Last night we awoke to the next door neighbor's dog barking madly - which was highly unusual because he's normally very quiet. His barking set Simon barking, and after about 20 minutes of nonstop cacophony, Andy decided to go out and investigate just in case something was wrong (our neighbor was hurt, Buddy was stuck in the fence, someone was lurking outside, etc.).
Andy went down and quickly came back in, telling me that Buddy was barking at a very wee stray kitten and he wasn't sure what to do. I grabbed a towel and we headed back outside. There crouched between the tree and the fence was a wee, grey, impossibly tiny kitten who was hissing and growling with all her might, trying to look fierce and dangerous.
With Donna's help, we got the kitten out of the yard and Buddy safely inside, and the kitty then darted under the cars in our driveway (scared out of her mind and extremely wary of the two huge creatures talking to her in musical voices, refusing to leave her alone).
We decided to put out a small bit of milk (a very small bit because I know it's not so good for kitties), some water, and a bit of food to see if she might eat a bit. She timidly ventured forward and drank some milk before disappearing back under the far end of the car.
Thinking she might eat more if we were absent, we left a folded towel for her to sleep on and headed back inside to get some rest ourselves, as by this time it was midnight.
Of course, in the morning she was gone, and although I bought some actual kitty food today in the hopes she might return, there has been no sign of her tonight.
Even though we could not have kept her (Simon would freak out, and Andy is severely allergic), we felt very responsible for her and desperately wanted to find a way to keep her safe, fed, and cared for. We were hoping to get her feeling comfortable enough with us to help find her a good home, but she was probably so traumatized by her ordeal of being shouted at in doggy speak that it will be a while before she settles down.
I hope she's safe, wherever she might be, and that she is guided to a good home where she will be taken care of with love and kindness. May the next path she crosses lead her to safety.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Thoughts on Words (and words for thoughts)
I am praying for the people of Cuba.
I am praying for the people of New Orleans.
I am hoping the city stays safe, stays dry, stays livable
in the wake of yet another storm...
too close on the heels of the first.
I read an article today in the UUA magazine (UU World) written by UUA President, William Sinkford, entitled "Our Calling." There was a section of the article wherein he called on Unitarian Universalitsts to be as accepting of and open to Christian ideologies, rituals, beliefs, and semantics as UUs tend to be with religions such as Buddhism, Judaism, and Native American spirituality.
As someone who grew up in a very non-religious household and who tends to cringe when I hear the word "Jesus" invoked in prayer, I took his message to heart and have chewed on it, pondered over it, and let it roll around my gut for a good part of the day.
His point, or one of them, was that - at its core - one of the most important messages of Christianity (love they neighbor as thyself) is also a basic tenant within the convenent of the UU faith and its seven principles. The UU commitment to advocating for others, seeking justice and equity, respecting all people and honoring the divine and sacred in everyone around us is quite connected to the Christian concept of treating others as you would wish to be treated, honoring the "God" - the power, the oneness, the whateveryouwishtocallit - that connects and binds us all.
And so... no matter what words one might use, I imagine we all pray for the safety of those in the path of danger. Our blessings, compassion, and love are expressed in a multitude of ways - but within them is the common seed of acknowledged humanity and interconnection, and the fervent hope that no one may suffer needlessly.
For the in the celebration and protection of one, is the triumph and salvation of many.
I am praying for the people of New Orleans.
I am hoping the city stays safe, stays dry, stays livable
in the wake of yet another storm...
too close on the heels of the first.
I read an article today in the UUA magazine (UU World) written by UUA President, William Sinkford, entitled "Our Calling." There was a section of the article wherein he called on Unitarian Universalitsts to be as accepting of and open to Christian ideologies, rituals, beliefs, and semantics as UUs tend to be with religions such as Buddhism, Judaism, and Native American spirituality.
As someone who grew up in a very non-religious household and who tends to cringe when I hear the word "Jesus" invoked in prayer, I took his message to heart and have chewed on it, pondered over it, and let it roll around my gut for a good part of the day.
His point, or one of them, was that - at its core - one of the most important messages of Christianity (love they neighbor as thyself) is also a basic tenant within the convenent of the UU faith and its seven principles. The UU commitment to advocating for others, seeking justice and equity, respecting all people and honoring the divine and sacred in everyone around us is quite connected to the Christian concept of treating others as you would wish to be treated, honoring the "God" - the power, the oneness, the whateveryouwishtocallit - that connects and binds us all.
And so... no matter what words one might use, I imagine we all pray for the safety of those in the path of danger. Our blessings, compassion, and love are expressed in a multitude of ways - but within them is the common seed of acknowledged humanity and interconnection, and the fervent hope that no one may suffer needlessly.
For the in the celebration and protection of one, is the triumph and salvation of many.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Some days you get a tiny little gem and it makes everything clear for a brief, still moment...
Today Ari said, "I miss you Mommy" on the phone and then again when I got home. I tell her I miss her all the time, but suddenly is was as if we had a new understanding of one another and an even deeper way to communicate. We miss each other. We can say it, and talk about it, and giggle gleefully at our reunion, relieved the missing can be over for a little while.
I can't tell you entirely why it was such a momentous thing for me to hear. But it made my day... it helped me think - for a moment - we're going to be okay, we're going to make it through this. And that was a tremendous gift at the end of a long day and a trying week.
I am praying for those in the southeastern US and all those in the pathway of Gustav. I never know how to reconcile these moments of happiness when such sadness and tragedy are striking others. I wish I had the power to ensure everyone was going to be okay. That no one would bear injury or sorrow, experience loss or pain, face difficult choices, or feel helpless and frightened.
But then, that is sometimes the stuff of life. And in my own living, I can look back and see (almost always) how those things led to a greater sense of compassion, increased strength, more powerful resilience, or sharper wisdom. But it is all relative, and if I had a choice, I would cover each and every life with safety and peace, so that everyone could sleep soundly at night firm in the belief we will all be okay.
I can't tell you entirely why it was such a momentous thing for me to hear. But it made my day... it helped me think - for a moment - we're going to be okay, we're going to make it through this. And that was a tremendous gift at the end of a long day and a trying week.
I am praying for those in the southeastern US and all those in the pathway of Gustav. I never know how to reconcile these moments of happiness when such sadness and tragedy are striking others. I wish I had the power to ensure everyone was going to be okay. That no one would bear injury or sorrow, experience loss or pain, face difficult choices, or feel helpless and frightened.
But then, that is sometimes the stuff of life. And in my own living, I can look back and see (almost always) how those things led to a greater sense of compassion, increased strength, more powerful resilience, or sharper wisdom. But it is all relative, and if I had a choice, I would cover each and every life with safety and peace, so that everyone could sleep soundly at night firm in the belief we will all be okay.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Still Dreaming...
I must admit I've gotten sucked into the coverage of the DNC convention in Denver. I blame my husband, who is a staunch and nearly-giddy Obama supporter... and a true political nut on top of it. (Hence, the creation of his brainchild, 43 Plays For 43 Presidents... which, oddly enough, is going to be produced at the Actors Theatre of Louisville next month.)
Anyway... I was so inspired and floored by Al Gore's speech tonight (and so surprised and miffed at the lack of conversation about it among the pundits covering the convention on CNN) that I had to make it today's joy.
Now, mind you, it is tempered with sadness (all over again) about the outcome of the 2000 election... and anger at how the results were bungled and, one might say, unfairly and somewhat questionably coerced to proclaim Bush the winner... along with a deep regret that this man - this brilliant, passionate, dedicated statesman - will never be our president. (And, by the way, for a stunning bit of deja vu, check out the details of the Tilden-Hayes contest.)
BUT... it was a stunning speech and it brought me great hope and happiness to hear it. I know some people think he's a crackpot, and some people think global warming is a fallacy, but I think the naysayers are in for a bumpy ride over the next 4-5 years or so. But hey - maybe I'm wrong. I certainly hope so.
All I can say is: Yay Gore! You rock my world. (And you rocked the house tonight.)
Anyway... I was so inspired and floored by Al Gore's speech tonight (and so surprised and miffed at the lack of conversation about it among the pundits covering the convention on CNN) that I had to make it today's joy.
Now, mind you, it is tempered with sadness (all over again) about the outcome of the 2000 election... and anger at how the results were bungled and, one might say, unfairly and somewhat questionably coerced to proclaim Bush the winner... along with a deep regret that this man - this brilliant, passionate, dedicated statesman - will never be our president. (And, by the way, for a stunning bit of deja vu, check out the details of the Tilden-Hayes contest.)
BUT... it was a stunning speech and it brought me great hope and happiness to hear it. I know some people think he's a crackpot, and some people think global warming is a fallacy, but I think the naysayers are in for a bumpy ride over the next 4-5 years or so. But hey - maybe I'm wrong. I certainly hope so.
All I can say is: Yay Gore! You rock my world. (And you rocked the house tonight.)
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
loss
On my way home from school today I heard a story on NPR about civilian casualities during a strike led by the U.S. in Afghanistan. Apparently, the U.N. believes there is evidence to support the strike killed at least 90 civilians, approximately 60 of whom were children.
The attack took place during a memorial service, and it seems that faulty intelligence led to the unfortunate decision to strike that particular spot at that particular moment.
What caught me and has hung around my heart since hearing the original story was the experience of one of the men from that area. He is a member of the Afghan police force and was out on duty at the time of attack. He came home to find all of his children and wife dead. And he is now planning to quit the police force, unsure what to do with himself, as he carries with him a scrap of the dress his daughter was wearing on the day she died.
