if i had more community. if it were easier to make friends. if it were easier for my son to make friends. if i lived on the other side of town. or somewhere else. if i didn't have as much lawn to mow. if i were different. if i ate (or didn't eat) certain things. if i had more time to read. if i made time to read. if i had time. if the weather were different. if i got more sleep. {or something like that.}
and really, it's not that any of these things is wrong. {or that there is a wrong.} to want.
(of course not.) it's just that- right now- without them {or with them} is living, too.
and honestly, it's the balance between the two. the list at the top- and- what is. {and anything else in between.}
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Symmetry
symmetry- the quality of being made up of exactly similar parts facing each other.
There is a certain symmetry in a day's events, an effortless flow {if you will} that I notice sometimes when I am allowing myself to go with the flow. Things seem to line up just so, in a way that makes me pause and notice how easy things can be sometimes. During these times, for whatever reason, I've stopped pushing at myself to do what I should do or what would be better. I'm not rushing (unless, of course, that *is* the flow). And I'm paying attention to the voice that says, for instance, don't put in that last load of laundry just yet {even though that is clearly what should be done. after all, if i did that last load now, I would be that much closer to finishing the laundry. again.}
This happened today and I thought the series of events I went through (participated in) illustrates so well this type of ordinary/extraordinary flow I am thinking of-
Eva is sick. She was on the couch resting and I went into the laundry room to put the load of sheets that had just finished being washed into the dryer. I paused, thinking wistfully of being able to hang the sheets out to dry because of the recent warm weather and sunshine and then bit the bullet and put them in the dryer because I don't currently have a working clothesline large enough for the sheets and because I didn't want the sheets to mildew while they waited for me to figure one up. (Mildew being something that can happen in a very short time in Oregon. Even in the summer.)
I left the last load that was in the dryer- a mixed load of towels and dish cloths- on the floor next to the dryer and opted to not fold them just yet. Then I looked at the next load of clothes that was ready to be put into the washer, and for some reason, decided I wasn't going to wash them just yet {either}. I told myself to just finish up what was started right now and to not add to what was already going on with another load of laundry. This is something I might dismiss normally, what with the allure of being done with the laundry {again} hovering over the room. But I went with it and left the washer empty without adding another load.
And then, about an hour later, Eva started throwing up. She threw up several times, all over the carpet in the hallway. After she had finished and I had gotten her settled, I went back to clean things up and it was like it was all set up for the occasion. There were the towels, still on the floor near the dryer, just right for cleaning up (no need to have been folded...) and an empty washer just waiting for me to throw the towels into. And it was so easy. There was no extra load of laundry to deal with in the washer and there was no fishing about in drawers in the other room for towels that were folded and put away. It was symmetry, pure and simple.
Make of it what you will. I don't have the answers about why this happens except perhaps that we are meant to (without the deterministic flavor, please, but in the same sense that all beings take care of themselves in the best way they are able) take care of ourselves, which means listening to ourselves, which means that sometimes, the very best thing is to leave the last load of laundry for a different day. And sometimes it isn't.
There is a certain symmetry in a day's events, an effortless flow {if you will} that I notice sometimes when I am allowing myself to go with the flow. Things seem to line up just so, in a way that makes me pause and notice how easy things can be sometimes. During these times, for whatever reason, I've stopped pushing at myself to do what I should do or what would be better. I'm not rushing (unless, of course, that *is* the flow). And I'm paying attention to the voice that says, for instance, don't put in that last load of laundry just yet {even though that is clearly what should be done. after all, if i did that last load now, I would be that much closer to finishing the laundry. again.}
This happened today and I thought the series of events I went through (participated in) illustrates so well this type of ordinary/extraordinary flow I am thinking of-
Eva is sick. She was on the couch resting and I went into the laundry room to put the load of sheets that had just finished being washed into the dryer. I paused, thinking wistfully of being able to hang the sheets out to dry because of the recent warm weather and sunshine and then bit the bullet and put them in the dryer because I don't currently have a working clothesline large enough for the sheets and because I didn't want the sheets to mildew while they waited for me to figure one up. (Mildew being something that can happen in a very short time in Oregon. Even in the summer.)
I left the last load that was in the dryer- a mixed load of towels and dish cloths- on the floor next to the dryer and opted to not fold them just yet. Then I looked at the next load of clothes that was ready to be put into the washer, and for some reason, decided I wasn't going to wash them just yet {either}. I told myself to just finish up what was started right now and to not add to what was already going on with another load of laundry. This is something I might dismiss normally, what with the allure of being done with the laundry {again} hovering over the room. But I went with it and left the washer empty without adding another load.
And then, about an hour later, Eva started throwing up. She threw up several times, all over the carpet in the hallway. After she had finished and I had gotten her settled, I went back to clean things up and it was like it was all set up for the occasion. There were the towels, still on the floor near the dryer, just right for cleaning up (no need to have been folded...) and an empty washer just waiting for me to throw the towels into. And it was so easy. There was no extra load of laundry to deal with in the washer and there was no fishing about in drawers in the other room for towels that were folded and put away. It was symmetry, pure and simple.
Make of it what you will. I don't have the answers about why this happens except perhaps that we are meant to (without the deterministic flavor, please, but in the same sense that all beings take care of themselves in the best way they are able) take care of ourselves, which means listening to ourselves, which means that sometimes, the very best thing is to leave the last load of laundry for a different day. And sometimes it isn't.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
weed, weeded, weeding
I spent a good bit of the day weeding (i'm generally opposed to the word weeding {for myself} because it holds so many assumptions, but for the life of me I can't find another word for the job. tidying up? two words. yard work? possibly, but still two words. i'm working on it. i have resorted to using the word weeding over the last two weeks for lack of a better word and because I think it is fairly descriptive of what I have been doing, whether I like it or not...) again and am glad to see that my back and neck aren't having quite the same problem they did a few weeks ago when I first began tidying up the back garden area in earnest. I keep doing it because I really want that area cleaned up and logistically easier to care for, but I won't say I wasn't concerned my body wasn't going to be as into it as my mind seemed to be. My mind jumped at the chance. And the two of us- my mind and I- have been working on the garden area one thing at a time (i keep reminding my mind when it gets ahead of me and i feel overwhelmed with the task. one.thing.at.a.time. don't look beyond that lest i feel too overloaded to tackle any of it.)
(and why divide us all up like that- body, mind, me?- just for the fun of it. and frankly- to account for some of the disparity i experience when i try too hard to sum things up into one experience.) (and to sort of indulge that disparity a bit. i read somewhere a few years ago that one way we as a culture are dysfunctional is that we are taught we shouldn't feel more than one way at a time and as a result, we have a difficult time reconciling different and conflicting feelings....)
I'm happy with how it's going. I spent quite a bit of time with the strawberries and am pleased with how many we now have. I transplanted a few and cleaned up around most of them. I'm now trying to decide how to keep it um weeded more easily. The nursery people suggested cardboard around the plants and then dirt on top of that. It seems like that would work well with rows but my berry plants are all hodgepodge like, with very little rhyme or reason. I don't really want to go the way of hemlock mulch around them because I don't believe it really is sliver-free (and eva walks out in the garden a lot. it has to be eva-friendly.) I'm not sure which way I will end up going. One project at a time. Right now I'm working on the area in between the raised beds, covering it with newspaper (i actually bought one!) and then medium cedar chips, with rectangular pathway slabs on top of that. Eva is thrilled and mentioned how fun it will be to walk around under the sunflowers later in the summer.
I love how the purple kale has yellow flowers. It's such a nice contrast. Never fear- this kale is from last fall. There is more spring kale in the other bed. Always plenty of kale.
(and why divide us all up like that- body, mind, me?- just for the fun of it. and frankly- to account for some of the disparity i experience when i try too hard to sum things up into one experience.) (and to sort of indulge that disparity a bit. i read somewhere a few years ago that one way we as a culture are dysfunctional is that we are taught we shouldn't feel more than one way at a time and as a result, we have a difficult time reconciling different and conflicting feelings....)
I'm happy with how it's going. I spent quite a bit of time with the strawberries and am pleased with how many we now have. I transplanted a few and cleaned up around most of them. I'm now trying to decide how to keep it um weeded more easily. The nursery people suggested cardboard around the plants and then dirt on top of that. It seems like that would work well with rows but my berry plants are all hodgepodge like, with very little rhyme or reason. I don't really want to go the way of hemlock mulch around them because I don't believe it really is sliver-free (and eva walks out in the garden a lot. it has to be eva-friendly.) I'm not sure which way I will end up going. One project at a time. Right now I'm working on the area in between the raised beds, covering it with newspaper (i actually bought one!) and then medium cedar chips, with rectangular pathway slabs on top of that. Eva is thrilled and mentioned how fun it will be to walk around under the sunflowers later in the summer.
