Why CaptCliff Makes Peace Pipes

Posted on November 4, 2014 by captaincliff
Kabuki Pipe
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The Peace Pipe and the Therapist
I first began making peace pipes as a part-time hobby sometime in the 90’s. Actually I dont quite remember anymore. It’s been so long and memory fades. Initially I was interested in the idea of the Native-American peace pipe, its use in sacred rituals as well as its visual and symbolic representation as a “peace offering”. As a result much of my pipe art has a “tribal” or primitive look. I later began giving away some of my handcrafted pipes as birthday gifts to certain friends and occasionally random other people either as “retro looking” smoking devices or as unique home decor/display items. My friends’ enthusiasm for my art encouraged me to improve upon my coarse 8th grade Edgewood Junior High School woodworking skills and I began to create more elaborate pipes and pipe stands made from colorful “found objects” and sustainable materials including bamboo from my backyard.

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Exactly why I give a certain pipe, pipe stand or sacred container/box to someone is not always clear to me. If I know the person’s favorite animal, spirit animal or animal “totem” then it’s a no-brainer. Other times it’s just part of some unspoken creative or spiritual process that seems to have developed and underlies my pipe fetish/hobby. While often tongue-in-cheek and consistent with my super sarcastic personality I also consider my pipes to be a semi-serious and sacred form of healing art. Therefore the recipients of each pipe are the chosen “holders” of the energy (both male and female) imbued in each pipe and I like to believe they connect me to their new owners in some positive and/or heart-centered way.

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As a creative process (a bit like “free association” in psychotherapy and psychoanalysis) I just let the pipe-making “come” to me as I make them. I listen to what my inner voice (who I sometimes refer to as my “Picasso Pooh” aspect of self) has to say about the pipe I’m working on and the manner in which I choose to “adorn” it. I usually know if it is coming out right by how the process flows and what materials seem to want to be included (versus what falls off much to my frustration and OCD-ish dismay). If I find myself struggling to make something work, it probably isn’t right. Either way I often end up with alot of glue, paint, and bits of fabric on my hands and finger nails by the end of the day….It’s not a good look unless you happen to work at Cirque du Soleil.

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In Kabbalah it says we “give by receiving” and we “receive by giving”. By giving someone something unique, “special” and meaningful I also receive something positive from the pipes “receiver”especially if they choose to think of it in the same kind of way. At the very same time I think of myself as enriching and improving my connection to God…one peace pipe at a time. I believe there are over 400 of them at the last counting. Dont judge me. The deeper meaning or personal significance that each pipe represents is sort of the metaphysical cherry on top. While the act of smoking with my pipes is optional (sort of like nudity at the right designated beach) they can also be used as purely symbolic elements in a personal ceremony or ritual like a wedding, a divorce or a funeral or just as a potent visual representation of something unusually important.

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Spiritually speaking, I believe we are here on Earth in this confusing, conflict-ridden and complicated world not just to survive, amass wealth and compete with one another for survival but rather to explore the “art of living” through increased compassion, greater love, more forgiveness and if possible radical transcendent understanding. Sometimes such lofty objectives are easier said than done. Marriage vows, for example, speak of a lifelong mutual commitment to love, cherish and “be there” for our chosen mate. At times, however, we forget and fail to keep such a sensible and fundamental agreement. My peace pipes are therefore also meant as an everpresent reminder to give and seek forgiveness and to remain present (mindful) and focused on our own goals and individual core values. Just as we are free to choose a profession or life path filled with meaning, inspiration and creativity, we can also choose the kind of art, music, and mythology to use in our personal healing, recovery, and continual growth.

Cliff Mazer, Ph.D.

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CaptCliff on The Ghost and Mrs Muir Woods

Posted on October 29, 2014 by captaincliff

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Sometimes ones very best days are also their worst. It may have something to do with that annoying “dialectic” in life that really smart people and Zen Buddhists talk about. You know what I’m talking about. It’s the whole “light and dark”, “good and evil”, “two sides of the coin” opposites attract thing. Here’s a recent example.


Picture me in Paradise on a 10-day vacation, otherwise known as being in San Francisco, California. I’ve already stuffed myself to the brim with the “perfect” sushi meal in Japantown, the perfect dim sum in Chinatown, the perfect butter croissant in Berkeley, and a frothy near perfect Cappuccino in North Beach that by rights should make every Starbucks barista in the world turn in their apron and espresso machine and admit defeat. Thus I am riding a wave of peak number “10” culinary experiences and synchronicity that also included creating impossible-to-get parking spaces near the Ferry Building at the Embarcadero and controlling the weather. The sun is shining and the temperature is 73 degrees unless I chose it otherwise. The success of the San Francisco Giants in the World Series was possibly another small example of a baseball team riding my self-centered tsunami wave of good vibes, good food and “high-end” manifesting of the very best there is in the Bay area. Dont get me started about legal pot in California either as it was easier to score good weed in SF than it was in Colorado where they direct airport buses in Denver right to their ubiquitous medical dispensaries and sophisticated cannabis-based economic infrastructure. In contrast, we walked to Haight-Ashbury and before I could pass the McDonalds on Stanyan Street and Haight Street I was already hooked up by a business-minded hippie named Steve who was not only highly efficient but also didn’t require a picture ID or phony baloney medical card.

