Category Archives: learning

November 29, 2012 · 1:39 PM

Expectations

 

For the past three years, the end of November has meant two things:  I’d 1) be furiously and joyously and manically finishing up my 50,000 word novel for NaNoWriMo, and 2) be going all gangbusters on the house, setting up the tree, getting out the decorations, hanging the stockings, and stringing up the advent calendar, painstakingly filled with 25 carefully planned out activities to do with the kids.

This year, I decided against Nano about 5 days in, just a couple of days before my surgery.  In hindsight, I’m very glad I made the decision when I did, because I would have been forced to make it anyway.  Even now, three weeks later, typing for any great length of time is still painful and exhausting.

And as for Christmas preparations?  We have no tree.  Our decorations are still safely abiding in their boxes in the garage.  We haven’t bought one present for the kids.  I haven’t planned a single advent activity.  And if I can be totally honest, just the thought of doing any of the above is, well…. painful and exhausting.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I signed on the dotted line for this surgery, I really don’t.  I just so very badly wanted to be better, wanted this 7 month ordeal to be over.  But it’s so much easier to tell you what I did NOT expect:

I didn’t expect the pain to be this bad, and this persistent.   As it turns out, knowing intellectually that I was facing a 3+ month total recovery time is a very, very different thing than to feel the stark reality of the pain and frustration of week three, knowing that I still have several more weeks (and possibly months) to go.

I didn’t expect to need powerful narcotics, beyond a day or two.  Again, I’m at three weeks.  The one night I tried to sleep without Percoset, I woke up in tears.

I didn’t expect to be so incapacitated.  I don’t know why I didn’t, because the past several months have shown me very clearly how instrumental our shoulders are in our day-to-day tasks.  But I didn’t.  I can dress myself (with some pain), shower (with some pain), brush my teeth (with some pain), and as of a few days ago, drive (with some pain).  But five minutes ago I had to call in the 12 year old to open a can for me, because the can opener was just too much.  There are multiple can opener-esque scenarios throughout the day, and it frustrates me.  Which brings me to:

I didn’t expect to be so frustrated.  With the pain, with the situation, with myself, with the need to just HURRY UP AND BE PATIENT ALREADY.

I didn’t expect the big black dog of depression, who’s once again been flirting with me for months now, to not just embrace me but engulf me… to suffocate me… to consume me… like an unwelcome old friend who won’t take “no” for answer.   A friend whose presence is so familiar and so easy that I’ve let myself fall deep, deep into its depths before I even realized it’s happened.   Because there’s a sick kind of safety in the darkness, and because it’s just too damn much work to take that first step to start climbing my way out.

But.  (And may I just say, thank God for buts?)

I expect that the pain will lessen, and God-willing, eventually go away completely.  I’ve learned that healing is very much a one step forward, two steps back process.  I can’t compare to yesterday, but I can compare to two and a half weeks ago.  Just because today is a bad day, doesn’t mean tomorrow will be a bad day too.

I expect that I’ll eventually be able to rest without the aid of any prescriptions.

I expect that with time I’ll be able to open cans again.  And do a downward dog.  And pick up my daughter. And be even stronger than before.

I expect that my current frustration will teach me great lessons, and that if I allow myself to feel it, that it too will go away.

I expect that I will take that step, and the one after that, and the one after that, until there’s not so much darkness.  And I expect that if I rest in the presence of where I am – fully rest, and lean, and breathe – instead of fighting, that it won’t seem so hard.  I expect that if I allow myself to feel how I feel – without letting it define me – that the promise of something better will find me, and meet me halfway.

Finally, I expect that this coming month, and the Christmas holiday in general, will be different than years past…. but that different is okay, even good.  This is a season of great growth and learning to be sure.   If the past three weeks are any indication, the lesson is HUGE.    And that’s better than a perfectly executed advent calendar any day.

4 Comments

Filed under about me, being happy with what is, Christmas, learning, life, update

August 6, 2012 · 1:32 PM

I’m a Hypocrite (and sometimes I don’t recycle)

A truth about blogging:  Sometimes no matter how carefully you choose your words, no matter how diplomatic and respectful you feel you’re being, no matter how clearly you think you’ve shared your viewpoint…. you still get called judgmental.  Short-sighted.  Preachy.  Hypocritical.

Hypocritical.  Hypocritical.  Hypocritical.

The odd thing is the perverse pleasure people seem to take in pointing out this perceived hypocrisy.  “Admit it!  You’re a hypocrite!!”

Okay, I’m a hypocrite.  So what?   I don’t mean to be flip, and of course I strive not to be a hypocrite.  It’s just that everyone (at least if s/he’s being honest) is a hypocrite sometimes.  We all mess up.  We vow to do better.  We change our minds.  We learn.  We grow.  We mess up again.  We’re human.