I love how the purple kale has yellow flowers. It's such a nice contrast. Never fear- this kale is from last fall. There is more spring kale in the other bed. Always plenty of kale.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Spring
Here's what I wrote about Spring a few days ago. I think the tone in the first paragraph lacks a certain Zing! (which is why I put off posting it. trying to locate that Zing!) I was looking for to convey the most recent Spring shift in the air I was feeling. Upon rereading it, however, I wonder if the tone was perfect for that day. I'm posting it now because it seems subtly different enough from how it feels on this day, that I know that things have already shifted again, which feels good to me right now. The {seeming} lack of movement in the season had begun to feel heavy to me, as though no matter how hard I tried to open my eyes, I was still yawning and sleepy after a long and rainy nap.
"Slowly. Imperceptibly. {Until it's not.} No longer winter-moving-toward-spring, but simply spring. Spring. And soon, she will move-as we expect her to- toward summer. But until then- until then- she is spring.
Just last week, I wondered at feeling warm again and when that would feel real. Difficult to fathom when Spring's hail and sleet continued to pound the patio roof. Surely, those first flowers signaled a break. A subtle shift. And now? No longer one flower pointed out as we drive past, but several pink and white trees fully lining the boulevards, leaving me hoping. Knowing. There will be dogwoods. There will be irises. Ducklings. Subtle shifting and suddenly, a noticeably warmer day takes us for a much needed walk in the woods and we no longer wear coats. We leave our hats in the car, forgotten for now."
"Slowly. Imperceptibly. {Until it's not.} No longer winter-moving-toward-spring, but simply spring. Spring. And soon, she will move-as we expect her to- toward summer. But until then- until then- she is spring.
Just last week, I wondered at feeling warm again and when that would feel real. Difficult to fathom when Spring's hail and sleet continued to pound the patio roof. Surely, those first flowers signaled a break. A subtle shift. And now? No longer one flower pointed out as we drive past, but several pink and white trees fully lining the boulevards, leaving me hoping. Knowing. There will be dogwoods. There will be irises. Ducklings. Subtle shifting and suddenly, a noticeably warmer day takes us for a much needed walk in the woods and we no longer wear coats. We leave our hats in the car, forgotten for now."
Monday, March 7, 2011
Gee...
G is for giving up. It's all well and good to come up with an inspiration like words or the alphabet to help me post on my blog. Or to do anything, for that matter. I'm a big fan of the new system, that's for sure. But at what point do you drop the new system in favor of a newer system? Or no system? And is there anything wrong with that. Do you continue to slog through the mud or the tar or push past the roadblock of the currently-uninspiring-was-new-system, in the hopes that it becomes inspiring once more, or do you simply let it go? Or, more negatively put, give up? For me, it's always a bit of both, with a nod that has become stronger as I grapple with these questions, the longer I grapple, to the parts of me that enjoy developing new systems and the parts of me that enjoy breaking free of them once they become less inspiring and more hmm... shackle-like. But funny that giving up showed up with the letter G. Who can say what will happen next? A continuance of the alphabetically-inclined post? A reprieve? A follow up days later, after several un-alphabet-related posts? It's these thoughts that I encounter in most of my endeavors, on my way to the lovely balance of form (the new system!) and freedom (the inspiration!) and where the two shall meet.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
and zen some
Seems like I keep reading little bits of pithy wisdom lately and feeling irritated afterward because the bits seem incomplete somehow, but are being treated as the Truth. And then- predictably- I argue with myself over said wisdom and feel overwhelmed and either stay irritated or decide I am not doing something right or I would understand or relate to or embrace the *wisdom*. These arguments leave my head feeling so dense and tired that nowadays, I get ahead of myself and end up feeling dense and tired before the arguing and thinking can even begin.
A few nights ago, I was reading {very briefly} in one of my Zen books and was just about ready to put it down (too much pithy wisdom for one evening...) when I came upon this little bit of wisdom that seemed just right. And I've been rolling it around in my head, marveling at it's exactness and perfection ever sense.
The section I was reading (from Nothing Special, Living Zen by Charlotte Joko Beck) was- actually- talking about "tossing around fancy concepts". {Perfect!} Concepts like- "Everyone is doing their best," and "Everything is perfect as it is right now." Great concepts. But still- only concepts. Words. Thoughts. Not our actual experience, in this moment. Beck points out that often, we plaster these concepts, these words, right on top of our actual experience, without ever feeling what we are experiencing. And this can be a trap. This can be mistaken for understanding. Too much of this can be "a source of confusion, anxiety and depression."
I loved Beck's example of feeling hurt by someone else- how we might go ahead and explain their behavior and our own experience with a concept like, "Everyone is doing their best" and inadvertently skip the whole messy, painful part of feeling and being who we are in that moment. Skip our actual experience and overlay it with a concept instead. And mistake that for Truth.
The depth of understanding and clarity- not to mention the serenity and peace of mind?- that we are looking for (that I am looking for?), is so much easier to find if we don't try and stack yet another philosophical concept on top of what is actually happening. The next time you are feeling frustrated (or angry. or sad. or overwhelmed.) and a well-meaning person (or book. or guru. or quote.) gives you a bit of wisdom, skip the wisdom and let yourself feel frustrated. Afterward- my guess is- you will truly know, everyone really is doing their best. All of the time. Ta da. But don't take my word for it...
A few nights ago, I was reading {very briefly} in one of my Zen books and was just about ready to put it down (too much pithy wisdom for one evening...) when I came upon this little bit of wisdom that seemed just right. And I've been rolling it around in my head, marveling at it's exactness and perfection ever sense.
The section I was reading (from Nothing Special, Living Zen by Charlotte Joko Beck) was- actually- talking about "tossing around fancy concepts". {Perfect!} Concepts like- "Everyone is doing their best," and "Everything is perfect as it is right now." Great concepts. But still- only concepts. Words. Thoughts. Not our actual experience, in this moment. Beck points out that often, we plaster these concepts, these words, right on top of our actual experience, without ever feeling what we are experiencing. And this can be a trap. This can be mistaken for understanding. Too much of this can be "a source of confusion, anxiety and depression."
I loved Beck's example of feeling hurt by someone else- how we might go ahead and explain their behavior and our own experience with a concept like, "Everyone is doing their best" and inadvertently skip the whole messy, painful part of feeling and being who we are in that moment. Skip our actual experience and overlay it with a concept instead. And mistake that for Truth.
The depth of understanding and clarity- not to mention the serenity and peace of mind?- that we are looking for (that I am looking for?), is so much easier to find if we don't try and stack yet another philosophical concept on top of what is actually happening. The next time you are feeling frustrated (or angry. or sad. or overwhelmed.) and a well-meaning person (or book. or guru. or quote.) gives you a bit of wisdom, skip the wisdom and let yourself feel frustrated. Afterward- my guess is- you will truly know, everyone really is doing their best. All of the time. Ta da. But don't take my word for it...
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
holiday zen
We went out today to do some last minute Christmas shopping, which I am usually completely opposed to doing. I do not like to venture out into crowds during normal life, much less during the holidays. Still, it had to be done, and I went out into it with my eyes wide open, aware that there would be crowds and traffic and other things I normally keep at bay by choosing to go to the woods instead of the mall whenever possible.
Need I even say that we ran into crowds? So many people. Lots of shopping. Spending. Traffic. {The traffic was un-be-liev-able. Memorable, even. Making a left hand turn proved to be next to impossible and I decided that my good deed for the day was to let anyone who was trying to make a left hand turn in front of me, be allowed to do so. Those people needed all the help they could get.} The kids and I fared pretty well, I think. I am feeling the effects of it all now with the customary thick-headed feeling I get when I am overloaded, but I managed to get through it with a mostly upbeat feeling- maybe because I knew what I was getting myself into before I started? Not sure. What I do know is that I appreciated {when I noticed} each and every bit of holiday cheer, smile, each look of recognition at this state of affairs we all found ourselves in. Each bit of consideration helped to offset the push and rush that *is* the holiday season.
