It's a tough world. You teach your kids to be kind, to pray, to work hard; you steer them through friendships and stresses; you feed and clothe and love them -- and you thrill to see them thrive and blossom with the good outside influences of educators and peers.
And then you have to tell one of them that their favorite teacher -- heck, let's face it, your favorite teacher they've ever had -- has been arrested and, if found guilty, will likely never see freedom again. They've had this teacher for the past two years in a row, and this final, third year was supposed to be the capstone of their musical experience. Your particular child -- a shy daughter -- got the guts up to participate not only in the audition process for the small, exclusive, 8th-grade chamber choir (and made it), but also for a statewide vocal audition and an application to the local performing arts charter school for high school next year. She has found a love for her choir experiences that you didn't see in her other subjects (even her other band and piano lessons), and that has been a phenomenal influence on her happiness in those tough middle school years.
This incredibly gifted teacher, who has long been one of the foundations linking the whole school community, has been 'on leave' for most of the current school year, leaving kids like my daughter stranded without the mentorship they counted on for the upcoming auditions and applications. The kids have been wondering, in vain, what 'family emergency' could possibly keep their beloved teacher from being there to help them succeed. They've been cycling through a string of substitutes and movies in class. In a heartbreaking turn of events yesterday, after an actual arrest was made, the school principal was able to let the students and families know about the ongoing investigation and criminal charges pending against this man we all thought we knew.
It's just not something we ever expect, not so close, though we know empirically that abuse and molestation are happening all over, in all classes and walks of life. I'm grateful for a school system that has, overall, been safe and productive for my own kids; and I'm grateful for the moral principles that they've already internalized that help protect and comfort them in times like these. There are plenty more kids who face obstacles far beyond the scope of this one, and I realize our blessings. But I'm shaken.
S. and I had originally thought not to tell her the details, because we'd rather she remember the good, at least for this year -- but then we realized how public the announcement was and the inevitability that she learn it at school without us anyway. She's handling it OK, but I hope she never sees the mug shot, doesn't go looking in the news. That's what really got to me. It's so hard to fathom, to connect the two pictures -- the grim-faced man in front of a police camera, and the charismatic, talented guy we've known up until this point. His own daughter currently attends the same school, is in my daughter's grade, has been attending at least so far this year. I can't imagine what she and her family are facing, either. The horrible tragedy hits in so many directions.
What a wonderful husband I have. What willing, affectionate, creative kids I have. What safety and comfort I enjoy. It sinks deep at Thanksgiving time in any case, but this latest event throws real highlights on the incredible, divine gifts that have come into my life. I feel deeply, deeply indebted to the gospel and belief of Jesus Christ for so much of the good that has been bedrock to me and my family. Bless you all, and happy Thanksgiving!
Showing posts with label Flourishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flourishing. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Monday, May 11, 2015
Flourishing: Mother's Day Prayers
I often pray for specific people I know, who happen to be mothers in many cases; but a really tender prayer I keep in my heart is for mothers generally, everywhere. I've read enough, and served enough, and let's face it, just plain lived enough to know that some of the most important effects in the whole world come through mothers -- and not just the obvious sentimental ones.
So these are the people I pray for:
Mothers who have lost a baby or young child to death
Mothers who go home to abuse every day
Mothers looking for a mentor but can't find one
Women whose own mothers have passed on
Mothers who are completely exhausted and stretched to the breaking point
Mothers who have children lost to addiction or other harmful habits
Mothers mourning their lost selves
Mothers trying to respond with thought and kindness to difficult toddlers, teenagers, or anyone treating them rudely
Mothers who desperately want children but can't overcome the obstacles of infertility, or singlehood, or simply of husbands who refuse
Mothers facing sickness themselves while continually giving care to those around them
Women who wish to know the qualities of Heavenly Mother and are told that's taboo
Mothers who live surrounded by violence
Women whose own mothers have abused and belittled them
Mothers making life look abundant when there's actually not enough
Mothers with no education
Mothers who don't know how to ask for help
Mothers struggling with deep depression and anxiety
Mothers seeking answers to prayer
Mothers who feel invisible
Do you know any of these people that you can pray for? Are you one of these people sometimes, or often? You are not alone.