Anyway, picture me and the gf sallying forth one day to beautiful Muir Woods in Marin County to commune with nature and the giant Sequoia trees. It’s a perfect day…as usual. We then decided to take a 3-4 mile hike on the “Ocean View” Trail. The idea was to have an amazingly gorgeous yet reasonable little trek through the forest floor and then experience the majesty of the Pacific Ocean trailhead as we emerged triumphant into the sun-drenched eucalyptis-scented hills above Mill Valley. Of course thousands of other out-of-shape tourists do this every single day there so what could possibly go wrong?  Short Answer: My prostate gland.
Here’s what happened in a nutshell:  After 2 miles we both had to pee really bad.  After 3 miles we were both doing that squish-your-legs-together thing. At 3.5 miles I gave into temptation and decided to take a surreptitious whiz off-trail by carefully spacing myself between the Japanese couple behind us and the South American family of five far ahead. The plan involved using my gf as bait and primary “lookout”. My simple instructions to her were as follows: “Fall back to within sight of the Japanese and when I yell “GO” observe their progress and ONLY yell if they are coming around the bend. Keep in mind that my 60+ year old bladder was by this time more swollen and engorged than the Goodyear blimp seen flying over San Francisco’s AT&T Stadium. Fortunately, my pee-plan went flawlessly…until it didn’t and basically blew up just like the Hindenburg.  EXACTLY mid-pee, which every beer drinking man on the planet knows is the legendary “point of no return”, I heard a scream/guttural cry in the distance and immediately knew that meant there were “strangers in our midst” aka Asian tourists approaching near to my “mist”, so to speak. There was nothing I could do but accept the consequences of polyuria-interruptus. At that point I lost complete bladder control and ended up wetting my Docker safari shorts like an incontinent octogenarian or feral Siberian wolf-child. Dont believe me? You think I jest? Just check out the photos above. I know…..ewww.

Epilogue:   When the Japanese couple failed to materialize as expected I yelled back to my girlfriend, “What the hell happened? Where are the Japanese?”
She: “I dont know they sort of disappeared. Maybe they were ghosts.”
Me: “Then why the hell did you scream!?”
She: “Oh, that was a mistake. I just tripped on something while I was cropping a photo on my cellphone”. Riiiiiiight……….
Note to Self:  Come up with better safe words and nuclear pee codes….even in Paradise
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CaptCliff on Thieves of Bagdad Themepark

Posted on October 12, 2014 by captaincliff

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Masters of decapitation and Hollywood-style marketing, ISIS, the marauding band of black-clad Jihadists are said to be in high level talks with Disney execs regarding plans to partner in a one-of-a-kind theme park joint venture near Bagdad. Negotiations continue while ISIL troops mass on the outskirts of the Holy city and deploy heavy artillery and mortar fire. The theme park is tentatively to be called “Jaffar: Bad-Ass Thieves of Bagdad”. Sales and marketing teams hired by the highly ambitious terrorist group have conducted numerous surveys and focus groups just prior to burning and beheading dozens of Kurdish militiamen, Syrian clerics and human rights workers.  Social media has also been utilized to identify the features target consumers associate with “Radical Islam”, “religious zealotry”, “ritual slaughter” and “evil incarnate”. So far a general vision for the entertainment facility involves an IMAX theater-sized depiction of ISIS brigades rising out of the desert sand to destroy the three-headed dragon of Capitalism, Zionism, and Obama.

ISIS reps and Disney production staff claim to be “100% committed to a full-scale digital domain and action arena”; one that will serve the comprehensive needs of their radicalized brethren and the many demented European tourists who will predictably romanticize brooding terrorists. Such grand Disney-esque aspirations not only inspire great fear and trembling among it’s imperialistic enemies but also considerable anticipation and excitement in young and impressionable schoolchildren as full-scale mock-ups of hand-to-hand urban fighting, mass killings, live beheadings and regularly scheduled raping and pillaging of secularized women is likely.  While still in the planning stages, a slew of Hollywood actors, agents, directors and social media specialists have already applied for information regarding future job openings. One applicant who wished to remain anonymous commented, “At first I wasn’t used to the core competency application questions like, “Have you ruthlessly and violently killed anyone before?” and “How often have you personally carved the turkey at Thanksgiving?”, but once I got the hang of what they were looking for it wasn’t so bad.”