Not to say that this is the meaning of the holiday season. Far from it. And yet, we continue to do it, at least in part, to prepare for the meaning. Our meaning. Whatever that may be. At some point, each of us {mostly} finds ourselves out-in-it, to a greater or lesser degree, depending. Being able to notice the humanity in this shared experience- to notice each other!- I have found, can make all the difference. Being able to create meaning and bring awareness where traditionally we have been taught there is none is a gift each of can give to one another, if not all the time- let's be realistic!- at least once. Then again. And again. The baby you smile at. The woman who says excuse me. The check out woman who winked at my son while we waited in line. The man who waited until Eva got into the car before pulling out and then waved to all of us with a smile. The woman, so grateful, who was able to finally! make her left-hand turn. These things change the face of our day. These things make a difference. And while we bemoan the consumerism and traffic and spending and crowds as most definitely not the meaning of this season, these acts of kindness and grace we can each be a part of during this time of overwhelm, most definitely are the meaning- at least some of the meaning- of this season. Of every season we find ourselves apart of.
At least these thoughts helped me through most of the day- the bulk of a potentially trying situation. Now I am going to take a hot bath and hope that this will pick up where my good intentions left off. At least I don't have to go out into that mess again tomorrow. I probably- to be honest- don't have to go shopping like that until next Christmas. If at all. If only I could get my planning just right, I might never have to go shopping again...
Need I even say that we ran into crowds? So many people. Lots of shopping. Spending. Traffic. {The traffic was un-be-liev-able. Memorable, even. Making a left hand turn proved to be next to impossible and I decided that my good deed for the day was to let anyone who was trying to make a left hand turn in front of me, be allowed to do so. Those people needed all the help they could get.} The kids and I fared pretty well, I think. I am feeling the effects of it all now with the customary thick-headed feeling I get when I am overloaded, but I managed to get through it with a mostly upbeat feeling- maybe because I knew what I was getting myself into before I started? Not sure. What I do know is that I appreciated {when I noticed} each and every bit of holiday cheer, smile, each look of recognition at this state of affairs we all found ourselves in. Each bit of consideration helped to offset the push and rush that *is* the holiday season.
Not to say that this is the meaning of the holiday season. Far from it. And yet, we continue to do it, at least in part, to prepare for the meaning. Our meaning. Whatever that may be. At some point, each of us {mostly} finds ourselves out-in-it, to a greater or lesser degree, depending. Being able to notice the humanity in this shared experience- to notice each other!- I have found, can make all the difference. Being able to create meaning and bring awareness where traditionally we have been taught there is none is a gift each of can give to one another, if not all the time- let's be realistic!- at least once. Then again. And again. The baby you smile at. The woman who says excuse me. The check out woman who winked at my son while we waited in line. The man who waited until Eva got into the car before pulling out and then waved to all of us with a smile. The woman, so grateful, who was able to finally! make her left-hand turn. These things change the face of our day. These things make a difference. And while we bemoan the consumerism and traffic and spending and crowds as most definitely not the meaning of this season, these acts of kindness and grace we can each be a part of during this time of overwhelm, most definitely are the meaning- at least some of the meaning- of this season. Of every season we find ourselves apart of.
At least these thoughts helped me through most of the day- the bulk of a potentially trying situation. Now I am going to take a hot bath and hope that this will pick up where my good intentions left off. At least I don't have to go out into that mess again tomorrow. I probably- to be honest- don't have to go shopping like that until next Christmas. If at all. If only I could get my planning just right, I might never have to go shopping again...
Friday, December 10, 2010
match point
I've been on a bit of a Woody Allen kick for the last couple of months. Tonight I watched Match Point, after reading something about it being one of his top ten best movies and a big comeback for him after several let-downs in a row. I really enjoyed it. For a while I thought the subject matter was quite a bit different from some of the other movies of his that I have liked so much.
(It was even a little too much of a thriller for me at one point and I went and looked for a spoiler. I have no problem watching a movie like that after I know what is going to happen. Even then, it usually still turns out to be a bit on the intense side for me. It's been a while, too, since I decided it was fine if I looked ahead in books, movies, what have you. Gave myself permission, at it were. It is supposed to be fun, after all. I feel like I have enough not-knowing in regular life without it taking over in the fiction I read and watch. Unless I want it to, that is.)
...but then, the ending {in particular} really brought home some of the meaning-of-life (and is there meaning to life?) questions that had been posed during the movie- if seemingly briefly- and included some extra introspection about luck that I especially enjoyed. It got me thinking again about the Luck Factor that I read earlier this year.
(It was even a little too much of a thriller for me at one point and I went and looked for a spoiler. I have no problem watching a movie like that after I know what is going to happen. Even then, it usually still turns out to be a bit on the intense side for me. It's been a while, too, since I decided it was fine if I looked ahead in books, movies, what have you. Gave myself permission, at it were. It is supposed to be fun, after all. I feel like I have enough not-knowing in regular life without it taking over in the fiction I read and watch. Unless I want it to, that is.)
...but then, the ending {in particular} really brought home some of the meaning-of-life (and is there meaning to life?) questions that had been posed during the movie- if seemingly briefly- and included some extra introspection about luck that I especially enjoyed. It got me thinking again about the Luck Factor that I read earlier this year.
Monday, December 6, 2010
card making project {2}
Eva and I finally did our holiday card project. Tonight.
Here she is getting all set up for it.
I'll post a picture of the finished cards tomorrow after they have dried. There is an awful lot of glue and glitter and such that needs to sit still awhile before we photograph. And- while I swept up as much glitter as I could, I'm sure there will be quite a bit of glitter around the house for a while, such is the way of glitter. But that doesn't bother me. It's the tension of the actual project that bothers me.
I wish I could say that making the cards was fun. At least Eva said she had fun afterward. And during, I think. She said she loves doing projects like this with me. So that's something, at least. And I did calm down after a while. I relaxed. But I have to say this type of project triggers all that is stressful and tense in me and suddenly nothing that I can do looks quite right. Or turns out. I talked myself down, though, and managed to pull it together to play a bit with Eva and by the end I was mostly fine with the project and even managed to enjoy myself for some of it. Good grief. At least it seems like that now, in retrospect. And when I look at some of the cards, I definitely have a positive memory associated with them, so that's another something.
Still, I had to take so many deep breaths during and after and I feel like I am still recovering from the project a full 1/2 to an hour later, even after clean up. I'm not exactly sure what this is all about but I have a feeling that throwing myself into a few more projects like this- with Eva- just for the project's sake {and the connection time} could help quite a bit.
As it turns out, we may not even send out any of the cards. Eva hadn't wanted to send out any of the cards that only she worked on and I was fine with that. Now she wants to keep my cards as well, which I guess I shouldn't be surprised by. I don't know what I thought was going to happen. Did I think I would smuggle the cards out of the house without her noticing? Still, I think we can come up with a nice way to set them up so we can enjoy them over the next couple of weeks, whether we end up sending any of them or not.
And, as tense as the project was, I am glad I did the project. I'm glad I got the idea and shared it with Eva and made up the list. I'm glad we bought crafty goodness and put it all together, together. I'm glad Eva enjoyed herself and I'm glad I made the time for that type of connection with her. And I'm glad it's all over. Until next time, when I hope it's not quite as bad. Practice makes perfect, as they say. Or how about practice relaxes. Practice makes deep breathing second nature. Practice makes comfortable. And the like...
Here she is getting all set up for it.
I'll post a picture of the finished cards tomorrow after they have dried. There is an awful lot of glue and glitter and such that needs to sit still awhile before we photograph. And- while I swept up as much glitter as I could, I'm sure there will be quite a bit of glitter around the house for a while, such is the way of glitter. But that doesn't bother me. It's the tension of the actual project that bothers me.
I wish I could say that making the cards was fun. At least Eva said she had fun afterward. And during, I think. She said she loves doing projects like this with me. So that's something, at least. And I did calm down after a while. I relaxed. But I have to say this type of project triggers all that is stressful and tense in me and suddenly nothing that I can do looks quite right. Or turns out. I talked myself down, though, and managed to pull it together to play a bit with Eva and by the end I was mostly fine with the project and even managed to enjoy myself for some of it. Good grief. At least it seems like that now, in retrospect. And when I look at some of the cards, I definitely have a positive memory associated with them, so that's another something.
Still, I had to take so many deep breaths during and after and I feel like I am still recovering from the project a full 1/2 to an hour later, even after clean up. I'm not exactly sure what this is all about but I have a feeling that throwing myself into a few more projects like this- with Eva- just for the project's sake {and the connection time} could help quite a bit.
As it turns out, we may not even send out any of the cards. Eva hadn't wanted to send out any of the cards that only she worked on and I was fine with that. Now she wants to keep my cards as well, which I guess I shouldn't be surprised by. I don't know what I thought was going to happen. Did I think I would smuggle the cards out of the house without her noticing? Still, I think we can come up with a nice way to set them up so we can enjoy them over the next couple of weeks, whether we end up sending any of them or not.