Mothers who go home to abuse every day
Mothers looking for a mentor but can't find one
Women whose own mothers have passed on
Mothers who are completely exhausted and stretched to the breaking point
Mothers who have children lost to addiction or other harmful habits
Mothers mourning their lost selves
Mothers trying to respond with thought and kindness to difficult toddlers, teenagers, or anyone treating them rudely
Mothers who desperately want children but can't overcome the obstacles of infertility, or singlehood, or simply of husbands who refuse
Mothers facing sickness themselves while continually giving care to those around them
Women who wish to know the qualities of Heavenly Mother and are told that's taboo
Mothers who live surrounded by violence
Women whose own mothers have abused and belittled them
Mothers making life look abundant when there's actually not enough
Mothers with no education
Mothers who don't know how to ask for help
Mothers struggling with deep depression and anxiety
Mothers seeking answers to prayer
Mothers who feel invisible
Do you know any of these people that you can pray for? Are you one of these people sometimes, or often? You are not alone.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Flourishing: Report, Still in the Saddle
Edible Schoolyard 101. Refugees. CSA job. Foster care. Refinishing furniture. Rock climbing. Police violence. Naps! These have all occupied my time or mental energy in some form in the past month.
The Edible Schoolyard (http://edibleschoolyard.org/ee101) is a series put on by UC Berkeley that I just discovered this year. I've watched four of the lectures so far on YouTube, and plan on catching all of them before too long. I've really appreciated the energy, sincerity, and breadth of the lectures, by famous 'food people' such as Bittman, Pollan, Schlosser, and Patel, to name a few. One of the most eye-opening segments focused on the labor conditions of farm workers, with actual public service lawyers and clients presenting their stories. I've known of the sometimes-horrifying conditions both humans and animals are put in for meat production, and I've read Tomatoland which highlights the Florida tomato industry's deeply disturbing practices, but this was focusing on the plight of California produce pickers, and I got that sickening feeling of realization that this is just everywhere. So, food is not just about what is healthy for my body and for the environment -- which is a hard enough balance to aim for -- but also about the lives of the workers who provide it to me. (See also the book The American Way of Eating on my reading list.)
A while ago I watched a TED talk that has never quite left me. It's by Melissa Fleming, the United Nations High Comissioner for Refugees. I've kept up with her by Twitter since then, and would like to share her inspiring talk with you, as well as recent news reports of hundreds of refugees perishing while attempting to cross the Mediterranean by boat to Europe. (here, or search for 'Mediterranean refugees') I feel like these are good issues to be aware of, as they increase my global perspective and my ability to exercise compassion.
In personal accomplishments, I got my first paying job since the year 2000! There is a local farm that operates a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) as well as some educational events as a subsidiary of the state nature society. I will be working there on Saturdays throughout the summer season (May-September) to welcome visitors, help promote and sell produce in a little farmer's market for the public (beyond just the CSA members, in other words), tend a small U-pick area, and various other roles around the farm. (I'll start the training next week, and I think I might get to learn how to milk the cows, too! But I'm waiting to see for sure.) I had actually hoped for a more involved position that I initially applied for, but they turned me down for that. However, this will certainly still be wonderful, and I'm happy to be a part of this great organization and to gain connections and experience. And to be outside doing what I love, for a little bit of money! (I'll probably earn in an hour what those California migrant workers earn in a day, under a lot more pleasant and safe circumstances. Sad comparison.)
S. and I are turning in our foster care application this morning. We've completed the training and filled out all the paperwork and documentation, other than getting our medical and fingerprint/background check done. Those will be soon. So, I expect a call from the state agency in the near future to set up an initial home evaluation, we'll have to start scrounging an extra bed from somewhere and probably fixing up a few things at their request, and then after a second evaluation visit they'll 'open' our home within 3 months of now. I've felt really strongly that we should do this, but what a roller coaster ride it will be, I'm sure!
