broader meaning in popular culture.  It still means "magic," but it can now be defined as "personal power."  My friend who was laid off from her job recently said optimistically, "It's okay. I'm going to get my Mojo back soon."  I knew exactly what she meant.  Mojo, when you've got it flowing,  can really get you out of bed in the mornings.

There are some people who seem blessed with an excess of Mojo from the git go. Prior to Thanksgiving 2009, Tiger Woods had Mojo to burn with his gorgeous family, multiple golf triumphs, huge endorsements, and his bazillion dollars.  Now the whole world knows, really more than we ever cared to, about his private mess.  It would appear that Tiger, who has been in sex rehab for 45 days, has lost his Mojo.  Tiger has made a passel of bad choices, so his undoing is his responsibility and his alone.  He held his first press conference since the scandal broke.  In it, he does take full responsibility for his actions, albeit in a rather dull and studied way.  However, he owns up to everything, and for that, I have to give him some credit.  Tiger is an extreme public example of Mojo-lessness of mythic proportions.  He has a lot of work to do to get his Mojo back. I predict he will eventually, though it may take a few years. 

But let’s get back to us.  In our daily lives, we may feel like we’ve lost our Mojo -- or you may think you have never tapped into it in the first place.  Now is the time to find it. Having our Mojo means that we’re in the flow of life.  Mojo does not exist outside of us and it’s much easier to obtain than you might think.

Here is my Mojo Recipe:  Begin by thinking about Hope.  Hoping is the best way to get your Mojo flowing. It's really so simple. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, then take two more,  and  begin think about what it is that you Hope for....

A great relationship?

A great career?

Better or perfect health?

A better life?

A better world?  

Allow yourself to feel the Hope for these things. 

Don't worry, you won't jinx it.  It's not possible. 

Just Hope and have fun with it.  Once you feel the Hope flow around what it is that you want, you mood will improve.  As will your perspective.  Life will seem rosier, because it is (so much of life is how you look at it).  And then, you know what? You will start to have your Mojo back -- or you will have it for the first time.  Which ever, it doesn't matter.  As long as you have it.  Mojo is not given to some people and not others, like a genetic trait.  It's a basic recipe.  We all can make it any time we want.  

Please let me know how your Mojo is flowing. 

How to Take the Bupkis out of Valentine's Day

 

Originally posted on February 12th, 2010  Here ye!  Here ye!

OK -- Not that I'm telling you something you don't already know, but Valentine's Day is Sunday.  It seems to be one of those dates on the calendar that more often than not creates more stress than success, because we have been groomed to place pressure on it. We have cultural expectations about what the day should be: Who is giving us what? Who is taking us where?  Then if our expectations aren't met, we feel let down. Of course, we all know Valentine’s Day is a fairly commercial venture. After all, St. Valentine was brutally martyred in Rome for his Christian beliefs.  "So how did we go from that, to flowers and candy?" she asked, rhetorically.  Just to be clear, I am not against Valentine’s Day, I just think we would benefit from some redirection.

I remember back in Middle School, someone had the bright idea to sell carnations on Valentine's Day as a fundraiser.  The concept was that  students could "send" flowers to each other via their respective homerooms with a little note attached: "To Debbie, From Tommy."   At first I didn't got any carnations and it was a bummer.  It was like a public badge of rejection, because the whole school sees who is carting around pink carnations and who is not.  Then my friend and I decided to crack the system.  We sent carnations to each other in secret (on this go-around they were green for St. Patrick's Day).  It felt  great to have that goofy green flower even if it was a pre-orchestrated ruse.  It was still a sign of public acceptance.  “Phew! It looks like someone likes me!”

Looking back, I can't believe that I placed so much stock in something so trivial, but when you're 13,  I guess it's a relatively good problem to have (it means you can occupy yourself with social silliness, because you are healthy, loved, housed, and fed) so for this, I am grateful. 

In 9th grade, my very first boyfriend made me this really dark, edgy Valentine card with purple paint splashed on it and burnt edges.  We weren't Punks, but it was --  and I loved it.  As an adult, there were some Valentine's Days that were nice (I got beautiful roses) and some that were a bust, replete with bupkis.  These days, my husband and I don't really acknowledge V. Day with any consistency, probably because our anniversary is on New Year's Eve, which was only six weeks ago.

There are some very sweet traditions around Valentine's Day (homemade cards for one), but we must remember that it doesn't signify love anymore than any other day, even though Gary Marshall is about to release a whole movie about just this idea, this weekend.  Jessica Biel and Jamie Foxx spending Valentine's Day alone? I don’t think so.

Let's take the romance out of the day and remember how many people we just plain love -- our family and our friends --  instead of wondering who loves us ("Where is my G.D. bouquet from 1-800-FLOWERS??"). 