And, as tense as the project was, I am glad I did the project. I'm glad I got the idea and shared it with Eva and made up the list. I'm glad we bought crafty goodness and put it all together, together. I'm glad Eva enjoyed herself and I'm glad I made the time for that type of connection with her. And I'm glad it's all over. Until next time, when I hope it's not quite as bad. Practice makes perfect, as they say. Or how about practice relaxes. Practice makes deep breathing second nature. Practice makes comfortable. And the like...
Friday, December 3, 2010
winter expansion
When I took the compost out to the compost bin this afternoon, I noticed the buds beginning to form on the maple tree. Buds that will become flowers and bloom sometime at the end of January or into February, if I am remembering correctly. Maybe a little later? I don't think it's all the way into March but right now I can't be completely sure and I don't want to take the time to look it up. (OK- I looked it up. Looks like our maple is one of the first maples to bloom, which could mean as early as mid-February {or early March} here, what with our mild climate...)
I was reminded again of how much growth actually occurs- is often prepared for- during times of rest. Think of it. Our maple has just barely lost all of her leaves and is already replacing them with small buds. Readying for expansion even in the midst of winter (well, autumn. but nearly winter. that whole transition thing, and all.). This came as an even more poignant thought to me today {than it otherwise might have, although let's be honest here, i am fairly prone to poignancy most of the time.} because I am currently sick- sick enough to need quite a bit more rest than I had initially planned for this week. And I was surprised by it. The illness surprised me. I didn't think I was getting sick until I was already sick. No amount of hat-wearing and kombucha drinking were able to ward off this illness. Not this time.
But that's OK. For the most part. That's what I'm trying to say. And- that- while being sick is certainly not my preference, there is a particular quality of epiphany and understanding that can come from this state, that seems to be born from it. That I am privy to *only* when I am this sick. If I allow it.
And I'm not saying I want to stay ill. Or that we can't understand things {other things} when we feel healthier. I wouldn't want to quantify it in that way. Or compare. Just that this morning I recognized this certain bit of illness wisdom and was happy for it. And decided again- always again- to not push against the virus or my body, but to do what they both asked for. To take care. To rest. To be sick. And to listen to the wisdom that can only be found therein.
I was reminded again of how much growth actually occurs- is often prepared for- during times of rest. Think of it. Our maple has just barely lost all of her leaves and is already replacing them with small buds. Readying for expansion even in the midst of winter (well, autumn. but nearly winter. that whole transition thing, and all.). This came as an even more poignant thought to me today {than it otherwise might have, although let's be honest here, i am fairly prone to poignancy most of the time.} because I am currently sick- sick enough to need quite a bit more rest than I had initially planned for this week. And I was surprised by it. The illness surprised me. I didn't think I was getting sick until I was already sick. No amount of hat-wearing and kombucha drinking were able to ward off this illness. Not this time.
But that's OK. For the most part. That's what I'm trying to say. And- that- while being sick is certainly not my preference, there is a particular quality of epiphany and understanding that can come from this state, that seems to be born from it. That I am privy to *only* when I am this sick. If I allow it.
And I'm not saying I want to stay ill. Or that we can't understand things {other things} when we feel healthier. I wouldn't want to quantify it in that way. Or compare. Just that this morning I recognized this certain bit of illness wisdom and was happy for it. And decided again- always again- to not push against the virus or my body, but to do what they both asked for. To take care. To rest. To be sick. And to listen to the wisdom that can only be found therein.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
tut tut...
I was a huge Facts of Life fan at one point in my life. And while there are a few scenes that I remember fondly from that show, there is one scene in particular that has stuck in my head all these years and that continues to come up over and over for me still, particularly when I am reminding myself not to worry.
The scene I am remembering was with Tootie, during a time when she was being punished for something or other. (It seems like this was a common occurrence for Tootie on the show.) On this particular occasion, she was required to write something 100 times or more, something along those lines, on the blackboards in a classroom. At some point during the punishment, the camera came into the room- I can't remember if it was followed by a teacher or not. Eventually, a teacher did come into the room, though, and told her that what she was writing on the board wouldn't work as her punishment. Tootie had decided to write double quotation marks (as in " ") over and over again underneath *each word* in the first sentence rather than writing out the sentence word for word, over and over, line after line. And she thought she was being quite clever, too, because while she wrote, she sang the song, "Tut tut Tootie, don't cry. Tut tut Tootie, goodbye."
I love that. Tootie, in her roller skates, skating back and forth across the classroom, writing double quotation marks and singing that song "Tut tut, Tootie...". (To be honest, the last word isn't necessarily goodbye. I sing it alternately with my my at the end, depending, and have been doing so for years. Just now I tried to verify it on Google but sadly it did not show up. Nor on YouTube, as it were.)
I was reminded of this song again this evening when I told Eva I was going to take a break from cutting out Christmas trees because my finger was getting sore and she rolled her eyes at me and said, "Tut tut." I chuckled. Oh Tootie, you have made your mark on this world and it has stuck. I have no doubt that Eva's "Tut tut" came from my singing Tootie's song around my kids for all these years. Of course, the meaning has altered slightly, over the years, morphing to suit our family's needs, depending on the situation and nuance required, but that is, after all, what all language does anyway.
Just for fun, I decided to go over to Netflix to see if they have the Facts of Life {on instant watch or otherwise} and put it in my queue. It seems like it might be a fun thing to watch with my kids. They can finally see Tootie in her roller skating glory singing the "Tut tut" song they have come to associate with me. I'm fairly certain of what their response will be. A little eye rolling, a groan and a definite, "Tut tut..."
The scene I am remembering was with Tootie, during a time when she was being punished for something or other. (It seems like this was a common occurrence for Tootie on the show.) On this particular occasion, she was required to write something 100 times or more, something along those lines, on the blackboards in a classroom. At some point during the punishment, the camera came into the room- I can't remember if it was followed by a teacher or not. Eventually, a teacher did come into the room, though, and told her that what she was writing on the board wouldn't work as her punishment. Tootie had decided to write double quotation marks (as in " ") over and over again underneath *each word* in the first sentence rather than writing out the sentence word for word, over and over, line after line. And she thought she was being quite clever, too, because while she wrote, she sang the song, "Tut tut Tootie, don't cry. Tut tut Tootie, goodbye."
I love that. Tootie, in her roller skates, skating back and forth across the classroom, writing double quotation marks and singing that song "Tut tut, Tootie...". (To be honest, the last word isn't necessarily goodbye. I sing it alternately with my my at the end, depending, and have been doing so for years. Just now I tried to verify it on Google but sadly it did not show up. Nor on YouTube, as it were.)
I was reminded of this song again this evening when I told Eva I was going to take a break from cutting out Christmas trees because my finger was getting sore and she rolled her eyes at me and said, "Tut tut." I chuckled. Oh Tootie, you have made your mark on this world and it has stuck. I have no doubt that Eva's "Tut tut" came from my singing Tootie's song around my kids for all these years. Of course, the meaning has altered slightly, over the years, morphing to suit our family's needs, depending on the situation and nuance required, but that is, after all, what all language does anyway.
Just for fun, I decided to go over to Netflix to see if they have the Facts of Life {on instant watch or otherwise} and put it in my queue. It seems like it might be a fun thing to watch with my kids. They can finally see Tootie in her roller skating glory singing the "Tut tut" song they have come to associate with me. I'm fairly certain of what their response will be. A little eye rolling, a groan and a definite, "Tut tut..."
Friday, November 26, 2010
which day?
Today, as well as being Black Friday, aka the busiest shopping day of the year, is also known, in other circles, as Buy Nothing Day. Buy Nothing Day, as it turns out, works better for me simply because I don't relish shopping or large crowds, so basically a very-crowded-shopping-day experience is not something I {usually} consciously choose. Although, truth be known, I did check out some deals in various stores to see if it would be worth it for me to go out in the crowds. It wasn't. I found one deal but honestly I knew that wasn't going to make it worth while for me and I felt rushed and unprepared, what with our no-power-day on Wednesday and Thanksgiving yesterday. It there had been one more deal on one big ticket item in particular, I might have considered it. Emphasis on might. But no luck.
