How hard in seeking safety
to choose to sleep outside
amidst rubble and frightened
children, among crying neighbors
and the vibration of panic
running like a current through
each encampment.
No food, no water, no sense
of when relief may come.
Longing for stillness and
waiting for an answer to
the first ripple, like an echo
headed homeward to its
tremulous beginning.
Arms cling tight to loved ones
and prayers trickle from lips
like water pouring forth across
a blighted landscape, searching
for life. It must be hard to reconcile
the erasure of years compounded
tangibly into stability and shelter.
Gone in a space of time
inconsistent with the aftermath;
the outcome insufficiently
explained in any language
as those left empty steal
fitless sleep and wake
to stop the dreaming.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Thought to Word to Deed
It's been a strange week and a particularly strange day. I sometimes marvel at the synchronicity life serves up at times, and I have been flooded lately with thoughts on multiple subjects.
Mental health and wellness, professional roles in the various mental health tracks and what it means to enter a career track that is still - in many ways - in the process of being defined, nostaligia and the impact of memory, forgiveness and gratitude... and the restorative power of nature and how even the simplest of things, like sunshine and the scent of burning leaves, can be a source of salvation in difficult times.
I was listening to NPR this morning (I know... what a surprise), and I heard a story about a woman who was reconsidering her college options because her mother had lost her job. One of the schools she had previously considered, Boston University, carried a projected price tag of $200,000 for 4 years there.
That's where I went to school. And although it was not quite that high at the time I attended, it was enormously pricey. And it made me realize what a huge gift it was to receive help from my parents in order to attend.... and an even greater gift when my mother and stepfather paid off my college loans several years ago.
I had already been thinking about all of the sacrifices they made throughout my childhood and about how all the things I had taken for granted (holidays, traditions, safety, good schooling, an emphasis on education, dinners together each night, long talks, responsibility and freedom) are so amazingly hard and stressful when you're the parent.
Having my own child has opened my eyes to the amount of sacrifice, intention, thought, care, generosity, love, and careful attention they put into raising me. It has increased my gratitude for and appreciation of their parenting choices, along with forgiveness for mistakes, which we are all capable of making (and all do).
I do not say thank-you enough. I feel, especially lately, like I need to do a better job of expressing my gratitude toward those special people in my life and opening my heart more in order to spend more time expressing joy and less time caught in criticism, impatience, or stress-induced frustration.
Lately I imagine writing thank you cards each week, or even each day... sending them out to everyone I can think of with personalized notes and sincere, heartfelt thanks for all the big and little things that make a difference in my life.
So... as of this moment, I make the intention to write one card per month, expressing my thanks to someone important. (And some of you may someday know if I've actually followed through!)
Mental health and wellness, professional roles in the various mental health tracks and what it means to enter a career track that is still - in many ways - in the process of being defined, nostaligia and the impact of memory, forgiveness and gratitude... and the restorative power of nature and how even the simplest of things, like sunshine and the scent of burning leaves, can be a source of salvation in difficult times.
I was listening to NPR this morning (I know... what a surprise), and I heard a story about a woman who was reconsidering her college options because her mother had lost her job. One of the schools she had previously considered, Boston University, carried a projected price tag of $200,000 for 4 years there.
That's where I went to school. And although it was not quite that high at the time I attended, it was enormously pricey. And it made me realize what a huge gift it was to receive help from my parents in order to attend.... and an even greater gift when my mother and stepfather paid off my college loans several years ago.
I had already been thinking about all of the sacrifices they made throughout my childhood and about how all the things I had taken for granted (holidays, traditions, safety, good schooling, an emphasis on education, dinners together each night, long talks, responsibility and freedom) are so amazingly hard and stressful when you're the parent.
Having my own child has opened my eyes to the amount of sacrifice, intention, thought, care, generosity, love, and careful attention they put into raising me. It has increased my gratitude for and appreciation of their parenting choices, along with forgiveness for mistakes, which we are all capable of making (and all do).
I do not say thank-you enough. I feel, especially lately, like I need to do a better job of expressing my gratitude toward those special people in my life and opening my heart more in order to spend more time expressing joy and less time caught in criticism, impatience, or stress-induced frustration.
Lately I imagine writing thank you cards each week, or even each day... sending them out to everyone I can think of with personalized notes and sincere, heartfelt thanks for all the big and little things that make a difference in my life.
So... as of this moment, I make the intention to write one card per month, expressing my thanks to someone important. (And some of you may someday know if I've actually followed through!)
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Connection, Conversation, and the Mystery of Ohio
I managed to get to early voting today and met a woman named Fran. She sat next to me and did something I never, ever do when I sit next to strangers: She struck up a conversation with me.
I don't know if it's my introverted nature or the impact of living in the northeast for roughly 9 years... but I just don't tend to talk to people I don't know. I assume they want to be left alone, or - even worse - I assume something uncomfortable or unpleasant will happen within the conversation and so I decide it's ultimately safer to remain silent and hope the person near me will do the same.
Silly... yes. Cynical... probably. Of course, almost every time I do end up talking with someone, it ends up being a great conversation that lifts my spirits in some way and renews my faith in others. I have gotten better at being less self-conscious when somebody I don't know breaks the ice, asks a question, or just starts sharing elements of his or her life.
Today I met a Democrat in her 70s who plays bridge with a bunch of Republicans and has a daughter who lived in Alaska for 5 years. She thinks "we" won the last two elections and said she was more excited about this election than any other she's ever been through in her life.
She's voting for Obama. She thinks he's going to do very well. We agreed we're hoping for a landslide.
I get the sense that, if he does win, Fran will happily go to her bridge night that week, barely able to contain her glee as she is finally able to crow over Democratic success and political vindication long past due. Her Republican friends will grumble good-naturedly; arguments and jibes will turn to joking and laughter, and then they will all segue into talking about children and grandchildren, hopes and fears, sillinesses and memories etched firmly in their minds. And life will flow on.
I don't know if it's my introverted nature or the impact of living in the northeast for roughly 9 years... but I just don't tend to talk to people I don't know. I assume they want to be left alone, or - even worse - I assume something uncomfortable or unpleasant will happen within the conversation and so I decide it's ultimately safer to remain silent and hope the person near me will do the same.
Silly... yes. Cynical... probably. Of course, almost every time I do end up talking with someone, it ends up being a great conversation that lifts my spirits in some way and renews my faith in others. I have gotten better at being less self-conscious when somebody I don't know breaks the ice, asks a question, or just starts sharing elements of his or her life.
Today I met a Democrat in her 70s who plays bridge with a bunch of Republicans and has a daughter who lived in Alaska for 5 years. She thinks "we" won the last two elections and said she was more excited about this election than any other she's ever been through in her life.
She's voting for Obama. She thinks he's going to do very well. We agreed we're hoping for a landslide.
I get the sense that, if he does win, Fran will happily go to her bridge night that week, barely able to contain her glee as she is finally able to crow over Democratic success and political vindication long past due. Her Republican friends will grumble good-naturedly; arguments and jibes will turn to joking and laughter, and then they will all segue into talking about children and grandchildren, hopes and fears, sillinesses and memories etched firmly in their minds. And life will flow on.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Which Stream Are You Standing In?
I have really started to understand lately - nay even grok, as Kim might say - how intensely experience-altering shifting one's perspective can be. I have started to see the ways I am in control of my living.
The experiencing of my life rests upon the meaning I make of it, which connects to the perspective or filter I use when translating the events of each day into meaning. So... the more I am able to choose to see joy, to look for the high points or the blessings or the gifts, the more the story of my experience becomes one that is positive and optimistic.
Of course, I have also realized lately what a hard time I tend to have in doing this. But at least the concept has become much, much clearer. As if I can see the dance and I know the steps, I just haven't mastered putting them all together yet without tripping every now and then.