I may not address all the rest of my list of issues, as I'm running out of time for this morning. But one remaining piece of news is that our time here in [our state] is likely finite. My husband had a miraculous step forward in his ambitious plans for continued career change, and will be starting a year-long position come mid-August. The fact that it happened at all, and so quickly, and HERE, is completely beyond rational expectations, and was clearly inspired and orchestrated by Someone Up There. There's no way of knowing why it happened here and now instead of other times we've been scrambling and struggling, but we're very very grateful. However, he has to then job-hunt for the next step after that year-long, prestigious-credential job, and I'm not expecting two miracles in a row. We'll probably have to move. We're so slow, frugal, and un-handy that we'll need all that time to get the house ready to sell...and to console the kids, one of whom is already panicking. But in the meantime, I just refinished the vanity in our master bath. I'll continue with some painting and new fixtures, etc., and then I'll post a before and after picture when it's all finished. It's not a professional job, it's my first time refinishing furniture, but it makes a big enough difference. I'm proud of myself!
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Flourishing: Broken Dishwasher
It's rather a revelation to be handwashing our dishes now, and to see how shiny and sparkly-clean they get; clearly the dishwasher had been dying by degrees for some time, but we didn't recognize it. So, we're trying to decide which direction to go with repairs vs. replacement, and in the meantime handwashing is beautiful.
Also annoying.
I really don't feel like it's the worst chore in the world, but it does eat into my time more than it used to. Yesterday I hit a point where I had been cooking fairly intensively for a a couple of days and also doing all the dishes and it was late at night, and I felt my dreams slipping away from me somehow. It wasn't so much the specific chore as it was that sense of inevitable invisibility. My mind took me right back to those years of law school in a windowless basement box of a kitchen, struggling with depression and poverty and a single sink without a garbage disposal.
Except, it's different now. It's not windowless, or invisible. My husband and kids pitch in a little, some with more prodding than others; the (double) sink is in a sunny, central spot where people can talk to me, I can turn on music, there's plenty of interaction and appreciation and, oh yeah, a garbage disposal. So what used to feel like invisibility isn't, not in the same way. So why did I get that panicked dream-slipping-away feeling?
Well, partly because it's that time of winter when there's just less to look forward to. But I sat down and wrote about it this morning, and came to some interesting realizations. Mainly, that I personally need others to spend mental energy visualizing on my behalf. I don't know if as humans, we all need this, I'm just starting to explore the idea; but when I wrote that sentence, 'mental energy visualizing on my behalf', I recognized it as truth.
I've been doing a little music teaching this past month, not tons, but I'm trying to start up. Mainly I've been helping some kids prepare for upcoming auditions to get into a local performing arts charter school for next year. I'd also been prepping my two oldest for their All-State Junior Band auditions, which were earlier this month. As part of that, I try to include some coaching on visualization. I have a strong belief in the power of visualization, and some concrete personal experiences to back that up, so I feel like that's something valuable I can teach. I want these kids to learn to use it as part of their approach to an audition or performance because when done right, it's almost magically effective.
I take this tangent as a way to help explain what I mean by hoping that someone who knows and loves me, understands my gifts and weaknesses, would set aside some time and thought to imagining my success. I'm not invisible in my home anymore, even when performing drudge-y chores; everyone here has come a long way in growing up, cooperating, and expressing appreciation. But despite that increased appreciation, and though I'm told on some special spiritual occasions that I am on the cusp of great things and that exciting changes are in store for our family because of me, I feel like those dreams of progress remain invisible to the ones who could most help me. I get the sense that they would recognize it when they saw it, but that they remain one step behind the vision.
Sorta like our broken dishwasher, and how it took that breakdown to show us how clean our dishes really could be, I don't want my family to notice my achievements only once they're complete. I'd like them to picture it in advance like I do for them, constantly, habitually, and lovingly. I don't do it in a pushy way that requires them to follow my vision, but in a way that allows me to assess their growing potential, internally commit to their success, and make room for it in the day to day mess of life. I'd love to have more of that kind of 'room' myself.
Also annoying.
I really don't feel like it's the worst chore in the world, but it does eat into my time more than it used to. Yesterday I hit a point where I had been cooking fairly intensively for a a couple of days and also doing all the dishes and it was late at night, and I felt my dreams slipping away from me somehow. It wasn't so much the specific chore as it was that sense of inevitable invisibility. My mind took me right back to those years of law school in a windowless basement box of a kitchen, struggling with depression and poverty and a single sink without a garbage disposal.