I’ve kept this blog for over 6 years now.  I GUARANTEE you that I’ve contradicted myself.  I guarantee you that I’ve written posts I’m no longer proud of.  I guarantee you that I haven’t always been as nice as I could have been.

The only difference between me and anyone else is that my missteps are out there on the internet for all to see and critique.

And if I don’t happen to be writing about it, you can rest assured that I’m living it.

Yes, sometimes I’m a hypocrite.

Sometimes I don’t get enough sleep and I snap at my husband.

Sometimes I don’t get enough sleep and I snap at my kids.

Sometimes I gossip.

Sometimes I judge people too quickly.

Sometimes I’m impatient.

Sometimes I’m just too damn tired to rinse out the peanut butter jar, and I throw it in the trash instead of the recycling bin which is right. next. to. it.

And you know what?  I refuse to beat myself up about any of the above.  If you’d like to beat me up for it, that’s certainly your prerogative.   Indeed, it’s easy and convenient to make a snap judgment about someone based on one real moment (I know… I’ve done that too…) rather than recognizing each other for what we really are: fellow travelers at various ports in this journey of life.  Growing through our trials, learning from our mistakes, and waking up each day with a new resolve to do better.  At the end of the day, we’re not much different, you and I.

I’m not yet the person I want to be, but that’s okay…. because He’s not done working on me yet.

And thank God for that.

16 Comments

Filed under about me, acceptance, growing up, hypocrisy, judgement, learning, life

August 1, 2012 · 2:24 PM

When an Android Goes to Yoga School

I was crying.

Not the dainty, sweet kind of crying people do in movies, with one perfect and lovely little tear rolling down my cheek… but ugly, chin quivering, nose snotting all over the place with no where to wipe it crying.  It was the last day of my 15-day, 12-hour-a-day yoga retreat that wrapped up my RYT training.  I was mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted;  my injured shoulder – which had hung in there quite admirably for two weeks – had just given out again;  and I was sitting in a ball, wrapped up in my vinyasa scarf, missing my last two classmates’ final teaches (one of which included an all-out dance party).  They were tears of fatigue and pain to be sure, but tears of relief and emotion and overwhelm as well.

But I guess I should go back to the beginning.

Two weeks earlier, I was sitting in that same studio for the first time … nervous, excited, and not knowing what to expect.  I mean, I knew I would learn a lot about yoga (although, how much I learned still caught me by surprise.   A few highlights that still stand out:  1) The day we learned how to properly set our feet down “with intention” 2) The several hours we spent breaking down each posture … Mountain Pose, a pose that looks like a simple standing pose?  So. Much. More. than simply standing when done correctly.  3) A five-hour hands-on anatomy workshop with a yoga therapist that absolutely blew my mind.  BLEW MY MIND.)

But we weren’t really talking about the physical practice of yoga that first morning.  We were talking about a spiritual journey, specifically the journey that we were about to embark on, together.

“If you don’t cry at least once in this room, you must be an Android.”  My teacher’s words were bold, but as it turns out, true.   Starting from that very first day, there were tears everywhere, from everyone.  Everyone except me.  I was the Android.  While it’s a small feat for me to have tears spring forth over something silly like a commercial, or a song, or a Disney movie… tears that are born from growing and sharing and honest-to-God emotions make me seven kinds of uneasy.  I never know how to handle a crying peer, I’m not the first one to offer a hug (hugs tend to make me uneasy too), and even attempts to speak are awkward, at best.

An Android.

But then – whether I’d actually intended to or not – I did take that journey.   I did grow.  I did open up.  I did learn.  And so help me, when I was getting prayed over before my final teach (and touched by 12 people I might add) and one of my teachers was rubbing my back, it was actually kind of nice.  That was day 14, and while I’d still yet to shed a tear on my mat, my cold, dead robot heart had surely softened a little bit around the edges.

And Day 15…. what can I say?  It had all caught up with me.  I was blubbering with the best of them.  It had been 15 days of learning, of growth, and of self-discovery.  15 days of trying not to stuff pain and emotion and utter exhaustion.  15 days of new friendships, raucous laughter, and real discussion.  15 days of connection with God, connection with peace, and connection with stillness.  It had all culminated right there in that moment on my mat, with an intensity that quite literally took my breath away.  Life-changing.  There’s no other way to describe it.

As for what I took away from those two weeks?  I have books and binders and notebooks filled with yoga information, so much so that I decided mid-way through that I needed to stop trying to digest all at once but instead take it piece by piece, giving myself permission to take time to absorb and practice and study at my own pace once I got back to the “real world.”   One of my very favorite things about yoga is that it is a lifelong practice… you’re never done improving, and you’re never done learning.  There’s no rush either.  I can rest, right here and right now, and just be, exactly where I am in my journey, both in yoga and in life.

