There are few things better than an impromptu afternoon picnic with your family in the middle of a blissfully beautiful day of sunshine and light breezes and the fresh, optimistic scent of fall.
Childhood memories of pumpkins and apples, fallen leaves and thick sweaters, hayrides and bonfires abound.
Meanwhile, I watch my little bunny cavort among the playground goodies... eager to climb, run, jump, and move with speed throughout her landscape of brightly colored fun. I look at my partner, my husband, my friend and feel so grateful to be joined... to be living this day together and so lucky as to have these moments of time together - all of us as a family.
The water dances, the trees gossip, and the sun reaches down with warm, long fingers to wrap us together at the end of September as we heave a happy sigh.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Inquisition
When did I get too old to go out and stand in a thunderstorm? Or stomp in puddles? Or lie in the grass?
How did I become so filled with self-doubt that the slightest question of my abilities leaves me wondering if I am somehow misperceiving my capacity to do well - as if I am somehow gravely off in my self-assessment?
Why did I start feeling so scared and worried all the time? About money? About violence? About unexpected and difficult events that smash into expectations and leave little broken pieces in their wake?
What is the balance between other and self? How do we form an identity based not only on our self-perception but also on the feedback we receive from others... to end up somewhere in between in a place approximating truth as best we are able with all our limitations and intricacies?
The trick lately, for me, is to remember who I am striving to become, who I have left behind, and who I already am... and to weave together a strong yet flexible self that is neither rigid nor tenuous in its final shape.
How did I become so filled with self-doubt that the slightest question of my abilities leaves me wondering if I am somehow misperceiving my capacity to do well - as if I am somehow gravely off in my self-assessment?
Why did I start feeling so scared and worried all the time? About money? About violence? About unexpected and difficult events that smash into expectations and leave little broken pieces in their wake?
What is the balance between other and self? How do we form an identity based not only on our self-perception but also on the feedback we receive from others... to end up somewhere in between in a place approximating truth as best we are able with all our limitations and intricacies?
The trick lately, for me, is to remember who I am striving to become, who I have left behind, and who I already am... and to weave together a strong yet flexible self that is neither rigid nor tenuous in its final shape.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Into Autumn
There is a very small pumpkin in the backyard. It was one of Ari's birthday plants that managed to survive in its small pot and was eventually transferred to the backyard when Papa and Num-Num came to visit this summer.
It has pretty much blossomed and died, except for one doggedly determined little pumpkin plant who started life looking more like a watermelon. It has remained alive, despite Ari's enthusiastic but problematic removal of its stem early on and the disappearance of nearly every other part of the plant that once spread out like tentacles from the patch near the garage wall wherein the plant was rooted.
The little fruit has turned from green to orange in the last few weeks, and although Simon has decided this is a prime pee spot and never fails to miss a chance to "water" the plant each and every time he goes out, there is a wee possibility it will survive into October and potentially be fully ripe as we enter autumn.
I am no pumpkin expert, and so I am unsure whether this gestation period resembles the expected pattern, nor have I decided what sort of impact (if any) Simon's generous fertilization should have upon what we do with the plant should it ever come to a fully ready state.
But it's been lovely to watch it grow, to marvel at its tenacity and determination, and to see it's bright little round body grace our yard with spunky bravado in the face of so many seeming obstacles.
It has pretty much blossomed and died, except for one doggedly determined little pumpkin plant who started life looking more like a watermelon. It has remained alive, despite Ari's enthusiastic but problematic removal of its stem early on and the disappearance of nearly every other part of the plant that once spread out like tentacles from the patch near the garage wall wherein the plant was rooted.
The little fruit has turned from green to orange in the last few weeks, and although Simon has decided this is a prime pee spot and never fails to miss a chance to "water" the plant each and every time he goes out, there is a wee possibility it will survive into October and potentially be fully ripe as we enter autumn.
I am no pumpkin expert, and so I am unsure whether this gestation period resembles the expected pattern, nor have I decided what sort of impact (if any) Simon's generous fertilization should have upon what we do with the plant should it ever come to a fully ready state.But it's been lovely to watch it grow, to marvel at its tenacity and determination, and to see it's bright little round body grace our yard with spunky bravado in the face of so many seeming obstacles.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Do Good
There's a new segment on CNN that was begun back in April called CNN Heroes. It profiles people across the world who are doing amazing things to uplift, inspire, protect, and/or advocate for those around them. It was launched back in April, and I have seen at least two stories so far that hit my heart.
The first was about this week's hero: Shada Nasser. Nasser is a lawyer in Yemen who took on a case on behalf of a young girl who was married off to a man who then severely mistreated her.
Per Yemeni law, it is legal for girls to marry before 18, and many brides are as young as 8 or 10 years old. The expectation is that no sexual contact will be initiated with the young brides until they reach 18 years of age; however, that norm is often not followed.
Nasser's work began with a young girl who was married off at the age of 10 to a man 30 years of age. As his sexual advances became violent and forced, the young girl sought help and found Nasser, who took on her case free of charge. Nasser worked to secure a divorce for the young girl, and was able to raise the $200 owed to the husband through donations. The case led to questioning of and debate about the practice of marrying off underage girls, and Nasser is hoping the law will eventually be changed for good.
The second was about Viola Vaughn, an American woman who became the guardian for her grandchildren upon her daughter's early death at the age of 28. Vaughn moved the family to Africa, where she had previously worked, and unexpectedly lost her husband shortly thereafter. She found purpose and peace by focusing on home-schooling her grandchildren... and word spread around their small village she was teaching young girls.
Girls began showing up at her doorstep, and she gradually welcomed more and more in (with the consent of their parents). Many had been removed from school due to failing grades and written off by their villages as being unteachable or too dumb to receive an education. Instead, Vaughn found that societal and economic expectations requiring the girls to work from home prevented them from regularly attending school, which eventually affected their grades so much they were unable to keep pace with the rest of the class.
She now teaches girls in order to augment their regular education and helps them stay on track despite their work schedules. Her school has grown to 1,500 girls (in multiple locations), and she and her students hope one day to reach 10,000 students.
Service is a prevelent theme among many religions of the world and is certainly a very important aspect of Unitarian Universalism. Sometimes, when we begin to serve or find some way through which we can aid others, it seems like a small step... a tiny reaching out that has no greater impact than doing what seems obvious or what comes naturally. We do not imagine ourselves heroes and we do not expect to change the world.
Yet, even in the smallest acts of kindness and selflessness, there is a significant impact because even the tiniest acts can results in consequences we may never see but by which the world is made better. And as if so often the case with true heroes... these amazing contributions began with one small step... one child... one offer to help... one act of reaching out. And the ripples then spread beyond that person's wildest imaginings.
The first was about this week's hero: Shada Nasser. Nasser is a lawyer in Yemen who took on a case on behalf of a young girl who was married off to a man who then severely mistreated her.
Per Yemeni law, it is legal for girls to marry before 18, and many brides are as young as 8 or 10 years old. The expectation is that no sexual contact will be initiated with the young brides until they reach 18 years of age; however, that norm is often not followed.
Nasser's work began with a young girl who was married off at the age of 10 to a man 30 years of age. As his sexual advances became violent and forced, the young girl sought help and found Nasser, who took on her case free of charge. Nasser worked to secure a divorce for the young girl, and was able to raise the $200 owed to the husband through donations. The case led to questioning of and debate about the practice of marrying off underage girls, and Nasser is hoping the law will eventually be changed for good.