Except, it's different now. It's not windowless, or invisible. My husband and kids pitch in a little, some with more prodding than others; the (double) sink is in a sunny, central spot where people can talk to me, I can turn on music, there's plenty of interaction and appreciation and, oh yeah, a garbage disposal. So what used to feel like invisibility isn't, not in the same way. So why did I get that panicked dream-slipping-away feeling?
Well, partly because it's that time of winter when there's just less to look forward to. But I sat down and wrote about it this morning, and came to some interesting realizations. Mainly, that I personally need others to spend mental energy visualizing on my behalf. I don't know if as humans, we all need this, I'm just starting to explore the idea; but when I wrote that sentence, 'mental energy visualizing on my behalf', I recognized it as truth.
I've been doing a little music teaching this past month, not tons, but I'm trying to start up. Mainly I've been helping some kids prepare for upcoming auditions to get into a local performing arts charter school for next year. I'd also been prepping my two oldest for their All-State Junior Band auditions, which were earlier this month. As part of that, I try to include some coaching on visualization. I have a strong belief in the power of visualization, and some concrete personal experiences to back that up, so I feel like that's something valuable I can teach. I want these kids to learn to use it as part of their approach to an audition or performance because when done right, it's almost magically effective.
I take this tangent as a way to help explain what I mean by hoping that someone who knows and loves me, understands my gifts and weaknesses, would set aside some time and thought to imagining my success. I'm not invisible in my home anymore, even when performing drudge-y chores; everyone here has come a long way in growing up, cooperating, and expressing appreciation. But despite that increased appreciation, and though I'm told on some special spiritual occasions that I am on the cusp of great things and that exciting changes are in store for our family because of me, I feel like those dreams of progress remain invisible to the ones who could most help me. I get the sense that they would recognize it when they saw it, but that they remain one step behind the vision.
Sorta like our broken dishwasher, and how it took that breakdown to show us how clean our dishes really could be, I don't want my family to notice my achievements only once they're complete. I'd like them to picture it in advance like I do for them, constantly, habitually, and lovingly. I don't do it in a pushy way that requires them to follow my vision, but in a way that allows me to assess their growing potential, internally commit to their success, and make room for it in the day to day mess of life. I'd love to have more of that kind of 'room' myself.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Flourishing: Giving Thanks
In thinking of gratitude, do we go big or small? Small is the daily joys, the ‘attitude’ so often spoken of, the ‘what if you only woke up with what you had thanked for in your prayer the night before’ game. (It’s a great exercise, but only up to a point-- sort of like kids playing Opposite Day.) On the other hand, big reaches into the nothingness of each of us, and at the same time, the grand mosaic of how we help one another through the inevitable ups and downs, the feeling of abundance that makes us want to share and rejoice. I mean, I suppose we can try to consciously use the small stuff to get to the big rejoicing; but often that moment of wanting to shout for joy comes spontaneously as a culmination of crises conquered, difficulties overcome, talents developed, and divine confidence gained.
So, what have I been most grateful for this past year? What has made me shout out and rejoice that heaven is gracious, God is good, and I will continue to trust in Him because I can see the blessings that have come to me?
Well, top would be my kids. Their kindness and compassion, the way love from me so clearly helps bring them up to another level of character, their physical growth and health, their intelligence and creativity, the good choices they’re beginning to make on their own.
My two teenagers, my husband, and I were practicing some Christmas songs as a woodwind quartet the other day, and I realized all of a sudden that these people play music. Once, these kids were so little that they needed my hand to walk; then at some point they learned a few notes on the piano; then they chose another instrument, and dedicated time and their own mental energy to practice; and now here we were, right here, sight-reading beautiful holiday melodies -- in tune!
The whole unfolding of it struck me with awe and gratitude: gratitude for sound and notes that exist in the first place, for a husband who also loves good instrumental music, for the fact that I didn’t keel over from exhaustion when the kids were babies, and for all of us who at some point stuck with it, who clearly have come to enjoy expressing ourselves through hymns and carols. What an embodiment of all the things that gladden my heart -- playing there with my family, my healthy grown-up family, was a real golden moment of rejoicing for me. It encompassed all the other things that I’m grateful for that got us there together.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!