I know such mistakes are not intentional on the part of our country or those serving in Afghanistan (or Iraq)... but I can also understand the despair, and rage, and urge to retaliate when so much is lost in a single, misguided act. How difficult it must be to find forgiveness; how hard not to vilify or cry out against.
It has always struck me how war necessitates dehumanization of the enemy... and yet, in its wake, we are inevitably inundated with the inhumanity of violence, the frailty of our humanness, and the frightening presence of our mortality.
The attack took place during a memorial service, and it seems that faulty intelligence led to the unfortunate decision to strike that particular spot at that particular moment.
What caught me and has hung around my heart since hearing the original story was the experience of one of the men from that area. He is a member of the Afghan police force and was out on duty at the time of attack. He came home to find all of his children and wife dead. And he is now planning to quit the police force, unsure what to do with himself, as he carries with him a scrap of the dress his daughter was wearing on the day she died.
I know such mistakes are not intentional on the part of our country or those serving in Afghanistan (or Iraq)... but I can also understand the despair, and rage, and urge to retaliate when so much is lost in a single, misguided act. How difficult it must be to find forgiveness; how hard not to vilify or cry out against.
It has always struck me how war necessitates dehumanization of the enemy... and yet, in its wake, we are inevitably inundated with the inhumanity of violence, the frailty of our humanness, and the frightening presence of our mortality.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Decoupage and the Modern Family
Andy and I were talking today about our current conundrum about where to live, what to do for work, how to make everything happen smoothly, where to raise Ari and what type of environment would be best for her, etc. We feel awash with possibilities and hard choices, and ultimately we have begun to realize how stuck we are because - ultimately - we do not know what it is we want. We have no clear sense of our priorities.
And... I am beginning to wonder if this essentially means we are unaware of how we believe we make meaning of our lives. Unclear on what gives us purpose and what we wish to create in the long term. Because, if we don't know those things, we have no idea what things to fight for and hold onto, versus what things we can compromise or throw away.
So. Here we are. Blessed in so many ways and lucky because there have been many good things that have happened over the last several years. But also feeling somewhat lost and still trying to determine our next several steps because we are unsure what to emphasize or focus on in our pursuit of both present and future.
I think we both have a belief that other people do no seem to struggle as much with this kind of angst or confusion. We look around and see people who don't vacillate as much; don't change their minds as often; don't seem to be as deeply sad or adrift; don't seem to worry about it or obsess over it as long.
But perhaps that is an illusion. Sometimes it's hard to know how much of your drama you are responsible for... and also whether or not you are writing a narrative for those around you that is simply not true.
I suppose fabrication can be a positive or negative thing. We can fabricate in a way that takes us further from the truth - further from authenticity or real-ness. Or we can fabricate in a way that is creative and productive... where we seem to will opportunities into being and fashion a life out of random events or happy luck.
Right now we're trying to figure out what it is we wish that final picture to look like. You'd think we'd have figured it out by now... but I suppose we are slow bloomers in some ways.
And... I am beginning to wonder if this essentially means we are unaware of how we believe we make meaning of our lives. Unclear on what gives us purpose and what we wish to create in the long term. Because, if we don't know those things, we have no idea what things to fight for and hold onto, versus what things we can compromise or throw away.
So. Here we are. Blessed in so many ways and lucky because there have been many good things that have happened over the last several years. But also feeling somewhat lost and still trying to determine our next several steps because we are unsure what to emphasize or focus on in our pursuit of both present and future.
I think we both have a belief that other people do no seem to struggle as much with this kind of angst or confusion. We look around and see people who don't vacillate as much; don't change their minds as often; don't seem to be as deeply sad or adrift; don't seem to worry about it or obsess over it as long.
But perhaps that is an illusion. Sometimes it's hard to know how much of your drama you are responsible for... and also whether or not you are writing a narrative for those around you that is simply not true.
I suppose fabrication can be a positive or negative thing. We can fabricate in a way that takes us further from the truth - further from authenticity or real-ness. Or we can fabricate in a way that is creative and productive... where we seem to will opportunities into being and fashion a life out of random events or happy luck.
Right now we're trying to figure out what it is we wish that final picture to look like. You'd think we'd have figured it out by now... but I suppose we are slow bloomers in some ways.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Poem for Boo-Bean
One little smile and
all the sorrows of
a bad day melt away,
dropping like juice
onto the couch
as little feet dance
in an excited homecoming.
Mommy mommy
(chanting happily)
and more kisses than
my heart can possibly
process... her face lit
up with absolute joy.
Be present; be here.
My little imp,
my circus star,
my silly little monkey:
You are a shining truth
in days of light and dark.
My path gratefully entwined
with yours forever.
all the sorrows of
a bad day melt away,
dropping like juice
onto the couch
as little feet dance
in an excited homecoming.
Mommy mommy
(chanting happily)
and more kisses than
my heart can possibly
process... her face lit
up with absolute joy.
Be present; be here.
My little imp,
my circus star,
my silly little monkey:
You are a shining truth
in days of light and dark.
My path gratefully entwined
with yours forever.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Something Rotten....
I am finding it slightly unnerving being inundated with election coverage all atwitter about the approaching conventions, while simultaneously hearing news of suicide bombings and violence in Iraq and Afghanistan every day.
Sometimes the discussions seem disjointed - as if the priority or emphasis of focus has been misplaced. CNN pundits blather on with sound checks in the background while the only discussion of 24 dead and over 29 wounded occurs in a brief snippet on NPR before heading into Irish music for the nighttime playlist.
Perhaps I'm just grumpy. Or maybe I'm not making use of the best news sources. Or maybe things really are out of sync... distorted by distance and demoted in importance because it's easier than feeling truly afraid.
Sometimes the discussions seem disjointed - as if the priority or emphasis of focus has been misplaced. CNN pundits blather on with sound checks in the background while the only discussion of 24 dead and over 29 wounded occurs in a brief snippet on NPR before heading into Irish music for the nighttime playlist.
Perhaps I'm just grumpy. Or maybe I'm not making use of the best news sources. Or maybe things really are out of sync... distorted by distance and demoted in importance because it's easier than feeling truly afraid.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Good Fair
We went to the DuQuoin State Fair today with our friend Becky (who Ari has dubbed Beck-Beck), and all had a great time... though I seem to be a little affected by the huge amounts of sun we got today.
There were these crazy bungee things at the Fair that Ari really wanted to do, and the people running the area were nice and let us go in even though she didn't quite meet the age requirement (they were mostly worried she would be afraid or would not want to be handled by strangers).
"Will she be scared?" Um... no. She LOVED it. So much so that when they said it was time to go and they unhooked her, she walked to the next one over, expecting to be able to do that one as well. Unfortunately, Mommy and Daddy did not do a good job prepping her for the fact the "ride" was ending, nor in explaining they only had enough money for one ride. That it's not like the park, where you can switch swings as much as you want and play as long as you want... but that when they said time was up... that would mean it was time to leave.
So... we had a balling little girl who had just moments prior been a brave little circus performer. And since naptime was near, we decided to head home. Maybe we'll try again another time and bring more ride money - with better prep explanations of what to expect and how it all works.
But, between that and the petting zoo, we had a very good time. Animals and circus tricks; what could be better?
There were these crazy bungee things at the Fair that Ari really wanted to do, and the people running the area were nice and let us go in even though she didn't quite meet the age requirement (they were mostly worried she would be afraid or would not want to be handled by strangers).
"Will she be scared?" Um... no. She LOVED it. So much so that when they said it was time to go and they unhooked her, she walked to the next one over, expecting to be able to do that one as well. Unfortunately, Mommy and Daddy did not do a good job prepping her for the fact the "ride" was ending, nor in explaining they only had enough money for one ride. That it's not like the park, where you can switch swings as much as you want and play as long as you want... but that when they said time was up... that would mean it was time to leave.
So... we had a balling little girl who had just moments prior been a brave little circus performer. And since naptime was near, we decided to head home. Maybe we'll try again another time and bring more ride money - with better prep explanations of what to expect and how it all works.
But, between that and the petting zoo, we had a very good time. Animals and circus tricks; what could be better?
Friday, August 22, 2008
Being There
One of the funny things about marriage is how things shift over time... how the relationship moves along like a river and is never static. The emotions, understandings, known elements, unknown elements, etc. between me and Andy have changed considerably during the course of our marriage. I think it's one of the little gifts you get by linking yourself to another person for a lifetime - you can always be surprised... your knowledge of and appreciation for the other person continues to increase each day.
Andy did something today that provided one such moment wherein my concept of him expanded and my love and appreciation for him was magnified. We were at the mall in Marion with Ari to see the puppies and kitties there. On the way back out, we stopped to ride the little mall rides outside the food court.
We only had enough money for one ride, and Ari immediately decided she wanted to ride the horse, which surprised me because the ice cream truck has always been her absolute #1 favorite. I kept explaining the 1 ride principal and asking if she was sure this was the one she wanted, convinced she was going to be disappointed when it was over. But Andy assured me she knew what she was doing - that they had been playing a game together lately when she rode the horse.
The ride started up, and Andy began a full-on pantomime routine running alongside the horse. He would pretend to trip and fall. Surge ahead gleefully and then fall behind ruefully. Grab the ropes and insist he was going to steal the horse, only to lose his grip or struggle to keep up. Ari giggled and laughed the whole time, and my husband - who is generally somewhat shy when out in public and often experiences social anxiety around strangers - invested fully in what could easily be called a brilliant clowning routine... created solely for the joy of his daughter.