And I wondered today if it counted that I didn't buy anything today- does lunch count?- but bought A LOT the other day so that I would be done before today? My impetus for shopping Tuesday and Wednesday {online} was to safeguard against the-things-I-needed-to-buy being sold out (not so that I could not buy anything today) by the time I got around to buying them, which I had hoped would be more along the line of December 3rd or 4th, not the day before Thanksgiving. Still, it worked out that way and as it turns out {again} it's always nice to have a break. From almost anything. Even if I didn't plan on it. Sometimes especially if I didn't plan on it. One of my very favorite things is when things just work out.
And I wondered today if it counted that I didn't buy anything today- does lunch count?- but bought A LOT the other day so that I would be done before today? My impetus for shopping Tuesday and Wednesday {online} was to safeguard against the-things-I-needed-to-buy being sold out (not so that I could not buy anything today) by the time I got around to buying them, which I had hoped would be more along the line of December 3rd or 4th, not the day before Thanksgiving. Still, it worked out that way and as it turns out {again} it's always nice to have a break. From almost anything. Even if I didn't plan on it. Sometimes especially if I didn't plan on it. One of my very favorite things is when things just work out.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
thankfully warm
Today was one of those days. Although, to be fair, my feelings and thoughts about it have changed so frequently that now I just feel grateful to be home, washing my dishes and making french fries, all preparations for Thanksgiving put on hold a bit longer. As Samuel put it earlier, it was a fun adventure. But now it's not.
Our power went out this morning around 4 or 5 am and by the time I finally got out of bed at 8:00 am, all of the things I normally enjoy in the morning- heat, light, Internet, food, hot water- were long gone. It was so cold that my guinea pigs, usually morning larks like myself, stayed huddled in their igloos, concerned eyes looking toward me, barely coming out for their greens.
I took Samuel and Eva first to the pancake house for breakfast and coffee. Then we did a few errands, making light of the matter, taking advantage of the holiday feel of the day to peruse shops. When I checked in with the electric company, though, the estimated time for the power to be reinstated had been moved back a few hours. And that was the way of the day. We found another warm spot, drank more warm beverages, perused more warm stores. And the time was pushed back again. And again. Until finally it was late afternoon when we reached another warm, well lit place, packed with happy consumers, flush with the glow of the holidays approaching.
And then a call- one call from the electric company- and we packed our things immediately, without a backward glance, without buying more coffee, without perusing more objects. And we skipped and ran, giggling, back to the car. Never happier to be going home. Never happier to be immersing my hands into warm soapy water, finishing off a sink full of dishes. First delighted, then grumpy at the turn of events, turning a day that should have been filled with baking and good smells in preparation for tomorrow's feast, to one filled with cold hands and fussy children, tired of seeing shops, tired of smelling coffee. Hungry. Cold.
And my thoughts turned to things like generators and chargers and self reliance and irritation. For a brief time, I wondered at the gratitude that comes from deprivation, at the exercise that gratitude can become when we are taken out of our element and we must make do, even if just for a day, and it seemed fitting to have such gratitude the day before Thanksgiving, even if the other part of me sneered at the perfect poetry in this lesson and mocked the simplicity found there.
Still, I enjoyed washing the dishes. Am looking forward to a hot bath. Can't wait to continue to stay warm. And while it has been a day of looking at what I am grateful for in that deprivation-sort-of-way, it is also a reminder to me of the time I make each day to be grateful. And how what comes up for me each day is different than the next. And that today I am particularly thankful for heat and light and home.
Our power went out this morning around 4 or 5 am and by the time I finally got out of bed at 8:00 am, all of the things I normally enjoy in the morning- heat, light, Internet, food, hot water- were long gone. It was so cold that my guinea pigs, usually morning larks like myself, stayed huddled in their igloos, concerned eyes looking toward me, barely coming out for their greens.
I took Samuel and Eva first to the pancake house for breakfast and coffee. Then we did a few errands, making light of the matter, taking advantage of the holiday feel of the day to peruse shops. When I checked in with the electric company, though, the estimated time for the power to be reinstated had been moved back a few hours. And that was the way of the day. We found another warm spot, drank more warm beverages, perused more warm stores. And the time was pushed back again. And again. Until finally it was late afternoon when we reached another warm, well lit place, packed with happy consumers, flush with the glow of the holidays approaching.
And then a call- one call from the electric company- and we packed our things immediately, without a backward glance, without buying more coffee, without perusing more objects. And we skipped and ran, giggling, back to the car. Never happier to be going home. Never happier to be immersing my hands into warm soapy water, finishing off a sink full of dishes. First delighted, then grumpy at the turn of events, turning a day that should have been filled with baking and good smells in preparation for tomorrow's feast, to one filled with cold hands and fussy children, tired of seeing shops, tired of smelling coffee. Hungry. Cold.
And my thoughts turned to things like generators and chargers and self reliance and irritation. For a brief time, I wondered at the gratitude that comes from deprivation, at the exercise that gratitude can become when we are taken out of our element and we must make do, even if just for a day, and it seemed fitting to have such gratitude the day before Thanksgiving, even if the other part of me sneered at the perfect poetry in this lesson and mocked the simplicity found there.
Still, I enjoyed washing the dishes. Am looking forward to a hot bath. Can't wait to continue to stay warm. And while it has been a day of looking at what I am grateful for in that deprivation-sort-of-way, it is also a reminder to me of the time I make each day to be grateful. And how what comes up for me each day is different than the next. And that today I am particularly thankful for heat and light and home.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
grocery store {ped}antics
There are various checkers at the grocery store we frequent that I generally avoid if I can help it. Today I added one more to the list. Although- when I think about it- it seems like I was already avoiding this checker for a reason I can no longer remember. Whatever the reason was before, he's definitely back on my list now. And closer to the top. As in the first or second slots. Although to be fair, the first slot is very solidly held by a woman who I avoid as close to always as possible, even though Samuel sometimes eggs me on and asks me to go through one of my banned checkers' aisles. Just for fun. He likes the thrill that annoying people can sometimes bring. Plus I think he learns a lot about social acceptability and how to handle difficult people. Plus he likes to laugh afterward. Or practice his scowl. Who can say really. I rarely, let it be known, take him up on it and mostly choose to stick to the checkers I prefer. The tried and the true, if you will.
But things happen and today, the teen who helped me carry my turkey to the checkout line picked this particular checker's line and I didn't feel like quibbling, saying something like, "Um. He's on my banned checkers list, could we move a row over?" So I stayed and thought I was feeling magnanimous enough to get through whatever encounter presented itself, irritating or not. I'm usually able to rise to the occasion, I just don't always feel like using my energy in that way, if you know what I mean.
So it's our turn and he starts checking out the couple of things I couldn't get when I ordered the bulk of my groceries online last night. He asks the kids if they want a sticker- a common occurrence at this grocery store. When they say yes, he then says to them very seriously, "What's the magic word." Good grief I am so tired of the magic word patrol and all of it's promptings. My kids are polite kids. They say please and thank you. And not because I prodded them and poked them with talk of magic words their whole life.
So they stared at him and made no move to answer or to take a sticker. I laughed and said, "Abracadabra?" He did not look amused at my attempt to divert attention from his magic word trick and said very seriously to me, "Please. That's the magic word to me, please." As though we really didn't know what the magic word was. My children- ruffians- running about in the world, not knowing what the magic word was. I laughed some more.
There are a couple of things here that bug me. The first is offering someone something and then demanding them to say please before you give it to them and accusing them of being the impolite one. Did I mention you'd already offered it to them? Also- can you imagine saying that to an adult? And then- why is the checkout person at the grocery store deciding to become a member of the etiquette police with my kids? While I'm spending money at the store he works at. For Thanksgiving. Over a sticker he has already offered to them. This constant desire for people to turn into the etiquette police around children, faultless users of the magic word themselves, I'm sure, is sometimes humorous. But more often nosy. Meddlesome. And pedantic.
Thankfully, our transaction with him was nearly finished. Before we could leave, though, he asked me one more question, which led to another, while I was punching in my pin to pay for a donation to the food bank. He asked if the schools had been closed today because of the snow. (We got a little snow last night and it's not unheard of for Portland schools to close over less.) I should have lied and said yes. Or lied and said no. Because I didn't know the answer and instead I said, "I'm not sure. We homeschool." So we're nearly done, right? Almost out of there. When he asks, "Oh? And what have they learned today?" But not curious. Serious. With a hint of the pedant still lurking about. And now he's quizzing me.
On another sort of day I might have felt irritated or I might have simply laughed at his question and then left the store, but today I said with a smile, "The magic word?" Yep. And he blushed. And I still don't know if he thought he really had taught my kids the magic word or if he knew I was calling him on all of it. And I wished him a happy Thanksgiving and we left the store.