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How ISIS and Ebola are changing the kind of questions that Americans are asking…..

Posted on October 9, 2014 by captaincliff

Falling-Water

Is it true that ISIS and the growing Ebola health crisis are actually changing our routine social discourse with one another? Could our culture be significantly affected in a way that eclipses even 9/11 or Pearl Harbor? I wonder if this one random example from an online forum might help illustrate how fear and uncertainty certainly do influence and impact the kind of choices we make and the places we choose to travel.

Dear OnlineArchitect, I was wondering whether the upper cantilevered deck at Fallingwater could handle the additional weight of a 50 caliber gun mount taking into account additional load factors such as ammunition, gun crew (average weight 170 lbs), and vertical as well as horizontal recoil? I’m also thinking of using two 10 ft long 8″ by 8″ horizontal i-beams sitting on four additional RC columns resting on pad footings. I’ve heard that Frank Lloyd Wright sort of fudged the structural engineering data just to keep the aesthetics in keeping with his architectural vision but the sight of projectile vomiting Ebola zombies and ISIS brigades wading Bear Run creek in my direction makes me think I’m wiser to risk some major cracks in the hydraulic cement by dynamiting the reservoir upstream, jack hammering rifle and RPG ports straight through the stucco walls and blowing them all to Hell. Looking forward to your reply.   Thanks, Pennsylvania Guy

Dear Pennsylvania Guy,  It’s difficult to answer this question without knowing the material density of the reinforced concrete that Mr. Wright used. Some say it is 24kn/m3 but others argue it is only 23.56kn/m3. Either way you are a dead man if the virus goes airborne and/or if ISIS’s sleeper cells in Pittsburgh go active. Blowing up a historical monument designed by a real American hero like Frank Lloyd Wright would be high on their priority list and it wouldn’t take much to breach the waterfall at Bear Run as well as the west Terrace at Fallingwater which is heavily exposed not just to the elements, ie. mold and mildew, but to virus-infected American citizens and crazed Jihadists with tanks and serrated carving knives. I suggest you consult a licensed structural engineer and wire the entire building with C4 plastic explosive just in case. At least take a bunch of the crazy bastards with you!
Best of Luck, OnlineArchitect
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Livin’ in the USA…with Ebola

Posted on October 1, 2014 by captaincliff

Some of you may have heard that the first non-isolated case of Ebola virus has been identified in Texas. Maybe you were too busy buying up shares of Alibaba, purposely bending your new iPhone6, or trying to outrun the rash of storms devastating both coastlines. It’s hard to concentrate with the polar ice caps melting and displaced species like wolves and bears wandering through gated communities looking for garbage and small pets to feed on. I know I’ve been distracted by ISIS and all the beheadings taking place in the Mideast and Oklahoma. It’s beginning to look like the backroom wall at Party City and early Halloween in Iraq with all the freakish heads propped on fenceposts and scattered in front of nicely tended public parks and government buildings.

Meanwhile, ISIL, the rag-tag group of homicidal Jihadists are apparently already on the outskirts of Baghdad with future plans to invade London, Paris, Atlanta and Detroit.  They can have Detroit but I really wish they would spare Atlanta and take Augusta instead. The place smells like a perpetual garbage dump and has only two existing weather patterns…driving rain and magma hot/humid. As a doctor of Psychology I feel it is my duty to inform the public, maintain calm, and attempt to preserve order in the midst of all this COMPLETE AND UTTER CHAOS!! Taking in a deep mindful cleansing breath and letting it out slowly I am suggesting at this point in time that we all….Run for our lives!! Save Yourself before it’s too late!! Leave the sick and injured, it’s too late for them!!

Ok, I’m just kidding. Seriously, there is no reason to panic (yet). Both the President and the CDC told us that Ebola is “very unlikely” to show up or spread to the United States and that “careful measures” have been taken to protect the American public.  Of course this is the same President who has a cadre of “dedicated and determined” Secret Service around him who it appears are dedicated and determined to KILL HIM or at least allow any lunatic within a stone (or shoe) throw of the Oval office to gut him like a fish with a rusty pocket knife and/or blow up the First Family by hopping a fence and sprinting like a rabid deer into the White House unmolested. Yes, I realize that today they are reporting another security “incident” at the CDC (of all places) where the Secret Service allowed a “disturbed man” on the elevator with the POTUS who happened to be “acting funny” and carrying a gun. At least it wasn’t a Bowie knife and a vial of Ebola……. Can you say “Grassy knoll”?