This is a healthy way to redirect the intention of St. Valentine's Day.  When we give love, we get love.  It's has simple as that.  And when we Love, we Hope, because Love and Hope are intertwined soul sisters  -- carnations or no carnations. 

So I'll start... I love you, you nice people!  Happy Valentine's Day!  

Now who do you love? 

Please go tell them.  
 

Hope, Hair, & The Urban Dictionary

Originally posted on February 5th, 2010

Last week was Doppelganger week on Facebook. It was fun to see what everyone came up with.  My husband put up a picture of Daniel Day-Lewis but called it "Daniel Day-Deluded."


I really couldn't decide who my doppel was  because no one has told me that I looked like anyone in a looooong time.  Twenty years ago when I was modeling, I was told I looked like Stephanie Seymour.  This was during her pre-Axl Rose, pre-boob-job era, when she was a mere starlet in the modeling world.  Of course, I was flattered.

Later, I worked in Paris and a hairdresser colored my long brown hair into a flaming red for a French morning TV show.  Then I started to get a pre-Stallone Angie Everhart comparisons.  After modeling I got into acting for a spell.  I cut my long hair to a bob length and had gone a little blond.  Then I was told by that I looked like Jodie Foster.  I was also flattered by this because we all know what a brilliant bad-ass Jodie is.  Finally, I have collected enough anecdotal evidence at this point to make the claim that people go by hair 90% of the time, because I don't think that anyone has ever mistaken Angie for Jodie or visa versa.  My husband told me that I don't look like any of these fine ladies, but he couldn't offer a better suggestion, so in frustration, I decided to skip the whole exercise.

The doppel thing has started to blow over on facebook and now it's all about looking up your name in urbandictionary.com and putting the definition as your status update.  I looked up "Alix" and the definition wasn't bad, but I feel too self-conscious to post it because it uses Paris Hilton-style adjectives that I would never use.  I decided to look up other family member's names and when I put in my daughter's name, it didn't come up as a definition du nom.  That's, I suppose, because her name is Hope.  Here's what the first urbandictionary definition for "Hope" is and it was submitted by someone who calls themselves Smizzoach.

"Something that idiotic angsty teens don't believe in. Take off the eyeliner, wash your hair and chin up you whiny bitches. What the hell is so bad about hope? So what if you don't get what you want? Life isn't about handouts..."

Smizz's Funny Example:

"Dear Diary,
My dad says he won't be getting me an iPod today. I've lost all hope, I wish I was dead. Now I'm going all goth poser on his ass. I hate my life! Now I'm going to listen to my crappy Simple Plan CD's because my dad won't get me an iPod!"

My Hope is only ten.  She's not angsty, etc. yet, though she does want an iPod.  I tell her she’s not ready, because she’s not. Maybe when she can keep track of her glasses for more than a day, then she can handle a sensitive Apple product.

The #2 definition of Hope on Urbandictionary.com is: “Mankind’s greatest weakness and greatest strength. Hope gave James the power to go on; but it would not let him admit defeat.” This was posted by someone called evovove.

While Smizz's definition is cracking-wise, evovove's is a more poetic definition.  It depicts Hope as a classical paradox of humankind.  We hope for what we fear will will never get.

If I were to submit a definition for Hope to urbandictionary.com, it would go something like: "Is Hope a wish?  A promise? An empty promise? A longing? A pining? A dreaming? A desire? An expectation? A sucker's bet? The center of a chump sandwich? A feeling?  A guarantee? A virtue? No. It is none of these things.  Hope is a vibration akin to unconditional Love.
Smizzflood's example:

If you have ever loved anyone or anything unconditionally, I mean truly loved them without judgment and with total acceptance, then you have also tasted what hope really  is."
OK, this isn't very urban.  Maybe I should submit it to urbanedictionary.com instead. My point is that Hope needs a big upgrade in our language and in our hearts and minds in order for it to really work for us.

Until next time...

Peace out, Smizz!

Hope on The Jersey Shore

Originally posted on January 29th, 2010

I have always been a bit of a pop culture junkie -- despite the fact that I know I'm never going to get the hours back that I have spent watching The Real Housewives of Wherever and all umpteen "cycles" of America's Next Top Model.  Pop culcha has ballooned over the last ten years, primarily due the Reality TV medium.  Long gone are the quaint days of Survivor's editors pixilating Rich Hatch's behind or the plucky cast of The Real World London looking in vain for a bottle of ranch salad dressing in Islington.