I don't know. Normally I don't say anything. I don't like to match the pedant's pedantism with my own lesson-teaching. Some days, though, the fussiness and meddling and nosiness become tiresome and I just wish someone would ask {simply} if we are enjoying our day. And I would ask them the same. And then we could smile and recognize that we are sharing this human experience, this day. And that would be enough. Plenty, even.
Hence the banned checker list. And the tried and the true.
But things happen and today, the teen who helped me carry my turkey to the checkout line picked this particular checker's line and I didn't feel like quibbling, saying something like, "Um. He's on my banned checkers list, could we move a row over?" So I stayed and thought I was feeling magnanimous enough to get through whatever encounter presented itself, irritating or not. I'm usually able to rise to the occasion, I just don't always feel like using my energy in that way, if you know what I mean.
So it's our turn and he starts checking out the couple of things I couldn't get when I ordered the bulk of my groceries online last night. He asks the kids if they want a sticker- a common occurrence at this grocery store. When they say yes, he then says to them very seriously, "What's the magic word." Good grief I am so tired of the magic word patrol and all of it's promptings. My kids are polite kids. They say please and thank you. And not because I prodded them and poked them with talk of magic words their whole life.
So they stared at him and made no move to answer or to take a sticker. I laughed and said, "Abracadabra?" He did not look amused at my attempt to divert attention from his magic word trick and said very seriously to me, "Please. That's the magic word to me, please." As though we really didn't know what the magic word was. My children- ruffians- running about in the world, not knowing what the magic word was. I laughed some more.
There are a couple of things here that bug me. The first is offering someone something and then demanding them to say please before you give it to them and accusing them of being the impolite one. Did I mention you'd already offered it to them? Also- can you imagine saying that to an adult? And then- why is the checkout person at the grocery store deciding to become a member of the etiquette police with my kids? While I'm spending money at the store he works at. For Thanksgiving. Over a sticker he has already offered to them. This constant desire for people to turn into the etiquette police around children, faultless users of the magic word themselves, I'm sure, is sometimes humorous. But more often nosy. Meddlesome. And pedantic.
Thankfully, our transaction with him was nearly finished. Before we could leave, though, he asked me one more question, which led to another, while I was punching in my pin to pay for a donation to the food bank. He asked if the schools had been closed today because of the snow. (We got a little snow last night and it's not unheard of for Portland schools to close over less.) I should have lied and said yes. Or lied and said no. Because I didn't know the answer and instead I said, "I'm not sure. We homeschool." So we're nearly done, right? Almost out of there. When he asks, "Oh? And what have they learned today?" But not curious. Serious. With a hint of the pedant still lurking about. And now he's quizzing me.
On another sort of day I might have felt irritated or I might have simply laughed at his question and then left the store, but today I said with a smile, "The magic word?" Yep. And he blushed. And I still don't know if he thought he really had taught my kids the magic word or if he knew I was calling him on all of it. And I wished him a happy Thanksgiving and we left the store.
I don't know. Normally I don't say anything. I don't like to match the pedant's pedantism with my own lesson-teaching. Some days, though, the fussiness and meddling and nosiness become tiresome and I just wish someone would ask {simply} if we are enjoying our day. And I would ask them the same. And then we could smile and recognize that we are sharing this human experience, this day. And that would be enough. Plenty, even.
Hence the banned checker list. And the tried and the true.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
more pumpkin
I just read through my pumpkin post discussing what type of desserts there will be on Thanksgiving. And while I like my practical side because it is so much a part of who I am. I like where it gets me. How thoughtful it can be. How it can take care of everything. Sometimes- sometimes- it leaves just a little bit to be desired in the choose-what-you-really-want category. I don't want to say it's lackluster. That seems a bit harsh. Let's put it this way. It's not exactly the part of me that chose to go ahead and buy the cashmere yarn today. But! it is the part of me that chose the neutral color. So- the idea is that when I put the two sides together, something lovely can come out of their agreement. When one side or the other goes crazy alone, it can feel more than slightly off balance. Not exactly what I want.
After thinking about it a bit more (Thankfully, both sides like to over-think things. {Ahem.} Or is it think-things-through?) I feel like I'm actually leaning more toward the pumpkin chocolate tart or the spicy pumpkin bundt cake. Or cheesecake. I've been thinking about cheesecake a lot lately but am still not {quite} convinced about pumpkin cheesecake. Plus, I need to buy a springform pan for that recipe. Although, the bundt cake needs a pan, too... Ah. So many recipes. This could be another reason my practical side sometimes steps in. It can be oh-so-much-easier to make choices from my practical side. And then? Then it's all taken care of. Decision made.
Right now, though, I'm going to think a little bit more about pumpkin recipes and if I still can't find one I am absolutely thrilled with (and choose from that place), I will go ahead and make the squares. Which, by the way, I am sure will be tasty in their own right. Not really lackluster, as I said, just not as exciting as I would like either. So there you go.
After thinking about it a bit more (Thankfully, both sides like to over-think things. {Ahem.} Or is it think-things-through?) I feel like I'm actually leaning more toward the pumpkin chocolate tart or the spicy pumpkin bundt cake. Or cheesecake. I've been thinking about cheesecake a lot lately but am still not {quite} convinced about pumpkin cheesecake. Plus, I need to buy a springform pan for that recipe. Although, the bundt cake needs a pan, too... Ah. So many recipes. This could be another reason my practical side sometimes steps in. It can be oh-so-much-easier to make choices from my practical side. And then? Then it's all taken care of. Decision made.
Right now, though, I'm going to think a little bit more about pumpkin recipes and if I still can't find one I am absolutely thrilled with (and choose from that place), I will go ahead and make the squares. Which, by the way, I am sure will be tasty in their own right. Not really lackluster, as I said, just not as exciting as I would like either. So there you go.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
segway segue
so this morning after i woke up i came into the kitchen and realized- after i hastily went through my email- that we had to get going early today because i was taking the kids to a class at omsi where they would learn about and then ride on a segway. i'm glad we went. samuel was glad he woke up. and all three of us, at it turns out, got to ride the segway. first the kids and then the adults. i never expect to participate in these types of classes and am always tickled when we get to try too. it was smoother than i had anticipated and much easier to turn and maneuver. and yes, i giggled when i first stepped onto it, leaned forward and got it to move.
but before riding on the segway, we learned a little about how it works. turns out there are 5? or was it 3? gyroscopes inside it helping to keep it oriented and balanced. and- to demonstrate this point, we each got to hold and try to move a gyroscope that was already rotating. and that was a fascinating sensation and i thought immediately about going to the omsi store after the class had finished to buy us our very own gyroscope to look at more at home. of course, when we got there, they had a different kind of gyroscope, not one you could hold in quite the same way as the one in the demonstration and i decided against buying it and was thus not out the $7.99 or so it would have been to bring it home and make it our own. i did, however, buy the kids rock candy because, as i was reminded by samuel, they so rarely get to eat rock candy. true. and i remembered that there comes a time, or at least there did for me, when i no longer wanted to eat rock candy. so- no rock candy and no gyroscope. for me.
but-before we left the house this morning, before i even woke up the kids, i stood next to the stove getting ready to make scrambled eggs and i saw out of the corner of my eye what looked like a bird flying across the living room. so- i went and stood in the middle of the room and as it turns out, it was a bird- a wren- who had flown across the living room, from one closed window to the next. and i wondered, how on earth did he get inside the house in the first place? and how long had he been there, perching briefly on my now blooming christmas cactus? for a moment i thought about how my one cat who would have possibly brought a bird into the house had recently passed away and how neither of my other two cats would catch a bird much less bring it into the house. and how- also- there seemed to be no open windows or doors.
i followed the little bird as he hopped along the window sill, hiding behind the curtains. he finally flew behind eva's table and perched on a cardboard box filled with animals or legos or ugly dolls or somesuch and peeked out at me when i peeked in at him. i expected him to fly pell mell through the living room when i finally found him. instead, i opened up the window for him and he flew, as though attached by a string, straight out the window and into the freedom and fresh air beyond.
and today was also the day that i picked up maxwell's ashes and paw print and fur clipping from the vet. and i wonder a little bit if the bird and his inexplicable presence in my living room this morning was a good luck wish from maxwell, a sweet hello from beyond. maybe.