The second was about Viola Vaughn, an American woman who became the guardian for her grandchildren upon her daughter's early death at the age of 28. Vaughn moved the family to Africa, where she had previously worked, and unexpectedly lost her husband shortly thereafter. She found purpose and peace by focusing on home-schooling her grandchildren... and word spread around their small village she was teaching young girls.
Girls began showing up at her doorstep, and she gradually welcomed more and more in (with the consent of their parents). Many had been removed from school due to failing grades and written off by their villages as being unteachable or too dumb to receive an education. Instead, Vaughn found that societal and economic expectations requiring the girls to work from home prevented them from regularly attending school, which eventually affected their grades so much they were unable to keep pace with the rest of the class.
She now teaches girls in order to augment their regular education and helps them stay on track despite their work schedules. Her school has grown to 1,500 girls (in multiple locations), and she and her students hope one day to reach 10,000 students.
Service is a prevelent theme among many religions of the world and is certainly a very important aspect of Unitarian Universalism. Sometimes, when we begin to serve or find some way through which we can aid others, it seems like a small step... a tiny reaching out that has no greater impact than doing what seems obvious or what comes naturally. We do not imagine ourselves heroes and we do not expect to change the world.
Yet, even in the smallest acts of kindness and selflessness, there is a significant impact because even the tiniest acts can results in consequences we may never see but by which the world is made better. And as if so often the case with true heroes... these amazing contributions began with one small step... one child... one offer to help... one act of reaching out. And the ripples then spread beyond that person's wildest imaginings.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wishing to be in Philie
I heard about a special concert in Philadelphia this weekend. It takes place at the Macy's and features their antique Wannamaker organ, which has been restored to pristine condition. For the first time in over 50 years, the Philadelphia Philharmonic Orchestra is going to play a concert with the organ, and those lucky enough to live in the area can go and hear it all in person.
If we were a little more mobile, a little more financially stable, and a little more adventurous, it would make an excellent weekend vacation. I have been enamored of pipe organs for a long time, but my fascination and ardor were cemented when I was able to see one up close and person at the The Acorn Theater in Three Oaks, Michigan.
Clark and Fink, the owners of the theatre, managed to cobble together this amazing construction of pipe organ bits and parts from all around the country, and have set up this insane feat of engineering throughout the factory in which their theatre resides. It's a phenomenal experience to hear Clark crank the organ up, and even more incredible to hear the story of how he found the various elements and managed to put them all together to create a functioning organ that is massive and magical.
If music has the power to transport, the pipe organ has the ability to make the ride a joyous one... at times loopy and playful, at times thundrous and enveloping. Either way, it's one heck of a treat.
If we were a little more mobile, a little more financially stable, and a little more adventurous, it would make an excellent weekend vacation. I have been enamored of pipe organs for a long time, but my fascination and ardor were cemented when I was able to see one up close and person at the The Acorn Theater in Three Oaks, Michigan.
Clark and Fink, the owners of the theatre, managed to cobble together this amazing construction of pipe organ bits and parts from all around the country, and have set up this insane feat of engineering throughout the factory in which their theatre resides. It's a phenomenal experience to hear Clark crank the organ up, and even more incredible to hear the story of how he found the various elements and managed to put them all together to create a functioning organ that is massive and magical.
If music has the power to transport, the pipe organ has the ability to make the ride a joyous one... at times loopy and playful, at times thundrous and enveloping. Either way, it's one heck of a treat.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
j.r.b.
Some days all I can do is cast out a prayer a pleading a question or wish a hope things will get better his body will heal his family stay grounded because how could you possibly hold all that fear and worry and anger without feeling so so tired but you still have to believe and dream and push on you still have to face each day with new promise and trust your faith and strength and love will pull it all through and nothing will be lost in the aftermath.
If such things are heard, if such things heeded, then I am asking please. Please with all my heart please. We need a happy ending here. Please.
If such things are heard, if such things heeded, then I am asking please. Please with all my heart please. We need a happy ending here. Please.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
In the Black
You say you
feel no hope,
believe nothing
can change and
no good will come
of any effort.
(The weight
of which
pulls heavy
on your limbs/
heart/mind/
psyche each
day aching.)
But here you are
sitting across
from me,
asking for
some sense
of relief.
(Even though
you express
a lack of will,
an absence
of success,
a belief that
nothing
will work.)
Yet...
You still came.
You still sit here.
And you are still listening.
So I have hope.
I have faith in you.
And I will believe
until you are able
to dream what can be
despite what is
and step into
a new understanding
of possible.
feel no hope,
believe nothing
can change and
no good will come
of any effort.
(The weight
of which
pulls heavy
on your limbs/
heart/mind/
psyche each
day aching.)
But here you are
sitting across
from me,
asking for
some sense
of relief.
(Even though
you express
a lack of will,
an absence
of success,
a belief that
nothing
will work.)
Yet...
You still came.
You still sit here.
And you are still listening.
So I have hope.
I have faith in you.
And I will believe
until you are able
to dream what can be
despite what is
and step into
a new understanding
of possible.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Huh.
I wonder sometimes if most nearly anything we would label as a negative reaction or emotion or response (e.g., anger, violence, depression, fear, withdrawal, etc.) is essentially connected to an unending sense/search for love and acceptance.
Is it possible "ugly" behavior is ultimately rooted in a perceived lack of acceptance? If one were to seek the primary emotion below the secondary reactions rooted in defensiveness or offensiveness (i.e., the feeling one must take the offensive in order to avoid being hurt, damaged, etc.), would it somehow exist as a foundational need that is simultaneously emotional and spiritual... something that transcends physical or intellectual yearnings. Something basic, primal, but ultimately human... a search for connection, for belonging, for meaning.
I believe the struggle to feel valued, above all, may inherently be present for all of us. This may segue into attachment theory and the Adlerian concept of social interest. But I also think there is something deeply embedded within the source of our living - be it a soul, or a spark, or a breath.
For who does not wish to be seen? And upon being seen to be understood... and upon being understood to be welcomed? If we all believed, without question, we held value and worth, as did everyone around us... how might that change our interactions?
Perhaps compassion is the act of embracing such a belief and holding onto it with unshakable faith.
Is it possible "ugly" behavior is ultimately rooted in a perceived lack of acceptance? If one were to seek the primary emotion below the secondary reactions rooted in defensiveness or offensiveness (i.e., the feeling one must take the offensive in order to avoid being hurt, damaged, etc.), would it somehow exist as a foundational need that is simultaneously emotional and spiritual... something that transcends physical or intellectual yearnings. Something basic, primal, but ultimately human... a search for connection, for belonging, for meaning.
I believe the struggle to feel valued, above all, may inherently be present for all of us. This may segue into attachment theory and the Adlerian concept of social interest. But I also think there is something deeply embedded within the source of our living - be it a soul, or a spark, or a breath.
For who does not wish to be seen? And upon being seen to be understood... and upon being understood to be welcomed? If we all believed, without question, we held value and worth, as did everyone around us... how might that change our interactions?
Perhaps compassion is the act of embracing such a belief and holding onto it with unshakable faith.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Falling
My limited intake of news and media coverage sometimes means I am late to hear about things others have known of for a long time. In this case, it has limited by ability to take action or advocate as much as I'd like, but the story is so important, it still bears passing along.
This morning over breakfast, Andy and I heard a story about Troy Anthony Davis, an African-American man convicted of shooting a White police officer in Savannah, GA.
The conviction was based on no hard evidence (no physical evidence); just the accounts of witnesses - seven of whom have recanted.
He has spent the last 17 years in prison, and he's set to be executed tomorrow night (Sept. 23). Amnesty International has been doing work on his behalf, and multiple people have written to the parole board and others on his behalf (Jimmy Carter and Bob Barr among them).