We now live in a world of Reality TV overload and we must pick and choose what (and who) we want to spend time with.  Are you going to go Dancing With The Stars? Or hang around for The Bachelor's Rose Ceremony?  Big Brother? No thanks. I can't deal with the lighting.  I do love the Emmy-winning  The Amazing Race, which I liken to the Masterpiece Theater of Reality TV.  As many choices as we have, we can't do it all, nor should we. There has been so much buzz in the media about the kids from the new MTV hit, Jersey Shore, that I felt I had better school myself just to be in the loop.

CUT TO: "Record Jersey Shore Entire Series First Run and Repeats MTV only" on my DVR.

With their Rizzo-esque nicknames and bulletproof hair, the self-described "guidos" and "guidettes" (derogatory words I thought -- seriously -- had all but vanished from our vernacular), seem like relatively nice kids. Sure, they may be a little rough around the edges, but that has its charm.

When Mike, The Situation & Co. head out into the night to "party" (a noun that never really should have become a verb)  to roam the clubs and bars as the Seaside Heights Rat-So-So Pack -- lookout!  There is drinking and fighting and tanning and hot tubbing and creeping and cheating and drama -- oh the list goes on and on, with often unintentionally hilarious results.  With their ever mounting NJ-'N-Gomorrah-style antics, the mother in me was starting to get concerned for these kids.  Part of me wanted to put Snookie in my pocket and save her from herself after her first obliterated night in the house. Then later, when she was punched in the face -- the face! -- by an dangerously inebriated Frankenstien's monster in bad kaki shorts, I wanted to rush to her side.  Poor "Snickerz!"

You may be wondering, what could this possibly have to do with Hope?  Well, it's simple. A pop culture phenomenon like this tends to divide viewers into into two groups:  True Fans (those who want to be like the cast, are like the cast, or admire the cast even if they aren't like the cast) and The Passersby Set.   This group may think the cast is all kinds of things: funny, ridiculous, didn't think they made them like this anymore, uneducated, tough, amusing, dumb, and so on.  It is the second group who will be likely to dismiss the cast for anyone of these reasons.

Here's the thing -- dismission is an inverse form of judgment.  Judgment and Hope (in it's purest form) can not coexist, because when we dismiss anyone or anything, we are essentially giving up Hope on them.  When we give up Hope, even in a  seemingly trivial way, then we may be too quick to give up Hope on things that really matter in our lives in the long run.  This may sound like a stretch, but as I see it, it's the day-to-day practice of Hope that builds our foundation for when we really need it.  Therefore, it's important to look for the glimmers of Hope in even the most unexpected of places. It has been my experience that there is wisdom, even little bits of it, to be gleaned everywhere, even on Reality TV.  When Ronnie comforts Snookie after her assault, he says sweetly with his Bronx accent, putting it only as he could, "I love you.  Do you hear me? I love you. We are like a f***ing family now." 

This is a Hopeful moment, albeit in the midst of unconscious youthful debauchery, but it's still meaningful. It shows us that how much you may think you have things or people sized up, Hope peeks in to show you otherwise.  And where there is Hope, there is a light... even if it is dimmed by the glare of The Situation's well-oiled twelve-pack. 

Introducing "A Flood of Hope"... And Me

 Originally posted on January 20th, 2010

My name is Alexandra Hope Flood.  Everyone calls me Alix (like Alex, but with an "i").  Welcome to my blog, "A Flood of Hope."  The title, as you can see, is a play on my name.  It is also how I feel and what I would like to share.

I have been a professional writer for fifteen years.  I have written about many topics for magazines and the web (from pop culture, to music, humor, interviews, and reviews).  I was a staff writer for MTV.com during the dawn of TRL -- it was also the dawn of the web (ah the dial-up days).  Before, during, and after my time at MTV, I began to write screenplays in my spare time.  The first script I wrote, I actually co-wrote with my mother, who is also a professional writer.  It's a comedy loosely based on our experiences of moving to Brooklyn together after the death of my father when I was 25.  A few years later, ever hopeful, I wrote, co-produced, and directed a feature-length comedy,  A Totally Minor Motion Picture, about a lovable accountant in small town who hasn't abandoned his dream of being a independent filmmaker. Currently, I am working on a book about living with a light perspective. 


As you may have now discerned, throughout my career I have always been drawn to lighter subjects.  Or if the subject itself isn't light (like the fallout from the death of my father), I am compelled to find the light in it.  Using the example of  first script, I took my personal loss and created a story with a hopeful outcome.  I have long known that I am built for Hope (capitalized lovingly herein for effect), but I only recently realized what a huge theme Hope is in my work and my life. It finally hit me that what I needed to write about was actually my nomenclature mandate.  Hence "A Flood of Hope" was sparked.