What I’ll most remember though is not the physical aspect of yoga, but the spiritual, and the fact that that two weeks helped me “get it” for the first time in my life.

I might always be uncomfortable with crying.  I might never be the most “huggy” person in the room.  But maybe, just maybe, I’m not an Android after all.

 

3 Comments

Filed under about me, learning, life, yoga

May 4, 2012 · 6:51 AM

Common Sense Parenting

I think sometimes as parents, we make things way more complicated than they need to be.   I read a blog post the other day that referred to the “moral gymnastics” involved in everything from the food we buy, to the way we diaper, to the decisions we make about school.  It’s a term that resonated with me, and if your emails and comments are any indication, it resonates with many of you as well.

I seem to write a lot about how I parent from the heart (because I do), and how I’ve never regretted any parental decision that’s been made by following my instinct (because I haven’t) but there’s another component that I regularly rely on.  A big one.

Common sense.  And it never steers me wrong.

I get some sort of … odd … objections every time I challenge the traditional, authoritarian, way of doing things.  Objections that often make me wonder if we’ve lost sight of our collective common senses altogether.  Whenever I write about parenting without punishments and coercion, I’m met with something that sounds like this:  “But, but, they need to learn to obey you!  They need to hear the word ‘no!’  What happens if they’re about to reach for a hot stove or run out into a crowded street?”  As if the assumption is that a gentle parent wouldn’t dream of intervening when their child was in harm’s way.  It’s a silly, silly argument.  Common sense (not to mention parental instinct) tells us to protect a child who is in imminent danger.  Common sense tells us that with a loving and attentive parent as their partner and guide, that kids will naturally learn not to play in traffic, and learn not to touch a hot burner, and learn not to stick a fork in an electrical outlet.  We can give children choices, autonomy, and freedom;  we can say YES as much as possible;  and we can still trust that with gentle and compassionate guidance, that they will learn to navigate their world both safely and confidently.  Common sense.

Another one I’ve heard a lot of, especially after my Spilled Milk post, is that if there is not some punitive measure taken when the child commits some infraction, that they will never learn to respect other people and/or their belongings.  Common sense tells us that children learn how to treat others by watching how we, as their parents, treat others.   Common sense tells us that when we demonstrate appropriate boundaries, that they will learn.  For the past couple of weeks, I’ve brought Tegan with me to Paxton’s Physical Therapy appointments for his ankle.  There are no separate rooms… just one big, open room, with a few beds, exercise equipment, mirrors, and a small waiting area with chairs.  On any given day, there are never less than three other patients being worked with.  Tegan is four, and it’s hard for four year olds to wait quietly.  She’ll busy herself for a short amount of time with games on my phone, and then she’ll start to get antsy and loud.  It’s normal for a four year old to get antsy and loud in a boring waiting area, but her needs to be four don’t supersede anyone else’s needs for a reasonably quiet and undisturbed session.  So outside we go, where she can be loud and, well.. four, and the Physical Therapy patients can concentrate on what they came for.  Common sense.

Recently, I posted about what I felt were the benefits of not placing arbitrary limits on the media that our children use.   I’ve written about limits before, on everything from bedtimes, to food, to media.  Naysayers immediately jump to extremes, but the fact is, no limits on bedtimes does not mean that the kids just stay up for 72 hours at a time.  No limits on food does not mean that they’re existing on a diet of Ring Dings and Ho Hos.  No limits on media does not mean that the 4 year old is playing a shoot-em-up game on the xbox, while the 8 year is watching Debbie Does Dallas in the other room.  Common sense tells us that when we make sleep a safe, happy, thing when the kids are little, that as they grow they will trust themselves, listen to their bodies, and have a healthy relationship with both rest and wakefulness.  Common sense tells us that when we fill our house with lots of good, whole, interesting foods;   when we don’t let food become a battle of wills, a punishment, or a reward;  when we let our children follow their own cues of hunger and thirst… that they will eat when they are hungry, stop when they are full, and appreciate food for both its nourishment and its enjoyment.  Common sense tells us that the most important consideration when it comes to what they are watching, playing, & listening to is not controlling our kids, but knowing our kids, listening to our kids, and maintaining an open line of communication with our kids.   Common sense tells us to watch things that may be frightening, confusing or disturbing to our young kids when they are asleep/not around, and it also tells us that they wouldn’t be interested in watching it anyway.  Common sense.

Finally, common sense tells us that children, like all people (common sense tells us that children are people, too) respond to – and learn from – kindness, empathy, and love.   NOT from coercion, shaming, and punishing… and certainly not from this current trend of public humiliation via the internet.

It’s not rocket science.  It’s just common sense.