It truly sounds like another example of institutionalized racism and the oppression of someone based on their color/ethnicity. I don't know all the details of the case, having just heard about this man's situation today... but I am forever dismayed and confused when I meet people who insist such discrimination and oppression no longer exists.
May we one day find a better balance between valuing each other's differences and distinctions and recognizing the commonalities we share in our human journey. So far, we seem to continue to fall down too often.
If you are interested in taking action to help advocate for Davis's pardon, click here.
This morning over breakfast, Andy and I heard a story about Troy Anthony Davis, an African-American man convicted of shooting a White police officer in Savannah, GA.
The conviction was based on no hard evidence (no physical evidence); just the accounts of witnesses - seven of whom have recanted.
He has spent the last 17 years in prison, and he's set to be executed tomorrow night (Sept. 23). Amnesty International has been doing work on his behalf, and multiple people have written to the parole board and others on his behalf (Jimmy Carter and Bob Barr among them).
It truly sounds like another example of institutionalized racism and the oppression of someone based on their color/ethnicity. I don't know all the details of the case, having just heard about this man's situation today... but I am forever dismayed and confused when I meet people who insist such discrimination and oppression no longer exists.
May we one day find a better balance between valuing each other's differences and distinctions and recognizing the commonalities we share in our human journey. So far, we seem to continue to fall down too often.
If you are interested in taking action to help advocate for Davis's pardon, click here.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Future Echoes
Putumayo World Music Hour today played songs from mountain regions of the world currently being affected by climate change. In one of the spots they highlighted, the snow-capped mountaintops are expected to disappear within the next 20 years (the snow, that is).
It made me realize that one aspect of preparation for the coming changes (be they mild or dire - because goodness knows, there are still naysayers out there) is taking stock of what will be lost. The areas that will change permanently within our lifetimes, and possibly those of our immediate descendants, may forever alter our experience of unique and special areas of this planet.
Not that we can all just pack up and go trampling around in each endangered area... but perhaps it's worthwhile to be mindful of the spots likely to feel the greatest impact in terms of physical changes to the local landscape and lifestyle.
Whole cultures may change in the wake of extreme environmental transformation... and one day those archived songs, poems, films, books, etc. may be our best way of reconnecting with what once was.
It made me realize that one aspect of preparation for the coming changes (be they mild or dire - because goodness knows, there are still naysayers out there) is taking stock of what will be lost. The areas that will change permanently within our lifetimes, and possibly those of our immediate descendants, may forever alter our experience of unique and special areas of this planet.
Not that we can all just pack up and go trampling around in each endangered area... but perhaps it's worthwhile to be mindful of the spots likely to feel the greatest impact in terms of physical changes to the local landscape and lifestyle.
Whole cultures may change in the wake of extreme environmental transformation... and one day those archived songs, poems, films, books, etc. may be our best way of reconnecting with what once was.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
How old are you?
It's hell getting old.
My grandmother used to say this to me all the time... so much so that, unbeknownst to me at the time, it became somewhat ingrained into my thinking and etched into my memory.
I have heard it rattling around my head much more in the last year or so. I'm not sure why. Maybe because 36 is rapidly approaching and - as so many have said before - it's unflinchingly, undeniably close to 40.
Not that I'm one of those people who hesitates to share my age or even feels that weird about being the age I am... but I have noticed my body slowing down in the last 3-4 years, and with every creak and crank and lingering ache, the concept of "old" takes a little bit of a firmer hold upon my self-concept.
Regular readers will remember Andy and I made a goal of incorporating daily exercise into our routines in an effort to improve our health and physical stamina. Of course, it's gotten wildly mangled as we've moved into the school semester and have lost our warm mornings. (Thankfully, we received an indoor, manual elliptical as an anniversary gifts from Num-Num and Papa Roman... so I'm hoping we can reverse the current trend toward lethargy.)
I do think it's important to fight against the socially popular concept of aging as something evil, untenable, or unsavory. I tend to find age and aging somewhat beautiful, and I find great hope and inspiration in the people out there who are constantly redefining the terms and philosophies we apply to the act of growing older.
But it's hard to fight against those inner demons sometimes. Hard to laugh off stiff bones, injuries grown more noticeable over time, or a weakening of the body in the myriad ways it can begin to show signs of use and wear.
So as I fight off the stomach flu (rather unsuccessfully) and wait for the worst part to pass, I try to remember the many blessings that accompany my aging. I feel gratitude for the wisdom that has come through a multitude of life experiences, for the beauties and joys my life now holds, and the many ways in which my body, mind, heart, and spirit are still resilient and strong.
My grandmother used to say this to me all the time... so much so that, unbeknownst to me at the time, it became somewhat ingrained into my thinking and etched into my memory.
I have heard it rattling around my head much more in the last year or so. I'm not sure why. Maybe because 36 is rapidly approaching and - as so many have said before - it's unflinchingly, undeniably close to 40.
Not that I'm one of those people who hesitates to share my age or even feels that weird about being the age I am... but I have noticed my body slowing down in the last 3-4 years, and with every creak and crank and lingering ache, the concept of "old" takes a little bit of a firmer hold upon my self-concept.
Regular readers will remember Andy and I made a goal of incorporating daily exercise into our routines in an effort to improve our health and physical stamina. Of course, it's gotten wildly mangled as we've moved into the school semester and have lost our warm mornings. (Thankfully, we received an indoor, manual elliptical as an anniversary gifts from Num-Num and Papa Roman... so I'm hoping we can reverse the current trend toward lethargy.)
I do think it's important to fight against the socially popular concept of aging as something evil, untenable, or unsavory. I tend to find age and aging somewhat beautiful, and I find great hope and inspiration in the people out there who are constantly redefining the terms and philosophies we apply to the act of growing older.
But it's hard to fight against those inner demons sometimes. Hard to laugh off stiff bones, injuries grown more noticeable over time, or a weakening of the body in the myriad ways it can begin to show signs of use and wear.
So as I fight off the stomach flu (rather unsuccessfully) and wait for the worst part to pass, I try to remember the many blessings that accompany my aging. I feel gratitude for the wisdom that has come through a multitude of life experiences, for the beauties and joys my life now holds, and the many ways in which my body, mind, heart, and spirit are still resilient and strong.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Justice in the Modern Age
Two stories have come up on NPR this week that have stayed with me. The first was about contaminated baby formula in China. Officials knew for 6 weeks before recalling the affected brands, and - understandably - many of China's parents are enraged and distraught as they struggle to find something safe to feed their babies and determine what damage, if any, their children may have suffered. (At the time of the story, it was estimated 6,000 children have been affected.)
The second about Maher Arar, a Canadian/Syrian citizen, who was deported by the U.S. while on a layover in JFK airport. He was sent to Syria as an enemy combatant for suspected connections to al Queda, and while there was physically and psychologically tortured. He has been found innocent in Canada and is now seeking a trial in the U.S. No due process and no protection from being sent someplace where torture was somewhat imminent.
Such injustices are sometimes so difficult to comprehend. I don't know about you, but there are certain assumptions I make about what is sacred... what is important. I assume no one would be so callous and greedy as to put profits ahead of human lives. I assume my country would never knowingly commit acts of torture, nor take actions that would knowingly lead to the torture or unjust treatment of another human being.
It makes me think about the process of dehumanization and how it is so often easy to recongize on a large scale, but so hard sometimes to identify in small subtle moments of our own lives. Every moment in which compassion is replaced with hatred or anger may hold the potential for de-personalizing the other human beings around us.