Today I am thankful for being exactly where I am supposed to be,
for the support of good people who are loving and kind and generous with their strengths,
for people who always choose to smile and select kind words and tell jokes,
for being stronger for the difficult times,
for seeing I have grown,
for being open to my weaknesses and accepting the challenge of change,
for the beauty of music, the complexity of life, and the dichotomous simplicity and chaos of existence.
The experiencing of my life rests upon the meaning I make of it, which connects to the perspective or filter I use when translating the events of each day into meaning. So... the more I am able to choose to see joy, to look for the high points or the blessings or the gifts, the more the story of my experience becomes one that is positive and optimistic.
Of course, I have also realized lately what a hard time I tend to have in doing this. But at least the concept has become much, much clearer. As if I can see the dance and I know the steps, I just haven't mastered putting them all together yet without tripping every now and then.
Today I am thankful for being exactly where I am supposed to be,
for the support of good people who are loving and kind and generous with their strengths,
for people who always choose to smile and select kind words and tell jokes,
for being stronger for the difficult times,
for seeing I have grown,
for being open to my weaknesses and accepting the challenge of change,
for the beauty of music, the complexity of life, and the dichotomous simplicity and chaos of existence.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Potty Pah-tay!
Ari is accident-free in only three days, and I am enormously, joyously, wondrously proud of her.
YAY BUNNY BOO!
You can now pee and poo
in the house or at the zoo
and you're still the age of two
so I sing this song for you
'cause you're super duper cool
and my heart does flips for you.
You're my big, sweet girl - yahoo!
YAY BUNNY BOO!
You can now pee and poo
in the house or at the zoo
and you're still the age of two
so I sing this song for you
'cause you're super duper cool
and my heart does flips for you.
You're my big, sweet girl - yahoo!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Attachment and the Art of Compromise
One of the things I think I struggle with most is the pull I feel between being a mother and having a career. Dedication to family versus dedication to work.
In graduate school, this translates to feeling unsure whether I should take on less, do less, and strive to achieve less because it will ultimately mean getting to spend more time with my family and more time with my daughter, who seems to be having a hard time with my absence from the house lately.
I know it's a normal developmental stage, and I know separation anxiety is expected... but I also know how important attachment is to psychosical development and mental/emotional wellbeing (at least theoretically), and so it's hard to know how much to push toward independence and how much to concede we are still very linked and that she is my daugther who I love more than anything.
Lately, I've been wishing I could spend another semester at my current placement and then do a full second year at a K-8 school. I am enjoying the work, feeling bombarded by ideas and things I'd like to implement because I believe it will make a positive, constructive difference in the lives of my students, and I want to get as much learning in as I can.
But maybe such things are just as easily accomplished outside of school. I don't know. I have lofty goals, and I so rarely reach all of them. Some days that's easier to accept than others. For now, I lean toward making Ari the greater priority... and trusting that my ideas, ambition, ability, and strengths will still be present when we have moved into a phase of our family life wherein I have more freedom to pursue my passions and curiosities.
In graduate school, this translates to feeling unsure whether I should take on less, do less, and strive to achieve less because it will ultimately mean getting to spend more time with my family and more time with my daughter, who seems to be having a hard time with my absence from the house lately.
I know it's a normal developmental stage, and I know separation anxiety is expected... but I also know how important attachment is to psychosical development and mental/emotional wellbeing (at least theoretically), and so it's hard to know how much to push toward independence and how much to concede we are still very linked and that she is my daugther who I love more than anything.
Lately, I've been wishing I could spend another semester at my current placement and then do a full second year at a K-8 school. I am enjoying the work, feeling bombarded by ideas and things I'd like to implement because I believe it will make a positive, constructive difference in the lives of my students, and I want to get as much learning in as I can.
But maybe such things are just as easily accomplished outside of school. I don't know. I have lofty goals, and I so rarely reach all of them. Some days that's easier to accept than others. For now, I lean toward making Ari the greater priority... and trusting that my ideas, ambition, ability, and strengths will still be present when we have moved into a phase of our family life wherein I have more freedom to pursue my passions and curiosities.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Striking Singular Wonderful Strange
One of those unanswerable and ever-controversial arguments you are likely to enounter when hanging around counselors, psychologists, or social workers is ye old nature vs. nuture debate. I had already been thinking about it this week, as we had been discussing the nature and genesis of evil in internship class.
I tend to think it's all a rather holistic and systemic affair - an intricate swirling dance of elements, contexts, and circumstances that blend together in an unrepeatable way to create a complex and variegated human being.
Then again, every once in a while you hear a story that makes you pause and question whether you're on the correct side of the proverbial and philosophical fence. Today's story, for me, was about Daniel Hope, a classical violinist (my age) whose musical journeys remind me of my brother's passions (that of blending musical cultures together).
Here is this insanely talented musician... who was raised around a violinist from infancy to age 7 because his mother was the administrative assistant to a world-class violinist and so he was surrounded by classical, violin music throughout his childhood. What is fascinating when you add in the fate vs. destiny vs. free will argument is how his mother ended up in that job (read here).
It's a funny thing to look back on one's life and wonder at the infinite number of things that lined up just so to bring us to where we are in the present moment. Some may see pointlessness, some may see order... other chaos, protection, purpose, or true randomness.
Whatever you may see, perhaps it helps to keep such things in mind with each new face you look into. For that person - that life - has just as many beautiful and chaotic complexities as your own. And there is something beautifully paradoxical in that unique commonality we share.
I tend to think it's all a rather holistic and systemic affair - an intricate swirling dance of elements, contexts, and circumstances that blend together in an unrepeatable way to create a complex and variegated human being.
Then again, every once in a while you hear a story that makes you pause and question whether you're on the correct side of the proverbial and philosophical fence. Today's story, for me, was about Daniel Hope, a classical violinist (my age) whose musical journeys remind me of my brother's passions (that of blending musical cultures together).
Here is this insanely talented musician... who was raised around a violinist from infancy to age 7 because his mother was the administrative assistant to a world-class violinist and so he was surrounded by classical, violin music throughout his childhood. What is fascinating when you add in the fate vs. destiny vs. free will argument is how his mother ended up in that job (read here).
It's a funny thing to look back on one's life and wonder at the infinite number of things that lined up just so to bring us to where we are in the present moment. Some may see pointlessness, some may see order... other chaos, protection, purpose, or true randomness.
Whatever you may see, perhaps it helps to keep such things in mind with each new face you look into. For that person - that life - has just as many beautiful and chaotic complexities as your own. And there is something beautifully paradoxical in that unique commonality we share.
Friday, October 24, 2008
(it tolls for thee)
Have you ever noticed that when someone prefaces a statement with "I don't mean to sound racist..." or "I'm not a racist..." the statement is almost always, in fact, quite racist?
I heard a fascinating segment on NPR today where two regular reporters were interviewing people from diverse ethnic/cultural backgrounds about the election and the impact of race upon this particular election.
It's worth a listen if you have the time - if for no other reason than to take in something that is sure to make you think and hits upon some core issues and emotions that still exist within American culture as a whole.
It makes me hopeful such conversations can continue and that such discussion of how culture binds and breaks us may keep evolving and deepening over time.
I heard a fascinating segment on NPR today where two regular reporters were interviewing people from diverse ethnic/cultural backgrounds about the election and the impact of race upon this particular election.
It's worth a listen if you have the time - if for no other reason than to take in something that is sure to make you think and hits upon some core issues and emotions that still exist within American culture as a whole.
It makes me hopeful such conversations can continue and that such discussion of how culture binds and breaks us may keep evolving and deepening over time.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Talkin' Shop for a Moment (with a little bit of soapboxery)
The last few weeks have been quite eye-opening with regard to the number of students in need of more comprehensive mental health counseling services in the schools. From my own experiences and those of my peers also placed at school currently, we're seeing high trends in Axis II diagnosis for not only adolescents, but younger children as well. Many students are on one or more medications, some of which are often psychotropic or antipsychotic.