21 Comments

Filed under gentle discipline, gentle parenting, kids, learning, life, mindful parenting, parenting

April 16, 2012 · 8:56 AM

Unlimited Screen Time?

Almost two weeks ago, Paxton (11 at the time of this writing) jumped up playing basketball, took a bad landing, and ended up severely spraining his ankle.  For the past 13 days he’s been on the couch and I’ve been playing nurse.  Injury not withstanding, I’ve really enjoyed this extra time I’ve suddenly gotten with him.  We’ve watched countless movies together – everything from Bruce Almighty to Lord of the Rings to a documentary about the Titanic.  We’ve watched plenty of TV together too, including a several-episode-long marathon of Criss Angel’s magic.  The TV and movies were fun while they lasted, but he eventually asked me to bring him a laptop.  We then watched videos on YouTube, shared and compared our various wanderings on our respective computers, and had discussion after discussion about all of the above.   He has since moved on to teaching himself card tricks, and he has spent the past 48 hours practicing and perfecting his skills.

In our house, we don’t limit or otherwise try to control television, movies, computers, or other types of “screen time”…. even when no one is injured.  All of that technology is simply another tool we’re all free to use, or not use, as we see fit.  Sometimes our house is humming with televisions, computers, and video games… and sometimes the only humming comes from the kids.  Yesterday (on a rare Sunday at home) no one so much as glanced at a TV until evening came.

When I first became a parent, screen time made me all kinds of uneasy.   I wanted my kids (well, my one kid at the time) to read a book, or do a puzzle, or play outside, or use his imagination… not sit in front of a screen.  I was self-righteous in my resolve, telling anyone who asked that we didn’t do much TV… that in our house we focused on learning activities.  And how much could he possibly learn from a SCREEN?

Well.  As it turns out, a lot.   As I gradually let go and lifted my limits, I realized that those things I had feared not only didn’t hamper Spencer’s learning, but added to it immensely!   We still read books.  We still did puzzles.  We still played outside.  He still used his imagination.  But we’d also opened up a whole new world to enjoy together, one that we still appreciate and share… without limits and without conditions.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

One of the most common questions or objections I get from unschoolers new to the idea of unlimited screen time is that whenever they’ve tried, it’s made their kids unruly or agitated… or as this one reader states, it has just been a “disaster”:

I love the idea of unlimited screen time, but every time I go with it disasters happen. The kids (5 and 3) start bouncing around on the couch, biting each other, kicking, etc. It is worst when they have been watching movies all day so I can’t help but associate it with the screen time.

So why the disaster?  Why, if it works so well for us (and for lots of other families) do so many people try it only to pronounce it a failure?  Here are a few things that could be happening, in no particular order:

1. They’re bored.  They’re watching TV or playing a video game not because they particularly want to, but because no better alternative has been presented or offered.    They’re feeling pent-up or frustrated, so it comes out in their behavior.  It would come out in my behavior too.  Maybe they’d rather be outside, or baking cookies, or drawing a picture, or just hanging out with mom.  When that’s the case, it’s not the fault of the screen.  It’s simply a matter of being involved, maybe doing a little detective work, offering suggestions, and offering yourself.

2.  They’re hungry.  Or tired.  Or in need of a break.  Again, not the fault of the screen.  A lot of times, kids (and adults for that matter) will get really engrossed in something and not listen to their bodies. They miss cues of hunger or fatigue until they’re to the point of grumpy.   Ideally, as parents we should step in before that happens.

3.  Parents are coming into it with preconceived ideas about how it will affect their kids.  In other words, they’re expecting their children to behave in a negative way.  In the same way that many parents who think, “Oh if he has those cookies now, he’ll be bouncing off the walls all night” will then observe said bouncing off the walls, and feel validated for being right… even if the behavior was completely unrelated.    Even if the perceived “hyper” behavior wasn’t so unreasonable after all.  We tend to see what we want to see.

4.  The child/children have just gotten really engrossed in what they’re watching or playing, to the point of wanting to shut out what’s going on around them, and being frustrated by distractions and interruptions.  I know a lot of people think of things like TV watching as passive activities.  You just sit and stare and become a zombie.  I have never found that to be case.   For me (and for my kids who choose to watch TV) I think it’s often the opposite.  I get very involved.  Certain shows and movies make me come alive.  I fall in love with the stories,with the dialogue, with the writing, with the timing.  And just as with any other activity that I’m really immersed in…. whether it’s watching a movie, or reading, or writing, or creating something… when I’m interrupted or have to stop, I feel frustrated.   And while as an adult I can generally sometimes handle that frustration and transition without making too much of a fuss about it, it’s twenty times harder for a child.

5.  Maybe it really does affect your child differently than mine.  (There’s my little disclaimer:   I don’t pretend to know the inner workings of someone else’s child or family)  If that’s the case, I strongly believe that there’s still a way to come to a peaceful and respectful solution that takes everyone’s needs and wishes into account, without being controlling and falling the way of using screen time as a punishment or reward.