It was beautiful, moving, generous, amazingly loving, and full of delightful playfulness. My gratitude for my husband soared, and my perception of him realigned to include all the new discoveries of an unexpected moment in the middle of a mall.
Andy did something today that provided one such moment wherein my concept of him expanded and my love and appreciation for him was magnified. We were at the mall in Marion with Ari to see the puppies and kitties there. On the way back out, we stopped to ride the little mall rides outside the food court.
We only had enough money for one ride, and Ari immediately decided she wanted to ride the horse, which surprised me because the ice cream truck has always been her absolute #1 favorite. I kept explaining the 1 ride principal and asking if she was sure this was the one she wanted, convinced she was going to be disappointed when it was over. But Andy assured me she knew what she was doing - that they had been playing a game together lately when she rode the horse.
The ride started up, and Andy began a full-on pantomime routine running alongside the horse. He would pretend to trip and fall. Surge ahead gleefully and then fall behind ruefully. Grab the ropes and insist he was going to steal the horse, only to lose his grip or struggle to keep up. Ari giggled and laughed the whole time, and my husband - who is generally somewhat shy when out in public and often experiences social anxiety around strangers - invested fully in what could easily be called a brilliant clowning routine... created solely for the joy of his daughter.
It was beautiful, moving, generous, amazingly loving, and full of delightful playfulness. My gratitude for my husband soared, and my perception of him realigned to include all the new discoveries of an unexpected moment in the middle of a mall.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Stuck
I heard about today's school shooting right before sitting down to write this evening. I have sat in front of the computer for an hour now, trying to decide how to write a response... but I keep feeling that every sentiment I want to express or question I wish to ask fails as I attempt to put it down.
Working in a high school now has heightened my sensitivity to such news stories, although as a school counselor in training, they have always stood out to me and tend to feel like a punch in the stomach. Or bricks in the chest. Or something sort of stifling and painful with a hint of deep sadness and fluttering anxiety.
All the questions that run through my head surely run through yours as well. It is difficult to make sense out of violence. Keep the people of Knoxville in your prayers. This has been a tragic month for the city.
Working in a high school now has heightened my sensitivity to such news stories, although as a school counselor in training, they have always stood out to me and tend to feel like a punch in the stomach. Or bricks in the chest. Or something sort of stifling and painful with a hint of deep sadness and fluttering anxiety.
All the questions that run through my head surely run through yours as well. It is difficult to make sense out of violence. Keep the people of Knoxville in your prayers. This has been a tragic month for the city.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Balancing Act for the Physical Realm
Today I put on a pair of pants I had purchased for work at the beginning of the summer... and they were laughably large on me. They looked downright silly, but I wore them anyway because I don't have that many options (and I felt too lazy to change).
It made me quite happy, though, to have such tangible evidence that I have indeed been losing weight. And this is where my inner dilemma begins, because - after all - shouldn't I be able to be happy with whatever body I might have?
It's quite a dichotomy we face, particularly in Western society. We are told to love ourselves and embrace our bodies, but we are also shown images nonstop of sometimes frighteningly thin people with shiny, thick heads of hair and hairless bodies (male and female), with this airbrushed, body-as-career kind of "ideal" that is not at all realistic for the average, everyday man or woman.
Simultaneously, we're also bombarded lately with health information and doctors' admonishments to lose weight, eat healthy, and exercise. Mind you, this is a much more positive and constructive message... but it can sometimes conflict with the embrace thyself mantra one supposedly must be chanting in order to fully accomplish self-love and establish self-esteem.
So... where is the middle way, as the Buddhists might say? Perhaps a healthy blend of self-acceptance mixed with a happy and conscious decision to make changes based not upon others' expectations or ideals, but upon our own concept of who we are - or wish to be.
The idea of change, growth, evolution, or enlightenment exists in nearly every religion or spiritual practice out there. Although it is often applied within a spiritual context, why not also consider the ramifications for a similar journey via mental, emotional, or even physical aspects of self?
If such a thing is possible, and the notion of reaching toward a divine realization of self has a ring of truth to it... then perhaps what I am striving toward is a balance between the body that is mine in its truest form, and my ability to love and accept myself at each point along my path toward physical equilibrium.
Such a process could allow each step to be one of increasing joy, and might enable me to see the journey as something positive and beneficial, rather than a fight or struggle through which I become battered, discouraged, or frustrated.
It is easy to think of such things on a successful day - when the scale has gone down, the pants are loose, and the engagement ring long packed away is extremely close to fitting again. The challenge will be responding with the same sort of acceptance and enjoyment on days where the results differ from my expected and dearly wanted outcomes.
It made me quite happy, though, to have such tangible evidence that I have indeed been losing weight. And this is where my inner dilemma begins, because - after all - shouldn't I be able to be happy with whatever body I might have?
It's quite a dichotomy we face, particularly in Western society. We are told to love ourselves and embrace our bodies, but we are also shown images nonstop of sometimes frighteningly thin people with shiny, thick heads of hair and hairless bodies (male and female), with this airbrushed, body-as-career kind of "ideal" that is not at all realistic for the average, everyday man or woman.
Simultaneously, we're also bombarded lately with health information and doctors' admonishments to lose weight, eat healthy, and exercise. Mind you, this is a much more positive and constructive message... but it can sometimes conflict with the embrace thyself mantra one supposedly must be chanting in order to fully accomplish self-love and establish self-esteem.
So... where is the middle way, as the Buddhists might say? Perhaps a healthy blend of self-acceptance mixed with a happy and conscious decision to make changes based not upon others' expectations or ideals, but upon our own concept of who we are - or wish to be.
The idea of change, growth, evolution, or enlightenment exists in nearly every religion or spiritual practice out there. Although it is often applied within a spiritual context, why not also consider the ramifications for a similar journey via mental, emotional, or even physical aspects of self?
If such a thing is possible, and the notion of reaching toward a divine realization of self has a ring of truth to it... then perhaps what I am striving toward is a balance between the body that is mine in its truest form, and my ability to love and accept myself at each point along my path toward physical equilibrium.
Such a process could allow each step to be one of increasing joy, and might enable me to see the journey as something positive and beneficial, rather than a fight or struggle through which I become battered, discouraged, or frustrated.
It is easy to think of such things on a successful day - when the scale has gone down, the pants are loose, and the engagement ring long packed away is extremely close to fitting again. The challenge will be responding with the same sort of acceptance and enjoyment on days where the results differ from my expected and dearly wanted outcomes.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Simple, Silly
Andy and I were able to sit outside today on our front porch while Ari napped. The weather was lovely, and there was a nice midafternoon breeze to accompany the sunshine, blue sky, and clouds. A perfect day to sit at a little bistro table and watch the world around us.
What struck me about it, aside from what at treat it was to experience, was that my husband was having a hard time staying in the present. He was focused on an important call he has tomorrow and on the latest round of life-altering decisions that have come our way and the myriad possibilities accompanying them.
Now... I can't blame him for being preoccupied. We both have difficulty staying in the now, and we both struggle to let go of a very desperate desire to know what the future holds. We are planners... and worriers... and possibly a little bit neurotic. All of which is open to change, but all of which provides challenges for us as we seek to reform and redefine who we are and evolve into a new phase of living.
It's amazing how such a simple thing as being present in the current moment can present such difficulty for so many of us. Truly letting go of the past and all the emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual baggage that comes with it sounds great on paper but is sometimes hard to put into practice. Eckhart Tolle calls it the pain body; I've also heard it referred to as demons, trauma, sin, emotional or physical memory, etc... so many names.
Similarly, those of us who like to plan and are prone to fretting can sometimes find it hard to stay present in each moment without carrying forth with expectation and imagining how things will unfold. Conducting elaborate conversations and full-on dramas in our head of what will take place in the minutes, hours, days, or months to come.
I think there is probably a fine line between visualization and an obsession with always living in the moment ahead - but that can be a tricky grey area to traverse. One that leaves us always falling forward... trying to catch up with a body that has not yet arrived in the moment we are determined to inhabit.
Today was a gift, wherein I was able, for a small chunk of time, to settle rather comfortably into the present and fully take in the now. It was quite peaceful (a place I'd like to occupy more often), and when it happened, it was kind of funny to me how simple it was to be there. As if the part of me that was finally in sync was chuckling a bit and thinking silly, silly.
What struck me about it, aside from what at treat it was to experience, was that my husband was having a hard time staying in the present. He was focused on an important call he has tomorrow and on the latest round of life-altering decisions that have come our way and the myriad possibilities accompanying them.
Now... I can't blame him for being preoccupied. We both have difficulty staying in the now, and we both struggle to let go of a very desperate desire to know what the future holds. We are planners... and worriers... and possibly a little bit neurotic. All of which is open to change, but all of which provides challenges for us as we seek to reform and redefine who we are and evolve into a new phase of living.
It's amazing how such a simple thing as being present in the current moment can present such difficulty for so many of us. Truly letting go of the past and all the emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual baggage that comes with it sounds great on paper but is sometimes hard to put into practice. Eckhart Tolle calls it the pain body; I've also heard it referred to as demons, trauma, sin, emotional or physical memory, etc... so many names.