Meanwhile, community mental health services all across Illinois are being cut drastically (some areas up to 50%) due to budgetary issues and state debt. So... fewer students are able to seek services outside of the school (which would be the usual steps taken), and those who do see someone outside often still need some sort of help within the school as well to deal with crises or emotional extremes.
Where does this leave me and my cohort - as professional school counselors to be? There is a pervasive assumption, among multiple helping professions, that school counselors are somehow inadequate to provide mental health services. I tend to agree with the ASCA president, who suggested school counselors hold the unique distinction of being both teachers and counselors within an educational setting - finding a way to blend those two disciplines in order to provide students with services across a wide range of potential interventions.
I do think, if one is implementing a comprehensive school counseling program based on the ASCA National Model, one is likely to have scant time for individual counseling; therefore the prospective caseload in the wake of increased diagnoses and decreased community mental health services is probably more than any one counselor could handle and would limit the amount of work done for all the students at the school.
But some solution is certainly needed. And, like so many things in life, I am guessing it will be more holistic and systemic than black-and-white or mechanistic. Not only must school counselors acknowledge the need for mental health counseling at the schools (which requires a knowledge base and level of competency that is more clinically focused), but finding alternative ways to provide services to students must also be explored... and ultimately, the argument will likely get stuck on who should foot the bill. The schools? The family? The state?
I think there are more students in need of continuous preventiative and remedial care than society currently acknowledges. Wellness, mental health, and character education are becoming more integral to formal education, and finding ways to meet the needs of all students - wherever they may fall along the mental health continuum - requires greater flexibility and training for any health professional, particularly if we are to find ways to collaborate and support one another constructively for the benefit of our clients.
Meanwhile, community mental health services all across Illinois are being cut drastically (some areas up to 50%) due to budgetary issues and state debt. So... fewer students are able to seek services outside of the school (which would be the usual steps taken), and those who do see someone outside often still need some sort of help within the school as well to deal with crises or emotional extremes.
Where does this leave me and my cohort - as professional school counselors to be? There is a pervasive assumption, among multiple helping professions, that school counselors are somehow inadequate to provide mental health services. I tend to agree with the ASCA president, who suggested school counselors hold the unique distinction of being both teachers and counselors within an educational setting - finding a way to blend those two disciplines in order to provide students with services across a wide range of potential interventions.
I do think, if one is implementing a comprehensive school counseling program based on the ASCA National Model, one is likely to have scant time for individual counseling; therefore the prospective caseload in the wake of increased diagnoses and decreased community mental health services is probably more than any one counselor could handle and would limit the amount of work done for all the students at the school.
But some solution is certainly needed. And, like so many things in life, I am guessing it will be more holistic and systemic than black-and-white or mechanistic. Not only must school counselors acknowledge the need for mental health counseling at the schools (which requires a knowledge base and level of competency that is more clinically focused), but finding alternative ways to provide services to students must also be explored... and ultimately, the argument will likely get stuck on who should foot the bill. The schools? The family? The state?
I think there are more students in need of continuous preventiative and remedial care than society currently acknowledges. Wellness, mental health, and character education are becoming more integral to formal education, and finding ways to meet the needs of all students - wherever they may fall along the mental health continuum - requires greater flexibility and training for any health professional, particularly if we are to find ways to collaborate and support one another constructively for the benefit of our clients.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Top Ten List of Things to Do Once Grad School Is Over (minus house renovations)
10. Take a martial arts class (possibly Filipino fighting sticks).
9. Learn how to use my sewing machine so I can make something for Ari.
8. Work on my quilting project of an idea stolen from my friend Noelle (old t-shirts I've been holding onto since HS worked into a quilt - Noey is brilliant).
7. Write at least one book and try to find a publisher.
6. Start up yoga again - either via classes or at home on my own.
5. Complete the house-related art projects intended to preserve some of the wallpaper, carpeting, 4. etc. discovered through the course of our renovations.
3. Go through every box in this house and recycle, sell, donate, or throw away anything we do not really need.
2. Organize my iPod and get my music transferred so I can actually enjoy it.
1. Spend LOTS more time with Ari.
9. Learn how to use my sewing machine so I can make something for Ari.
8. Work on my quilting project of an idea stolen from my friend Noelle (old t-shirts I've been holding onto since HS worked into a quilt - Noey is brilliant).
7. Write at least one book and try to find a publisher.
6. Start up yoga again - either via classes or at home on my own.
5. Complete the house-related art projects intended to preserve some of the wallpaper, carpeting, 4. etc. discovered through the course of our renovations.
3. Go through every box in this house and recycle, sell, donate, or throw away anything we do not really need.
2. Organize my iPod and get my music transferred so I can actually enjoy it.
1. Spend LOTS more time with Ari.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Pain Game
I can't remember if I've already written about this, but it keeps coming up lately, so forgive me if I'm being repetitive. One of my favorite instructors, Dr. Asner-Self, said something during our multicultural counseling class last summer that has stuck with me like glue and has provided a resounding echo that seems to follow me around in the many contexts in which I operate: student, mother, friend, colleague, counselor, etc.
Essentially, what she said was there is no point to comparing pain with other people. No point in comparing yours to someone else's - or even in comparing one person's pain to another's (friends, family members, coworkers). There is truly no benefit in engaging in such an activity.
It's important in the context of counseling because if you get caught up comparing your own hurts or tragedies to those of your client (be it openly or internally), you are no longer fully able to remain objectively open to helping that person. You end up putting yourself in a competitive rather than collaborative relationship... and your capacity for empathy and a nonjudgmental attitude is severely diminished.
But in a more general sense, I've begun to realize it is just as harmful in an everyday, regular, fellow-human-being context... because it's all relative - and one person's pain is another person's walk in the park. The important part is to recognize we all hurt... we all grieve... we all struggle... and we are all capable of good days and bad days.
Keeping this in mind has helped me identify ways to practice more compassion on a daily basis. To always remember that when most people share their pain (no matter where I might put it on my own continuum or understanding of sorrow), it is in an effort to connect, to be heard, to feel understood, and to be received with love.
To me, compassion is the process of providing that response - and it is a challenge worth posing to myself on a continual basis.
Essentially, what she said was there is no point to comparing pain with other people. No point in comparing yours to someone else's - or even in comparing one person's pain to another's (friends, family members, coworkers). There is truly no benefit in engaging in such an activity.
It's important in the context of counseling because if you get caught up comparing your own hurts or tragedies to those of your client (be it openly or internally), you are no longer fully able to remain objectively open to helping that person. You end up putting yourself in a competitive rather than collaborative relationship... and your capacity for empathy and a nonjudgmental attitude is severely diminished.
But in a more general sense, I've begun to realize it is just as harmful in an everyday, regular, fellow-human-being context... because it's all relative - and one person's pain is another person's walk in the park. The important part is to recognize we all hurt... we all grieve... we all struggle... and we are all capable of good days and bad days.
Keeping this in mind has helped me identify ways to practice more compassion on a daily basis. To always remember that when most people share their pain (no matter where I might put it on my own continuum or understanding of sorrow), it is in an effort to connect, to be heard, to feel understood, and to be received with love.
To me, compassion is the process of providing that response - and it is a challenge worth posing to myself on a continual basis.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Ache
For some reason, I got a killer migraine today... so this may need to be a bit short, as I am still recovering. Luckily, about an hour on the bed with a hot compress seemed to eradicate most of it, so that was a plus.
And... of course, they've never been officially diagnosed as migraines, but I just make the assumption that a headache that induces nausea and feels like my head will implode to the point I can no longer move or think straight merits the categorization of "migraine."
I intend to hold off the official diagnosis as long as possible, however, as I don't want to carry it around quite yet as a pre-existing condition. Sigh. Healthcare. Let's hope it gets better during the next administration.