Our lives are richer because of technology to be sure :: said as she types on her laptop with high speed internet while simultaneously watching a sci-fi movie with the 11 and 7 year olds ::  At the same time, because it’s treated as no more or less important or valuable as any of the other tools at our disposal, the kids can all take it or leave it.

Right now, they’re leaving it.  The movie got too confusing, and there are important card tricks to be done.

________________________________________________________________________

You might also want to read No thank you, we’ll stay plugged; and Blame the Video Games

25 Comments

Filed under learning, life, technology, television, unschooling, video games

April 11, 2012 · 3:27 PM

Then He Read Hunger Games

A couple of days ago, a fellow unschooling friend was telling me about her eight year old, who’d been complaining of being bored lately.  She said she’d suggest a swim or a game of catch or an offer to do something new together… and then a few minutes later he’d be bored again.

It’s rare that my eight year old is bored… in fact, most of the time, the day just doesn’t contain enough hours for all the things he wants to do, try, and experience.

My 15 year old though,  he’s been bored.  In thinking about it, I’m not sure ‘bored’ is even the word.  He’s been in a very quiet season.  He’s been sleeping a lot.  He’s been regrouping.  He’s not been especially focused on one (or any) particular pursuit, beyond doing that aforementioned regrouping.  Like my friend, I’ve been offering up suggestions when he seems to want them, while at the the same time trying to respect his space and his needs.  Many days, that means simply letting him be.   For the past couple of weeks, a casual onlooker might have thought he hadn’t been doing much of anything at all (though we know that’s not the case.)

And then, three days ago, he started reading The Hunger Games.

Spencer has never been much of a pleasure reader.  He reads for information.  He reads magazines and articles on the internet.  He’s a Google expert.   He’s not one to really pick up a novel.   But he picked up The Hunger Games, and something happened.

Suddenly there was a new burst of passion.   It’s been followed by in-depth conversations (and lots of them) about everything from geography to character development to plot lines to war.  There have been explosions of learning.  Lists of other books he wants to read.  New interests.  New excitement.  New activity.

And just like that, the period of rest was over.

A short, but important side note:   It’s actually a pet peeve of mine when parents point to their child’s love of reading as a proof of unschooling’s – or perhaps their parenting’s – success.  Not because reading isn’t wonderful (you’d be hard-pressed to find a more avid reader than myself), but because it’s simply a tool, one that once it’s mastered is no more or less valuable for its learning potential as anything else.  My point would have been the same whether the impetus for Spencer’s current burst of activity had been a book or a movie or a video game or a trip to a local museum.  He was inspired, and he’s running with it.

I actually don’t care if my children read for pleasure.  What I care about is that they follow that spark, that passion… wherever it comes from, and wherever it leads.

5 Comments

Filed under learning, reading, Spencer, unschooling

March 29, 2012 · 8:08 AM

Just Like Riding a Bike

When Spencer learned to ride a bike without training wheels, he did so over a period of several months.  He never fell.   He inched, slowly, slowly, gaining a little more confidence every day.  He scootched on his feet until he was balanced enough to put one foot on pedal, then two.  He inched some more.  Until one day, he was able to confidently put both feet on the pedals, and pedaled away smoothly and easily like he had been doing it his whole life. ‘

When Paxton learned, he learned in one day.  He fell many times.  He was scraped and bruised and frustrated, and about ready to throw his bike across the street.  He kept getting back on.  Again and again, he tried, fell, got back up.  Each time he got a little bit further.  And by the end of the day his perseverance had also paid off, and he too was riding like he’d been doing it his whole life.

Everett was somewhere between his two brothers.  He reached a point where he didn’t want to ride with training wheels anymore, but at first just wasn’t that interested in riding on two wheels.  He would try here and there, sometimes asking for help and sometimes not.  Sometimes he’d fall, and sometimes he wouldn’t get to that point.  Sometimes he’d go long stretches without wanting to ride a bike at all.   Earlier this year he said, “One of my goals for this year is to learn to ride my bike.”  I told him I thought that was wonderful.   He never mentioned it again though, until yesterday.  He walked into the room, helmet in hand, and said, “I’m going to go out and practice on my bike.”  He took a couple tries on his own, had me hold on to the back of his bike for awhile, then wanted to try on his own again.

Then I took this:

He stayed out another hour after that, by the end of which – yup – he was riding up and down the street (on and off the curb and everything) like he’d been doing it his whole life.

Three kids.  Three styles.  Three bike riders.

That’s unschooling.