So, what have I been most grateful for this past year? What has made me shout out and rejoice that heaven is gracious, God is good, and I will continue to trust in Him because I can see the blessings that have come to me?
Well, top would be my kids. Their kindness and compassion, the way love from me so clearly helps bring them up to another level of character, their physical growth and health, their intelligence and creativity, the good choices they’re beginning to make on their own.
My two teenagers, my husband, and I were practicing some Christmas songs as a woodwind quartet the other day, and I realized all of a sudden that these people play music. Once, these kids were so little that they needed my hand to walk; then at some point they learned a few notes on the piano; then they chose another instrument, and dedicated time and their own mental energy to practice; and now here we were, right here, sight-reading beautiful holiday melodies -- in tune!
The whole unfolding of it struck me with awe and gratitude: gratitude for sound and notes that exist in the first place, for a husband who also loves good instrumental music, for the fact that I didn’t keel over from exhaustion when the kids were babies, and for all of us who at some point stuck with it, who clearly have come to enjoy expressing ourselves through hymns and carols. What an embodiment of all the things that gladden my heart -- playing there with my family, my healthy grown-up family, was a real golden moment of rejoicing for me. It encompassed all the other things that I’m grateful for that got us there together.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!
Monday, November 10, 2014
Trying to Flourish: Food Books, Thrift Stores, and Appraisals
By the way, I've finished two more books relating to American meals: The Revolution Will Not Be Microwaved (don't you love that title?) and The American Way of Eating. Next up may be Gulp by Mary Roach, which my husband saw and brought home to me.
Also, in budgetary news, I recently splurged (with a coupon) on my first 'modern' pair of jeans. Yes, skinny; I've finally caught up with the trends, probably just in time to be outdated. But, a recent exact count of my closet and dresser revealed that fully one-third of my clothes were either from the thrift store, hand-me-downs, or home-sewn. And as I've enjoyed dressing myself more and more from those expanded sources, I feel less guilty when I do need to go retail shopping.
Lastly, we endured our first-ever home appraisal last week, and just got the results today. Let me explain that we are not very handy, and find it very frustrating trying to keep our house from falling apart; so we busted our butts as much as we could to clean, declutter everything, get a few painting projects done, weed, all that. The kids happened to have off school the day prior to the appointment, so we recruited them for as much bathroom-cleaning, vacuuming and window-washing as they could stand. (We figured it was only fair, since they're a major source of the wear and tear, and they were actually pretty dang good sports.) So it's disappointing that our value came in about $20K lower than we expected. I anticipate we'll still get the loan and still save money, but not as much. S. and I commiserate frequently over how being a grown-up is not all it's cracked up to be...I find myself muttering the phrases "It is what it is" and "Onward and upward" with great frequency. But all is well, truly we are lucky and blessed.
Also, in budgetary news, I recently splurged (with a coupon) on my first 'modern' pair of jeans. Yes, skinny; I've finally caught up with the trends, probably just in time to be outdated. But, a recent exact count of my closet and dresser revealed that fully one-third of my clothes were either from the thrift store, hand-me-downs, or home-sewn. And as I've enjoyed dressing myself more and more from those expanded sources, I feel less guilty when I do need to go retail shopping.
Lastly, we endured our first-ever home appraisal last week, and just got the results today. Let me explain that we are not very handy, and find it very frustrating trying to keep our house from falling apart; so we busted our butts as much as we could to clean, declutter everything, get a few painting projects done, weed, all that. The kids happened to have off school the day prior to the appointment, so we recruited them for as much bathroom-cleaning, vacuuming and window-washing as they could stand. (We figured it was only fair, since they're a major source of the wear and tear, and they were actually pretty dang good sports.) So it's disappointing that our value came in about $20K lower than we expected. I anticipate we'll still get the loan and still save money, but not as much. S. and I commiserate frequently over how being a grown-up is not all it's cracked up to be...I find myself muttering the phrases "It is what it is" and "Onward and upward" with great frequency. But all is well, truly we are lucky and blessed.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Flourishing: Provident Blessings
Just this past few weeks, a large family we know has been packing up and readying themselves for an overseas move. They called us one afternoon to see if we would be interested in their food storage items. We pretty much never turn an offer like that down! They were giving the more day-to-day items to other neighbors, but those of us who actually go through whole wheat and dry beans regularly are much rarer birds. I know of another family or two they could have offered the items to and been confident that they would get used, but our friends were hoping to get the stuff out of their basement that very day and I'm guessing they knew we tend to be quick and efficient in responding.