later, as i walked out of the vet's office with my kids into the pouring portland rain, carrying my cat's ashes and wearing maryjanes and a sweater, thinking fondly of my new rain coat and boots warm and dry at home in the closet, i laughed and cried at the absurdity of it all. of missing maxwell. of trying to be prepared. trying to understand. of the whole day with the bird and the segways and the other moms in the class and all of us- all of us- really just trying to live our lives the best we can. the best we know how. which is all maxwell ever did in the first place. and which is probably one of the many reasons why i still miss him so much.
but before riding on the segway, we learned a little about how it works. turns out there are 5? or was it 3? gyroscopes inside it helping to keep it oriented and balanced. and- to demonstrate this point, we each got to hold and try to move a gyroscope that was already rotating. and that was a fascinating sensation and i thought immediately about going to the omsi store after the class had finished to buy us our very own gyroscope to look at more at home. of course, when we got there, they had a different kind of gyroscope, not one you could hold in quite the same way as the one in the demonstration and i decided against buying it and was thus not out the $7.99 or so it would have been to bring it home and make it our own. i did, however, buy the kids rock candy because, as i was reminded by samuel, they so rarely get to eat rock candy. true. and i remembered that there comes a time, or at least there did for me, when i no longer wanted to eat rock candy. so- no rock candy and no gyroscope. for me.
but-before we left the house this morning, before i even woke up the kids, i stood next to the stove getting ready to make scrambled eggs and i saw out of the corner of my eye what looked like a bird flying across the living room. so- i went and stood in the middle of the room and as it turns out, it was a bird- a wren- who had flown across the living room, from one closed window to the next. and i wondered, how on earth did he get inside the house in the first place? and how long had he been there, perching briefly on my now blooming christmas cactus? for a moment i thought about how my one cat who would have possibly brought a bird into the house had recently passed away and how neither of my other two cats would catch a bird much less bring it into the house. and how- also- there seemed to be no open windows or doors.
i followed the little bird as he hopped along the window sill, hiding behind the curtains. he finally flew behind eva's table and perched on a cardboard box filled with animals or legos or ugly dolls or somesuch and peeked out at me when i peeked in at him. i expected him to fly pell mell through the living room when i finally found him. instead, i opened up the window for him and he flew, as though attached by a string, straight out the window and into the freedom and fresh air beyond.
and today was also the day that i picked up maxwell's ashes and paw print and fur clipping from the vet. and i wonder a little bit if the bird and his inexplicable presence in my living room this morning was a good luck wish from maxwell, a sweet hello from beyond. maybe.
later, as i walked out of the vet's office with my kids into the pouring portland rain, carrying my cat's ashes and wearing maryjanes and a sweater, thinking fondly of my new rain coat and boots warm and dry at home in the closet, i laughed and cried at the absurdity of it all. of missing maxwell. of trying to be prepared. trying to understand. of the whole day with the bird and the segways and the other moms in the class and all of us- all of us- really just trying to live our lives the best we can. the best we know how. which is all maxwell ever did in the first place. and which is probably one of the many reasons why i still miss him so much.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
leap of faith
Caught myself falling back down into the {to be dramatic but truthful} abyss recently and was shocked {again} at how quickly it can happen. *It* being one of those slowly then all at once processes, much like the seasons turning or meringue whipping. Or birth. Or death. Two of the transition biggies in life. Some might say Life. I'm not sure if I would. Sometimes. Maybe. But not now. If there is a Life then there is a life and that has a grass-is-greener effect whereby you {or You?} waffle back and forth between the particular sorts of wisdom {or Wisdom? Hey, now that's going too far, don't you think?} and love to be found in each. When really it's just life. {Italics.}
I saw this morning that it is still too soon to read inspiring articles with titles like Ten Ways to Find Contentment in Your Life. I push it away with my hands, swatting at it. No. Because that, to be honest, is one of the problems. My mind gets busy with that sort of list and will certainly, at some point during the day, after having had fun trying out each of the ways, point out to me that I don't know how to be content enough. Or that I'm being content wrong. And I'll actually believe it {nine times out of ten. Seven on a good day.}. Such is the abyss.
But I did start doing some reading. Ummmmm. Existentialism. Absurdism. Postmodernism. You get the idea. And that has been good. I have actually found it to be reassuring. All of those thinkers, thinking these same thoughts, wondering these same ideas. The meaning of life and all that. I went so far as to read through several quick synopses of different philosophies {about life} and was relieved {again} to see there really is no consensus. Just thoughts. Some I agree with, some I don't. There are quite a few common themes out there among them. Some common conclusions. Still, as far as we know, we don't {really} know. And that's the truth of it. The biggest truth of it. And it comes down to this, as far as I am concerned- Which leap of faith are you willing to take? It was Soren Kierkegaard who coined the term leap of faith and while good old Soren and I have come to a few different conclusions, I thank him for his leap of faith concept. And I thank Albert Camus too, for looking so closely at the world and putting down his thoughts for others to relate to, so many years later.
And on that note, on that not-knowing note, here's a slice of our today-
Eva's ring collection. Ten rings, two for every finger.
I saw this morning that it is still too soon to read inspiring articles with titles like Ten Ways to Find Contentment in Your Life. I push it away with my hands, swatting at it. No. Because that, to be honest, is one of the problems. My mind gets busy with that sort of list and will certainly, at some point during the day, after having had fun trying out each of the ways, point out to me that I don't know how to be content enough. Or that I'm being content wrong. And I'll actually believe it {nine times out of ten. Seven on a good day.}. Such is the abyss.
But I did start doing some reading. Ummmmm. Existentialism. Absurdism. Postmodernism. You get the idea. And that has been good. I have actually found it to be reassuring. All of those thinkers, thinking these same thoughts, wondering these same ideas. The meaning of life and all that. I went so far as to read through several quick synopses of different philosophies {about life} and was relieved {again} to see there really is no consensus. Just thoughts. Some I agree with, some I don't. There are quite a few common themes out there among them. Some common conclusions. Still, as far as we know, we don't {really} know. And that's the truth of it. The biggest truth of it. And it comes down to this, as far as I am concerned- Which leap of faith are you willing to take? It was Soren Kierkegaard who coined the term leap of faith and while good old Soren and I have come to a few different conclusions, I thank him for his leap of faith concept. And I thank Albert Camus too, for looking so closely at the world and putting down his thoughts for others to relate to, so many years later.
And on that note, on that not-knowing note, here's a slice of our today-
Eva's ring collection. Ten rings, two for every finger.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I'll be honest. There seemed to be very little of interest or anything inspiring to post about when I woke up this morning. Contrast that with other times, other days, when it seems as though each thing I think about or see can pass itself off as the meaning of life. I've been feeling very down and thick in the head and that sort of feeling can be challenging to write with. It's not that I don't recognize the beauty around me when I feel like this or the endless possibilities inherent in life. I do. It's more like a stream of so many blah blah blah's filling up my experience and laying a film of what else? on top of everything.
Yes. So I cleaned the bedroom. Which was amazing. Which is amazing. Because now! I can sit in this incredibly clean space and feel the sensation of the blah blah blah's washing over me and it all seems that much more manageable. It is that much more manageable. In fact, it almost seems like nothing at all. Almost.
And, I'm *pleased* to note, there turned out to be something of interest to write about after all. I love it when that happens. So now, I have a clean room and a blog post. And both came out of a very bad mood. Remind me to take stock of the day nearer to the end than the beginning more often.
Yes. So I cleaned the bedroom. Which was amazing. Which is amazing. Because now! I can sit in this incredibly clean space and feel the sensation of the blah blah blah's washing over me and it all seems that much more manageable. It is that much more manageable. In fact, it almost seems like nothing at all. Almost.
And, I'm *pleased* to note, there turned out to be something of interest to write about after all. I love it when that happens. So now, I have a clean room and a blog post. And both came out of a very bad mood. Remind me to take stock of the day nearer to the end than the beginning more often.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
poncho love
OK- turns out I love the poncho. I am actually wearing it right now. We have been having lovely fall weather complete with sunshine and warm winds. I took my sweater off today and put on a short sleeve shirt. The poncho with that out on the patio is just the thing.
Today I was going to write about this migraine that I had yesterday, all last night and half the day today. I am actually still recovering from it and have to take it easy and go to bed early lest it get reved up again and return, as migraines in the past have been known to do. This morning I had an amazing time out on the patio with the sunshine and fall leaves and migraine. The wind was blowing and the trees were dancing. This type of high pressure, warm wind weather, while lovely, also reminds me of migraines, probably because it seems to be a trigger for me for migraines, at least some part of it. I'm not sure if it's the dry wind or the sudden increase in pressure or both, since the warm winds don't seem to exist without the increase in pressure, at least not around here.
