Hello there. It feels a little strange to be writing this. Sort of like putting a message in a bottle and casting it off into a dark and shifty sea... not entirely sure where it will end up or if anyone will ever read it.
As much as I loved this project, it did not feel right to go back in and continue it - despite my having more free time now and a very different life than when I began this blog.
I have, however, started something new. Because I feel impelled to write. Because I still feel called to do something, in some form, in some way - something that connects to other people and somehow humanizes the journey we all take together but often feel so alone within.
If you would like to check it out, I'd love for you to see it. If you enjoy it, please read it. It will not be daily... but it will be often. My mind is a-hoppin' as my grandmother might say.
Love to you and peace to you... wherever this may find you.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Fin
Yesterday was technically my last post, but I felt something more final and lengthy was in order... so here is an extra for those of you who actually follow this regularly. ;)
This has been an incredibly strange and wonderful project for me. It began as a way to be involved and stay connected to UU life as I made my way toward divinity school with tiny, tiny little steps. Yet, oddly enough, part of the realization encompassed in my journey has been that now is not the time to pursue such a course—nor am I entirely sure that's the correct destination.
The intent of this blog always had a spiritual component; what I did not expect was how introspective and reflective that process would become, nor what changes it would bring about in me and the way in which I actively make meaning in my life on a continuing basis.
I have found, in seeking to better understand and articulate my joys and sorrows, I have become more attuned to the experiences of others, as well as more cognizant of the ways in which we are all linked together and interdependently connected along multiple levels within our day-to-day existence.
And now is, perhaps, a time to remember that connection. Layoffs continue to escalate, violence threatens the safety and welfare of millions across the globe, natural resources are beginning to look much less attractive as our sole means of energy subsistence, and the values upon which many societies across the world base their belief systems and actions are—one might say—increasingly flawed or at least questionable because they fail to recognize the inherent value and worth of the other (whoever that other may be).
So maybe it's a good idea to reach out and simultaneously self-reflect and get our sense of scope and definition of purpose in order so that we may assist those around us more effectively and provide a source of renewal and hope to those who touch our lives.
Maybe you do that through blogging, or music, or theatre, or teaching, or writing, or your weekend hobby, or your projects in church, or any number of places. Maybe you're not doing it yet, but you've been thinking about it and just need a tiny little nudge to jump off the precipice named "unknown" and throw yourself out into the world in a more public and vulnerable way. Maybe you only have the time and space to focus on yourself right now and to get to a place of greater balance, peace, and health.
Whatever you may be doing, I wish you much joy, learning, and even the ocassional sorrow because it all has purpose in the end.
In the meantime, I will continue to ponder the question that seems incredibly interwoven in my meaning-making:
Is it the path that defines you, or you who define the path?
Thank you for being with me on this journey. Perhaps I will have more to add one day in the future. Until then, be well and always remember you are loved.
This has been an incredibly strange and wonderful project for me. It began as a way to be involved and stay connected to UU life as I made my way toward divinity school with tiny, tiny little steps. Yet, oddly enough, part of the realization encompassed in my journey has been that now is not the time to pursue such a course—nor am I entirely sure that's the correct destination.
The intent of this blog always had a spiritual component; what I did not expect was how introspective and reflective that process would become, nor what changes it would bring about in me and the way in which I actively make meaning in my life on a continuing basis.
I have found, in seeking to better understand and articulate my joys and sorrows, I have become more attuned to the experiences of others, as well as more cognizant of the ways in which we are all linked together and interdependently connected along multiple levels within our day-to-day existence.
And now is, perhaps, a time to remember that connection. Layoffs continue to escalate, violence threatens the safety and welfare of millions across the globe, natural resources are beginning to look much less attractive as our sole means of energy subsistence, and the values upon which many societies across the world base their belief systems and actions are—one might say—increasingly flawed or at least questionable because they fail to recognize the inherent value and worth of the other (whoever that other may be).
So maybe it's a good idea to reach out and simultaneously self-reflect and get our sense of scope and definition of purpose in order so that we may assist those around us more effectively and provide a source of renewal and hope to those who touch our lives.