Similarly, those of us who like to plan and are prone to fretting can sometimes find it hard to stay present in each moment without carrying forth with expectation and imagining how things will unfold. Conducting elaborate conversations and full-on dramas in our head of what will take place in the minutes, hours, days, or months to come.
I think there is probably a fine line between visualization and an obsession with always living in the moment ahead - but that can be a tricky grey area to traverse. One that leaves us always falling forward... trying to catch up with a body that has not yet arrived in the moment we are determined to inhabit.
Today was a gift, wherein I was able, for a small chunk of time, to settle rather comfortably into the present and fully take in the now. It was quite peaceful (a place I'd like to occupy more often), and when it happened, it was kind of funny to me how simple it was to be there. As if the part of me that was finally in sync was chuckling a bit and thinking silly, silly.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Natural Power
Tropical Storm Fay is on its way to Florida, having already hit the Florida Keys. At least 4 people in the Dominican Republic and 50 in Haiti have been killed, with many more injured and thousands left homeless.
Very bad weather is expected in Florida tomorrow, and it sounds as if the storm may reach hurricane proportions.
It is never easy when potential tragedy starts knocking on your own front door... and with each new natural disaster, I am acutely aware of all the people I know who live in, come from, or still have connections to some particular area of the country.
I believe that sense of community - the one that spans beyond the borders of our own town, city, or state - is very important. It is contained within and is integral to the beginnings of compassion, and such compassion can lead to advocacy on a spiritual and practical level.
Such a sense of connection can also exist on a global level. Embracing community across countries and continents helps to foster both a sense of humility and grandiosity (both in a good sense).
We may realize how small we are... how our lives are but one tiny thread within a rich and intricate tapestry of life across infinite spans of time and space. At the same time, becoming conscious of the interconnectedness of all others with whom we are sharing each moment can expand our sense of self with regard to the mysterious and hotly debated ethereal, potentially divine energy through which we are all common and all joined. That piece of us that mimics all human beings, all things living and alive, allows us to be larger than the "I" of individual experience.
Humble and grand we have the power to remember our greater community and do what we can to aid in the suffering or distress of others. Tiny giants... whose smallest actions can change lives. Remember how powerful you are.
Very bad weather is expected in Florida tomorrow, and it sounds as if the storm may reach hurricane proportions.
It is never easy when potential tragedy starts knocking on your own front door... and with each new natural disaster, I am acutely aware of all the people I know who live in, come from, or still have connections to some particular area of the country.
I believe that sense of community - the one that spans beyond the borders of our own town, city, or state - is very important. It is contained within and is integral to the beginnings of compassion, and such compassion can lead to advocacy on a spiritual and practical level.
Such a sense of connection can also exist on a global level. Embracing community across countries and continents helps to foster both a sense of humility and grandiosity (both in a good sense).
We may realize how small we are... how our lives are but one tiny thread within a rich and intricate tapestry of life across infinite spans of time and space. At the same time, becoming conscious of the interconnectedness of all others with whom we are sharing each moment can expand our sense of self with regard to the mysterious and hotly debated ethereal, potentially divine energy through which we are all common and all joined. That piece of us that mimics all human beings, all things living and alive, allows us to be larger than the "I" of individual experience.
Humble and grand we have the power to remember our greater community and do what we can to aid in the suffering or distress of others. Tiny giants... whose smallest actions can change lives. Remember how powerful you are.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
For the Ladies...
There is nothing like a friend
you can trust with secrets
and talk for hours without
noticing the time
A friend who will tell you
when she thinks you're being
crazy or stupid or courageous
or that you have something to
be proud of and shouldn't forget
There is nothing so inspirational
as a friend who is smarter than you
stronger than you
calmer and braver and more ambitious
than you because she gives you hope
such things are possible and
within your reach as well
To all my ladies who help me survive
who keep me sane
who remind me to be kinder to myself
and to strive for authenticity
those far away and those close by
thank you
thank you
thank you.
you can trust with secrets
and talk for hours without
noticing the time
A friend who will tell you
when she thinks you're being
crazy or stupid or courageous
or that you have something to
be proud of and shouldn't forget
There is nothing so inspirational
as a friend who is smarter than you
stronger than you
calmer and braver and more ambitious
than you because she gives you hope
such things are possible and
within your reach as well
To all my ladies who help me survive
who keep me sane
who remind me to be kinder to myself
and to strive for authenticity
those far away and those close by
thank you
thank you
thank you.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
An Instant Can Change Everything
I was talking to my sister today, who is celebrating her birthday. She just had surgery and everything went very well, which was a great relief. She also just landed a great job, and she and her new baby are both doing very well.
Then she shared some sad news with me. Her godson fell off a boat and drowned. He was going to turn three in a few months. His death has created a rift between his parents, and Lydia is not only mourning his loss, but is also very concerned for her friend (his mother) who is, understandably, devastated.
Ariana is a very willful and independent child. It's something Andy and I love about her, but also something that causes us a lot of stress each day. She is spirited and strong and fast and fearless. This means she often skips around the fringes of danger, and we must be extra vigilant with her because she is not always good at remembering all the little pieces of advice mommy and daddy have shared in the hopes of helping keep her safe and out of trouble. (And she is only 2... so it's not like we really expect her to.)
That said, I can admit that there have been times when my focus on her has lapsed... where I have stopped following her with full attention for a few seconds - and she is suddenly no longer in my line of vision. A split second of realizing I was not keeping track of her... and then she appears, happily involved in something with an unwavering gaze.
Andy and I have been lucky. Our lapses (which I believe every parent has) have never ended in tragedy... those seconds of "Where's Ari?" have never led to any serious danger, hurt, or panic. But sometimes, it is just that... luck.
If you believe in such things, please keep this young boy's family and friends in your prayers. And send him your blessings for peace and love as he transitions into whatever may come after death.
Then she shared some sad news with me. Her godson fell off a boat and drowned. He was going to turn three in a few months. His death has created a rift between his parents, and Lydia is not only mourning his loss, but is also very concerned for her friend (his mother) who is, understandably, devastated.
Ariana is a very willful and independent child. It's something Andy and I love about her, but also something that causes us a lot of stress each day. She is spirited and strong and fast and fearless. This means she often skips around the fringes of danger, and we must be extra vigilant with her because she is not always good at remembering all the little pieces of advice mommy and daddy have shared in the hopes of helping keep her safe and out of trouble. (And she is only 2... so it's not like we really expect her to.)
That said, I can admit that there have been times when my focus on her has lapsed... where I have stopped following her with full attention for a few seconds - and she is suddenly no longer in my line of vision. A split second of realizing I was not keeping track of her... and then she appears, happily involved in something with an unwavering gaze.
Andy and I have been lucky. Our lapses (which I believe every parent has) have never ended in tragedy... those seconds of "Where's Ari?" have never led to any serious danger, hurt, or panic. But sometimes, it is just that... luck.
If you believe in such things, please keep this young boy's family and friends in your prayers. And send him your blessings for peace and love as he transitions into whatever may come after death.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Career Caboom!
My friend Patty recently expressed a sense of confusion over her next steps career-wise, which prompted me to send as many career assessments as I could locate her way and to suggest some good career sights I came across while working at Career Services.
I can very much empathize with where she's at. And I'm not sure the assessments will be of any use... I have taken every single one I can find. And while it has given me a better understanding of the many components that make up (and can be weighed) a career decision... I don't necessarily feel super clear that I have found the absolute right path.
I have begun a placement in a school this week, and it has opened my eyes to a number of aspects of working as a school counselor of which I was previously unaware. Things that may not really fit well with the thing I've determined I want out of a job/career... or that I have decided are priorities right now. (Of course, there are some thing that fit perfectly and are quite exciting and inspirational.)
The bottom line of my career dilemma seems to be: I want more time with my family. I miss my daughter with an ache that is palpable each day. And being away for 7 hours or longer each day simply feels much too long. It's hard on both of us, and we both end up more prone to anger, depression, and a sense of aimlessness.
Maybe that's enmeshment, or maybe it's a very normal place to be within this particular stage of her attachment development and my journey as a mother. I know I have to be doing something... at least some little thing that is mine and is separate. But it doesn't seem to work to have that thing be 40 hours per week... or even 30. Or maybe even 28.
Thus, Andy and I are in a bit of a pickle at present, and I am trying to balance my emotional needs and mental wellbeing with smart decisions and long-range planning to reach something that is ultimately best for all of us.
Some days I am strikingly clear what that is... and others, I feel I flounder horribly and swim through self-doubt, heartache, and discouragement.
My mother suggested I ask my higher self or a higher power for guidance. Similar to praying, I suppose, or meditation, or listening to your inner self... trying to hear that inner voice. I'm not sure that voice or power or whathaveyou is consistent in its messages and decisions. But I will give it a try and aim to find a direction that feels as authentic and positive as possible.
For those of you who may be in a similar state of confusion or vocational implosion... I send out my prayers to you that you are able to find an answer to your own questions and a path that suits you well.
I can very much empathize with where she's at. And I'm not sure the assessments will be of any use... I have taken every single one I can find. And while it has given me a better understanding of the many components that make up (and can be weighed) a career decision... I don't necessarily feel super clear that I have found the absolute right path.
I have begun a placement in a school this week, and it has opened my eyes to a number of aspects of working as a school counselor of which I was previously unaware. Things that may not really fit well with the thing I've determined I want out of a job/career... or that I have decided are priorities right now. (Of course, there are some thing that fit perfectly and are quite exciting and inspirational.)