A few hours later, all of us were carting precarious stacks of #10 cans down to the basement -- none of them had been in boxes, they probably wanted them all for the move -- while I was trying to figure out where to put them and make room for the next incoming load. It was a fairly sticky day, and we were all sweating quickly.
There was much more than I had expected, definitely a few hundred dollars' worth of food. Rice, flour, whole wheat, beans, powdered milk, mashed potatoes, macaroni, dried apples, even 3 cans of butter powder. The oddest item was a whole bunch of little cans of processed cheese, labeled something like Australia's Best Cheese in English but with most of the rest in Arabic, a few years past the best-by date. (Those were utterly unappealing even to me and got tossed, though it seemed like there must be some kind of curious story behind them...)
At some point in the ensuing days, as I gradually rallied myself and inventoried my new stock of storage, I realized how much we've been blessed by following some of those more difficult admonitions of prophets and wise leaders. We've saved up food, we've learned to use more traditional methods of preparing meals and ingredients, we've reduced our reliance on pre-packaged items; I really think it has improved our health, moods, skills, and bank accounts all at once, not to mention how it might benefit us in a true emergency.
So as I reflected on how lucky we were to be the recipients of this extra bounty, especially when we're trying harder than ever to live close to our means with S.'s job change last year, I realized that we weren't 'lucky' -- we were prepared for blessings when they came. We had been diligent, we had sacrificed from time to time to try to follow what we felt was important counsel, and both the Lord and our peers knew that we had room for what they could offer.
Or, mostly had room: as were were trying to pile up the last cans in our storage room that afternoon, I joked to my son that this must be what the scriptures mean when they promise to pour out so much from heaven that there is 'not room enough to receive it'. And truly, I think that is the meaning -- the windows of heaven don't generally open to provide convenience and easy prosperity, but they do open to meet our needs abundantly when we continue to be faithful stewards. For which I am thoroughly grateful.
A few hours later, all of us were carting precarious stacks of #10 cans down to the basement -- none of them had been in boxes, they probably wanted them all for the move -- while I was trying to figure out where to put them and make room for the next incoming load. It was a fairly sticky day, and we were all sweating quickly.
There was much more than I had expected, definitely a few hundred dollars' worth of food. Rice, flour, whole wheat, beans, powdered milk, mashed potatoes, macaroni, dried apples, even 3 cans of butter powder. The oddest item was a whole bunch of little cans of processed cheese, labeled something like Australia's Best Cheese in English but with most of the rest in Arabic, a few years past the best-by date. (Those were utterly unappealing even to me and got tossed, though it seemed like there must be some kind of curious story behind them...)
At some point in the ensuing days, as I gradually rallied myself and inventoried my new stock of storage, I realized how much we've been blessed by following some of those more difficult admonitions of prophets and wise leaders. We've saved up food, we've learned to use more traditional methods of preparing meals and ingredients, we've reduced our reliance on pre-packaged items; I really think it has improved our health, moods, skills, and bank accounts all at once, not to mention how it might benefit us in a true emergency.
So as I reflected on how lucky we were to be the recipients of this extra bounty, especially when we're trying harder than ever to live close to our means with S.'s job change last year, I realized that we weren't 'lucky' -- we were prepared for blessings when they came. We had been diligent, we had sacrificed from time to time to try to follow what we felt was important counsel, and both the Lord and our peers knew that we had room for what they could offer.