Maybe you do that through blogging, or music, or theatre, or teaching, or writing, or your weekend hobby, or your projects in church, or any number of places. Maybe you're not doing it yet, but you've been thinking about it and just need a tiny little nudge to jump off the precipice named "unknown" and throw yourself out into the world in a more public and vulnerable way. Maybe you only have the time and space to focus on yourself right now and to get to a place of greater balance, peace, and health.
Whatever you may be doing, I wish you much joy, learning, and even the ocassional sorrow because it all has purpose in the end.
In the meantime, I will continue to ponder the question that seems incredibly interwoven in my meaning-making:
Is it the path that defines you, or you who define the path?
Thank you for being with me on this journey. Perhaps I will have more to add one day in the future. Until then, be well and always remember you are loved.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
February
A respite in mid-February...
a month notorious for
depression, inertia, and
inescapable blah-ness.
Today's weather is warm
but windy... blowing sweet
smells of spring to come
through ice-laden forest paths.
Lunch and ice cream later,
my husband mentions our
escalating national credit and
we two neurotics begin to worry.
I think back to the interview this morning
between Americans and Iranians on NPR
and cannot help but wonder
where the next 4 years will leave us?
Safer? Stronger? More self-sufficient?
So many possibilities and so much hope
hung upon the metaphorical shoulders
of one man with the potential of a king.
(Poor guy. Carrying an albatross
and anchor all rolled into one.)
Meanwhile, we fret over housing prices
and steps to be taken in too few months.
And I strive to relish the
gift of unexpected warmth
and the easy joy of unstructured time
as winter drags its heavy feet forward.
a month notorious for
depression, inertia, and
inescapable blah-ness.
Today's weather is warm
but windy... blowing sweet
smells of spring to come
through ice-laden forest paths.
Lunch and ice cream later,
my husband mentions our
escalating national credit and
we two neurotics begin to worry.
I think back to the interview this morning
between Americans and Iranians on NPR
and cannot help but wonder
where the next 4 years will leave us?
Safer? Stronger? More self-sufficient?
So many possibilities and so much hope
hung upon the metaphorical shoulders
of one man with the potential of a king.
(Poor guy. Carrying an albatross
and anchor all rolled into one.)
Meanwhile, we fret over housing prices
and steps to be taken in too few months.
And I strive to relish the
gift of unexpected warmth
and the easy joy of unstructured time
as winter drags its heavy feet forward.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Just be there.
For the banged chin
the cupcake fit
the nonsense song
the flitting dance
the elated, quick kiss
the 100th "why"
the astute observation
the fart joke
the flight of fancy
the spill and crash
the meltdown
the big-eyed grin
the good-food wiggle dance
the new word
the overtired spazzing
the good smell
the bad smell
the indecision
the begging
the counting
the timeout
the please
the thank-you
the sharing
the questions
the outgrown clothes
the mud on shoe
the pride and love
the constancy of worry
the presence of regret
the requirement to change
the evening lullaby
the heaviness of sleep
the cupcake fit
the nonsense song
the flitting dance
the elated, quick kiss
the 100th "why"
the astute observation
the fart joke
the flight of fancy
the spill and crash
the meltdown
the big-eyed grin
the good-food wiggle dance
the new word
the overtired spazzing
the good smell
the bad smell
the indecision
the begging
the counting
the timeout
the please
the thank-you
the sharing
the questions
the outgrown clothes
the mud on shoe
the pride and love
the constancy of worry
the presence of regret
the requirement to change
the evening lullaby
the heaviness of sleep
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Interconnection
I think one of the greatest gifts of doing this blog has been the sense of connection is had provided. And, as may have happened with others who blog too, I don't think I realized how isolated I was feeling or what an impact that connection would have on me until it was there.
Social interest and social connection are a big thing with Adler, who is one of my favorite theorists. It goes along with the ideas espoused by Bronfenbrenner, Buddhism, the Unitarian Universalists, and other systems/social thinkers or movements... the idea being: connection to, interaction with, and mindfulness of others in our various contexts provides a sense of meaning, purpose, and joy.
Sometimes I think a lot of what ails us individually and as a society/culture/world population is too strong a sense of social isolation and assumed necessity for independence (rathern than interdependence). Mind you, more collectivistic cultures may not struggle with this internally - but often there is still an interior focus that prevents or shies away from embracing a sense of responsibility to, similarity with, or appreciation for other cultures.