It was an odd day - even before the headache. I've been thinking these last couple of days about recognition, visibility, accomplishment, respect, achievement, success... and everything in between. Of course, we all have different ideas about those words and what they mean to us.
In my case, I've noticed lately that feeling invisible strikes against some very core emotional chords and challenges my sense of self-esteem and identity. I tend to feel anger, frustration, sorrow, and fear in those moments... and it speaks to an area which merits more focus and work.
I stumbled across a great quote today while researching small group counseling activities. It's attributed to Buddha:
"You yourself. as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection."
And... of course, they've never been officially diagnosed as migraines, but I just make the assumption that a headache that induces nausea and feels like my head will implode to the point I can no longer move or think straight merits the categorization of "migraine."
I intend to hold off the official diagnosis as long as possible, however, as I don't want to carry it around quite yet as a pre-existing condition. Sigh. Healthcare. Let's hope it gets better during the next administration.
It was an odd day - even before the headache. I've been thinking these last couple of days about recognition, visibility, accomplishment, respect, achievement, success... and everything in between. Of course, we all have different ideas about those words and what they mean to us.
In my case, I've noticed lately that feeling invisible strikes against some very core emotional chords and challenges my sense of self-esteem and identity. I tend to feel anger, frustration, sorrow, and fear in those moments... and it speaks to an area which merits more focus and work.
I stumbled across a great quote today while researching small group counseling activities. It's attributed to Buddha:
"You yourself. as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection."
Sunday, October 19, 2008
One of the most beautiful things in my life... ever.
Ari has begun saying "I love you Mama." I think it easily ranks up there with one of the top experiences of my life.
(It's even better than "I miss you," which tends to make me feel happy/guilty/sad/amazed/grateful all at once.)
I am forever in awe of my daughter: a mix of warrior and wallflower. I feel so incredibly lucky to know her. She inspires me, challenges me, and changes me daily... and I am so grateful to have the opportunity to watch her grow.
(It's even better than "I miss you," which tends to make me feel happy/guilty/sad/amazed/grateful all at once.)
I am forever in awe of my daughter: a mix of warrior and wallflower. I feel so incredibly lucky to know her. She inspires me, challenges me, and changes me daily... and I am so grateful to have the opportunity to watch her grow.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
the albatross : the phoenix :: despair :
This morning, NPR did a story on the current state of the economic crisis in Zimbabwe. I have found, in the last several weeks, it is important to remember relativity when worrying about life... no matter what we may think our troubles are at the moment, there is always someone in greater need who requires even more compassion.
I have been out of the news loop for a bit since our morning routine has shifted slightly, so it had been a while since I had heard an update on Zimbabwe. Today I learned it is struggling with an inflation rate of 231M% (that's 231 million percent); staples and common goods are unaffordable, and the unemployment rate continues to hover around 80%.
This means even greater numbers of people will require assistance of some kind in the coming months. Food, shelter, basic necessities required for mere survival. Talks are not going well thus far; humanitarian aid and strategies for helping Zimbabwe's citizens are being considered by multiple nations. Meanwhile, nearly every nation is weathering its own financial crisis and attempting to prevent some kind of economic collapse.
It's incredibly sobering to stop in the middle of feeling anxious about our own decisions with regard to daycare, moving, careers, etc. - and to remember how blessed we are to have such dilemmas to face. We need not worry about basic survival; we are healthy; we have insurance; we own a home; we have money saved. Whatever our concerns may be this week, they pale in comparison to the life and death struggles faced by so many people in multiple areas across the world.
The theme of perspective and its impact upon the quality of our lives has been at the forefront of my mind lately. I think that, if there is any power we hold in shaping our futures and realities, it is in the way we view and make meaning of our days. We may shape our destinies in the way we understand and articulate our own story - triumph or tragedy... it is all in the choices we make, the lives we lead, and the way we tell our tales.
I have been out of the news loop for a bit since our morning routine has shifted slightly, so it had been a while since I had heard an update on Zimbabwe. Today I learned it is struggling with an inflation rate of 231M% (that's 231 million percent); staples and common goods are unaffordable, and the unemployment rate continues to hover around 80%.
This means even greater numbers of people will require assistance of some kind in the coming months. Food, shelter, basic necessities required for mere survival. Talks are not going well thus far; humanitarian aid and strategies for helping Zimbabwe's citizens are being considered by multiple nations. Meanwhile, nearly every nation is weathering its own financial crisis and attempting to prevent some kind of economic collapse.
It's incredibly sobering to stop in the middle of feeling anxious about our own decisions with regard to daycare, moving, careers, etc. - and to remember how blessed we are to have such dilemmas to face. We need not worry about basic survival; we are healthy; we have insurance; we own a home; we have money saved. Whatever our concerns may be this week, they pale in comparison to the life and death struggles faced by so many people in multiple areas across the world.
The theme of perspective and its impact upon the quality of our lives has been at the forefront of my mind lately. I think that, if there is any power we hold in shaping our futures and realities, it is in the way we view and make meaning of our days. We may shape our destinies in the way we understand and articulate our own story - triumph or tragedy... it is all in the choices we make, the lives we lead, and the way we tell our tales.
Friday, October 17, 2008
20 Favorite Smells from October through December
- Burning leaves
- Wood-burning fireplaces
- Apple cider
- Toasted pumpkin seeds
- An early morning close to but not quite at frost level
- Cinnamon sticks
- Bonfires
- Hay
- Pine needles
- Pumpkin pie
- Hot cocoa
- Pine needles
- The air before a snow
- Turkey
- Dinner rolls
- Mulled wine
- Roasted marshmallows
- Fir trees
- Allspice
- A forest blanketed in snow
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Pumpkins and Spice and Everything Nice
Today just smelled like fall. Completely and fully like the crisp, sharp, cool air of Halloween and wood-burning fires and apple orchards.
It's amazing how the smells of the seasons can set off a whirlwind of memories. All the handmade costumes my mother made me for Halloween parades (and my amazement each year that I never won a prize!)... making taffy apples and roasting pumpkins seeds... family members trying to outdo each other with our artistic carvings... walking through crunchy leaves just to hear the rustle and enjoying a fire each night as the temperature slowly dropped.
I can't wait to enjoy the season with Ari and for all of us to create new traditions as Andy and I select from those of our childhood and savor the nostalgia brought on by a confluence of elements that make this season special and familiar and exciting - even at the age of 35.
It's amazing how the smells of the seasons can set off a whirlwind of memories. All the handmade costumes my mother made me for Halloween parades (and my amazement each year that I never won a prize!)... making taffy apples and roasting pumpkins seeds... family members trying to outdo each other with our artistic carvings... walking through crunchy leaves just to hear the rustle and enjoying a fire each night as the temperature slowly dropped.
I can't wait to enjoy the season with Ari and for all of us to create new traditions as Andy and I select from those of our childhood and savor the nostalgia brought on by a confluence of elements that make this season special and familiar and exciting - even at the age of 35.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Ugly One
Insecurity bared her
teeth today...
eager to bite into
flesh and tear
little bits of security
from doing and
thinking and feeling.
I tried to whisper to her;
tried to figure out what
language to use - to
quiet her forked tongue
and make that nasty
smirk disappear
from her ugly face.
She just laughed.
Curled her bony shoulders
with eyes rolling and
deep, thoaty, cackles
of mean and hurtful longing...
fingernails like knives
poised to scratch.
What she doesn't know
is I've seen her... naked
and vulnerable looking
in the mirror like a child
searching for admiration
and afraid of transparency.
Even she can fail.
teeth today...
eager to bite into
flesh and tear
little bits of security
from doing and
thinking and feeling.
I tried to whisper to her;
tried to figure out what
language to use - to
quiet her forked tongue
and make that nasty
smirk disappear
from her ugly face.