The bottom line of my career dilemma seems to be: I want more time with my family. I miss my daughter with an ache that is palpable each day. And being away for 7 hours or longer each day simply feels much too long. It's hard on both of us, and we both end up more prone to anger, depression, and a sense of aimlessness.
Maybe that's enmeshment, or maybe it's a very normal place to be within this particular stage of her attachment development and my journey as a mother. I know I have to be doing something... at least some little thing that is mine and is separate. But it doesn't seem to work to have that thing be 40 hours per week... or even 30. Or maybe even 28.
Thus, Andy and I are in a bit of a pickle at present, and I am trying to balance my emotional needs and mental wellbeing with smart decisions and long-range planning to reach something that is ultimately best for all of us.
Some days I am strikingly clear what that is... and others, I feel I flounder horribly and swim through self-doubt, heartache, and discouragement.
My mother suggested I ask my higher self or a higher power for guidance. Similar to praying, I suppose, or meditation, or listening to your inner self... trying to hear that inner voice. I'm not sure that voice or power or whathaveyou is consistent in its messages and decisions. But I will give it a try and aim to find a direction that feels as authentic and positive as possible.
For those of you who may be in a similar state of confusion or vocational implosion... I send out my prayers to you that you are able to find an answer to your own questions and a path that suits you well.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Local Menagerie
Within our daily exercise routine, we have had several instances of coming across animals going about their early-morning business, often in a way that might put them in danger.
We found a turtle in the middle of the road one morning riding along Evergreen on a trip home from the park of the same name. It (I have no idea whether it was male or female) was a sun turtle - not a snapper - and was a long way off from any noticeable water source. We hesitated as to whether to put the turtle on the side of the road toward which he was headed (which looked completely bereft of water), versus the side it had come from (which had scarce but observable water). We opted for the water side, hoping the whole time the turtle would not reprise the trip across the road, thereby again endangering itself.
The week prior, we had seen a family of wild turkeys crossing the road at Giant City State Park. The mother (we assume) crossed first, followed by 8 little ones, with the father (again, a guess) bringing up the rear. They were slow crossers, and we sat in the car at the foot of a hill, continually looking back to see if any cars were approaching and silently urging the turkeys to move faster so as not to endanger our own little family set on doing good and being helpful to the turkey family. They were quite majestic all in all... a rare and special sight.
Today we were surprised to see a mother doe and her fawn along Sycamore... a rather busy thoroughfare even at 6am. The mother bounded across first, luckily missing the cars, and her fawn seemed to get stuck on the same side we were on... wary of crossing and unable to reconnect with his/her mama. We were torn between waiting around in case we might stop any cars not able to see the baby deer before it bounded out... versus moving on in case we were the problem - making the mama and baby feel unduly scared and skittish, creating a scenario in which they were more likely to get hurt. We ended up moving on.
Every encounter with an animal now - particularly those in situations wherein they might get injured or killed - reminds us of a situation back in Chicago that has left us both feeling a bit scarred. We came upon a cat in a parking lot who had been hit by a car. We called animal rescue - who said they'd be there "as soon as they were able" and waited approximately 2 hours, all the while attempting to keep cars away from the cat and ensure no unobservant drivers unwittingly hit the cat again.
Which is exactly what happened eventually. The driver being so unobservant as to stop directly upon the cat while I screamed at him to move, and the cat screamed in pain. It was truly terrible.
Although that sorrow was difficult to experience and is something we will never forget, I think it left us more aware of the animals around us and even more willing to help in whatever way we can. Thus, we have had the joy of seeing many wonderful and unusual creatures closer than one might expect given our environment... and our day is brightened by each encounter.
We found a turtle in the middle of the road one morning riding along Evergreen on a trip home from the park of the same name. It (I have no idea whether it was male or female) was a sun turtle - not a snapper - and was a long way off from any noticeable water source. We hesitated as to whether to put the turtle on the side of the road toward which he was headed (which looked completely bereft of water), versus the side it had come from (which had scarce but observable water). We opted for the water side, hoping the whole time the turtle would not reprise the trip across the road, thereby again endangering itself.
The week prior, we had seen a family of wild turkeys crossing the road at Giant City State Park. The mother (we assume) crossed first, followed by 8 little ones, with the father (again, a guess) bringing up the rear. They were slow crossers, and we sat in the car at the foot of a hill, continually looking back to see if any cars were approaching and silently urging the turkeys to move faster so as not to endanger our own little family set on doing good and being helpful to the turkey family. They were quite majestic all in all... a rare and special sight.
Today we were surprised to see a mother doe and her fawn along Sycamore... a rather busy thoroughfare even at 6am. The mother bounded across first, luckily missing the cars, and her fawn seemed to get stuck on the same side we were on... wary of crossing and unable to reconnect with his/her mama. We were torn between waiting around in case we might stop any cars not able to see the baby deer before it bounded out... versus moving on in case we were the problem - making the mama and baby feel unduly scared and skittish, creating a scenario in which they were more likely to get hurt. We ended up moving on.
Every encounter with an animal now - particularly those in situations wherein they might get injured or killed - reminds us of a situation back in Chicago that has left us both feeling a bit scarred. We came upon a cat in a parking lot who had been hit by a car. We called animal rescue - who said they'd be there "as soon as they were able" and waited approximately 2 hours, all the while attempting to keep cars away from the cat and ensure no unobservant drivers unwittingly hit the cat again.
Which is exactly what happened eventually. The driver being so unobservant as to stop directly upon the cat while I screamed at him to move, and the cat screamed in pain. It was truly terrible.
Although that sorrow was difficult to experience and is something we will never forget, I think it left us more aware of the animals around us and even more willing to help in whatever way we can. Thus, we have had the joy of seeing many wonderful and unusual creatures closer than one might expect given our environment... and our day is brightened by each encounter.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Things to Remember (Specifically for This Week)
Be careful what you wish for.
Don't panic.
Everything happens for a reason.
You are what you eat.
Nothing is forever.
To thine own self be true.
Change can only happen in the now.
Don't panic.
Everything happens for a reason.
You are what you eat.
Nothing is forever.
To thine own self be true.
Change can only happen in the now.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Searching for...
There was a plane crash in a parking lot in Massachusetts today... a cancer patient and his wife being flown by a pilot to a medical facility for specialized treatment - all as part of a charity service that helps people in need of medical assistance for life-threatening illnesses get from one place to another so they can utilize services that might save their lives.
All three died. Onlookers saw the plane in flames, saw there were people inside, but were unable to do anything to help without getting terribly injured.
The lucky part is no one else was injured when the plane hit the ground. But it is still a tragedy for the people involved, as well as their friends and family, who must be feeling a terrible sense of unfairness or karmic injustice with one question echoing: Why?
There are many theories for why such things happen, some religious, some spiritual, some total stabs in the dark - all our best guesses... because we really just don't know. We struggle to make sense of the nonsensical... to see patterns out of chaos... to feel we can interpret symbols and eke out some form of truth so that ultimately we feel less alone, less scared, and more safe.
However you may understand such things, perhaps there is a way to take in the event and honor the people who were lost. Maybe it's a moment of gratitude for your safety and comfort. Maybe it's lighting a candle or saying a prayer for the plane's occupants and their loved ones. Maybe it's taking a moment to reflect on what you fear, what you value, or what you believe.
Or maybe you can feel that uncomfortable ache wherein the world seems to simply not make any sense... and still manage to embrace hope on the other side.
All three died. Onlookers saw the plane in flames, saw there were people inside, but were unable to do anything to help without getting terribly injured.
The lucky part is no one else was injured when the plane hit the ground. But it is still a tragedy for the people involved, as well as their friends and family, who must be feeling a terrible sense of unfairness or karmic injustice with one question echoing: Why?
There are many theories for why such things happen, some religious, some spiritual, some total stabs in the dark - all our best guesses... because we really just don't know. We struggle to make sense of the nonsensical... to see patterns out of chaos... to feel we can interpret symbols and eke out some form of truth so that ultimately we feel less alone, less scared, and more safe.
However you may understand such things, perhaps there is a way to take in the event and honor the people who were lost. Maybe it's a moment of gratitude for your safety and comfort. Maybe it's lighting a candle or saying a prayer for the plane's occupants and their loved ones. Maybe it's taking a moment to reflect on what you fear, what you value, or what you believe.
Or maybe you can feel that uncomfortable ache wherein the world seems to simply not make any sense... and still manage to embrace hope on the other side.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Capital "T" Truth and Applied Perception
I cannot pretend to understand what is happening in Georgia right now. I feel like we're hearing very different versions from both sides, and it seems that the U.S. has a stake in the chosen perception applied to events.
Depending on who you read or listen to, blame seems to be laid in different places... but what seems strikingly clear is that this is connected to (or at least strongly influenced by) oil. Big surprise. At which point, I wonder again why we are not investing more time and energy into alternative energy resources and streams so that we can eventually become less dependent on oil and coal - be it foreign or domestic - because they are inevitably finite.
The bottom line is, people are dying in horrible ways... people who did not directly choose to be a part of the conflict. I hope peace is restored soon or at least that the violence lessens. It seems like there's already so much conflict and dying in the world.
Perhaps that's a naive statement, but some days that feeling consumes my heart.