So... as I again remind myself of what has been a lifelong lesson to reach out more and find ways to authentically bond with the people around me, I offer the same invitation to you. It's so hard sometimes to let other people in, particularly strangers or those who feel foreign or different or other from us. But the more we strive to incorporate the experience and worldviews of everyone around us into our lives, the greater our capacity for compassion, growth, peace, and joyfulness.
Social interest and social connection are a big thing with Adler, who is one of my favorite theorists. It goes along with the ideas espoused by Bronfenbrenner, Buddhism, the Unitarian Universalists, and other systems/social thinkers or movements... the idea being: connection to, interaction with, and mindfulness of others in our various contexts provides a sense of meaning, purpose, and joy.
Sometimes I think a lot of what ails us individually and as a society/culture/world population is too strong a sense of social isolation and assumed necessity for independence (rathern than interdependence). Mind you, more collectivistic cultures may not struggle with this internally - but often there is still an interior focus that prevents or shies away from embracing a sense of responsibility to, similarity with, or appreciation for other cultures.
So... as I again remind myself of what has been a lifelong lesson to reach out more and find ways to authentically bond with the people around me, I offer the same invitation to you. It's so hard sometimes to let other people in, particularly strangers or those who feel foreign or different or other from us. But the more we strive to incorporate the experience and worldviews of everyone around us into our lives, the greater our capacity for compassion, growth, peace, and joyfulness.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Because I am too tired to write tonight...
I will share with you one of my most favorite poems ever by one of my most favorite poets ever. It reminds me to practice gratitude and to never stop noticing the beauty all around.
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
e. e. cummings
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
e. e. cummings
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
It
One of my classes this semester has me placed with a cooperating teacher so that I may observe his work and teach at least two lessons in the classroom on my own. It's one of the core classes school counseling graduate students must take if they are pursuing certification in IL without already holding a teaching certificate.
Although I have done a lot of teaching, it has never been in a traditional classroom setting for a full year, etc. I find the work incredibly daunting and those who do it well terribly admirable.
In a twist of lucky fate (a blessing, really), I have been placed with an amazing teacher. Sometimes you can watch someone do something and think, "Wow. This person is doing just what he/she was meant to do." They've found their it—whatever that may be.
I felt that way when I saw Ani DiFranco perform live. I felt that way when I saw Dr. Harrawood, one of my profs, share some of her counseling skills in class (she has since moved on to Idaho State... great for them, but very sad for us). I feel that way every time I have a class with Dr. Asner-Self (another prof who is still, thankfully, at SIUC). Or when I read the writings of my fellow Neo-Futurists, or hear my brother playing percussion, or watch my husband working on a play at any stage of the process.
My cooperating teacher displays a similar sort of passion, expertise, and inspired ability in the classroom. And so it's rather wonderful to read about all the things that make a teacher effective—and then see it right there in front of me in action (with middle school students, who can be quite a challenge to reach sometimes). What a gift!
What teachers do is incredibly difficult. And those who are truly excellent at their jobs are one of the greatest assets we have. We entrust quite a bit to them when we send our youth into their care for instruction and molding. Those who honor that trust and give their fullest effort in the hopes of making a positive difference in the lives of their students deserve the very deepest of respect.
If you know what your it is, I salute you. (I envy you.) And I hope it brings you immense joy and fulfillment for a long, long time.
Although I have done a lot of teaching, it has never been in a traditional classroom setting for a full year, etc. I find the work incredibly daunting and those who do it well terribly admirable.
In a twist of lucky fate (a blessing, really), I have been placed with an amazing teacher. Sometimes you can watch someone do something and think, "Wow. This person is doing just what he/she was meant to do." They've found their it—whatever that may be.
I felt that way when I saw Ani DiFranco perform live. I felt that way when I saw Dr. Harrawood, one of my profs, share some of her counseling skills in class (she has since moved on to Idaho State... great for them, but very sad for us). I feel that way every time I have a class with Dr. Asner-Self (another prof who is still, thankfully, at SIUC). Or when I read the writings of my fellow Neo-Futurists, or hear my brother playing percussion, or watch my husband working on a play at any stage of the process.