She just laughed.
Curled her bony shoulders
with eyes rolling and
deep, thoaty, cackles
of mean and hurtful longing...
fingernails like knives
poised to scratch.
What she doesn't know
is I've seen her... naked
and vulnerable looking
in the mirror like a child
searching for admiration
and afraid of transparency.
Even she can fail.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
What Hope Looks Like
As I left school after class today, I stepped outside and was greeted by a gorgeous sky. Blue with puffy clouds lined in a glowing pinky yellow hue laced with the gold of sunset. It rained most of today, and so seeing such a lovely sky and getting a last glimpse of sun before evening set in felt like a huge treat.
It make me think about the little blessings one receives throughout a day. How it's so easy to forget about or undervalue those small gifts and happy, unasked for kindnesses we may receive. Being in the business of silver linings, so to speak, I've noticed how often I forget to look for and acknowledge my own each day.
Thus begins an intention to be more aware of life's gifts, the generosity and love of others, and the simple, joyous, truly beautiful things happening throughout the day... just waiting to be noticed.
It make me think about the little blessings one receives throughout a day. How it's so easy to forget about or undervalue those small gifts and happy, unasked for kindnesses we may receive. Being in the business of silver linings, so to speak, I've noticed how often I forget to look for and acknowledge my own each day.
Thus begins an intention to be more aware of life's gifts, the generosity and love of others, and the simple, joyous, truly beautiful things happening throughout the day... just waiting to be noticed.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Off the wagon and halfway down the hill...
For whatever, misguided, silly, spur-of-the-moment, grief-induced reason... I initiated a course of action whereby we ate Long John Silver's today. Mind you... we'd been somewhat naughty about our eating during our visit with Num-Num and Papa Roman. But we'd still managed to eschew any hint of fast-foodery... working like mad to keep our weight at least steady during their visit (and succeeding).
However in the last two days since they've left, Andy and I have both gained weight... and today, I kind of clinched our Faustian downfall by driving us through the land of slick and salty chicken 'n' fish to come home and eat our food. After which, all three of us got sick.
I only felt mildly greasy and bloated... but Andy had more severe trouble of the bathroom variety and Ari actually threw up tonight while I was at class. A mixture of undigested LJS chicken and lots of milk from her afternoon nap that went awry - probably because she felt so sick she couldn't find a comfortable sleeping position.
So... what did I learn from this? Let see..
Ugh.
However in the last two days since they've left, Andy and I have both gained weight... and today, I kind of clinched our Faustian downfall by driving us through the land of slick and salty chicken 'n' fish to come home and eat our food. After which, all three of us got sick.
I only felt mildly greasy and bloated... but Andy had more severe trouble of the bathroom variety and Ari actually threw up tonight while I was at class. A mixture of undigested LJS chicken and lots of milk from her afternoon nap that went awry - probably because she felt so sick she couldn't find a comfortable sleeping position.
So... what did I learn from this? Let see..
- Don't eat fast food. Ever. Again. (Even on road trips!)
- Cheating with food never feels as good as I think it's going to. Especially in the 20-minute aftermath of my stellarly naughty and unhealthy meal.
- There is good cheating and bad cheating. Bad cheating feels like that second cigarette I used to have when I'd already decided to quit and starting having this sneaking suspicion that, hey - maybe this smoking thing is not all it's cracked up to be because I always feel worse after I smoke than I did before lighting that cancer stick.
- Five pounds up the scale feels much more noticeable than five pounds down. This does not help with motivation... but it's worth remembering when that fried food starts calling my name.
- I don't want to feel the way I am feeling as I type this post ever, ever again. And good lord, that should be an easy thing to accomplish because it's just FOOD after all. (Of course, those of us with eating and body issues may have more complicated issues with food than others... but the smoking analogy still works here. If it doesn't feel good, why do it?)
Ugh.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
5 Elements to a Perfect Day
- Playing at the castle park with Johnny and his family on a day with absolutely stunning weather.
- Eating lunch with our friends at Giant City Lodge, followed by an after-lunch walk on the Post Oak Trail (Labrador puppy on the way).
- Taking a walk in the arboretum with Simon after eating a picnic dinner under a canopy of trees.
- Watching a bit of the Wizard of Oz before bedtime... just enough to remind me what a beautiful and creative film it is (and to enjoy it through Ari's eyes).
- Iced green tea, time on the couch with my husband, and an hour or two of relaxation before launching into a new week.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
October
I remember when the world series (and the games leading up to it) didn't require special commercial spots or jazzy advertisements to entice people into watching or following the games. I remember when the World Series was the culmination of an entire lovely season of what may arguably be the greatest American sport every - I mean, c'mon now... national pastime, right?
So what happened? Why the celebrity endorsements? The annoying Dane Cook ads from last year... the taglines and attempted pop-culture, water cooler, Gen X-Y-Z phrases meant to make the game cooler/hipper/sexier than apparently it has become (or not become).
It surprises me each and every time. My husband and I are in the midst of Red Sox fever... watching the games every night and wishing we could listen to the NESN guys instead of the chattily superfluous TBS men.
WE WANT THEM TO WIN!!!! And then we want them to go on to face the Dogers and crush them in a way that leaves Manny Ramirez ruefully shaking his head and wiping back regretful tears as he watches the best ball club in the country ride off into the sunset - victorious and full of sportly glory.
I already love October. And there is something undeniably romantic, nostalgic, and seasonally titilating about getting caught up in the magical rush to those final games... especially when your favorite team is one of the two to make it there.
Hopefully, Andy and I will be able to sit and cheer for the Red Sox, wishing the Cubs could have been there too... and another season will come to an explosive close as fall tumbles forward into winter.
So what happened? Why the celebrity endorsements? The annoying Dane Cook ads from last year... the taglines and attempted pop-culture, water cooler, Gen X-Y-Z phrases meant to make the game cooler/hipper/sexier than apparently it has become (or not become).
It surprises me each and every time. My husband and I are in the midst of Red Sox fever... watching the games every night and wishing we could listen to the NESN guys instead of the chattily superfluous TBS men.
WE WANT THEM TO WIN!!!! And then we want them to go on to face the Dogers and crush them in a way that leaves Manny Ramirez ruefully shaking his head and wiping back regretful tears as he watches the best ball club in the country ride off into the sunset - victorious and full of sportly glory.
I already love October. And there is something undeniably romantic, nostalgic, and seasonally titilating about getting caught up in the magical rush to those final games... especially when your favorite team is one of the two to make it there.
Hopefully, Andy and I will be able to sit and cheer for the Red Sox, wishing the Cubs could have been there too... and another season will come to an explosive close as fall tumbles forward into winter.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Ah Hah
I attended a Teachers' Institute today as part of my onsite training/duties as an intern and teaching fellow. It was actually incredibly interesting... particularly the entertainment and the second speaker, Al Walker.
Now mind you, I tend to be somewhat disinterested in motivational speakers or humorists who work corporate/meeting gigs. But this guy really piqued my interest, and I felt he had several truly worthwhile things to communicate.
He talked about several elements to a more healthy/productive life, and one that seemed particularly relevant for me was what he termed "positive expectancy." The idea being to expect the best, rather than continuously anticipating the worst.
It blends into having a positive outlook and being a more optimistic person... but it also suggests a way of taking in and processing information and events because you often see what you expect to see... feel what you expect to feel... experience what you expect to experience.
I liked it because it's something I could truly learn to do much better. I tend to be critical in my assessment of people/places/things in my life; and, if I'm being honest, I think my perspective and expectations about life in general have become much more negative in the last few years. (It's something I've always struggled with, but I think it got worse after a slew of situations beginning in 2005.)
So... a nice wake-up call. A good mindfulness exercise. And an excellent challenge to set for myself in these last few semesters of graduate school and our transition into a new phase for our lives.