Depending on who you read or listen to, blame seems to be laid in different places... but what seems strikingly clear is that this is connected to (or at least strongly influenced by) oil. Big surprise. At which point, I wonder again why we are not investing more time and energy into alternative energy resources and streams so that we can eventually become less dependent on oil and coal - be it foreign or domestic - because they are inevitably finite.
The bottom line is, people are dying in horrible ways... people who did not directly choose to be a part of the conflict. I hope peace is restored soon or at least that the violence lessens. It seems like there's already so much conflict and dying in the world.
Perhaps that's a naive statement, but some days that feeling consumes my heart.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
August Haiku for a Small, Unexpected Gift
Silly mushroom plants.
Why show up in my planter?
Your place is ground-bound!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
The Absolute Funniest Moment We've Had with Ari Thus Far
Ari has created a song to commemorate something that happened a few days ago with Daddy. She has sung it twice now, once while playing the piano and then today while I played the balalaika and then the ukulele. Each time the words change a bit, but they pretty much have told the same story each time.
I doubt you need any kind of explanation, and perhaps it's best to let you see the lyrics and nibble upon it all as you wonder at the details. Andy and I could not stop laughing today. It's the hardest I've laughed in a very, very long time.
Ari's Song for Daddy
First sung 8/8/08
Daddy drop poop me
Daddy drop poop me
Mama no drop poop me
Si-Si poo poo pee pee
Daddy drop poop me
I doubt you need any kind of explanation, and perhaps it's best to let you see the lyrics and nibble upon it all as you wonder at the details. Andy and I could not stop laughing today. It's the hardest I've laughed in a very, very long time.
Ari's Song for Daddy
First sung 8/8/08
Daddy drop poop me
Daddy drop poop me
Mama no drop poop me
Si-Si poo poo pee pee
Daddy drop poop me
Friday, August 8, 2008
Epiphany for Friday
First off, I have been on a bit of a news blackout while the in-laws are here just due to a shift in our normal routine and the absence of my usual news fix via the radio throughout the day. Thus, most of my recent posts have been very me-centered, which I try not to do for long spates of time... but I am guilty again today. I'll try to still make it good!
So... I had an epiphany today. It connects to a realization I had a couple of days ago about my self-perception with regard to my body and weight.
I have always felt fat and battled with a negative self-image and internal self-talk aimed at convincing me I am ugly, unattractive, and unnoticeable. And I have noticed that when I look back on old photos of myself (say from high school or college or even in Chicago), I look at the picture and think, "Wow... I was really pretty here. What in the world was I feeling so ugly for?"
Here is an example of a photo from the past: a cast photo with The Neo-Futurists, circa 2003 or so. (I am in front, in the grey sweater.)
But then I move right back into thinking, "Yeah... that was then and this is now. Too bad I didn't enjoy myself more back then, because now I'm really ugly."
Which, I have come to see as a pretty silly pattern to engage in. One which is built on fallacy and emphasizes things that ultimately are just not very important.
Jump cut to today. Andy and I are in Hobby Lobby looking for a picture frame for a piece of couch fabric he saved (it was the couch he proposed to me on). We see a lovely painted glass dish with a rooster on it and the words "Gallo Italiano" - which we both think is totally great. It reminds us both of Italy and our honeymoon.
And I am able to connect the fact that, looking back on our honeymoon (which included Rome, Florence, the Amalfi coast, and Tuscany)... it was phenomenal and an incredible trip. One we were so lucky to take; one of those rare gifts in life that should be savored fully.
This is one of my favorite photos from our trip... taken near our hotel in Praiano (on the Amalfi Coast).
The thing is... I spent a lot of that trip feeling far away and disappointed and sad. Which was such a waste of time. Or rather, such a silly way to spend my time and energy, rather than being truly joyous and alive during our adventure.
I think I spend a lot of my time this way. Feeling adrift and disconnected in any given moment of the now, only to look back on it later and realize I had been given or had managed to create an incredible opportunity filled with blessings and challenges. Something truly wonderful and worth reveling in.
So, today I made a commitment to be more mindful of those times when I am being negative or pulling away instead of truly embracing my experience in the now. I intend to use that mindfulness to change my perspective and behavior over time and increase my ability to feel gratitude and joy.
Perhaps in a year's time (or less), I will be able to look back on this moment and celebrate how far I have come.
So... I had an epiphany today. It connects to a realization I had a couple of days ago about my self-perception with regard to my body and weight.
I have always felt fat and battled with a negative self-image and internal self-talk aimed at convincing me I am ugly, unattractive, and unnoticeable. And I have noticed that when I look back on old photos of myself (say from high school or college or even in Chicago), I look at the picture and think, "Wow... I was really pretty here. What in the world was I feeling so ugly for?"
Here is an example of a photo from the past: a cast photo with The Neo-Futurists, circa 2003 or so. (I am in front, in the grey sweater.)But then I move right back into thinking, "Yeah... that was then and this is now. Too bad I didn't enjoy myself more back then, because now I'm really ugly."
Which, I have come to see as a pretty silly pattern to engage in. One which is built on fallacy and emphasizes things that ultimately are just not very important.
Jump cut to today. Andy and I are in Hobby Lobby looking for a picture frame for a piece of couch fabric he saved (it was the couch he proposed to me on). We see a lovely painted glass dish with a rooster on it and the words "Gallo Italiano" - which we both think is totally great. It reminds us both of Italy and our honeymoon.
And I am able to connect the fact that, looking back on our honeymoon (which included Rome, Florence, the Amalfi coast, and Tuscany)... it was phenomenal and an incredible trip. One we were so lucky to take; one of those rare gifts in life that should be savored fully.
This is one of my favorite photos from our trip... taken near our hotel in Praiano (on the Amalfi Coast).The thing is... I spent a lot of that trip feeling far away and disappointed and sad. Which was such a waste of time. Or rather, such a silly way to spend my time and energy, rather than being truly joyous and alive during our adventure.
I think I spend a lot of my time this way. Feeling adrift and disconnected in any given moment of the now, only to look back on it later and realize I had been given or had managed to create an incredible opportunity filled with blessings and challenges. Something truly wonderful and worth reveling in.
So, today I made a commitment to be more mindful of those times when I am being negative or pulling away instead of truly embracing my experience in the now. I intend to use that mindfulness to change my perspective and behavior over time and increase my ability to feel gratitude and joy.
Perhaps in a year's time (or less), I will be able to look back on this moment and celebrate how far I have come.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Fading
I have been missing Mrs. Hogue very much this week. Her granddaughter has cleaned out the house and is in the process of deciding what to do with it (we are hoping she may be able to work out a deal with my father... but it's a long shot).
So there it sits, empty. And I have noticed it is fading a bit in her absence.
There is a theory out there somewhere... a blend of New Age, quantum physics, and maybe even paganism or Wiccan beliefs. The idea being that a house is infused with the energy and life of its occupants. And in some cases, the will or creative power of the person living in the house can sort of hold things together or help the house live longer.
In the case of my grandmother, it meant that as soon as she died, things in the house stopped functioning - no longer willed into working by her presence. We had to replace the stove in the kitchen, the refrigerator, all of the plumbing in the basement, the kitchen sink faucet, the front door knob, and the van used by her caretakers to transport her.
The water heater nearly died on us and was revived with some tinkering by my father-in-law, who managed to breathe life back into it. And the washer and dryer have been threatening to go every single time I use them... but have managed to hang on, perhaps due to my stubborn will to see them keep going!
When you consider that my grandmother lived here from 1944 until 2005, it becomes sort of understandable that she and the house might be a bit linked. Mrs. Hogue's relationship to her dwelling was very similar. She and her husband moved in around the same time my grandmother moved into the upstairs here, so I estimate she must have had at least a good 60 years or so in her house.
I mention this because I have noticed a very striking example of the same phenomenon over at Mrs. Hogue's house. A beautiful hydrangea bush sits on the northwest corner of her house... and everyone has always marveled at the amazing and rare bright purple color she was able to coax into her flowers.
More than a purple, the flowers were a beautiful indigo-bluey-violet with shades of royal purple bursting along every single bloom. Quite a sight to behold and, from what I understand, a rather difficult thing to accomplish. Here is my best attempt to capture that color.
I had hoped to take a cutting of the plant to try out on the same corner of our house, but when I went out the other day to look at the bush again, I noticed the flowers looked remarkably different.
What once was a shockingly bright and vibrant plant with uniquely colored blooms has now become a cluster of mis-matched and predominantly dull flowers... some nearly white in appearance.
It's as of the life has been sucked out of them. They look like little, round ghosts bobbing around the house and mourning the absence of their former caretaker.
I wish I knew how to save them, but perhaps the best thing is to let them go, or at least embrace their transformation into something new in the wake of such a significant loss.
So there it sits, empty. And I have noticed it is fading a bit in her absence.
There is a theory out there somewhere... a blend of New Age, quantum physics, and maybe even paganism or Wiccan beliefs. The idea being that a house is infused with the energy and life of its occupants. And in some cases, the will or creative power of the person living in the house can sort of hold things together or help the house live longer.
In the case of my grandmother, it meant that as soon as she died, things in the house stopped functioning - no longer willed into working by her presence. We had to replace the stove in the kitchen, the refrigerator, all of the plumbing in the basement, the kitchen sink faucet, the front door knob, and the van used by her caretakers to transport her.
The water heater nearly died on us and was revived with some tinkering by my father-in-law, who managed to breathe life back into it. And the washer and dryer have been threatening to go every single time I use them... but have managed to hang on, perhaps due to my stubborn will to see them keep going!