My cooperating teacher displays a similar sort of passion, expertise, and inspired ability in the classroom. And so it's rather wonderful to read about all the things that make a teacher effective—and then see it right there in front of me in action (with middle school students, who can be quite a challenge to reach sometimes). What a gift!
What teachers do is incredibly difficult. And those who are truly excellent at their jobs are one of the greatest assets we have. We entrust quite a bit to them when we send our youth into their care for instruction and molding. Those who honor that trust and give their fullest effort in the hopes of making a positive difference in the lives of their students deserve the very deepest of respect.
If you know what your it is, I salute you. (I envy you.) And I hope it brings you immense joy and fulfillment for a long, long time.
Monday, February 2, 2009
When will the shoe drop?
After the next ice storm?
In the coming six months?
Upon moving to Chicago?
When the next tooth cracks?
At the follow-up eye appointment?
As we put the house up for sale?
During my two exams, three papers, four classes, and multiple assignments?
Once they've tallied unemployment for next month?
While we watch Ari's college fund stocks drop even further?
After I've tried some more to find a job?
When the next person is lost too young?
In the coming six months?
Upon moving to Chicago?
When the next tooth cracks?
At the follow-up eye appointment?
As we put the house up for sale?
During my two exams, three papers, four classes, and multiple assignments?
Once they've tallied unemployment for next month?
While we watch Ari's college fund stocks drop even further?
After I've tried some more to find a job?
When the next person is lost too young?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Near the End
Today is Feb. 1, which means I am 7 days away from my last post... having reached a full year of blogging daily per the task I set for myself.
I think it is timely for a number of reasons, one being my propensity of late to blog about myself. How boring.
This all began in conjunction with a feeling of being called to pursue the UU ministry. A strange and unexpected experience that ultimately resulted in my deciding to put such pursuits on hold for the time being. And, although Andy and I became official members of our local Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, we have not attended services for several months now. I'm not sure why. Again, probably for a number of reasons.
Do I still think I am meant to be a UU minister? I have no idea. I feel so lost some days it's somewhat disheartening. I do believe I am meant to pursue and find a more spiritual path to my life... but whether that is something that becomes a public and/or shared journey is yet to be seen.
In the meantime, I continue to listen each day to the thousands of stories around me and to pray for others in more difficult circumstances than I. What is startling is how many of those stories you will hear when you really start listening for them. When your ears open up to the suffering around you, so does your heart. And for many, action follows short behind.
I am extremely grateful to all those who have made this trek with me and especially for those who have shared their comments, feedback, advice, love, etc. My spiritual awakening was made richer by your participation... and for that, I deeply thank you.
We are all so interconnected. Truly. Sometimes that is an essential thing to remember.
I think it is timely for a number of reasons, one being my propensity of late to blog about myself. How boring.
This all began in conjunction with a feeling of being called to pursue the UU ministry. A strange and unexpected experience that ultimately resulted in my deciding to put such pursuits on hold for the time being. And, although Andy and I became official members of our local Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, we have not attended services for several months now. I'm not sure why. Again, probably for a number of reasons.
Do I still think I am meant to be a UU minister? I have no idea. I feel so lost some days it's somewhat disheartening. I do believe I am meant to pursue and find a more spiritual path to my life... but whether that is something that becomes a public and/or shared journey is yet to be seen.
In the meantime, I continue to listen each day to the thousands of stories around me and to pray for others in more difficult circumstances than I. What is startling is how many of those stories you will hear when you really start listening for them. When your ears open up to the suffering around you, so does your heart. And for many, action follows short behind.
I am extremely grateful to all those who have made this trek with me and especially for those who have shared their comments, feedback, advice, love, etc. My spiritual awakening was made richer by your participation... and for that, I deeply thank you.
We are all so interconnected. Truly. Sometimes that is an essential thing to remember.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
A Day of Mixed Blessings
- We got our shovel back. The woman we had loaned it to told her friend about it - and the friend apparently "forgot" to return it.
- I found out I have no way to get dental care because the one place that takes our state insurance is not taking any new patients. Great, says the lady with half a tooth.
- I only went to school one day this week due to the snow and ice, which was lovely. But this means I have to work into June, which is a total bummer.