Expect the best. (Which seems intrinsically linked to having faith and maintaining self-confidence.) Hmmmmmmmm.
Now mind you, I tend to be somewhat disinterested in motivational speakers or humorists who work corporate/meeting gigs. But this guy really piqued my interest, and I felt he had several truly worthwhile things to communicate.
He talked about several elements to a more healthy/productive life, and one that seemed particularly relevant for me was what he termed "positive expectancy." The idea being to expect the best, rather than continuously anticipating the worst.
It blends into having a positive outlook and being a more optimistic person... but it also suggests a way of taking in and processing information and events because you often see what you expect to see... feel what you expect to feel... experience what you expect to experience.
I liked it because it's something I could truly learn to do much better. I tend to be critical in my assessment of people/places/things in my life; and, if I'm being honest, I think my perspective and expectations about life in general have become much more negative in the last few years. (It's something I've always struggled with, but I think it got worse after a slew of situations beginning in 2005.)
So... a nice wake-up call. A good mindfulness exercise. And an excellent challenge to set for myself in these last few semesters of graduate school and our transition into a new phase for our lives.
Expect the best. (Which seems intrinsically linked to having faith and maintaining self-confidence.) Hmmmmmmmm.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
MiXeD
I'm not sure what to write about today. A lot has happened, and it's been sort of whirlwindy and exhausting.
Important to keep perspective and to remember experience is relative to context. Important to belief the best in bad situations and to offer trust rather than succumbing to fear, anger, or doubt. Important to be present in each moment and to let go of petty annoyances. To put love above frustration. To listen to my heart instead of my head.
My head is loud. Tired sometimes gets the better of me. And jealousy is an ugly and ultimately fruitless emotion.
And if in this jagged and broken sharing of thoughts you can find something useful, then that is a lovely thing.
Important to keep perspective and to remember experience is relative to context. Important to belief the best in bad situations and to offer trust rather than succumbing to fear, anger, or doubt. Important to be present in each moment and to let go of petty annoyances. To put love above frustration. To listen to my heart instead of my head.
My head is loud. Tired sometimes gets the better of me. And jealousy is an ugly and ultimately fruitless emotion.
And if in this jagged and broken sharing of thoughts you can find something useful, then that is a lovely thing.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Of Self-Doubt and Insecurity
Every once in a while, you come across a story or an event or a commercial or whathaveyou wherein you realize someone has taken an idea you once had and run with it. Not that they stole it or anything like that. No... they just happened to think of the same thing, and instead of sitting on their hands or putting it off another day or believing it's too silly to pursue or having an attack of insecurity and self-doubt - they just did it.
In this case, it was an idea of my husband's. He had talked a year or two ago about developing a CD of songs for each president - an idea which was linked to the play we co-wrote with some other friends back in 2002 while with The Neo-Futurists in which we wrote a short play for each of the presidents (43 Plays For 43 Presidents... I've mentioned it before).
Today I was driving home and caught a story on NPR about a trio of musicians who had the exact same idea - and have recently released a series of songs... one for each president this country has ever had. The album is called Of Great and Mortal Men.
What was sort of funny was they went about the writing in much the same way we did the plays: dividing them up evenly and making sure each person had a relatively balanced mix of the well-known and obscure.
I have ruined my potential Christmas present to Andy by writing about this, because he was putting in some fencing in the backyard when this story was on. But it seemed worth mentioning... primarily because it connects to something he and I both struggle with in multiple aspects of our lives: self-doubt, low self-esteem, and the many ways in which that hinders our creative, interpersonal, and career pursuits.
I'm not sure why we doubt ourselves. I'm not sure what makes some people feel they can conquer anything and some too afraid to move. Whatever the reason, we're on the doubting end fo the continuum... certainly not so low in confidence we are unable to find/create/enjoy successes in our lives. But we let a lot of good ideas die.
At least in this case, it seems the folks who made the dream a reality did a really good job at it. I look forward to hearing the rest of the album some time.
In this case, it was an idea of my husband's. He had talked a year or two ago about developing a CD of songs for each president - an idea which was linked to the play we co-wrote with some other friends back in 2002 while with The Neo-Futurists in which we wrote a short play for each of the presidents (43 Plays For 43 Presidents... I've mentioned it before).
Today I was driving home and caught a story on NPR about a trio of musicians who had the exact same idea - and have recently released a series of songs... one for each president this country has ever had. The album is called Of Great and Mortal Men.
What was sort of funny was they went about the writing in much the same way we did the plays: dividing them up evenly and making sure each person had a relatively balanced mix of the well-known and obscure.
I have ruined my potential Christmas present to Andy by writing about this, because he was putting in some fencing in the backyard when this story was on. But it seemed worth mentioning... primarily because it connects to something he and I both struggle with in multiple aspects of our lives: self-doubt, low self-esteem, and the many ways in which that hinders our creative, interpersonal, and career pursuits.
I'm not sure why we doubt ourselves. I'm not sure what makes some people feel they can conquer anything and some too afraid to move. Whatever the reason, we're on the doubting end fo the continuum... certainly not so low in confidence we are unable to find/create/enjoy successes in our lives. But we let a lot of good ideas die.
At least in this case, it seems the folks who made the dream a reality did a really good job at it. I look forward to hearing the rest of the album some time.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Perspective
Even in the smallest things
is the possibility of tranquil
knowing and absolute joy:
The sparrow happily
bathing with unapologetic
fervor in midday,
a rippling laugh
of clear and open childhood -
innocent perfection,
the simple smell
of rain and dirt...
trees whirring like bells.
If I could breathe
that beauty into
your sleeping,
kiss you with
the joys hidden
in each jeweled hour,
perhaps our sadnesses
would fade - leaving
peace between us.
Yet each day waking
is a trial, each new measure
a test of strength.
Pain is pain, and each
life may be changed by
the angle of expression;
but for you, today,
I close my eyes and
grasp at faith in tiny spaces.
is the possibility of tranquil
knowing and absolute joy:
The sparrow happily
bathing with unapologetic
fervor in midday,
a rippling laugh
of clear and open childhood -
innocent perfection,
the simple smell
of rain and dirt...
trees whirring like bells.
If I could breathe
that beauty into
your sleeping,
kiss you with
the joys hidden
in each jeweled hour,
perhaps our sadnesses
would fade - leaving
peace between us.
Yet each day waking
is a trial, each new measure
a test of strength.
Pain is pain, and each
life may be changed by
the angle of expression;
but for you, today,
I close my eyes and
grasp at faith in tiny spaces.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Flashy Floaty (Silly) Owie
I've had ocassion in the last few weeks to run into people who have not seen me in a while and inquire as to how my eyes are doing. It's interesting primarily because I have finally gotten to the point where I do not think about my eyes all the time every day. I have kind of forgotten - at least in small to largish spurts throughout the day - that anything ever happened, that I could have gone blind, that there is still the possibility my left retina could detach some time in the future, that this is the reason (though not the sole reason) Andy and I feel another pregnancy would be a bad idea.
Yet, those worries are not entirely erased due to an increase in severe headaches for the last 2-3 weeks. I'm not sure if it's my new contacts or something to be worried about with my eyes... or maybe just spending too much time in front of the computer. Hard to say.
What I can say is that I've noticed something in the wake of this event, which is my own ego and vanity. Despite the headaches and a sneaking suspicion my new lens is too overcorrected for astigmatism (the optometrist said it shouldn't matter), I have continued to wear them somewhat stubbornly because I feel more like myself with them in.
I'm not sure I can explain what that means, exactly. Just that the self I imagine... the self I am used to... the pre-pregnancy and pre-retinal-detachment self... the 20 pounds thinner, strong, sexy, independent, unafraid self... she has contacts. She can wear sunglasses and does not feel hidden behind thick, heavy lenses that smack of middle school and years long forgotten.