Let me end by describing simply what we can all do in the current state of madness and mass paranoia. There is no need to freak out. I’m going to show you how life with Ebola will not substantially change anything. I also have several photo illustrations below that appeal to our basic psychological need to “think positive”,”visualize the future” and “just know” we will be ok. Consider this a kind of subliminal survival slide-show that will helps us all to adjust to the “new normal” that is life with Ebola in 2014. I actually hate that term “new normal” and wish whoever invented this particular lame-ass meme starts bleeding from every orifice. Ok now,  just relax and look at these color photos being careful to read the accompanying captions.
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The good news: No need for clothing. Everyone will wear Hazmat suits that circulate a mixture of Lysol, ammonia, and Bacitracin mist around your entire body 24/7. CPAP wearers can plug their machines into the extra intake opening. Another plus, evacuate anytime you please.

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Normal routines like cooking and sharing meals in the kitchen remain the same. Of course the refrigerator will need to be retrofitted with bank vault apparatus and Outbreak sterile chambers to prevent fatal contagion. I still recommend LG over Subzero or GE. Blending all meals including steak, ribs, and buttermilk pancakes into a puree mash so that they can slip seamlessly into the suit’s “stoma bag” will be, let’s just say “different” but hey, you can still maintain your “Paleo diet”!

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Shopping for the family is virtually unchanged. American ingenuity allows family traditions like taking college-bound kids to Ikea to go on as always. Here is IKEA’s prototype dormitory bunk bed called “Ebola-kklatu-barata-niktu”. It’s a beauty and the chance of infections (STDs or Ebola) is almost nil.   Good luck trying to put it together.

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Wondering about me? Will I continue to see clients and provide patients with supportive psychotherapy and empathic regard? Of course I will but only after they are fully strapped into this “safety” harness to prevent them from spitting on me or somehow transferring their infectious bodily fluids onto my new berber carpet or white noise machine. To be honest if their eyes start to roll (or go “zombie”) or their ears begin to bleed its going to be a much shorter session than 50 minutes and the last thing they will “remember” from their dream is the barrel of my shotgun pressed against their temple…..

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Designer Vaginas and Other Medical Innovations

Posted on June 17, 2014 by captaincliff

humanheadmouseearvaginatoy 

We live in exciting times.  According to several mad scientists we are on the cusp of a new era in plastic surgery and surgical reconstruction. Cutting edge research in the use of stem cells and organ transplantation has taken us to the pinnacle of regenerative medicine demonstrated by our ability to now grow vaginas in special laboratories and then custom fit them to whoever is first in line to buy a new vajayjay. Unlike the cheap plastic imitations at your local sex shop, these flesh and blood hoo-hoos actually work and can even menstruate, which may or may not represent much added value. Let’s not think about the colorful cast of characters that will camp out in front of Costco when they start stocking shelves with three-packs of female genitalia. Sure your old school brain might explode at the very thought, but by then they’ll also have replacement heads on aisle 3. I’m sure the price point will be steep at first, but once we get the 3D laser printers rocking the human organ supply chain like aftermarket auto parts, prices will come down and no doubt lead to Target and CVS brand vulvas on sale for Valentines Day.
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Personally, I will probably wait for the Groupon deal mostly because I’m certain my Obamacare health plan wont cover a new penis or private parts of any kind. Anybody got a creative name for a replacement vagina? Too bad “Hot Pockets” is already taken.

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Addendum: Well my 3D printing of female genitalia prediction didn’t take too long to come true. A Japanese artist (see web article) is already squatting, scanning and pushing the print button. Unfortunately in Japan that got her arrested. Oddly all the Japanese men who oogle and molest young girls on the trains and buses there go unpunished. I guess it has something to do with discretion and modesty …and sexism. http://techcrunch.com/2014/07/15/tokyo-based-artist-arrested-for-3d-printing-her-vagina/?cps=gravity

 

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On God and Queen Esther (Megan)

Posted on June 16, 2014 by captaincliff

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So the youngest smart-mouth son Benjamin’s fiance Megan converted to Judaism this past weekend. She did it quietly and gracefully and without much fanfare. She took her ritual mikvah dunking in the synagogue in Augusta, Georgia and emerged not just ritually clean but spiritually pure and forever joined to a religious faith that is thousands of years old. She also picked up a new Hebrew name in the process. Megan is now also Esther. Not to honk my own horn people, but that’s two out of two brand new Women of Valor for the Tribe (see earlier blog about Eli’s fiance Ashley who is now also Leah). With so many Jews today assimilating or no longer remaining meaningfully connected to their Jewish heritage and religious identity, shouldn’t I get some kind of special “badge” or gold pin for raising sons who know how to find beautiful and smart shiksas and lead them joyfully into the bosom of Abraham? In addition, the mixing of fresh DNA into the Mazer family gene pool (one hopefully not teeming with Ashkenazi related ADHD, mental illness and motion sickness) is a noteworthy secondary perk. Anyway, such momentous events often lead to philosophical and/or cosmological reflection. That means some of us just cant help but ponder the big picture and what all “this” means.