7 Comments

Filed under Everett, learning, life, unschooling

March 11, 2012 · 5:00 PM

Playing nicely with others

“I want to be clear and here are the values that I stand for. I stand for honesty, equality, kindness, compassion, treating people the way you want to be treated, and helping those in need. To me those are traditional values. That’s what I stand for.”  ~ Ellen Degeneres

If you’re on my Facebook page (and if you’re not, consider this your personal invitation) you might have seen a conversation a few days ago about homosexuality.  I don’t generally post about things that can garner such controversy – make no mistake, unschooling and gentle parenting garner plenty of that all by themselves – but it’s been heavily on my heart since the firestorm that happened after the homecoming photo of the gay marine went viral, and then again after Kirk Cameron’s recent remarks to Piers Morgan.

For the first time, I thought very seriously of writing about it.  I think it’s a highly important issue, and one that has become increasingly relevant.  But in the Facebook conversation I mentioned above, it became evident to me rather quickly that such a post would not be received well.  A few people even told me I should “stick to writing about parenting.”

Well…

I’m not going to write about homosexuality.  But not because people think I shouldn’t, not because it’s too controversial, and not because I’m afraid of alienating readers.   As far as I’m concerned, none of the above are valid reasons not to write something.  It’s just that I realized at some point over the past couple of days that the issue isn’t really about homosexuality at all.  It’s about how we treat each other.  And that is actually very much a parenting issue, because our children learn how to treat others from us: their biggest role models.

There are things we are not going to agree on, to be sure.  But if you’re reading this blog, whoever you are and wherever you are in your life,  I sincerely hope we can agree on the following:  (Borrowed from the lovely Ellen Degeneres, because I happen to stand for the exact same values)

Honesty – I have seen people do some crazy and sometimes hurtful things in the name of honesty.  Almost as if “honesty” grants them the license to behave as badly as they’d like, regardless of whether or not it is helpful, necessary, or kind.  That’s not the kind of honesty I’m referring to.   The kind of honesty I live by is both more simple and more primal.  It’s the kind of honesty you can only give when you are first honest with yourself.  The kind of honesty that comes not from talking, but largely from listening…. listening to that still, quiet voice deep within yourself.  A voice which when it is honored, will never, ever, lie to you.

Equality –  (From dictionary.com) ” The state or quality of being equal;  correspondence in quantity, degree, value, rank, or ability.”  Gay, straight, black, white, rich, poor… we’re all the same, not one of us better than the other.  To me, equality means that everyone should receive the same standard of treatment, regardless of his or her individual characteristics or circumstances.

Kindness – I’ve seen so much unkindness over the past couple of weeks.  So much unkindness!   And while I have to say in all fairness that it has come from many camps, one of the most vocal has been comprised of Christians.   Not only does disagreeing with someone’s lifestyle not give you the rein to be unkind about it, it is also directly counter to the core values of the person you profess to follow.  As a Christian myself, it gives me zero joy to say this, but…. I can thoroughly understand why so many people feel frustrated and/or angered or offended by Christians as a whole.  There is no better way to turn someone away – perhaps permanently – than by being judgmental and cruel, all under the name of Christianity.

Let’s be kind.  Let’s be gracious.  Let’s be compassionate:

Compassion – Compassion takes kindness one step further.  Compassion means deeply feeling for another person, and taking on their trials or misfortune as if they were your own.   To be compassionate means you want to help… whether that be simply through words or comfort or meeting some physical need.    I write most often about meeting children’s needs,  largely because I continue to see such widespread inequality in their treatment.  But I also have compassion for any group of people that is continually shamed, persecuted, and treated unfairly.

Treating people the way you want to be treated – The Golden Rule.   I’d like to think that when asked, most parents would answer that “Yes, of course we tell our children to treat people the way they’d want to be treated!”  But do we live it?  Do we show them how to do it?  Do we model it for them?  If we don’t, all the words in the world won’t make a difference.  Treat people the way you want to be treated.  ALL people.  Simultaneously the simplest and most difficult value of all.

Helping those in need – There’s a Friends episode where they squabble over whether or not there’s such a thing as an unselfish good deed.   The argument was that doing good things for others makes us feel good, thus making it just as selfish as it is altruistic.  It was of course played for laughs, but it did illuminate a very interesting truth:  Helping others DOES feel good!  And I can’t help but think that the reason it feels good is that it’s what we were meant to do.  We were meant to help others.  We were meant to work together.  We were meant to give of ourselves.

————

I don’t know about you, but I don’t enjoy fighting and unrest.  It makes me anxious, it makes me sad, and it gives me a stomach ache.  I want to focus my energy – all my energy – on the six items above.  Call me naive, but I truly believe that if more of us did just that, that everything else would fall into place.

 

10 Comments

Filed under kindness, learning, life, parenting, respect, Uncategorized

February 28, 2012 · 8:39 AM

One thing at a time

I’m a slow learner.