Perhaps it's as simple as someone cutting me off on the highway, or seeing a woman mistreating her child in a grocery store, or vilifying politicans who have made poor choices. If we are able to act and respond with compassion in the many aspects of our own lives, does such a response ripple outward into the larger world? Can remembering the humanity in all those around us prevent inhuman acts in the future?
If prayer affects change or provides respite, may those affected by these injustices (and others) find peace in some form.
The second about Maher Arar, a Canadian/Syrian citizen, who was deported by the U.S. while on a layover in JFK airport. He was sent to Syria as an enemy combatant for suspected connections to al Queda, and while there was physically and psychologically tortured. He has been found innocent in Canada and is now seeking a trial in the U.S. No due process and no protection from being sent someplace where torture was somewhat imminent.
Such injustices are sometimes so difficult to comprehend. I don't know about you, but there are certain assumptions I make about what is sacred... what is important. I assume no one would be so callous and greedy as to put profits ahead of human lives. I assume my country would never knowingly commit acts of torture, nor take actions that would knowingly lead to the torture or unjust treatment of another human being.
It makes me think about the process of dehumanization and how it is so often easy to recongize on a large scale, but so hard sometimes to identify in small subtle moments of our own lives. Every moment in which compassion is replaced with hatred or anger may hold the potential for de-personalizing the other human beings around us.
Perhaps it's as simple as someone cutting me off on the highway, or seeing a woman mistreating her child in a grocery store, or vilifying politicans who have made poor choices. If we are able to act and respond with compassion in the many aspects of our own lives, does such a response ripple outward into the larger world? Can remembering the humanity in all those around us prevent inhuman acts in the future?
If prayer affects change or provides respite, may those affected by these injustices (and others) find peace in some form.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Five Reasons to Hang on Today
- The way Simon looks when he smiles.
- How my husband can be brave when I need him to be.
- The insanely glorious, perfect, invigorating air of autumn and how it cleanses.
- Feeling sunshine on my arms when the car window is open.
- How Ari's joy at seeing me makes the world fall away, each and every time.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Walk the Talk the Occ
Some days are harder than others. Some days are easier. In terms of this blog, I suppose the same holds true. Some days the words just pour out, and other days it seems like I sit, staring blankly at the screen for a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time.
There were two lovely things today that could be counted as joys.
1. I was researching strategies and interventions for small group counseling focused on raising academic motivation for at-risk students. For whatever reason (probably because of my combo of search terms), I stumbled on several sites for elementary school counselors in various parts of the U.S. Each page I went to described a comprehensive school counseling program and was well though out, thorough, and exciting/inspiring to read. I got excited about school counseling again, which is a big deal because I have been struggling this semester with the larger ramifications of this career choice due to some unfortunate circumstances, and so it was good to remember what makes me excited and hopeful about this profession - and to see there are indeed people out there who are really putting in the effort.
2. The second bit of good news today was passed along by my husband, who saw that one of our favorite people, Dana, has decided to open her own massage studio. So very cool. This is not the biggest surprise, as we were still in Chicago when Dana began her massage therapist training, and there was no doubt it was a purposeful and meaningful path for her. You know how you meet people who are doing what you know they are supposed to be doing? You see them in that job and they are fully in their element. There's something sort of Zen about it. What is even more impressive is that Dana is pursuing this while also raising two twin daughters with her husband. She is a fierce and wonderful woman... and it's always nice to see your friends realize their dreams.
There were two lovely things today that could be counted as joys.
1. I was researching strategies and interventions for small group counseling focused on raising academic motivation for at-risk students. For whatever reason (probably because of my combo of search terms), I stumbled on several sites for elementary school counselors in various parts of the U.S. Each page I went to described a comprehensive school counseling program and was well though out, thorough, and exciting/inspiring to read. I got excited about school counseling again, which is a big deal because I have been struggling this semester with the larger ramifications of this career choice due to some unfortunate circumstances, and so it was good to remember what makes me excited and hopeful about this profession - and to see there are indeed people out there who are really putting in the effort.
2. The second bit of good news today was passed along by my husband, who saw that one of our favorite people, Dana, has decided to open her own massage studio. So very cool. This is not the biggest surprise, as we were still in Chicago when Dana began her massage therapist training, and there was no doubt it was a purposeful and meaningful path for her. You know how you meet people who are doing what you know they are supposed to be doing? You see them in that job and they are fully in their element. There's something sort of Zen about it. What is even more impressive is that Dana is pursuing this while also raising two twin daughters with her husband. She is a fierce and wonderful woman... and it's always nice to see your friends realize their dreams.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Worry(less)
We were at "the Castle" today - a park designed in memory of a local young man. It is a medievil/fantasy wonderland: dragons, wizards, soldiers, and monsters... and a ginormous castle with trap doors, multiple levels, bridges, thrones, and all sorts of wild decorations. It's truly awesome.
We were playing on a bridge connecting two sections, and Ari decided to lie down. She asked me to do so as well. I did... and there we lay, looking up at a bright blue sky with soft, white clouds floating overhead, encased in the perfect cool air of the first weeks of autumn. Bright, clear, gorgeous weather that makes everything smell good and look sharp.
Such a simple, perfect, joyful moment. Something I would never have thought to do... a little gift from a two-year old mind that looks at the world without worrying so much. Amazing how much it can make a difference.
We were playing on a bridge connecting two sections, and Ari decided to lie down. She asked me to do so as well. I did... and there we lay, looking up at a bright blue sky with soft, white clouds floating overhead, encased in the perfect cool air of the first weeks of autumn. Bright, clear, gorgeous weather that makes everything smell good and look sharp.
Such a simple, perfect, joyful moment. Something I would never have thought to do... a little gift from a two-year old mind that looks at the world without worrying so much. Amazing how much it can make a difference.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Double-Dutch for the Seeming Apocolypse (a form stolen, in part, from my husband)
Freddie Mac
Fanny Mae
A I G
Yellowstone
due to go
kerplooey
Galveston hit
and Chicago
under water
Stock market money
going down for
your daughter
People going
crazy while the
politicians lie
Hope the next
election doesn't
make you cry
Every day you
wonder will the
economy survive?
Scrimp and save
and pray and maybe
you'll be fine
1-2-3
and you
are
?
Fanny Mae
A I G
Yellowstone
due to go
kerplooey
Galveston hit
and Chicago
under water
Stock market money
going down for
your daughter
People going
crazy while the
politicians lie
Hope the next
election doesn't
make you cry
Every day you
wonder will the
economy survive?
Scrimp and save
and pray and maybe
you'll be fine
1-2-3
and you
are
?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
SkyWaterEarth
The moon looked really beautiful tonight. Such a simple thing, to look up and see the moon in a clear sky on a quiet night. And yet, so many people do not get to enjoy such a simple pleasure.
We drove home from Louisville in the tail-end of Hurricane Ike. We saw an overturned semi (the driver, thankfully, seemed to be okay) and a trailer in the ditch (the truck pulling it seemed to be fine). The wind was incredible, and debris was flying everywhere... but we decided to push through in order to get home and ensure we were not trapped in the storm in a strange place with no sense of our surroundings.
I have been away from the news over the weekend and thus have only gotten small updates of how Galveston and Houston are faring. Gas was $4.49 when we got home, and it seemed many towns (including parts of our own) had power out.
Undoubtedly, not everyone was lucky in this latest storm. And so, the simplicity of a ballooned autumn moon will be overshadowed by much more pressing concerns, like food, shelter, and safety... or what to do in the aftermath of even greater tragedies.