When you consider that my grandmother lived here from 1944 until 2005, it becomes sort of understandable that she and the house might be a bit linked. Mrs. Hogue's relationship to her dwelling was very similar. She and her husband moved in around the same time my grandmother moved into the upstairs here, so I estimate she must have had at least a good 60 years or so in her house.
I mention this because I have noticed a very striking example of the same phenomenon over at Mrs. Hogue's house. A beautiful hydrangea bush sits on the northwest corner of her house... and everyone has always marveled at the amazing and rare bright purple color she was able to coax into her flowers.
More than a purple, the flowers were a beautiful indigo-bluey-violet with shades of royal purple bursting along every single bloom. Quite a sight to behold and, from what I understand, a rather difficult thing to accomplish. Here is my best attempt to capture that color.I had hoped to take a cutting of the plant to try out on the same corner of our house, but when I went out the other day to look at the bush again, I noticed the flowers looked remarkably different.
What once was a shockingly bright and vibrant plant with uniquely colored blooms has now become a cluster of mis-matched and predominantly dull flowers... some nearly white in appearance.
It's as of the life has been sucked out of them. They look like little, round ghosts bobbing around the house and mourning the absence of their former caretaker.I wish I knew how to save them, but perhaps the best thing is to let them go, or at least embrace their transformation into something new in the wake of such a significant loss.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Slipping Into Something a Little Simpler
Andy and I have been on a quest to simplify our lives lately. We feel there are ways we can eliminate wastefulness and employ some eco-enviro-community friendly techniques that can also enhance our own sense of happiness, peacefulness, and centered-ness.
Along this journey to live more fully, be more awake, and seize each day, we found a post (on the website Zen Habits) that spoke to us in a serendipitous and karmic sort of way. You know... when you happen upon something you need right at that moment and realize it's kind of a little gift just for you.
We have started "editing" already. The first thing we tackled was the refrigerator. Next we are going to do the basement and garage... then we can begin to hit the rooms inside the house. Our goal is to pare down to the things we absolutely need and the items we cannot live without, be they practical or sentimental.
It's a big task, and at times we are so tired from our 5am start, 6 mile bike ride, and whatever else we've chosen to do that day (chores, Ari-wrangling, dog-corralling, etc.), but it's an activity that brings a great sense of freedom and glee.
Along this journey to live more fully, be more awake, and seize each day, we found a post (on the website Zen Habits) that spoke to us in a serendipitous and karmic sort of way. You know... when you happen upon something you need right at that moment and realize it's kind of a little gift just for you.
We have started "editing" already. The first thing we tackled was the refrigerator. Next we are going to do the basement and garage... then we can begin to hit the rooms inside the house. Our goal is to pare down to the things we absolutely need and the items we cannot live without, be they practical or sentimental.
It's a big task, and at times we are so tired from our 5am start, 6 mile bike ride, and whatever else we've chosen to do that day (chores, Ari-wrangling, dog-corralling, etc.), but it's an activity that brings a great sense of freedom and glee.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Trying Very Hard Not to Sound Like a Haranguer Upon a Soapbo
Andy and I were following our usual Monday night TV routine (Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives) and found that the second episode of DD&D was a rerun. In flipping around the channels, we came upon a TNG episode we'd both seen before, but that I didn't remember as well as Andy.
It's a storyline that (I am guessing) builds upon the concept of Closet Land, a movie my friend Jeremy and I were passionate about from high school on.
It's episode #137 (this is Star Trek: The Next Generation for you non-sci-fi-geeks), and the name is Chain of Command II. Some of you undoubtedly already know which one I'm talking about.
Anyway... it's about torture and the tactics a Cardassian uses upon Picard in an attempt to get classified information from him. But it also explores the psychological impact of torture and the possible reasons torturers are able to inflict such pain and suffering.
Flash forward to today... I am listening to NPR this morning and hear a snippet on the trial of Hamdan (bin Laden's driver), which includes discussion of the Geneva Conventions, Guantanamo Bay, and matters of habeas corpus - none of which I am an expert on.
What struck me is the mention of waterboarding and other techniques allegedly used on Hamdan, which led to a search with regard to torture and U.S. involvement in questionable techniques used upon detainees who are being held indefinitely (in some cases) and without access to counsel.
Here is where I get confused: They are declared by the administration to be enemy combatants, and are not considered POWs. But we did declare war. And the military tribunals seem to be a no-no, which has been ruled upon by various bodies, including our U.S. Supreme Court... but we are now trying people for war crimes. Without following the Geneva Conventions. And multiple people (including FBI folks and former employees at certain facilities) have said sexual misconduct, psychological and physical violence, neglect, and severe circumstances of abusive and inhumane treatment have been used upon detainees during the last seven years of the United States' "War on Terror."
So I did some more poking around. Apparently, the U.S. admitted to using torture on prisoners in Guantanamo Bay, Afghanistan, Iraq (this was in June). But I remember several months ago watching oodles of coverage of people arguing over whether or not waterboarding even constitutes torture... rather than discussing what happens once we've admitted that we, as a nation, are guilty of such acts.
In looking around even more... I found very little help in identifying resources to help advocate for the humane treatment of anyone being held by the United States. The one thing I did come across was this, which includes a section where you can Take Action to speak out against human rights violations.
I do not want this to be an emotional diatribe, and I have waited all day to write so that I could be at least a bit more calm. I am sure there is more information out there than the little bit I found, but I remain entirely confused as to why we are still moving ahead with the current agenda of holding people indefinitely, subjecting detainees to trials when such action has been ruled unconstitutional, and refusing to address the admitted torture tactics employed by the U.S., which directly contradicts the very ideals upon which this country was founded.
(Soapbox is done.)
It's a storyline that (I am guessing) builds upon the concept of Closet Land, a movie my friend Jeremy and I were passionate about from high school on.
It's episode #137 (this is Star Trek: The Next Generation for you non-sci-fi-geeks), and the name is Chain of Command II. Some of you undoubtedly already know which one I'm talking about.
Anyway... it's about torture and the tactics a Cardassian uses upon Picard in an attempt to get classified information from him. But it also explores the psychological impact of torture and the possible reasons torturers are able to inflict such pain and suffering.
Flash forward to today... I am listening to NPR this morning and hear a snippet on the trial of Hamdan (bin Laden's driver), which includes discussion of the Geneva Conventions, Guantanamo Bay, and matters of habeas corpus - none of which I am an expert on.
What struck me is the mention of waterboarding and other techniques allegedly used on Hamdan, which led to a search with regard to torture and U.S. involvement in questionable techniques used upon detainees who are being held indefinitely (in some cases) and without access to counsel.
Here is where I get confused: They are declared by the administration to be enemy combatants, and are not considered POWs. But we did declare war. And the military tribunals seem to be a no-no, which has been ruled upon by various bodies, including our U.S. Supreme Court... but we are now trying people for war crimes. Without following the Geneva Conventions. And multiple people (including FBI folks and former employees at certain facilities) have said sexual misconduct, psychological and physical violence, neglect, and severe circumstances of abusive and inhumane treatment have been used upon detainees during the last seven years of the United States' "War on Terror."
So I did some more poking around. Apparently, the U.S. admitted to using torture on prisoners in Guantanamo Bay, Afghanistan, Iraq (this was in June). But I remember several months ago watching oodles of coverage of people arguing over whether or not waterboarding even constitutes torture... rather than discussing what happens once we've admitted that we, as a nation, are guilty of such acts.
In looking around even more... I found very little help in identifying resources to help advocate for the humane treatment of anyone being held by the United States. The one thing I did come across was this, which includes a section where you can Take Action to speak out against human rights violations.
I do not want this to be an emotional diatribe, and I have waited all day to write so that I could be at least a bit more calm. I am sure there is more information out there than the little bit I found, but I remain entirely confused as to why we are still moving ahead with the current agenda of holding people indefinitely, subjecting detainees to trials when such action has been ruled unconstitutional, and refusing to address the admitted torture tactics employed by the U.S., which directly contradicts the very ideals upon which this country was founded.
(Soapbox is done.)
Monday, August 4, 2008
A Crazy Confession
Out of the blue and for no discernible reason I can figure, Ari's feet have begun to stink. Not just that sort of milky, sour, oh-maybe-we-should-take=a-bath smell of younger children that is cute in its attempt to be an outright stink.
No... this is a head-on, eye-closing, jaw-dropping, full-on stinky. Equal parts fume-y and powerful, with a hint of cheesey, sweaty, non-baby smelliness.
So here's the crazy part...
I love it! I love that her feet stink. It's like she's suddenly old enough and big enough to no longer smell like a baby and to have every bodily odor scented of cuteness. No more gentle smells. She has the odor of a toddler now. She actually smells bad sometimes.
She delights in making us smell her feet and react to how badly they reek. I think she is thrilled to have such a grown-up odor too. As if she understands she has somehow moved into a new phase of development wherein she has the power to make people squeal, wince their eyes, and turn their heads away. And I am perfectly happy to rejoice with her in her newfound olfactory-related strengths
No... this is a head-on, eye-closing, jaw-dropping, full-on stinky. Equal parts fume-y and powerful, with a hint of cheesey, sweaty, non-baby smelliness.
So here's the crazy part...
I love it! I love that her feet stink. It's like she's suddenly old enough and big enough to no longer smell like a baby and to have every bodily odor scented of cuteness. No more gentle smells. She has the odor of a toddler now. She actually smells bad sometimes.