For the past year (at least) a big running theme on my blog has been the art of not sweating the small stuff.  Living in the moment.  Appreciating the calm amidst the chaos.  Letting go.

And I get it, and I understand it, and I feel it…. but I still find myself having to re-learn it.  Over and over and over again.

I have spent most of February MAJORLY sweating the small stuff (and the big stuff and everything in between)  I have been overwhelmed and stressed out and so, SO tired.  I was coming off one of the worst and longest stretches of insomnia I’d ever had – one that started well before the new year – and that coupled with the sudden onslaught of doctor appointments, Cub Scout activities, basketball, gymnastics, church events, writing projects, park days and birthdays and parties and… and and and…. it was all sending me over the edge.  I was unraveling.  It got to where I felt like I couldn’t do anything, so immobilized I was even at the idea of choosing a place to start.   Every time I heard that little “dink dink dink” on my phone, telling me I had another email, I cried winced.  Another place to be.  Another thing to attend to.  Another commitment to put on the calendar.

I was burnt out.  The house was out of control, I couldn’t seem to meet all four kids’ needs at the same time, and my own personal pursuits had become a thing of the distant past.  Leaving the house didn’t help, because I was so exhausted that I couldn’t enjoy it; and staying home didn’t help either, because at home I was buried under the weight of the 7425 things that needed my attention, not to the mention the growing inadequacy I was feeling as a mother (let alone as a wife.  As stressed I was, and as hectic as we were, we were lucky if we said hello when we passed each other as we ran one of the kids to their next engagement.  I think I still know what he looks like.)

I few days ago, I posted on Facebook about my feelings of overwhelm.  One wise friend told me:

“One thing at a time, finish it, move to the next.”

And it irritated the ^$@^%* out of me.  Well, I know that already.  You think I don’t know that?  It’s not that easy.  How do you do one thing at a time when you have a million things that need to be finished RIGHT NOW?  How do you do one thing at a time when you have so many things to do that there’s no single place to start?

I grumped at the mere suggestion for a good part of the morning.  “One thing at a time”… pffffft.

Then you know what I did?

I did one thing.  I finished it.  I took a big gasping gulp of air breath.  I moved on to the next.  By the time I got to the fourth or fifth thing on the list, I was breathing for real.  I wasn’t so overwhelmed.  I wasn’t so stressed about what remained undone, instead focusing on the productivity and the reality and the beauty of the moment.  I realized – AGAIN – that it really is about baby steps.   Not sweating the small stuff.  Living in the moment.  Having faith.  Trusting.  Breathing.

I was able to enjoy a fun go-cart riding birthday party for Spencer, and just a few days later threw a lovely little party for Tegan as well.  We watched Everett score in his last basketball game of the season, and accept his trophy in the awards ceremony.  We went to church yesterday, and we shopped for the supplies to make up the care packages we’ve been wanting to put in our cars for the homeless.   I got 99% of March on the calendar, and I breathed a sigh of relief that the bulk of February’s craziness was complete.

Now we’re about to head into another month, and another season, that is so far scheduled to be even busier than February.  And I’m realizing something else… also not for the first time:

I can’t do it all.   I especially can’t do it all at the same time.

Right now, I have to focus on my kids first.  They suffer when I’m stressed/not sleeping/burnt out, and that’s not fair to them.  So my first order of business is more pancake breakfasts.  More bubble blowing.  More chalk murals on the driveway.  More reading.  More singing.  More talking about Minecraft and legoes and Wonder Pets.

On a more personal note, I have a few different writing projects I’m working on for the month of March… all of which I’ll be sure to share if and when they come to fruition.

In April, I begin the marathon of yoga training that will only conclude with the 180 hours (crammed into two weeks!)  of studio time in July.

In keeping with my new adage of “one thing at a time”, I’m not sure what’s coming after that.  There’s the personal trainer exam I’ve been wanting to prepare for for the past year.  The herbalist portion of the Holistic Health degree I started when I completed the Nutrition certification program.  All the big ideas I had for my blog.  I don’t know.

I’m giving myself permission not to stress out about it, and not to feel like I have to do everything right now.   Which means that for the moment, blogging is going to be taking a backseat and squarely landing on my “when I have time” list…. along with jewelry making, practicing the piano, henna tattooes, and finally putting my vacation pictures (from last July) into an album.

I’m not going anywhere.  I’ll still be around.  It’s just that I’ve had to make the decision – one I feel good about – that this isn’t the time for devoting tons of hours to blogging.  Someday it will be, but not right now.

Right now I need to do one thing at a time.