Of course, you never know what might bring someone comfort or peace... and so maybe that big beautiful moon is smiling down on someone else far away... giving hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
We drove home from Louisville in the tail-end of Hurricane Ike. We saw an overturned semi (the driver, thankfully, seemed to be okay) and a trailer in the ditch (the truck pulling it seemed to be fine). The wind was incredible, and debris was flying everywhere... but we decided to push through in order to get home and ensure we were not trapped in the storm in a strange place with no sense of our surroundings.
I have been away from the news over the weekend and thus have only gotten small updates of how Galveston and Houston are faring. Gas was $4.49 when we got home, and it seemed many towns (including parts of our own) had power out.
Undoubtedly, not everyone was lucky in this latest storm. And so, the simplicity of a ballooned autumn moon will be overshadowed by much more pressing concerns, like food, shelter, and safety... or what to do in the aftermath of even greater tragedies.
Of course, you never know what might bring someone comfort or peace... and so maybe that big beautiful moon is smiling down on someone else far away... giving hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
(this is not a dress rehearsal, you know)
I saw the matinee performance of 43 Plays For 43 Presidents today. It was a lovely production, and it was great to see all the great changes they made. I think we always wished we could mount it with a larger budget - allowing us to do more with it. So it was extremely gratifying to see it produced with such support and thoughtfulness... and so wonderful to get to meet everyone behind (and in) the show who so clearly have put their full energy into this production. Nice people with good hearts and great ideas.
One thing The Actors Theatre has been able to do that we had talked about but never were able to accomplish is to set aside several shows specifically for school-aged audiences - complete with materials designed to encourage study and discussion in the classroom before and after the show. It really is such a great piece of edu-tainment... it's so cool to see a theatre take that opportunity and run with it so thoroughly.
It was also very odd to come see it in the capacity of one of the playwrights. Someone said to me and Andy, "You're celebrities here." Which was so very, very, very odd. I don't feel like a celebrity. My life right now, and the path I'm currently on, is even so far away from theatre and the arts as to make this whole experience somewhat surreal (albeit wonderful).
And so I will finish this blog, having put the little one to bed, and then turn my attention to my homework - which is all about quantitative and qualitative research and the context of my current school counseling internship. Sometimes it's confusing to have so many hats that fit just fine. It makes deciding what to wear a little tricky. But I suppose that's not a bad conundrum to have.
One thing The Actors Theatre has been able to do that we had talked about but never were able to accomplish is to set aside several shows specifically for school-aged audiences - complete with materials designed to encourage study and discussion in the classroom before and after the show. It really is such a great piece of edu-tainment... it's so cool to see a theatre take that opportunity and run with it so thoroughly.
It was also very odd to come see it in the capacity of one of the playwrights. Someone said to me and Andy, "You're celebrities here." Which was so very, very, very odd. I don't feel like a celebrity. My life right now, and the path I'm currently on, is even so far away from theatre and the arts as to make this whole experience somewhat surreal (albeit wonderful).
And so I will finish this blog, having put the little one to bed, and then turn my attention to my homework - which is all about quantitative and qualitative research and the context of my current school counseling internship. Sometimes it's confusing to have so many hats that fit just fine. It makes deciding what to wear a little tricky. But I suppose that's not a bad conundrum to have.
Travel Whoops
We were traveling yesterday and I remember my blog at around 10:30 - just as I was drifting off to sleep. Ah well.
Gas spiked the morning of our departure, and I had heard it was limited to only southern Illinois, but has been higher in Indiana and Kentucky as well (though certainly not as high).
We caught the coverage of Hurricane Ike the night before last and were simply stunned by its size and the coverage it was receiving. Although it seemed from CNN's coverage the National Weather Service may have used a little too much exaggeration in stating "certain death," it also seems like it was necessary to evacuate everyone and to secure the area as much as possible. Waves 20 feet high are not something to mess with.
Of course, many Texans decided to stay, despite the warnings, and the total toll in terms of human and financial damage is yet to be known. I certainly hope people remained safe and that this storm does not further weaken our already troubled economy.
I know I've written about it before, but Andy and I both worry we are in for some dark times ahead... days of struggle and difficulty that may shake our nation's philosophies and require a new definition from a social and cultural perspective. If we do face such a rebirth, let's hope we emerge from the ashes stronger, wiser, and renewed in a way that will help generations beyond us prosper and evolve.
Gas spiked the morning of our departure, and I had heard it was limited to only southern Illinois, but has been higher in Indiana and Kentucky as well (though certainly not as high).
We caught the coverage of Hurricane Ike the night before last and were simply stunned by its size and the coverage it was receiving. Although it seemed from CNN's coverage the National Weather Service may have used a little too much exaggeration in stating "certain death," it also seems like it was necessary to evacuate everyone and to secure the area as much as possible. Waves 20 feet high are not something to mess with.
Of course, many Texans decided to stay, despite the warnings, and the total toll in terms of human and financial damage is yet to be known. I certainly hope people remained safe and that this storm does not further weaken our already troubled economy.
I know I've written about it before, but Andy and I both worry we are in for some dark times ahead... days of struggle and difficulty that may shake our nation's philosophies and require a new definition from a social and cultural perspective. If we do face such a rebirth, let's hope we emerge from the ashes stronger, wiser, and renewed in a way that will help generations beyond us prosper and evolve.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
In Honor of Today
Here is a section of a journal that was later incorporated into a play Rachel, Chloë, and I performed together in a few forms detailing our trip along Route 66. We left on September 11, 2001. This piece was based on an entry from September 13.
We have encountered many other people who are trying to go about their daily lives despite the aftermath of the bombings. People are quick to voice an opinion and often have very specific stories of where they were when it happened… and everyone seems stunned and somewhat unaware of the full extent of what is to come.
Now... the first time we read through this, Rachel noted that I used the word “bombings” to describe the attacks. Which I did… at that time in my journal, I was writing about them in that way. I think that some of that had to do with the fact that everyone else was using that word… that terminology.
I also think some of it is related to a conversation we had with a woman in Oklahoma City at a place called the Country Dove. We didn’t know that’s what it was called. We were looking for [motions to Rachel to supply the incorrect name we found in the guidebook] because it was supposed to have really good French Silk Pie, which is my all-time favorite.
So we found this little bookstore with a small restaurant attached that was filled with all sorts of Jesus paraphernalia (strange), and the woman there was talking about the bombings. The Oklahoma City bombings. And it was clear that the whole city felt as if they’d been through this before. She was talking about how the whole city felt like they could offer the citizens of New York help, advice, empathy… because they’d already been through it. They understood. I remember she sounded incredibly sad, but she didn’t cry.
We have encountered many other people who are trying to go about their daily lives despite the aftermath of the bombings. People are quick to voice an opinion and often have very specific stories of where they were when it happened… and everyone seems stunned and somewhat unaware of the full extent of what is to come.
Now... the first time we read through this, Rachel noted that I used the word “bombings” to describe the attacks. Which I did… at that time in my journal, I was writing about them in that way. I think that some of that had to do with the fact that everyone else was using that word… that terminology.
I also think some of it is related to a conversation we had with a woman in Oklahoma City at a place called the Country Dove. We didn’t know that’s what it was called. We were looking for [motions to Rachel to supply the incorrect name we found in the guidebook] because it was supposed to have really good French Silk Pie, which is my all-time favorite.