So... here I am somewhere between legitimate practicality and downright vanity. My eyes are bad, my glasses are heavy, and they give me headaches to wear them. But so do the contacts at this moment, and the only reason I persist in wearing them in spite of a gut-based sense they are slightly "off" is ego, ego, ego.
I wish I had a wise lesson or enlightened insight to share as a result of all this thinking. But perhaps my awareness of frailty and imperfection is enough. Maybe there's purpose in recognition and solidarity as we acknowledge our faults - or collective strength in saying them aloud - whatever the context might be.
Yet, those worries are not entirely erased due to an increase in severe headaches for the last 2-3 weeks. I'm not sure if it's my new contacts or something to be worried about with my eyes... or maybe just spending too much time in front of the computer. Hard to say.
What I can say is that I've noticed something in the wake of this event, which is my own ego and vanity. Despite the headaches and a sneaking suspicion my new lens is too overcorrected for astigmatism (the optometrist said it shouldn't matter), I have continued to wear them somewhat stubbornly because I feel more like myself with them in.
I'm not sure I can explain what that means, exactly. Just that the self I imagine... the self I am used to... the pre-pregnancy and pre-retinal-detachment self... the 20 pounds thinner, strong, sexy, independent, unafraid self... she has contacts. She can wear sunglasses and does not feel hidden behind thick, heavy lenses that smack of middle school and years long forgotten.
So... here I am somewhere between legitimate practicality and downright vanity. My eyes are bad, my glasses are heavy, and they give me headaches to wear them. But so do the contacts at this moment, and the only reason I persist in wearing them in spite of a gut-based sense they are slightly "off" is ego, ego, ego.
I wish I had a wise lesson or enlightened insight to share as a result of all this thinking. But perhaps my awareness of frailty and imperfection is enough. Maybe there's purpose in recognition and solidarity as we acknowledge our faults - or collective strength in saying them aloud - whatever the context might be.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Said, and Done.
One of the several reasons Andy and I chose to move down into my grandparents' home was to take part in an effort to restore an historic home and to convert the dwelling back into a single-family residence so that - no matter what might happen - it would not simply become rental property for undergrads.
We had a romantic notion, I think, of what it would be like to renovate and restore an old property, and we had lofty dreams of uncovering the original hardwood floors, discovering long-forgotten treasures, and putting in place all the lovely details and beauties we had seen in magazines like Old Home and This Old House.
Now, three years later and several projects behind, we both feel ready to leave this type of living behind and commit to a structure more recently built and less in need of structural, foundational type work. We'd be willing to paint a wall here and there, redo a kitchen after a few years, or take up carpeting to expose original floors - but we're pretty much hoping to find a move-in-ready home in need of a few cosmetic touch-ups and built with an eye toward energy conservation and green philosophies.
Sometimes I think you have to follow those dreams embedded deep within your heart. They may be attached to childhood fantasies or aspects of an uncelebrated personality trait... but whether a good idea or bad, it's important to pursue the aims others may think folly.
If for no other reason than to know, truly know, within your heart when you reach the other side. I never need to do that again. Or... I was right! This is just what I wanted to be doing. Sometimes the only way to put those deeply ingrained questions to rest is to commit to the pursuit and fulfillment of the potential life we imagine, in order to better define our dreams for the future.
We had a romantic notion, I think, of what it would be like to renovate and restore an old property, and we had lofty dreams of uncovering the original hardwood floors, discovering long-forgotten treasures, and putting in place all the lovely details and beauties we had seen in magazines like Old Home and This Old House.
Now, three years later and several projects behind, we both feel ready to leave this type of living behind and commit to a structure more recently built and less in need of structural, foundational type work. We'd be willing to paint a wall here and there, redo a kitchen after a few years, or take up carpeting to expose original floors - but we're pretty much hoping to find a move-in-ready home in need of a few cosmetic touch-ups and built with an eye toward energy conservation and green philosophies.
Sometimes I think you have to follow those dreams embedded deep within your heart. They may be attached to childhood fantasies or aspects of an uncelebrated personality trait... but whether a good idea or bad, it's important to pursue the aims others may think folly.
If for no other reason than to know, truly know, within your heart when you reach the other side. I never need to do that again. Or... I was right! This is just what I wanted to be doing. Sometimes the only way to put those deeply ingrained questions to rest is to commit to the pursuit and fulfillment of the potential life we imagine, in order to better define our dreams for the future.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The Buzzing of Serenity
We went to Bandy's Pumpkin Patch in Johnston City with Papa Roman today. We had beautiful weather and picked out three gorgeous pumpkins for carving. This will be Ari's first experience with carving, so we're hoping she gets a big kick out of it.
We had gone to the same place a year ago, and it was strikingly similar to our last visit. We rode the hayride, we ate some burgers and pizza, we let Ari ride in the cart bag to the car - pumpkins in tow. The only added fun was playing in the barn where several child-friendly activities were set up (a bouncy castle, some corn bins, and a big slide).
The thing that caught me today, along with the gorgeous weather, was how peaceful it was on this farm. Despite the crowds of people, the tractors going back and forth to the adjacent fields, multiple children and families and dogs and workers... it was still amazingly calming and peaceful to be tucked among the trees surrounded by bright orange orbs and wrapped in the smell of hay, hotdogs, and the leafy, earthy scent of sunshine hitting an autumn day at just the right angle.
Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. And smile.
We had gone to the same place a year ago, and it was strikingly similar to our last visit. We rode the hayride, we ate some burgers and pizza, we let Ari ride in the cart bag to the car - pumpkins in tow. The only added fun was playing in the barn where several child-friendly activities were set up (a bouncy castle, some corn bins, and a big slide).
The thing that caught me today, along with the gorgeous weather, was how peaceful it was on this farm. Despite the crowds of people, the tractors going back and forth to the adjacent fields, multiple children and families and dogs and workers... it was still amazingly calming and peaceful to be tucked among the trees surrounded by bright orange orbs and wrapped in the smell of hay, hotdogs, and the leafy, earthy scent of sunshine hitting an autumn day at just the right angle.
Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. And smile.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Restaurant Realization with Long-Term Ramifications
One of the concepts emphasized in my counselor education program is the idea of accepting people (students, clients, colleagues, etc.) where they are. It's a focus that requires an awareness of one's expectations, values, assumptions, needs, likes, and dislikes, etc.
In my understanding of this principle, my goal in interpersonal communication and counseling strategies is to remain open to what that person may be thinking, feeling, or doing... and nonjudgmental in my approach to identifying concerns or providing constructive feedback.
This same principle can be applied in non-counseling situations. It's something I've tried to incorporate into my general awareness and personal perspective daily. Of course, some days I'm more successful than others.
Today, for example, I was not successful. Andy, Ari, and I had lunch together in between my morning and afternoon school obligations, and Ari was immediately elated to see me. (And I her.)
We chatted happily, gave each other kisses, and talked about how much we missed one another. We talked about what she and Daddy had done that morning, and she excitedly tried to tell me all the things she had saved up in my absence in which she wished I could have been included or that she wanted to be sure I knew about.
We sat down in the restaurant and colored, talked about what she might want to eat for lunch, and played and snuggled as Ari bounced around from activity to activity - clearly motivated by happiness, excitement, and the desire to explore.
All was going well until the food arrived. It was at this point Ari's enthusiasm and my desire to stay stain-free for my return to school collided. (And, as often happens, each of our perspectives/behaviors were based on past events: Ari had been struggling with sadness all week and was truly thrilled to see me in the middle of a "work day;" I had been peed on a week or two prior during a similar lunch date and had to return to a professional development conference with urine-stained pants.) Our past was influencing our present. This is where we were.
Ultimately, Ari did a better job accepting me where I was than I did for her. She wasn't angry about my absence throughout the week. She wasn't sad, sullen, or withdrawn - despite having missed me so desperately. She simply wanted to be close - to talk and interact - and to suck up every possible moment of our time together.