- We've been hanging up things that have been up in our attic for 3 years now; rearranging rooms and settling in more. This is ironic since we'll likely be moving in about 7 months.
- I still miss my grandparents every day. I can't tell if it's because I'm living in their house, or if it's because I'm finally letting go of some of the things I had held onto, or if it's because we're getting close to leaving and won't be able to keep it... or maybe all of the above.
- Ari suggested having pancakes for dinner tonight... and she helped me make them. She wanted to wear our matching aprons Nana made. We had a great time, and it helped erase a day of feeling like a bad mother who was struggling to be present.
- I love my husband so much. I wish we had more time together, but I feel insanely lucky to be married to my best friend... someone who can continually surprise me.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Caught
If I could stop the world
in certain moments,
today I would stop
on building a snowman...
laughing in mid-day sun and
wrestling sticks from the dog
as you chased fruitlessly but
happy and elated in your freedom.
I would freeze out imperfections
and lapses of calm or patience.
We could leap over or pause
prior to lost tempers or cyclical
frustrations or even just exhausted
and age-influenced inertia stuck
in bones and joints like
thick cotton stuffing.
Some days I try so hard
and still fall short; reaching
for some imagined ideal
of nurturing, patient perfection.
Neither Cleaver nor Clytemnestra,
just frail, human mommy who
struggles some days to
be present and calm in the chaos.
in certain moments,
today I would stop
on building a snowman...
laughing in mid-day sun and
wrestling sticks from the dog
as you chased fruitlessly but
happy and elated in your freedom.
I would freeze out imperfections
and lapses of calm or patience.
We could leap over or pause
prior to lost tempers or cyclical
frustrations or even just exhausted
and age-influenced inertia stuck
in bones and joints like
thick cotton stuffing.
Some days I try so hard
and still fall short; reaching
for some imagined ideal
of nurturing, patient perfection.
Neither Cleaver nor Clytemnestra,
just frail, human mommy who
struggles some days to
be present and calm in the chaos.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Push and Shove(l)
With the huge dumping of snow these last two days (huge for this area), nearly everyone on our street has had to dig their cars out from under a thick, white blanket of icy, wet, heavy mess. People keep getting stuck in the street (the city only plowed one lane... and that was only today), and oddly enough there are several folks around us to were caught without a good snow shovel... so we loaned it out a few times.
Unfortunately, the last time we loaned it out, we asked our neighbor to just leave it on the porch. We went up to bed that night and remembered it was still sitting out there, right next to the front door. Andy and I debated as to whether to go down and bring it in... and we ultimately decided to keep snuggled in our warm bed and hope for the best.
Well, this morning it was gone. And I'm of two minds on this one. On the one hand, part of my thought process last night up in bed was that if someone did take it, it was likely because he or she needed it. I mean... you wouldn't just grab a shovel off a porch simply because it's there, right? It would be because you needed one and didn't have one. It's a small thing, and if it was helpful to someone else out there... so be it.
Then again, there is another part of me that feels upset because who in the world walks up onto a front porch and just takes something off of it? We had our flag stolen 2 years ago, and now the shovel. And sometimes I wonder if we should hide the bistro table or the potting materials on the side as well... because apparently nothing is safe.
Luckily, it was not our only one. It was our best one, but we do have another. And at some point, we will be mobile enough to go out and get another, and we'll just keep going... hoping nothing else gets nabbed off our property... and remembering it's all just material possession in the end anyway.
Unfortunately, the last time we loaned it out, we asked our neighbor to just leave it on the porch. We went up to bed that night and remembered it was still sitting out there, right next to the front door. Andy and I debated as to whether to go down and bring it in... and we ultimately decided to keep snuggled in our warm bed and hope for the best.
Well, this morning it was gone. And I'm of two minds on this one. On the one hand, part of my thought process last night up in bed was that if someone did take it, it was likely because he or she needed it. I mean... you wouldn't just grab a shovel off a porch simply because it's there, right? It would be because you needed one and didn't have one. It's a small thing, and if it was helpful to someone else out there... so be it.
Then again, there is another part of me that feels upset because who in the world walks up onto a front porch and just takes something off of it? We had our flag stolen 2 years ago, and now the shovel. And sometimes I wonder if we should hide the bistro table or the potting materials on the side as well... because apparently nothing is safe.