So we found this little bookstore with a small restaurant attached that was filled with all sorts of Jesus paraphernalia (strange), and the woman there was talking about the bombings. The Oklahoma City bombings. And it was clear that the whole city felt as if they’d been through this before. She was talking about how the whole city felt like they could offer the citizens of New York help, advice, empathy… because they’d already been through it. They understood. I remember she sounded incredibly sad, but she didn’t cry.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A Potential Failing, An Articulated Fear
I have been thinking a lot about motivation lately - about what it is that urges us forward, helps us survive hardships, push past obstacles, and continue to reach toward our goals.
Not everyone has it. And what has been very confusing lately is how to approach working with people who are not feeling motivated. It's not as if you can manufacture motivation for someone else. It has to be genuine and connected to some internal locus of control.
Of course, there are lots of theories and ideas as to how motivation is fostered, what it's related to, etc. Attachment theory, nature vs. nurture, self-esteem and self-awareness, goal-setting techniques, resilience, coping strategies, etc.
Sometimes it all feels like shooting in the dark. Hoping to hit a target you can't see with tools you aren't entirely sure work each and every time... and praying for success.
Perhaps there are many jobs that feel this way. Standing against the tide of inertia and apathy that can often accompany the real-world experiences of oppression or forced invisibility for at-risk populations sometimes feels overwhelming. Like running a marathon each day and never reaching the finish line.
And there is beauty and honor in the pursuit, to be sure. And I have great appreciation for those who are capable of such journeys... but I'm not sure I have what it takes for a lifetime of such work.
Not everyone has it. And what has been very confusing lately is how to approach working with people who are not feeling motivated. It's not as if you can manufacture motivation for someone else. It has to be genuine and connected to some internal locus of control.
Of course, there are lots of theories and ideas as to how motivation is fostered, what it's related to, etc. Attachment theory, nature vs. nurture, self-esteem and self-awareness, goal-setting techniques, resilience, coping strategies, etc.
Sometimes it all feels like shooting in the dark. Hoping to hit a target you can't see with tools you aren't entirely sure work each and every time... and praying for success.
Perhaps there are many jobs that feel this way. Standing against the tide of inertia and apathy that can often accompany the real-world experiences of oppression or forced invisibility for at-risk populations sometimes feels overwhelming. Like running a marathon each day and never reaching the finish line.
And there is beauty and honor in the pursuit, to be sure. And I have great appreciation for those who are capable of such journeys... but I'm not sure I have what it takes for a lifetime of such work.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Story for a Special Day
My husband has a startlingly accurate memory for details that connect to our history together. He remembers what I was wearing the night of our first kiss... the date of our first date... what he said to me the first time we met.
I am not so good at such details. I remember our first kiss, but I could not tell you what I had on or what he had on; I don't remember what I was wearing when he proposed or where he was sitting the first time I met him or the date of our first official outing together as a couple rather than friends.
I think this sometimes makes him sad, and I wish I had the gift for recollection that he has in this particular realm. It's ironic, because he is forgetful at times in other areas in which I excel - but in this regard he is far and away more able and accomplished.
But I do have several memories - snapshots, really - that stand out and comprise my picture of our history together:
Riding home in the car after a attending the corn fest in DeKalb, feeling relieved and amazed that he had a good time and was not making fun of me for suggesting we go. It was my first sense that we would do well on road trips and traveling together, and I felt encouraged that he might be able to tolerate my penchant for hokey/kitschy things.
Sitting across from one another outside at a cafe table in Italy, watching the sleepy life of our adopted town of Praiano float past... listening to the sounds of life in the piazza and watching the ocean kiss the rocks below our hotel. I felt so at peace and so lucky to be sharing such a beautiful night with my best friend. I wished we could stay like that into old age, sitting side by side and watching the simplicity of an ordinary day.
Sleeping fitfully in the hospital the very first night Ari was with us... Andy cramped in a fold-out chair impossible for sleep and doing everything he could to help Ari get comfortable, help me stay still, make sure we were both okay, all the while ignoring the hours slipping past before he had to return to work - the last place he wanted to be.
Watching him play with Ari, unaware of my presence, his whole heart and energy focused on his little girl. He reaches to the very depths of his creativity for her, and unflinchingly offers her favorite gags, stories, voices, characters, and bits over and over and over again - until one wonders if he might suddenly explode or collapse. He is filled with such love and generosity in those moments, and the childlike joy of his heart shines through.
There are many more from points before and after, from multiple times along the spectrum of our friendship, courtship, marrying, and marriage. And I very much look forward to the ones yet to come.
I am not so good at such details. I remember our first kiss, but I could not tell you what I had on or what he had on; I don't remember what I was wearing when he proposed or where he was sitting the first time I met him or the date of our first official outing together as a couple rather than friends.
I think this sometimes makes him sad, and I wish I had the gift for recollection that he has in this particular realm. It's ironic, because he is forgetful at times in other areas in which I excel - but in this regard he is far and away more able and accomplished.
But I do have several memories - snapshots, really - that stand out and comprise my picture of our history together:
Riding home in the car after a attending the corn fest in DeKalb, feeling relieved and amazed that he had a good time and was not making fun of me for suggesting we go. It was my first sense that we would do well on road trips and traveling together, and I felt encouraged that he might be able to tolerate my penchant for hokey/kitschy things.
Sitting across from one another outside at a cafe table in Italy, watching the sleepy life of our adopted town of Praiano float past... listening to the sounds of life in the piazza and watching the ocean kiss the rocks below our hotel. I felt so at peace and so lucky to be sharing such a beautiful night with my best friend. I wished we could stay like that into old age, sitting side by side and watching the simplicity of an ordinary day.
Sleeping fitfully in the hospital the very first night Ari was with us... Andy cramped in a fold-out chair impossible for sleep and doing everything he could to help Ari get comfortable, help me stay still, make sure we were both okay, all the while ignoring the hours slipping past before he had to return to work - the last place he wanted to be.
Watching him play with Ari, unaware of my presence, his whole heart and energy focused on his little girl. He reaches to the very depths of his creativity for her, and unflinchingly offers her favorite gags, stories, voices, characters, and bits over and over and over again - until one wonders if he might suddenly explode or collapse. He is filled with such love and generosity in those moments, and the childlike joy of his heart shines through.
There are many more from points before and after, from multiple times along the spectrum of our friendship, courtship, marrying, and marriage. And I very much look forward to the ones yet to come.
Monday, September 8, 2008
The Little Magician
You put a spell on me
my little bunny bean
erasing a bad day
with a screeching welcome
and huge smile
arms wide and
legs running
to land - thump! -
against my legs
with gleeful, huggy
hellos.
Amazing that in one
small moment
you can freeze time
and snap me back
to present tense
no longer worrying
about "but" or "if" -
at least for a few
shining moments
of blissful, kissy
reunion.
Little magic
elf bunny...
my special,
sunny girl.
my little bunny bean
erasing a bad day
with a screeching welcome
and huge smile
arms wide and
legs running
to land - thump! -
against my legs
with gleeful, huggy
hellos.
Amazing that in one
small moment
you can freeze time
and snap me back
to present tense
no longer worrying
about "but" or "if" -
at least for a few
shining moments
of blissful, kissy
reunion.
Little magic
elf bunny...
my special,
sunny girl.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Re:Re:Routed
Sometimes the synchronicities of life are strikingly surprising. I have been thinking a lot about September 11th lately - not only because the anniversary is fast-approaching, but also because there is a project connected to it that has lain dormant for several years, and lately I've been feeling like picking it back up again.
Rachel, Chloë, and I left for the Grand Canyon from Chicago on the morning of September 11, 2001. We were traveling Route 66 and did not find out about the attacks until the afternoon when stopping for gas. We ultimately decided to keep going with our trip - which resulted in some amazing conversations and the opportunity to travel cross-country with our eyes and ears open in an entirely new way.