Last time I published Ashley’s written response to why she chose Judaism as her identified faith. This time I am posting Benjamin’s thoughtful response to a very religious friend who was assertive enough to ask him a challenging yet quite appropriate question about his concept of God. I thought it was a pretty damn good answer for a 24 year old (soon to be 25) punk-kid med student. Here it is:


A close friend asked me “What does it mean to be a Jew who doesn’t believe in a personal God?” Here is what I responded to her:
It means that I don’t believe in a God who has a consciousness, emotions, a will, or who makes choices or interferes with trivial happenings on Earth. On the other hand, I believe that the incredible complexity and uniformity of the universe (in the sense that the laws of physics are uniformly obeyed) is so amazingly beautiful that there must be “something” that’s behind it all. That “something” is certainly well beyond our understanding, but it cannot be something that operates like a feeble-minded living creature (because it simply doesn’t make sense to think that something “all-knowing” and powerful enough to create everything would also experience anger, guilt, happiness, joy, or any other distinctly human emotion). Rather, that “something” is the source of everything; It is the creator or everything, the maintainer of everything, the “force” that percolates the universe, gives matter its mass, electrons their charge, space/time its dimensions, and ultimately, humans their conscious experience of their lives with all the emotions that go along with that. And one might say “well, that’s all great if you believe that, but what does that have to do with Judaism?” Well, I would argue that Judaism is not a source of absolute knowledge, but rather, it’s a mutual identity (and the history that comes along with it) and an agreement between its adherents. It’s a “contract of agreement” on basic ideals and principles, namely, basic morals and respect (i.e. treat other people the way you would like to be treated), the goal of Tikun Olam (healing the “broken” world), emphasis on questioning/challenging/discussing/disagreeing, and strong encouragement of the constant pursuit of knowledge and learning. It’s also an ongoing “forum” for discussion of controversial topics and areas where the lines may be blurred. It’s a way to access many different perspectives from people that you can at least somewhat trust because of their professed agreement with those basic ideals and morals that I mentioned. And here’s where the identity and history part come in; the benefit is that those discussions have been going on for thousands of years among the Jewish people, and because of that, by being a Jew today we have access to a much larger number of thoughtful perspectives (and even ones from different time periods that have evolved along with society). By discussing, amending, and adhering to those ideals over centuries, that’s how I think we are accomplishing Tikun Olam. It’s a way to show respect for that cryptic yet powerful “something” that created and established everything by saying “I, as a human, am thankful for my ability to experience life and so I will participate in trying to make the world a better place so that future generations are able to experience the beauty of the tumultuous battle of emotions and experiences that is human life (and hopefully tip those experiences ever so slowly towards the more positive side- as evidenced by the fact that today we can live full lives with illnesses that 1000 years ago would have caused us to suffer and die).”
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How I Spoiled My New Dog and Turned Her Into a JAPP (Jewish American Puppy Princess)

Posted on June 13, 2014 by captaincliff

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As a Clinical Psychologist and marriage therapist you get to see and deal with all kinds of interesting family problems and relationship issues. Early in my career I saw a young Jewish couple who claimed their biggest problem was conflict over what kind of dog food to feed their Schnauzer Skippy. I helped them to negotiate their dietary differences but thought to myself at the time, “is that really such a big deal?” Well, apparently it is for some people. Now almost thirty years later I can better appreciate how our pet problems often mirror and reflect issues we struggle with as individuals and as parents. Let’s face it. When people refer to their dogs, cats, and squawking parrots as “family members” they really mean it. So Ok, that’s my professional side taIking…. Personally, I’m a prime example of “do as I say and not as I do” and if you dont believe me just ask any of my three twenty-something sons, their lovely girlfriends or their five cohabiting canines. By outing myself as a case study in “doggie donts”  I’m taking a conscious, albeit self-deprecating step in the direction of what I usually encourage my clients to do, to aspire toward total transparency and emotional honesty right down to the well, “bone”. Here’s my dog story:

 Recently I added a black labrador pup to my empty nest. Everybody who knows me gave me the following explicit warning: “Dont turn your new puppy into a spoiled brat or food whore”, they said. ‘Dont give her human food scraps. She will be just fine with dry dog food”. Even my little sister in Colorado opined, “You’re not a Jewish mother. You’re a dog owner. Try to remember that.” Of course I nodded…with mock sincerity. I know what I’m doing, I thought. I’ve got a Ph.D. I have taken grad school courses in animal behavior and cognition. However, maybe they felt obliged to tell me this for a good reason. One of my former dogs, Lucy the dachshund waddled like a failed contestant on Biggest Loser and looked more like a stuffed sausage or rump roast from Kroger than something that was bred to hunt badgers. Hana, my Scottish Terrier and co-therapist in San Francisco would go out at nite and successfully beg Italian meatballs off the kitchen staff at the pizza place next door. I had to retire her from active duty in my private practice due to her non-stop farting during my psychotherapy sessions. Worse yet was Huck the Chow puppy who went rogue during an Epstein School carpool pick-up, attacking all of the kids in the back of my Chevy Suburban for their leftover Lunchables and kashrut school snacks. I’ve never seen a small dog lock onto a juice box before (or since) and then refuse to let go even as it was being beaten senseless with a Ninja Turtle backpack. I wont elaborate any further other then to mention the time Simon the ill-tempered mini dachshund levitated using some unknown form of yoga or extraterrestrial technology and deftly nabbed a humongous filet mignon off a dining room table. The point is I probably should have known better after all these years of dog ownership. Did I mention that I specialize in eating disorders?
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After I got Harmony the Black Lab from the Labrador Rescue people, I easily rationalized giving her small bits of string cheese and an occasional bite of Black Forest Ham due to her emaciated physical condition. She was a true rescue dog barely rescued from a kill shelter in Alabama. I dont know why but Alabama is like the canine equivalent of Auschwitz. Dogs disappear there in droves and are never seen again. So, I felt immediately sorry for Harmony and I didn’t listen to reason. Now I know better. Her sweetness and gentle nature belies her supreme cunning. I already detailed on my Facebook page the incident several weeks ago in which she stole my chicken breast from Publix, took it upstairs to one of my kids bedroom, ravaged it like a ferocious she-wolf and then hid the remains under a dresser by pushing it with her nose. I know this for a fact because I saw it with my own eyes and could hardly believe it. I guess in retrospect I was still in deep new dog owner denial. By the way, Harmony lies about her food crimes like a seasoned psychopath. Her soft eyes, cocked head and happy slightly-drooling smile show absolutely no sign of the conduct disorder and character issues lurking within. I want to believe her. I really do. But then this just happened today. Around dinner time I fed Harmony her “dog food only” meal. Then I decided to grill myself some turkey burgers on the barbie. I thought I heard her sigh when I put down her food bowl full of Iams Premium dry bits. The quick furtive glance she gave me seemed to say, “Um, what’s this?” or “Hey, how about some rotisserie chicken or lamb gravy, baby?” Of course I wrote it off as just my imagination or free-floating Jewish guilt. I proceeded to season my turkey patties and flame-broiled them to perfection. Unfortunately, when they were done i put them on a large serving platter on my granite kitchen counter thinking to myself, “I need to keep in mind this dog is no mini dachshund. Sure, she has those long beautiful Labrador legs and amazing sense of smell but surely she could NEVER get up THIS high to nab these burgers while I go plug in my cell phone upstairs…right?” Again, Harmony looked at me with her radiant angelic face and seemed to say, “Certainly not!”  Well, guess what.  Two or three minutes later I heard a big crash and when I yelled her name and screamed, “What was that?!” (as if she would answer me…duh), all I saw was a black blur as she went bounding out of the kitchen area while smacking her lips. By the time I got there all that was left was a broken plate from Target. The pound and a half of grilled turkey burgers was gone like a bad magic trick. I didnt even get a T-shirt. Now i dont know if I will ever trust her again. I would say I feel violated but I know alot of this is my fault as I clearly enabled her doggie narcissism, inappropriate sense of entitlement, and foodie-like sensibilities.
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Maybe I should  go to a 12-step program but I dont know which one is best suited to dog owners who spoil their pets rotten and then pay the price in poo and pooches who are unusually picky eaters. Hell, with all the garlic powder, Monterrey steak seasoning, and liquid smoke I put on those turkeyburgers I’ll be lucky if I dont end up scrubbing carpets all nite. Perhaps I should just consider it a valuable life lesson and act of penance regarding helicopter parenting a new puppy. Still, I’m crazy about her and hope she enjoys the seasonal tasting menu and food pairing experience I’m currently working on for her….