Luckily, it was not our only one. It was our best one, but we do have another. And at some point, we will be mobile enough to go out and get another, and we'll just keep going... hoping nothing else gets nabbed off our property... and remembering it's all just material possession in the end anyway.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Whatever the Weather
It has been sleeting for roughly 24 hours now. The ground is slick with thick, icy crystals piled high on one another, and there is a constant, light, tappety tapping noise against the windows as the dots of sleet continue to fall.
I always think of mail carriers and hospital staff on days like today. Gas station attendants, grocery store workers, emergency crews, salters, plow drivers... all those folks who have to pull themselves out of their warm, safe homes to traverse the dangerous conditions outside in order to help the rest of us who are able to enjoy snow days with school or work canceled.
May everyone in the path of these storms stay safe and warm. And may those who must be outside travel safely to and from their destinations.
I always think of mail carriers and hospital staff on days like today. Gas station attendants, grocery store workers, emergency crews, salters, plow drivers... all those folks who have to pull themselves out of their warm, safe homes to traverse the dangerous conditions outside in order to help the rest of us who are able to enjoy snow days with school or work canceled.
May everyone in the path of these storms stay safe and warm. And may those who must be outside travel safely to and from their destinations.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Transmutation in G
One of the things that has been most difficult to reconcile while in school has been the way in which it has affected my ability to stay on top of the many little things that are actually quite important in life and which I had always made a priority: thank you cards, birthday gifts, phone calls to friends, keeping up with emails—communication in general.
I sometimes think it's silly to blame my removal from the world entirely on school. But in my calmer moments, I can at least concede it's been something quite apart from a "regular" sort of life. Graduate school is a bit like running a marathon while birthing a baby and trying to cater a dinner for 350. A great push toward the finish line amidst what often feel like wild and insurmountable obstacles.
It will be interesting to see how life changes beyond graduation. And a practice in mindfulness to note the habits I choose to take with me versus the ones I wish to reinstate from an earlier and less chaotically stressful time. Sometimes I feel so far away from who I was, it's difficult to imagine with any sort of clarity who I will eventually become.
I sometimes think it's silly to blame my removal from the world entirely on school. But in my calmer moments, I can at least concede it's been something quite apart from a "regular" sort of life. Graduate school is a bit like running a marathon while birthing a baby and trying to cater a dinner for 350. A great push toward the finish line amidst what often feel like wild and insurmountable obstacles.
It will be interesting to see how life changes beyond graduation. And a practice in mindfulness to note the habits I choose to take with me versus the ones I wish to reinstate from an earlier and less chaotically stressful time. Sometimes I feel so far away from who I was, it's difficult to imagine with any sort of clarity who I will eventually become.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
So many mountain tops...
I heard a great interview on The State We're In this morning. The theme was "the right to refuse," and they did 3 stories focusing on various interpretations of that theme. The one I was able to hear all of (and was most interested in) was about Norrie May-Welby, who refuses to be classified as a specific gender.
Norrie's story is not entirely unusual... she was initially born as a boy and always felt more female; however, after the sex change operation, Norrie decided not to take hormones and therefore never developed breasts or fully eliminated certain traditionally male features, such as chest hair.
Now, Norrie considers herself about 60% female and 40% male, and prefers to be called she but does not truly identify with being completely female or male... and thus prefers to embrace the right to refuse classification.
It was an excellent interview because Norrie is incredibly articulate, self-reflective, and humorous. And so it was nice to hear from someone who struggles with and eschews gender-role stereotyping and is able to communicate the thought and feeling process behind it all so well.
I believe we have much more to learn and understand with regard to the differences and subtleties of sex, gender, orientation, and all the things connected to such elements of our identities. Gender-role expectations are powerful things, as is the socialization process based on cultural perceptions of who we are as male and female, how we choose to conduct ourselves, and who we love or are attracted to.
Perhaps one day we will embrace all the possibilities that exist within the human experience in terms of gender and sexuality (and, ultimately, identity)... if not openly, then at least without fear and hostility. Stories like this at least keep the dialogue going, and help to remind us to continually challenge our preconceptions, assumptions, and values so that we may ultimately treat everyone with the same level of compassion, dignity, and gentleness.