We created a show, Re:Routed, which we performed in different variations at various points for a little while, and I had always intended to do a book project combining our journal entries, photographs, and later ruminations on the trip. Perhaps it will still happen; I certainly hope so.
This week I heard an interview on StoryCorps of a young boy whose grandfather was killed in the attack on the World Trade Center, and tonight I entered the living room to find my husband watching United 93 on TNT. It's riveting and upsetting and startlingly realistic, which makes it somewhat difficult to watch.
Even now, nearly 7 years later, the disorientation, fear, and disbelief of that day comes flooding back. I think it's important to remember those feelings when we hear of tragedies and losses of life in other countries (be they natural disasters or acts of war), and to continue to honor the memory of all those lost throughout our country's history. May peace be with them.
Rachel, Chloë, and I left for the Grand Canyon from Chicago on the morning of September 11, 2001. We were traveling Route 66 and did not find out about the attacks until the afternoon when stopping for gas. We ultimately decided to keep going with our trip - which resulted in some amazing conversations and the opportunity to travel cross-country with our eyes and ears open in an entirely new way.
We created a show, Re:Routed, which we performed in different variations at various points for a little while, and I had always intended to do a book project combining our journal entries, photographs, and later ruminations on the trip. Perhaps it will still happen; I certainly hope so.
This week I heard an interview on StoryCorps of a young boy whose grandfather was killed in the attack on the World Trade Center, and tonight I entered the living room to find my husband watching United 93 on TNT. It's riveting and upsetting and startlingly realistic, which makes it somewhat difficult to watch.
Even now, nearly 7 years later, the disorientation, fear, and disbelief of that day comes flooding back. I think it's important to remember those feelings when we hear of tragedies and losses of life in other countries (be they natural disasters or acts of war), and to continue to honor the memory of all those lost throughout our country's history. May peace be with them.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Ego, Egads! (an embarrassing confession)
I am struggling with envy of late. Envy and ego swirled together like a hard candy found in cupboards of little old ladies who still dress up on Sunday.
I spoke with my brother the other day, and he told me about all the amazing things he's doing, how well the show is going, how much he loves Sydney, etc. And don't get me wrong... I LOOOOVE my brother and I am so, so, so very proud of him for pushing toward his dreams with full strength and actually reaching them. It's amazing.
But there is a part of me, every single time, that starts to jabber away about how I gave up... about how my life is not exciting or filled with trips to other countries or amazing, beautiful dreamlike creativity. About how Andy and I struggle to make ends meet even though we're in our mid-30s and we still express discontentment and extreme confusion as to what we want to be when we grow up.
And we are still not sure if we have grown up, or are grown ups.
(I suppose if you have to ponder and ask, then the answer is no.)
I miss my artistic life, but I also remember how bad the fit was when we finally left and went in search of a new direction in order to fashion a different life. But I often feel my family is more impressed with his successes than mine, and I often wonder what would have happened if I had been more confident and less apologetic in my pursuit of an artistic career.
And so here I am, struggling to live in the now, except that the now contains jealousy and self-upbraiding... and a small little whisper of failure in the back of the throat and the pit of the stomach.
I don't know many people who have achieved their dream. My brother is one, which makes him incredibly special (and it helps that he's generous, funny, easygoing, and insatiably curious to boot). I think much of my dis-ease comes from not entirely knowing what my dream is.
So today I wander, a little lost, and still quite grateful - but doggedly looking for an answer to a question I still don't know how to ask.
I spoke with my brother the other day, and he told me about all the amazing things he's doing, how well the show is going, how much he loves Sydney, etc. And don't get me wrong... I LOOOOVE my brother and I am so, so, so very proud of him for pushing toward his dreams with full strength and actually reaching them. It's amazing.
But there is a part of me, every single time, that starts to jabber away about how I gave up... about how my life is not exciting or filled with trips to other countries or amazing, beautiful dreamlike creativity. About how Andy and I struggle to make ends meet even though we're in our mid-30s and we still express discontentment and extreme confusion as to what we want to be when we grow up.
And we are still not sure if we have grown up, or are grown ups.
(I suppose if you have to ponder and ask, then the answer is no.)
I miss my artistic life, but I also remember how bad the fit was when we finally left and went in search of a new direction in order to fashion a different life. But I often feel my family is more impressed with his successes than mine, and I often wonder what would have happened if I had been more confident and less apologetic in my pursuit of an artistic career.
And so here I am, struggling to live in the now, except that the now contains jealousy and self-upbraiding... and a small little whisper of failure in the back of the throat and the pit of the stomach.
I don't know many people who have achieved their dream. My brother is one, which makes him incredibly special (and it helps that he's generous, funny, easygoing, and insatiably curious to boot). I think much of my dis-ease comes from not entirely knowing what my dream is.
So today I wander, a little lost, and still quite grateful - but doggedly looking for an answer to a question I still don't know how to ask.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Taken for Granted
We got an update today from our friends who have been in the hospital with their little one; they are not out of the woods yet, but steps are being taken and it sounds like all went well for this initial procedure, so we all have high hopes it will continue to be good news and an excellent prognosis for all the steps that will follow.
Their little one is only 10 weeks old. And he is not the first child of a friend who has faced serious complications this early in life. And while it's always inspiring to me how strong the parents - my friends who are often far away and so sorely missed - can be... I also know how everything you know and feel can shift swiftly and sharply in the middle of a crisis. What we previously thought we could never bear, we push through and take one step at at time... because, as someone at school once said, we have to. What else would you do?
I feel great empathy for these parents who face such scary situations with their children. And it makes me realize how much I take Ari's health (and really Andy's and mine as well) for granted. It's an excellent reminder, as are so many of the things those around the world are faced with daily, of what a blessed life I lead. One that I should not take lightly or dismiss easily, because I am very lucky. Even those crises we have faced pale in comparison to the trials of others, and so I hope to always remember to value the good things I have... to cherish the good in my life.
We continue to pray for our friends and their loved ones as they face these challenges; to celebrate the survivals, the successes, the small miracles; and to keep remembering to appreciate each blessing - each joy - because they are wonderful, special, miraculous gifts.
Their little one is only 10 weeks old. And he is not the first child of a friend who has faced serious complications this early in life. And while it's always inspiring to me how strong the parents - my friends who are often far away and so sorely missed - can be... I also know how everything you know and feel can shift swiftly and sharply in the middle of a crisis. What we previously thought we could never bear, we push through and take one step at at time... because, as someone at school once said, we have to. What else would you do?
I feel great empathy for these parents who face such scary situations with their children. And it makes me realize how much I take Ari's health (and really Andy's and mine as well) for granted. It's an excellent reminder, as are so many of the things those around the world are faced with daily, of what a blessed life I lead. One that I should not take lightly or dismiss easily, because I am very lucky. Even those crises we have faced pale in comparison to the trials of others, and so I hope to always remember to value the good things I have... to cherish the good in my life.
We continue to pray for our friends and their loved ones as they face these challenges; to celebrate the survivals, the successes, the small miracles; and to keep remembering to appreciate each blessing - each joy - because they are wonderful, special, miraculous gifts.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Everything Sticks
Ari and I were playing upstairs today with some stuffed animals who had been "resting" in her closet for quite some time which she recently rediscovered and insisted on making a permanent part of the chaos in her room.
She picked up a little pig who makes oinking noises and held him up by his toes. "Dead," she said. And it took me a minute to remember what she might be referring to. But after a few minutes and her insistent repetition of the word with the piggy dangling by his toes, I remembered the reference.