Cliff Mazer, Ph.D. is a Clinical Psychologist and eating disorders specialist living and working in Sandy Springs, Georgia.  Contact: 404-932-7193

 

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On Blue Dogs and Warm Hearts

Posted on June 4, 2014 by captaincliff

bluedog 


“George (Rodrigue) said the reason the Blue Dog enjoyed such popularity was because everyone could see something different, something uniquely personal in the flashing yellow eyes of the ubiquitous canine. He later revealed in one of his books…..that the Blue Dog and the artist had somehow become one. In life, the model for the Blue Dog was his beloved pet Tiffany, who patiently sat by his side while he painted. In his art, Tiffany (since departed) and George were on an artistic journey together, traveling through time and space. They made quite a pair.”   (Clancy Dubos, Farewell, Blue Dog Man)


.I notice my blogs of late have been almost exclusively dog and cat related. Is this because I have become a social media lemming and sucker for cute animal videos?  I dont think so. More likely its because as modern living gets more complicated and stressful there is an even greater need for simple pleasures and interests that stimulate our heart chakra and cause our blood pressure to go down rather than up for a change. Also, our pets dont live as long as we do, unless you happen to own a Galapagos tortoise or have an oak tree named Fido in your backyard. As a result, our individual experience and family life are marked by distinct time periods that we often associate with our beloved pets growing up. As we continue to learn, grow and age, so do our dogs, cats, ferrets and parrots. These loyal loving creatures bear “witness” to our relatively brief time on Earth and they are crazy about us regardless of our wrinkles, epic failures, and inevitable flaws. 
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The quote in the first paragraph above was from an article about George Rodrigue, the artist who became famous for painting the Blue Dog. Originally I felt annoyed that somebody could get wealthy just by painting simplistic and/or derivative art that somehow attracts the attention of people with money but no taste….sort of like Thomas Kinkade and his “light-filled landscape” shopping mall shlock. Hey, if anybody deserves to be perceived (mistakenly)  as a famous cultural innovator and iconic “artiste” by drawing blue, green or yellow dogs on canvas I think it should have been me. However, I have to admit there was something endearing about the Blue Dog. I figured at least Rodrigue never called himself a “Great Master” or pretended to be painting the Mona Lisa over and over. It was what it was… a strangely hypnotic blue dog. I would perhaps call it a kind of “mini-icon” and a visual “meme” of sorts, one well before many other self-replicating cultural concepts became de rigueur.
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However, from a different dog or cat lovers perspective the Blue Dog represents something more important and maybe even somewhat profound. We humans, the so-called “masters” of our beloved pets do have a certain responsibility to be good stewards to all forms of life that depend on us. When someone abuses an animal it violates our deep rooted social values and our instinctively protective parenting reflexes. These are fundamental parts of being human. Good parents generally (but not always) make good people and visa versa. Furthermore, unlike many people, our pets arent very shy about giving and receiving love. Wagging tails, sloppy kisses, and full body licks after we step out of the bath or shower, while not always hygienically recommended, are extremely emotionally validating. In other words, our pets make us feel good and are great company even when we dont feel so great. While we struggle to learn and train ourselves to be more body-centered, more mindful, more empathic, and more compassionate, our dogs and cats seem to do it all already without even breaking a sweat. As a result, love, respect and caring for our animals is not just a vague intellectual concept, a bible verse in Genesis, or a trending topic on Reddit.  Rather, they describe human traits that help to define our humanity and what it means to be “humane”. We are closer to being our best selves and reaching our highest potential when we remember to return the favor and “bear witness” to our wonderful pets and their remarkable capacity to love us unconditionally. It is something we never ever forget and just the kind of fond memories that open up our too often closed hearts  while also bringing bittersweet tears to our eyes…particularly when they pass away.
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As the article above stated, George Rodrigue died several years ago, only to be met on the other side by Tiffany, his blue muse with the large expressive yellow eyes. In the end, we are all unique….and yet really the same. Inventors or artists, accountants or soldiers, we are no better and no worse than our furry friends. We live. We love. We die. So do they. At the very least we can choose to travel that long winding road together and take the journey called life with an open heart and full appreciation for our closest comrades, the ones with four legs and a waggity tail.

 

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Harmony the Spoiled Brat

Posted on May 31, 2014 by captaincliff

 
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As a Clinical Psychologist and marriage therapist you get to see and deal with all kinds of interesting family problems and relationship issues. Early in my career I saw a young Jewish couple who claimed their biggest problem was conflict over what kind of dog food to feed their Schnauzer Skippy. I helped them to negotiate their dietary differences but thought to myself at the time, “is that really such a big deal?” Well, apparently it is for some people and now almost thirty years later I can better appreciate how our pet problems often mirror and reflect issues we struggle with as individuals and as parents of human beings. Let’s face it. When people refer to their dogs, cats, and squawking parrots as “family members” they really mean it. So Ok, that’s my professional side taIking…. Personally, I’m a prime example of “do as I say and not as I do” and if you dont believe me just ask any of my three twenty-something sons, their lovely girlfriends or their five cohabiting canines. By outing myself as a case study in “doggie donts”  I’m taking a conscious, albeit self-deprecating step in the direction of what I usually encourage my clients to do, to aspire toward total transparency and emotional honesty right down to the well, “bone”. Here’s my dog story:

 Recently I added a black labrador to my empty nest. Everybody who knows me gave me the following explicit warning: “Dont turn your new dog into a spoiled brat or food whore”, they said. ‘Dont give her human food scraps. She will be just fine with dry dog food”. Even my little sister in Colorado opined, “You’re not a Jewish mother. You’re a dog owner. Try to remember that.” Of course I nodded…with mock sincerity. I know what I’m doing, I thought. I’ve got a Ph.D. However, maybe they felt obliged to tell me this for a good reason. One of my former dogs, Lucy the dachshund waddled like a failed contestant on Biggest Loser and looked more like a stuffed sausage or Kroger rump roast than something that was bred to hunt badgers. Hana, my Scottish Terrier and co-therapist in San Francisco would go out at nite and beg Italian meatballs off the kitchen staff at the pizza place next door. I had to retire her from active duty in my private practice due to her non-stop farting during my psychotherapy sessions. Worse yet was Huck the Chow puppy who went rogue during an Epstein School carpool pick-up, attacking all of the kids in the back of the Chevy Suburban for their leftover Lunchables and kashrut school snacks. I’ve never seen a small dog lock onto a juice box before (or since) and then refuse to let go even as it was being beaten senseless with a Ninja Turtle backpack. I wont elaborate any further other then to mention the time Simon the sneaky and ill-tempered mini-dachshund levitated using some unknown form of yoga or extraterrestrial technology and deftly nabbed a humongous filet mignon off a dining room table. The point is I probably should have known better after all these years of dog ownership. Did I mention that I specialize in eating disorders?
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After I got Harmony the Black Lab from the Labrador Rescue people, I easily rationalized giving her small bits of string cheese and an occasional bite of Black Forest Ham due to her emaciated physical condition. She was a true rescue dog barely rescued from a kill shelter in Alabama. I dont know why but Alabama is like the canine equivalent of Auschwitz. Dogs disappear there in droves and are never seen again. So, I felt immediately sorry for Harmony and I didn’t listen to reason. Now I know better. Her sweetness and gentle nature belies her supreme cunning. I already detailed on my Facebook page the incident several weeks ago in which she stole my chicken breast from Publix, took it upstairs to one of my kids bedroom, ravaged it like a ferocious she-wolf and then hid the remains under a dresser by pushing it with her nose. I know this for a fact because I saw it with my own eyes and could hardly believe it. I guess in retrospect I was still in deep new dog owner denial. By the way, Harmony lies about her food crimes like a seasoned psychopath. Her soft eyes, cocked head and happy slightly-drooling smile show absolutely no sign of the conduct disorder and character issues lurking within. I want to believe her. I really do. But then this just happened today. Around dinner time I fed Harmony her “dog food only” meal. Then I decided to grill myself some turkey burgers on the barbie. I thought I heard her sigh when I put down her food bowl full of Iams Premium dry bits. The quick furtive glance she gave me seemed to say, “Um, what’s this?” or “Hey, how about some rotisserie chicken or lamb gravy, baby?” Of course I wrote it off as just my imagination or free-floating Jewish guilt. I proceeded to season my turkey patties and flame-broiled them to perfection. Unfortunately, when they were done i put them on a large serving platter on my granite kitchen counter thinking to myself, “I need to keep in mind this dog is no dachshund. Sure, she has those long beautiful Labrador legs and amazing sense of smell but surely she could NEVER get up THIS high to nab these burgers while I go plug in my cell phone upstairs…right?” Again, Harmony looked at me with her radiant angelic face and seemed to say, “Certainly not!”  Well, guess what.  Two or three minutes later I heard a big crash and when I yelled her name and screamed, “What was that?!” (as if she would answer me…duh), all I saw was a black blur as she went bounding out of the kitchen area while smacking her lips. By the time I got there all that was left was a broken plate from Target. The pound and a half of grilled turkey burgers was gone like a bad magic trick. I didnt even get a T-shirt. Now i dont know if I will ever trust her again. I would say I feel violated but I know alot of this is my fault as I clearly enabled her doggie narcissism, inappropriate sense of entitlement, and foodie-like sensibility. Maybe I should  go to a 12-step program but I dont know which one is best suited to dog owners who spoil their pets rotten and then pay the price in poo and pooches who are unusually picky eaters. Hell, with all the garlic powder, Monterrey steak seasoning, and liquid smoke I put on those burgers I’ll be lucky if I dont end up scrubbing carpets all nite. Perhaps I should just consider it a valuable life lesson or act of penance regarding helicopter parenting a new puppy. Still, I’m crazy about her and hope she likes the seasonal tasting menu and food pairing experience I’m currently working on for her….
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