6 Comments

Filed under about me, breathing, learning, life, not sweating the small stuff, plans, simplifying

February 17, 2012 · 7:40 PM

Where my book begins

 

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten ~Natasha Bedingfield

So Dan of Single Dad Laughing has done it again.  Every so often, he writes something that I can relate to so deeply that it almost physically hurts.  His recent post, Whose Life is it Anyway? now tops that list.  In it, he writes about his learning to live life on his own terms, rather than for someone else.  He tells of the process of finding his own voice, and ultimately leaving a church, a marriage, and a job on his path to happiness.

I’ve never left a marriage (in fact I consider myself very blessed – and lucky – that after having married at 19 with no earthly idea of who we were, that we were able to come into our own beside each other)  But I’ve left a church.  I’ve left a job. And six years ago, I left New Hampshire.  I left New England.  I left the entire east coast.

When I look back on old pictures, even of times that were happy, I will often feel a strange disconnect.  Sometimes I even feel a profound sadness.  I don’t know that person in those photos.  She’s a person who made choices not based on what she wanted (and honestly, she wouldn’t know what she wanted even if you asked her) but based on everyone else around her.  A person whose entire life… from the colleges she went to, to what she studied, to the kind of wedding she had, to what city she lived in, to what house she lived in… was decided, at least in part, by someone else.  She lived her life in a box.   And don’t get me wrong.  It was a nice box, a lovely box.  But it was a box all the same, and it wasn’t a box of her choosing.

I’m here to tell you that you can only live in a box for so long before the walls start closing in.  Before you start gasping for breath.  Before you start suffocating.

When people ask why we moved to Phoenix, I’m often left grasping for words.  It was a big decision, and there were many factors.  It was a joint decision too, so I can’t fairly speak for my husband.   But I can say out loud for the very first time – and without hesitation – that for me, the biggest reason was clear:

I was suffocating.

I was 32 years old, and I had no idea who I was.  I’d never made a decision on my own.  I’d never stopped trying to please everyone around me.  I’d never given more than a cursory thought to what it was that I wanted, so focused I was on what my family wanted, what society wanted, what the church wanted.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

So six years ago, I started living life on my own terms (and by the way, when I say “my” terms, I mean my terms within the larger framework of God’s terms.  Which, ironically – or not – is a concept I hadn’t even begun to grasp until I’d left the church I grew up in.)   It was the start of an adventure, to be sure, and a journey that is in turns exhilarating and terrifying and exhausting and just plain awe-inspiring.  For the first time in my entire life I’m getting to know and listening to ME.  Not society’s version of me, or my parent’s version of me, or even my husband’s version of me.  Just ME, the me I was individually created to be.

And it feels so good.

One of the greatest things about it though?  Once I started being true to myself, I realized that that respect, that authenticity, that truth that I was living started spilling out into the rest of my relationships as well.  It’s made me a better wife.  It’s made me a better mother.  Which makes sense when you think about it, because how can you really give of yourself if you don’t even know who “yourself” is?  How can you expect to have an authentic relationship with anyone if you can’t first be authentic with yourself?   I have heard it said over and over that people who are hurting hurt others.  So wouldn’t the opposite be true?  That those who show love to themselves are then able to love others?

I spent three decades being partially immobilized by fear, anxiety, insecurity, and “what ifs.”  Moving across the country was the catalyst that began to change all of that.  It made me feel brave.  It made me feel like if I could do that, I could do anything.  And do anything I will!

I’m not suggesting that a 1800 mile cross-country move is the answer for everyone.  But you know what, maybe it is.  Or maybe it’s leaving that job.  Or that church.  Or that unhealthy relationship.  Maybe it’s taking that pottery class, or belly dancing lesson, or volunteering in that soup kitchen.  Maybe it’s the haircut you’ve always been too scared to get, or the tattoo you were afraid your dad would disapprove of, or the hobby your friends think is silly.

Two days ago, I sent in my enrollment paperwork for yoga teacher training, something I have been wanting to do – and putting off for various reasons – for years now.  When I woke up the next morning, I felt more excited than I’ve felt in years.  And it wasn’t just about the yoga.  I was excited about life.   I’m excited about all of it.   I’m excited about the yoga; I’m excited about new friends; I’m excited about the shiny, colorful rings that I’ll transform into lovely chain maille jewelry;  I’m excited about the mess on my head that will one day be beautiful and mature dreadlocks;  I’m excited to know that I won’t be afraid to just chop it all off if I change my mind;  I’m excited to get another tattoo;  I’m excited to get better with my camera;  I’m excited about cupcakes;  I’m excited to write and to read and to learn and to grow;  I’m excited for road trips and park days and singing loudly with my children and having drinks with my girlfriends;  I’m excited about new adventures with the kids and new experiences with my husband.

I’m excited, for the first time in my life, to be REAL.

This.  This is where my book begins.  And it. is. awesome.

5 Comments

Filed under about me, adventures, Arizona, learning, life, passions, random