Andy made up a song very early on in her infancy that he would sing to her while dangling the piggy by one foot. At the time, she was much too young to understand it, but I remember questioning him as to whether or not such a song was a good idea.
It's amazing how much little minds retain - even when you think they couldn't possibly understand what you're saying. Luckily, it's now a funny story and is hopefully something that will neither scar her nor get her into trouble should she remember the words well enough to repeat them around others.
Here's the song Andy made up for the pig:
Slaughterhouse pig
hanging by his feet.
Slaughterhouse pig;
he'd like to meet you
but he can't 'cause he's dead.
They hit him on the head
and strung him up.
Then they slit open his stomach,
and they pulled out his guts.
He's the slaughterhouse pig!
She picked up a little pig who makes oinking noises and held him up by his toes. "Dead," she said. And it took me a minute to remember what she might be referring to. But after a few minutes and her insistent repetition of the word with the piggy dangling by his toes, I remembered the reference.
Andy made up a song very early on in her infancy that he would sing to her while dangling the piggy by one foot. At the time, she was much too young to understand it, but I remember questioning him as to whether or not such a song was a good idea.
It's amazing how much little minds retain - even when you think they couldn't possibly understand what you're saying. Luckily, it's now a funny story and is hopefully something that will neither scar her nor get her into trouble should she remember the words well enough to repeat them around others.
Here's the song Andy made up for the pig:
Slaughterhouse pig
hanging by his feet.
Slaughterhouse pig;
he'd like to meet you
but he can't 'cause he's dead.
They hit him on the head
and strung him up.
Then they slit open his stomach,
and they pulled out his guts.
He's the slaughterhouse pig!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Far Away Prayers
We found out today the infant of two good friends of ours is in the hospital. (Many regular readers will already be familiar with this and will probably have even more info than I do.)
I know that if Ari took ill, my world would stop and everything would feel like it was spinning out of control. I pray everything goes smoothly, that good news is forthcoming, and that the whole family can get some rest and feel some peace despite the inevitable chaos and sense of crisis they must be experiencing in the present time.
I wish we lived closer so I could somehow be of tangible support, but I will ask for your collective thoughts and energy in the hopes our prayers might help.
I know that if Ari took ill, my world would stop and everything would feel like it was spinning out of control. I pray everything goes smoothly, that good news is forthcoming, and that the whole family can get some rest and feel some peace despite the inevitable chaos and sense of crisis they must be experiencing in the present time.
I wish we lived closer so I could somehow be of tangible support, but I will ask for your collective thoughts and energy in the hopes our prayers might help.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The Inner Tug-of-War, The Outer Perspective
There is a dichotomy between two phrases ringing in my head as of late:
Everything is finite.
(Which is very similar to another favorite of mine: This too shall pass.)
Live in the now.
(Something I keep hoping to make headway on but continue to struggle to achieve.)
One suggests that anything can be endured in the present because life continues to move and change... and nothing lasts forever. Hope lies in the future and the knowledge that time will pass, the river will flow on, and whatever life's present unhappinesses may be... it will all be different at some point down the road.
The other suggests one eschew the future (and the past) in order to fully appreciate, be awake in, and participate in the present moment. Hope lies in being fully awake through each breath in every second of any given point of time because to be wholly alive is surely better than to be sleepwalking, hiding, running away, or dreaming of the future.
For whatever reason, grad school often seems easier to get through by embracing the former sentiment. Anything can be endured because everything has an endpoint. It will change. Just keep going and trust it will all be okay.
But lately I wonder if the latter would be more appropriate and ultimately more fulfilling. Sucking every bit of marrow out of each circumstance and experience - be it revelatory, boring, frustrating, or educational. Perhaps my wanton application of my future-oriented maxim denies me the full experience of being in this time - with its goods and bads, ups and downs, hard days and wonderful days.
Live in the now.
Live in the now.
Live in the now.
Everything is finite.
(Which is very similar to another favorite of mine: This too shall pass.)
Live in the now.
(Something I keep hoping to make headway on but continue to struggle to achieve.)
One suggests that anything can be endured in the present because life continues to move and change... and nothing lasts forever. Hope lies in the future and the knowledge that time will pass, the river will flow on, and whatever life's present unhappinesses may be... it will all be different at some point down the road.
The other suggests one eschew the future (and the past) in order to fully appreciate, be awake in, and participate in the present moment. Hope lies in being fully awake through each breath in every second of any given point of time because to be wholly alive is surely better than to be sleepwalking, hiding, running away, or dreaming of the future.
For whatever reason, grad school often seems easier to get through by embracing the former sentiment. Anything can be endured because everything has an endpoint. It will change. Just keep going and trust it will all be okay.
But lately I wonder if the latter would be more appropriate and ultimately more fulfilling. Sucking every bit of marrow out of each circumstance and experience - be it revelatory, boring, frustrating, or educational. Perhaps my wanton application of my future-oriented maxim denies me the full experience of being in this time - with its goods and bads, ups and downs, hard days and wonderful days.
Live in the now.
Live in the now.
Live in the now.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Here, fishy fishy fishy!
We often spend long hours trying to figure out what to do with our weekends since moving out of the Chicago. Not that we really knew what to do with our weekends then, either... but there was a clearer plethora of offerings, and our inability to select something or motivate ourselves out of the house was more clearly our own failing.
Here, we seem to face a similar struggle. Which makes me think the dilemma stems from our own inability to fully seize upon the present and enjoy (and commit to) our surroundings. Thus, we are now locked in a sort of inner whirlwind as to where to head next, what opportunities to grasp, and what wants and needs to prioritize. BUT... the issue that seems to be emerging with increasing clarity is that much of our present unhappiness stems from an inability or unwillingness to commit to the now and live more fully in the present.
However, today we managed to do pretty well at filling our time and having fun. We went to a local fish hatchery and fed the very last of the catfish being raised this year. Three buckets of food, two tanks with approximately 3,000 fish each, and one very happy little 2 year old who took great delight in throwing fish pellets into the water and watching the frenzy that ensued.
It was great fun, totally free, and we even got to pick out some coloring books with local wildlife and state facts. Truly cool. The woman on staff who helped us recommended returning in June to see the eggs and to have the experience of feeding 30,000 fish, which is what they have on hand in the middle of the summer.
I know we will likely not stay in this area for the long haul, but I hope by the time we leave, we have many wonderful memories and lots of things to miss. There truly is so much to enjoy here; I don't want us to miss it while chasing dreams around the corner.
Here, we seem to face a similar struggle. Which makes me think the dilemma stems from our own inability to fully seize upon the present and enjoy (and commit to) our surroundings. Thus, we are now locked in a sort of inner whirlwind as to where to head next, what opportunities to grasp, and what wants and needs to prioritize. BUT... the issue that seems to be emerging with increasing clarity is that much of our present unhappiness stems from an inability or unwillingness to commit to the now and live more fully in the present.
However, today we managed to do pretty well at filling our time and having fun. We went to a local fish hatchery and fed the very last of the catfish being raised this year. Three buckets of food, two tanks with approximately 3,000 fish each, and one very happy little 2 year old who took great delight in throwing fish pellets into the water and watching the frenzy that ensued.
It was great fun, totally free, and we even got to pick out some coloring books with local wildlife and state facts. Truly cool. The woman on staff who helped us recommended returning in June to see the eggs and to have the experience of feeding 30,000 fish, which is what they have on hand in the middle of the summer.
I know we will likely not stay in this area for the long haul, but I hope by the time we leave, we have many wonderful memories and lots of things to miss. There truly is so much to enjoy here; I don't want us to miss it while chasing dreams around the corner.
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