Norrie's story is not entirely unusual... she was initially born as a boy and always felt more female; however, after the sex change operation, Norrie decided not to take hormones and therefore never developed breasts or fully eliminated certain traditionally male features, such as chest hair.
Now, Norrie considers herself about 60% female and 40% male, and prefers to be called she but does not truly identify with being completely female or male... and thus prefers to embrace the right to refuse classification.
It was an excellent interview because Norrie is incredibly articulate, self-reflective, and humorous. And so it was nice to hear from someone who struggles with and eschews gender-role stereotyping and is able to communicate the thought and feeling process behind it all so well.
I believe we have much more to learn and understand with regard to the differences and subtleties of sex, gender, orientation, and all the things connected to such elements of our identities. Gender-role expectations are powerful things, as is the socialization process based on cultural perceptions of who we are as male and female, how we choose to conduct ourselves, and who we love or are attracted to.
Perhaps one day we will embrace all the possibilities that exist within the human experience in terms of gender and sexuality (and, ultimately, identity)... if not openly, then at least without fear and hostility. Stories like this at least keep the dialogue going, and help to remind us to continually challenge our preconceptions, assumptions, and values so that we may ultimately treat everyone with the same level of compassion, dignity, and gentleness.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Baby Steps
My husband created a little meditation space for us in a large closet located in our now shared office (it used to be the guest room).
It's the perfect size for both our zafus and zabutons, along with a small altar. Very cool. Oddly enough, Ari and the dog both love being in there as well, so it's become a popular hangout spot and is rapidly accumulating little toddler toys.
Unfortunately, we had not yet used it to actually meditate. Our goal was to use Thursday nights to sit together after I've put Ari to bed. We were all fired up about it and even moved two rooms around accomodating the plan, but we've fallen short on actually moving forward.
Ah well. Sometimes I think we take baby steps toward elightenment or spiritual evolution. A slow but steady pace that brings us closer to our hoped-for endgoal. In the meantime, our space sits ready and lovely... waiting for the end of our metaphorically tiny-footed journey.
It's the perfect size for both our zafus and zabutons, along with a small altar. Very cool. Oddly enough, Ari and the dog both love being in there as well, so it's become a popular hangout spot and is rapidly accumulating little toddler toys.
Unfortunately, we had not yet used it to actually meditate. Our goal was to use Thursday nights to sit together after I've put Ari to bed. We were all fired up about it and even moved two rooms around accomodating the plan, but we've fallen short on actually moving forward.
Ah well. Sometimes I think we take baby steps toward elightenment or spiritual evolution. A slow but steady pace that brings us closer to our hoped-for endgoal. In the meantime, our space sits ready and lovely... waiting for the end of our metaphorically tiny-footed journey.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Ash
I used to have dreams wherein my teeth would break apart in my mouth. Crumble like chalk and settle into dusty piles that stuck on my cheeks and threatened to choke me. It would start in the back, near my molars, and work it's way toward the front—a domino effect reminiscent of special effects scenes of buildings turned to ash in the aftermath of a bomb or piles of soft soot left behind by July 4th snakes on the sidewalk.
I'm not sure what this means. But having half a tooth fall of has reminded me of them. They used to happen frequently—recurrent and frightening. And then they stopped somewhere along the way... forgotten and replaced by other strange evening flights.
Perhaps it is about communication... or a fear of being silenced. I am a communicator, probably more than anything else, and the thought of losing that strength and comfort is quite scary to me.
What you fear reveals what you value (and vice versa).
I'm not sure what this means. But having half a tooth fall of has reminded me of them. They used to happen frequently—recurrent and frightening. And then they stopped somewhere along the way... forgotten and replaced by other strange evening flights.
Perhaps it is about communication... or a fear of being silenced. I am a communicator, probably more than anything else, and the thought of losing that strength and comfort is quite scary to me.
What you fear reveals what you value (and vice versa).
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Sometimes...
Sometimes you ask
and the universe will answer.
Sometimes you push
and the world walks away.
Sometimes you wait
and the way becomes clearer.
Breathe.
Listen.
Trust.
and the universe will answer.
Sometimes you push
and the world walks away.
Sometimes you wait
and the way becomes clearer.
Breathe.
Listen.
Trust.
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