She delights in making us smell her feet and react to how badly they reek. I think she is thrilled to have such a grown-up odor too. As if she understands she has somehow moved into a new phase of development wherein she has the power to make people squeal, wince their eyes, and turn their heads away. And I am perfectly happy to rejoice with her in her newfound olfactory-related strengths
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Wrong Number?
I have been thinking a lot in the last few days about the situation that led me to start this blog in the first place: feeling called to pursue the ministry - specifically, as a Unitarian Universalist minister.
How do you know if you've been called? What does it feel like? What happens if you ignore it? Or think you were called but you weren't? Or were but just felt like it was really bad timing?
Another woman at my church, when I told her I had felt called one day during services at the Fellowship, said, "What did it feel like?" She said she asked because she had also felt called and yet wasn't sure she had interpreted it correctly. So she wanted to sort of compare experiences or hear what mine had been in order to contextualize her own.
My guess is, everyone has a different story. While they may have similarities (like so many religions), every person's experience will be affected by his or her filters, perceptions, beliefs, expectations, and interpretations... leading to a myriad of strikingly different but no less valid events leading to a shared conclusion.
And then there are people like me, who know they felt something (maybe even felt it was undeniable), and then rationally look at the prospect of following such a path and find it riddled with complexities and challenges. Not a bad thing, but definitely a harder thing.
My friend who is a pastor described her experience as hearing God directly communicating to her and telling her to go into the ministry. I would have to say, my experience contained no direct talking, no clear detailed instructions, and no sense that any one entity was singling me out and pointing with a divine finger toward a new and spiritually-laden horizon.
Instead, it felt more like an epiphany... an ah ha moment wherein so many heretofore disconnected and seemingly disjointed pieces of my life suddenly settled into a clear and beautiful picture wherein I could see myself... see myself... true and clear and defined and being.
Then my minister recommended I pursue anything else that might make me happy, my husband and I really sat down and looked at the numbers, and my daughter got to an age I knew I would painfully regret missing if I were engaged in pursuits that took me away from her for several more years of schooling.
Add in the fact that we do not attend church every week, I don't read every Unitarian Universalist piece of literature I can get my hands on, I score highest on Lifestyle when taking any kind of values inventory, and I left theatre because I was sick of working nights and weekends... and I'm left wondering if it's okay to pick up the phone, have a short conversation, and then pretend like you aren't home.
How do you know if you've been called? What does it feel like? What happens if you ignore it? Or think you were called but you weren't? Or were but just felt like it was really bad timing?
Another woman at my church, when I told her I had felt called one day during services at the Fellowship, said, "What did it feel like?" She said she asked because she had also felt called and yet wasn't sure she had interpreted it correctly. So she wanted to sort of compare experiences or hear what mine had been in order to contextualize her own.
My guess is, everyone has a different story. While they may have similarities (like so many religions), every person's experience will be affected by his or her filters, perceptions, beliefs, expectations, and interpretations... leading to a myriad of strikingly different but no less valid events leading to a shared conclusion.
And then there are people like me, who know they felt something (maybe even felt it was undeniable), and then rationally look at the prospect of following such a path and find it riddled with complexities and challenges. Not a bad thing, but definitely a harder thing.
My friend who is a pastor described her experience as hearing God directly communicating to her and telling her to go into the ministry. I would have to say, my experience contained no direct talking, no clear detailed instructions, and no sense that any one entity was singling me out and pointing with a divine finger toward a new and spiritually-laden horizon.
Instead, it felt more like an epiphany... an ah ha moment wherein so many heretofore disconnected and seemingly disjointed pieces of my life suddenly settled into a clear and beautiful picture wherein I could see myself... see myself... true and clear and defined and being.
Then my minister recommended I pursue anything else that might make me happy, my husband and I really sat down and looked at the numbers, and my daughter got to an age I knew I would painfully regret missing if I were engaged in pursuits that took me away from her for several more years of schooling.
Add in the fact that we do not attend church every week, I don't read every Unitarian Universalist piece of literature I can get my hands on, I score highest on Lifestyle when taking any kind of values inventory, and I left theatre because I was sick of working nights and weekends... and I'm left wondering if it's okay to pick up the phone, have a short conversation, and then pretend like you aren't home.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
To do a thesis or not to do a thesis (a drop in the bucket, let's say)...
So... one of the many things I've gone back and forth on within my current graduate training has been whether or not to do a thesis. (I also go back on forth on whether the program/major/career path is right for me, whether to do a dual specialization in school and community counseling, whether to do an additional year or try to finish as quickly as possible, and whether to go on for a Ph.D. or Psy.D. so that I can teach.)
Lately I've been grabbed by the idea of continuing my exploration of and interest in creative and expressive arts interventions and looking at existing research on utilizing such techniques with multicultural populations for whom strictly verbal approaches (i.e., talk therapy) are not adequately effective.
The latest Journal of Creativity in Mental Health has a few articles right up this alley, which got me thinking about it again today, after having sort of written it off as "too much work" and "not really what I want or where I'm headed."
But then, that's only true in certain moments... because I tend to vacillate greatly as I flounder through life in search of what I am passionate about and what I want. Seems so silly that should be such a hard thing for me to define, but it is.
Only time will tell whether I embark upon a lit review and case study example on integrating creative and expressive arts into school counseling techniques and interventions. As an appreciator of Adler, finding some way to utilize such approaches within a small group context would probably be ideal, especially since it connects with some of my other research/personal interests with regard to the intersection of self-esteem and social connection.
Who knows. Maybe something will happen to make it all clear. Or maybe I will simply find a moment within which to choose one path or the other... and commit to such a road, despite my misgivings it may be the wrong one. (Of course, the ultimate shift to embrace is believing there is no wrong road. But I'm still working on that one.)
The bottom line, though, is that it's a joy to have such a struggle in the first place. I feel blessed to be in school, to have the ability to do such work, and to have the support of my advisers to push myself in this way. Whether I choose to do one or not, it's a great dilemma to have... especially if I look at the bucket and not the drops.
Lately I've been grabbed by the idea of continuing my exploration of and interest in creative and expressive arts interventions and looking at existing research on utilizing such techniques with multicultural populations for whom strictly verbal approaches (i.e., talk therapy) are not adequately effective.
The latest Journal of Creativity in Mental Health has a few articles right up this alley, which got me thinking about it again today, after having sort of written it off as "too much work" and "not really what I want or where I'm headed."
But then, that's only true in certain moments... because I tend to vacillate greatly as I flounder through life in search of what I am passionate about and what I want. Seems so silly that should be such a hard thing for me to define, but it is.
Only time will tell whether I embark upon a lit review and case study example on integrating creative and expressive arts into school counseling techniques and interventions. As an appreciator of Adler, finding some way to utilize such approaches within a small group context would probably be ideal, especially since it connects with some of my other research/personal interests with regard to the intersection of self-esteem and social connection.
Who knows. Maybe something will happen to make it all clear. Or maybe I will simply find a moment within which to choose one path or the other... and commit to such a road, despite my misgivings it may be the wrong one. (Of course, the ultimate shift to embrace is believing there is no wrong road. But I'm still working on that one.)
The bottom line, though, is that it's a joy to have such a struggle in the first place. I feel blessed to be in school, to have the ability to do such work, and to have the support of my advisers to push myself in this way. Whether I choose to do one or not, it's a great dilemma to have... especially if I look at the bucket and not the drops.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Clink
My grandmother loved ice. She used to have me go into the kitchen and add cubes to her already full glass just so she could hear the clink clink the ice would make when she picked her drink up and set it down.
I once asked her why she liked it so much, and she explained how she grew up without an icebox and how the ice man used to come by with a huge block, chipping off chunks for lucky families able to buy some, and handing out shavings to children lucky enough to find him at the right time in the right mood (willing to share).
Ice was a luxury as she grew up... and as she got older and the world became more technologically savvy, she embraced her ability to make and enjoy ice at her whim in the fullest way possible.
Days like today (with a heat index of 105) remind me of this penchant of hers. The kind of day where you step outside and immediately feel your body lose a pint of water. Where you step back into the house after being out and all you can think about it sitting down, turning on a fan, and drinking a tall, ice cold glass of water--secretly wishing you could pour it over your head and face without ruining the furniture or giving your 2 year old daughter free reign to follow suit.
I have a tall tumbler of water waiting for me to finish this post. I will sit upon the couch, put my tired feet up, drink my lovely water, and think of my grandmother every time I hear the ice clink within the glass.
I once asked her why she liked it so much, and she explained how she grew up without an icebox and how the ice man used to come by with a huge block, chipping off chunks for lucky families able to buy some, and handing out shavings to children lucky enough to find him at the right time in the right mood (willing to share).
Ice was a luxury as she grew up... and as she got older and the world became more technologically savvy, she embraced her ability to make and enjoy ice at her whim in the fullest way possible.
Days like today (with a heat index of 105) remind me of this penchant of hers. The kind of day where you step outside and immediately feel your body lose a pint of water. Where you step back into the house after being out and all you can think about it sitting down, turning on a fan, and drinking a tall, ice cold glass of water--secretly wishing you could pour it over your head and face without ruining the furniture or giving your 2 year old daughter free reign to follow suit.
I have a tall tumbler of water waiting for me to finish this post. I will sit upon the couch, put my tired feet up, drink my lovely water, and think of my grandmother every time I hear the ice clink within the glass.
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