For the geese, though, this weather seemed to be all about flight practice. While I sat on the patio eating potatoes and drinking coffee, enjoying the fresh air after a sleepless night, the geese flew over our house and back to the park several times. Each time I would first hear the build up a few blocks away. Then I would see a few of the first geese to take off, just behind the trees a few houses over. Then a rush of dozens- perhaps 200 geese?- as they flew up and around the trees, past our house, over to the left and back to the park. What I love most about watching the geese stretch their wings is just how much they have to say to one another about flying, while flying. It felt to me at times like their energy, their sheer numbers, could pull the migraine up out of my head and release it into the air. Free. The migraine now free of the boundaries of my head, constricting it's movement to dull pounding, could pulse unbridled through the air with the geese. My head, now free of the migraine's insistent pounding, could bask in the silence. In the peace. I breathed a sigh of relief just thinking of it.
But now- even more than then, I am tired of the migraine's presence in my life. It should have gone away hours ago. It should never have come. And I don't wish to talk about it- much less write about it- any more.
So, there will be pictures of Eva's art project today. And a video of how it's done.
Today I was going to write about this migraine that I had yesterday, all last night and half the day today. I am actually still recovering from it and have to take it easy and go to bed early lest it get reved up again and return, as migraines in the past have been known to do. This morning I had an amazing time out on the patio with the sunshine and fall leaves and migraine. The wind was blowing and the trees were dancing. This type of high pressure, warm wind weather, while lovely, also reminds me of migraines, probably because it seems to be a trigger for me for migraines, at least some part of it. I'm not sure if it's the dry wind or the sudden increase in pressure or both, since the warm winds don't seem to exist without the increase in pressure, at least not around here.
For the geese, though, this weather seemed to be all about flight practice. While I sat on the patio eating potatoes and drinking coffee, enjoying the fresh air after a sleepless night, the geese flew over our house and back to the park several times. Each time I would first hear the build up a few blocks away. Then I would see a few of the first geese to take off, just behind the trees a few houses over. Then a rush of dozens- perhaps 200 geese?- as they flew up and around the trees, past our house, over to the left and back to the park. What I love most about watching the geese stretch their wings is just how much they have to say to one another about flying, while flying. It felt to me at times like their energy, their sheer numbers, could pull the migraine up out of my head and release it into the air. Free. The migraine now free of the boundaries of my head, constricting it's movement to dull pounding, could pulse unbridled through the air with the geese. My head, now free of the migraine's insistent pounding, could bask in the silence. In the peace. I breathed a sigh of relief just thinking of it.
But now- even more than then, I am tired of the migraine's presence in my life. It should have gone away hours ago. It should never have come. And I don't wish to talk about it- much less write about it- any more.
So, there will be pictures of Eva's art project today. And a video of how it's done.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
wholeness and then some
So basically I've been thinking a lot about wholeness lately. And what I love about that is how so many things- articles, conversations, thoughts- {seem to} flow together, all talking about or referring to, in one way or another, wholeness. Making a case for wholeness, as it were.
How to create wholeness. Or rather- allow wholeness. In our lives. Because wholeness is one of those qualities like love that is already present. There is nothing we have to do to make it be. We don't have to create it. It already is. What we can do is change our thinking about it. In this way we can begin to allow what already is. What we already are.
And so begin the arguments- almost at once- as I try and reconcile the seemingly incongruous ideas of allowing who I am *right now* and all that this entails (all being the key word here) and continuing my penchant for self-help, self-thought, self-growth, and on ad infinitum, or such like, as I am obviously prone. A hobby of mine perhaps, or simply a way of life, I do enjoy examining how I live and working toward truth and authenticity in my daily life. With myself, with my kids, with my friends and family. And in how I spend my time.
The question then becomes, how do I reconcile these two modes of thinking? How can it be both fixing and everything-is-right-as-rain at the same time?
Frequently when discussing wholeness, the line of thinking goes something like this. There is a core you. The authentic you. The true you. And depending on your religious or spiritual beliefs, that you (often seen as You) has either been taken from you or hidden from you- from our culture or the parenting you received (or both) or religion or even as a lesson to be learned during this life. The idea being that we have to learn to reconnect with wholeness and dump the inauthentic you- the impostor, if you will. I get this line of thinking and can see the value in its explanation, at least in part, for why we don't all feel connected to our truth all the time. As we most likely did as babies. And as young children. But less now. Etcetera.
What bothers me, though, with this line of thinking is the sort of inherent dualism that comes along with it. For instance, if there is a better me, there is a worse me. If there is a higher me, there is a lower me. And so on. There's no denying there are parts of me that are less skillful than others. Parts that would benefit from more awareness. Parts that would benefit from more love. But- as long as I view parts of myself as less than. Unworthy. Unwelcome. I won't see myself as whole. And I will tend to focus on those parts rather than the parts that, say, are more skillful than other parts. Parts receiving lots of love. (Or even just getting around to actually giving the love. Appreciating.) Wholeness will continue to be some elusive state-of-being to be found in the future after I have finally gotten my act together. And then some.
And so what about this? What about the parts that I want to change and the parts that want to do the changing all counting toward the whole. The parts that I love and the parts that make me gulp. Each a part of it all. A part of me. And embracing that. Seeing the balance of it all, already put together as it is. It's not a new concept. For me, though, it does constitute as a {brave} step into the unknown, this business of allowing and believing in my own wholeness. It can certainly take me by surprise when I don't judge a thought that I would previously have banished. When I don't kick myself for a habit I wish I could have changed ten years ago. And when I notice that I have taken care of myself when I might have otherwise glossed over it.
Wholeness includes all of these things. It also comes with the caveat of not taking any one part it too seriously. Not getting too attached, as it were, to any of it. You never know, for instance, when one of the parts might just float away. Leaving you whole. Once more.
How to create wholeness. Or rather- allow wholeness. In our lives. Because wholeness is one of those qualities like love that is already present. There is nothing we have to do to make it be. We don't have to create it. It already is. What we can do is change our thinking about it. In this way we can begin to allow what already is. What we already are.
And so begin the arguments- almost at once- as I try and reconcile the seemingly incongruous ideas of allowing who I am *right now* and all that this entails (all being the key word here) and continuing my penchant for self-help, self-thought, self-growth, and on ad infinitum, or such like, as I am obviously prone. A hobby of mine perhaps, or simply a way of life, I do enjoy examining how I live and working toward truth and authenticity in my daily life. With myself, with my kids, with my friends and family. And in how I spend my time.
The question then becomes, how do I reconcile these two modes of thinking? How can it be both fixing and everything-is-right-as-rain at the same time?
Frequently when discussing wholeness, the line of thinking goes something like this. There is a core you. The authentic you. The true you. And depending on your religious or spiritual beliefs, that you (often seen as You) has either been taken from you or hidden from you- from our culture or the parenting you received (or both) or religion or even as a lesson to be learned during this life. The idea being that we have to learn to reconnect with wholeness and dump the inauthentic you- the impostor, if you will. I get this line of thinking and can see the value in its explanation, at least in part, for why we don't all feel connected to our truth all the time. As we most likely did as babies. And as young children. But less now. Etcetera.
What bothers me, though, with this line of thinking is the sort of inherent dualism that comes along with it. For instance, if there is a better me, there is a worse me. If there is a higher me, there is a lower me. And so on. There's no denying there are parts of me that are less skillful than others. Parts that would benefit from more awareness. Parts that would benefit from more love. But- as long as I view parts of myself as less than. Unworthy. Unwelcome. I won't see myself as whole. And I will tend to focus on those parts rather than the parts that, say, are more skillful than other parts. Parts receiving lots of love. (Or even just getting around to actually giving the love. Appreciating.) Wholeness will continue to be some elusive state-of-being to be found in the future after I have finally gotten my act together. And then some.
And so what about this? What about the parts that I want to change and the parts that want to do the changing all counting toward the whole. The parts that I love and the parts that make me gulp. Each a part of it all. A part of me. And embracing that. Seeing the balance of it all, already put together as it is. It's not a new concept. For me, though, it does constitute as a {brave} step into the unknown, this business of allowing and believing in my own wholeness. It can certainly take me by surprise when I don't judge a thought that I would previously have banished. When I don't kick myself for a habit I wish I could have changed ten years ago. And when I notice that I have taken care of myself when I might have otherwise glossed over it.
Wholeness includes all of these things. It also comes with the caveat of not taking any one part it too seriously. Not getting too attached, as it were, to any of it. You never know, for instance, when one of the parts might just float away. Leaving you whole. Once more.
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