I would not say that delving into Hope is always an easy task during these times -- the gut-wrenching catastrophe in Haiti sucks Hope to the mouth of a metaphoric Hell where it struggles to hang on.  Here, we struggle to hang on too.  Even if we are thousands of miles away from this horrific and heartbreaking tragedy, we are tested.  We may wonder, "In the midst of such abject devastation, will Hope ever return?"

The beauty of Hope is that it may wobble, but it never completely waivers.  Miraculously, life shows us again and again that the heart can break -- yet hold onto Hope simultaneously.  When our eyes and minds are filled with grief, Hope patiently hangs around the back door waiting to be invited back inside.  Hope may seemingly step back during these difficult experiences, but it never truly departs us. 
This is what I believe we must endeavor to remember. 

I look forward to venturing further into Hope in future posts very soon.  Until then, thank you for reading! 

   

    "The Gates" by Christo, Central Park, NYC, 2005. 

The Power of Hope!

Greetings Fellow Hopefuls!

I still find myself wishing people a Happy New Year, but since we're on day 13 already I'm thinking it's probably time to start winding it down -- don't want to be out of touch -- like still blithely wishing you a "Happy New Year!" on Valentine's Day in CVS as I saunter to the check-out with a giant heart-shaped box of Russell-Stovers under my arm.  Since there is no official date that dictates when the New Year is no longer "New" -- we're kind of on our own.

We're on our own with quite a few things in life.  Some little, like the aforementioned example.  Some big, like the meaning of Life and what it all means.  While it is not my goal to tackle such a huge question here,  I would like to address the meaning of "Hope." 

The meaning of "Hope" has long been open to interpretation.  Is Hope a wish?  A promise? An empty promise? A longing? A pining? A dreaming? A desire? An expectation? A sucker's bet? The center of a chump sandwich? A feeling?  A guarantee? A virtue?

Often times, Hope seems as if it's subjective.  It's as if we took the aphorism "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and substituted Hope and ended up with "Hope is in the mind of the hoper."  This is how Hope is commonly regarded -- relative to the individual.  In fact, I'm a little surprised we don't already go around saying, "You know what they say Fella, 'hope is in the mind of the hoper,'" as we whittle away our corn-cob pipes.

This is the great misconception about Hope.  This is also great news.  Hope is not a thought.  Hope is not a feeling.  Hope is much more.

Hope is a vibration.

Vibration is energy.  Energy is power.  Therefore,  Hope is a power, or a current, that we can easily access.  Just was we plug in our cell phone chargers, we can plug into Hope.

For blog-friendly brevity's sake, please tune-in next week when I will explain how easy it is to access the power of Hope everyday.  

Until then...

Hope be With You!

Love,

Alexandra Hope Flood







"The Gates" by Christo, Central Park, NYC, 2005.  

A Flood of Global Hope for You in 2010

Happy New Year Fellow Hopefuls!

On the Christian calender, today is the Epiphany (also known as Twelfth Night or Little Christmas), the day the Three Kings arrived in Bethlehem to visit Baby Jesus and present him with their gifts. It is a magical day.

Personally speaking, this is a magical day for me and my family because my son Henry was born on this day -- eight years ago.  Needless to say he is really excited about turning eight.  While no gold, myrrh, or frankincense will be exchanged today (more like a Wii-related gift and a science kit), it will be special for us nonetheless.  Henry has brought so much light into our lives since his birth, his presence has been a great gift to us.  In turn, our daughter Hope, who turned ten last August, has been a tremendous source of joy.  She has also been a powerful teacher for me and I am truly grateful for all of the lessons we have learned together thus far.  I am continually honored to be my children's mother... and their student.

As you can no doubt tell,  I powerfully love my children.

In keeping with this theme, it is my hope for 2010 that everyone in the world, because I don't believe in exclusion, has a small epiphany: 

Every parent loves their children just as much as every other parent does. Even if you're not a parent, you have parents and they love you profoundly. Either way, we all fit in to this equation. Opening our hearts and minds to this simple truth (and reminding ourselves of it daily) will result in a critical shift that will raise global consciousness.  This shift will go a long way toward healing the world.

Every soldier is some parent's child.  My hope is to end war.

Every refugee is some parent's child.  My hope is to end political persecution.

Every casualty is some parent's child.  My hope is to end violence.

Every starving or sick person is some parent's child.  My hope is to end illness and hunger.

Every impoverished person is some parent's child.  My hope is to end poverty.   

Every person who doesn't share our religious views, politics, or morals is some parent's child. My hope is to create boundless compassion and acceptance of our fellow beings here on Earth.

My dream for the New Year is to usher in a new age of compassion and mutual understanding that begins to heal the world in an expedient fashion.

It all begins with us.

Please join me!

In Love and Hope,

Alexandra Hope Flood

Hope and Henry, 2008.  Bunny Ears? We'll call it a Peace Sign.