I, however, began to get frustrated by her excited and increasingly spastic energy. We told her to use an inside voice; I warned her to be careful on the bench lest she fall down; I asked her to be careful when eating food off my fork, to wait for me to help her with getting food and ice; etc. I noticed my happiness wane and my anxiety increase every time she jostled my arm, the food missed her mouth and fell down toward my lap, or she played with her environment... afraid her bouncy state might leave me stained or somehow marred.
I prioritized my clothing above my daughter... and I did not accept her where she was. Rather than noticing how gleeful and filled with love she was to see me, I instead worried about a potential accident and what affect it might have or how others might see me upon my return to school.
Silly. Unfair. And kind of a waste of time and a lost opportunity to revel in the unbridled excitement of a 2-year old who still thinks I'm one of the most important and special people in the whole world.
My task now: To accept myself where I am, rather than beating myself up about it. To learn from the situation with gratitude and humility. To use this opportunity as a means to growth, allowing me to hopefully change it in the future.
In my understanding of this principle, my goal in interpersonal communication and counseling strategies is to remain open to what that person may be thinking, feeling, or doing... and nonjudgmental in my approach to identifying concerns or providing constructive feedback.
This same principle can be applied in non-counseling situations. It's something I've tried to incorporate into my general awareness and personal perspective daily. Of course, some days I'm more successful than others.
Today, for example, I was not successful. Andy, Ari, and I had lunch together in between my morning and afternoon school obligations, and Ari was immediately elated to see me. (And I her.)
We chatted happily, gave each other kisses, and talked about how much we missed one another. We talked about what she and Daddy had done that morning, and she excitedly tried to tell me all the things she had saved up in my absence in which she wished I could have been included or that she wanted to be sure I knew about.
We sat down in the restaurant and colored, talked about what she might want to eat for lunch, and played and snuggled as Ari bounced around from activity to activity - clearly motivated by happiness, excitement, and the desire to explore.
All was going well until the food arrived. It was at this point Ari's enthusiasm and my desire to stay stain-free for my return to school collided. (And, as often happens, each of our perspectives/behaviors were based on past events: Ari had been struggling with sadness all week and was truly thrilled to see me in the middle of a "work day;" I had been peed on a week or two prior during a similar lunch date and had to return to a professional development conference with urine-stained pants.) Our past was influencing our present. This is where we were.
Ultimately, Ari did a better job accepting me where I was than I did for her. She wasn't angry about my absence throughout the week. She wasn't sad, sullen, or withdrawn - despite having missed me so desperately. She simply wanted to be close - to talk and interact - and to suck up every possible moment of our time together.
I, however, began to get frustrated by her excited and increasingly spastic energy. We told her to use an inside voice; I warned her to be careful on the bench lest she fall down; I asked her to be careful when eating food off my fork, to wait for me to help her with getting food and ice; etc. I noticed my happiness wane and my anxiety increase every time she jostled my arm, the food missed her mouth and fell down toward my lap, or she played with her environment... afraid her bouncy state might leave me stained or somehow marred.
I prioritized my clothing above my daughter... and I did not accept her where she was. Rather than noticing how gleeful and filled with love she was to see me, I instead worried about a potential accident and what affect it might have or how others might see me upon my return to school.
Silly. Unfair. And kind of a waste of time and a lost opportunity to revel in the unbridled excitement of a 2-year old who still thinks I'm one of the most important and special people in the whole world.
My task now: To accept myself where I am, rather than beating myself up about it. To learn from the situation with gratitude and humility. To use this opportunity as a means to growth, allowing me to hopefully change it in the future.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
4 Haiku on the Issue of Absence
I miss my fam'ly
Each and every day aching
Always wanting time
My daughter's sadness
Makes my chest collapse with doubt
Will she be okay?
And then my husband
Supportive and amazing
Too few our moments
It has an end though
At least, that's what I cling to
And we: unbroken
Each and every day aching
Always wanting time
My daughter's sadness
Makes my chest collapse with doubt
Will she be okay?
And then my husband
Supportive and amazing
Too few our moments
It has an end though
At least, that's what I cling to
And we: unbroken
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Cyclical Survival
I've been thinking about relational aggression lately. Some of my cohorts in the Ed Psych program are really interested in this area for potential research/theses/papers... and I also find it incredibly interesting and important, though my research interests still lie in more creative/expressive arts directions.
BUT... I was reading a link today in trying to track down more info on the phenomenon and came across something that was discussing the many roles that typically exist within groups/cliques of girls. I was trying to figure out which role(s) I held... and realized it definitely changed over time.
Elementary, middle school, and high school were all very different. Elementary school was the time I occupied the role of the "Target." I was the one being bullied.
Until Shannon showed up. She was a new student who arrived in 5th grade and provided an escape for what had become a daily hell for me. She became the new target; and I, relieved to finally have the focus off me, jumped on the teasing/bullying bandwagon and was just as mean to her in school as everyone else.
It's something I still grapple with, in terms of my self-identity and reconciling my actions across my lifetime. From a rational standpoint (and having a lot more theory and background in psychosocial development under my belt now too), I can understand why I behaved the way I did. It could be considered a normal and understandable reaction based on defense mechanisms and survival instincts and whatever beliefs I held about myself and my ability to attain safety at that point in time.
Yet it's still something I have trouble fully accepting emotionally. I feel guilty that I behaved one way with Shannon outside of school and another way inside of school - following the script and pattern I had undergone as the target for several years... but now on the side of the aggressor, acting as a sidekick and following the leaders of the crowd.
If I were to look for a silver lining, I would say it taught me a very good lesson in cruelty... about my capacity to be cruel and the danger of being too afraid to stand up to those who are hurting me to do what I know is right.
And now, approximately 25 years later, I intend to dedicate myself to helping create school environments wherein all students feel safe, respected, and accepted. To put into place preventative programming emphasizing tolerance and respectful communication in the hopes we can make children more aware of those patterns and the power they have.
Perhaps then more students who feel stuck to the point of desperation will instead be able to write a new story with a much happier ending... for everyone.
BUT... I was reading a link today in trying to track down more info on the phenomenon and came across something that was discussing the many roles that typically exist within groups/cliques of girls. I was trying to figure out which role(s) I held... and realized it definitely changed over time.
Elementary, middle school, and high school were all very different. Elementary school was the time I occupied the role of the "Target." I was the one being bullied.
Until Shannon showed up. She was a new student who arrived in 5th grade and provided an escape for what had become a daily hell for me. She became the new target; and I, relieved to finally have the focus off me, jumped on the teasing/bullying bandwagon and was just as mean to her in school as everyone else.
It's something I still grapple with, in terms of my self-identity and reconciling my actions across my lifetime. From a rational standpoint (and having a lot more theory and background in psychosocial development under my belt now too), I can understand why I behaved the way I did. It could be considered a normal and understandable reaction based on defense mechanisms and survival instincts and whatever beliefs I held about myself and my ability to attain safety at that point in time.
Yet it's still something I have trouble fully accepting emotionally. I feel guilty that I behaved one way with Shannon outside of school and another way inside of school - following the script and pattern I had undergone as the target for several years... but now on the side of the aggressor, acting as a sidekick and following the leaders of the crowd.
If I were to look for a silver lining, I would say it taught me a very good lesson in cruelty... about my capacity to be cruel and the danger of being too afraid to stand up to those who are hurting me to do what I know is right.
And now, approximately 25 years later, I intend to dedicate myself to helping create school environments wherein all students feel safe, respected, and accepted. To put into place preventative programming emphasizing tolerance and respectful communication in the hopes we can make children more aware of those patterns and the power they have.
Perhaps then more students who feel stuck to the point of desperation will instead be able to write a new story with a much happier ending... for everyone.
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