Or, mostly had room: as were were trying to pile up the last cans in our storage room that afternoon, I joked to my son that this must be what the scriptures mean when they promise to pour out so much from heaven that there is 'not room enough to receive it'. And truly, I think that is the meaning -- the windows of heaven don't generally open to provide convenience and easy prosperity, but they do open to meet our needs abundantly when we continue to be faithful stewards. For which I am thoroughly grateful.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Flourishing: Vitamin G
November gets all the gratitude posts -- but half a year away, we have a TON to be grateful for, and since last Sunday we had a lesson that got me thinking about the subject again, I thought I'd post:Health and dental insurance
Cars that run reliably
Clean water that comes out of a tap, in all temperatures
Nice hand-me-down clothes
Kids who were born alive and healthy, and have stayed that way
Wonderful neighbors
Employment
Working appliances, including a dishwasher and our own washer/dryer
Public libraries
Public transportation
Chairs to sit on and beds to sleep in
Internet access
Safe area to live in
Winter being over ;)
Dedicated and kind school teachers
Being able to vote
Music
Our cat, Holly
Thoughtful and funny friends
The earth -- mountains, rivers, meadows, oceans, clouds, the whole shebang
Moments of prayer and inspiration
The incredible affection in our home
and last but most, Mr. Wonderful (my husband) and the love and history we share
Isn't that an amazingly long, fulfilling list? Obviously it could go on further, but I am full of awe at how many of those things are vital to my flourishing that I just don't think about very often. I'm also aware of how many are out of reach even to people I know in my own community. Gratitude does that, it brings compassion and generosity, both of which I certainly always need more of.
Get some Vitamin G today!
Friday, May 2, 2014
Flourishing: Womanhood (Part II)
”Wherefore, my beloved brethren, I know that if ye shall follow the Son, with full purpose of heart, acting no hypocrisy and no deception before God, but with real intent, repenting of your sins, witnessing unto the Father that you are willing to take upon you the name of Christ...If you shall press forward, feasting on the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: ye shall have eternal life.”
I love those expressive phrases, ‘full purpose of heart’ and ‘real intent’. I also appreciate that my husband often calls me a ‘woman of substance’. There certainly is the outer me -- the face that smiles, the hands that work and hug, the body I feed, wash, and clothe in fairly thoughtful ways -- but what’s inside is much more thriving and enduring. My heart is nearly always full of purpose; and if I don’t have ‘real intent’, I find it extremely hard to participate in something ‘just because’. I’m not very good at acting like something is important or worthwhile if I don’t feel like it is. What that translates into is a woman who is constantly digging into life to find what will root her and her family long-term, but who’s way too serious and tends to rub people the wrong way.
It’s in my nature to avoid trends and convenience, because I often feel that they’re flimsy somehow. I also worry that I’ll set aside that ‘real intent’ without realizing it, and I wonder how frequently we mask a lack of substance with bling or with smoothly-crafted borrowed opinions. Not that I think everyone else is just faking it, but I personally feel like I have to constantly, consciously resist the slow, insidious creep of easy habits and assumptions.
So, I’m not easy to be around at times, and it really pains my heart to know that. I’ve often lamented that I wish I either were, 1) socially impaired enough not to notice the gap, or, 2) able to smooth over and pretend a little more so that I wouldn’t be so irritating or off-putting. I seem to be at the distressing junction of knowing that my habits and opinions may bother people, but feeling a deep commitment to expressing them anyway. (Believe it or not, at least I have mellowed with age. I used to be far, far worse in this respect.)
Yet, when I hear my husband tell me he loves who I am, and that I’m someone of substance, I hear also that he knows I’ve dedicated much of my potential in hidden ways to those who need it most. I hear that he has respect for my unusual thought processes and conclusions; that while he does see more clearly why people disagree or get uncomfortable, he knows the big ways he and our children have benefitted from the way I buck the trends. I know he relies on my true self, that self that is devoted and loyal; he has seen the gentle answers I’ve learned to give to those who are truly difficult, and the refining process that that has been for me. He understands my deep desire to please others in the truest, most eternal sense I can, and my sorrow and tears that my offering isn’t always accepted. In many ways, my husband has been an example of godlike qualities that I can understand and relate to; I feel so lucky to have learned from his love what my Father in Heaven’s love for me must be like.
And so, this is part of who I am: I believe that I existed before I was born, that I was willing to face difficulty and sacrifice in order to gain an eternal identity that I would never need to be ashamed of.
Also, I used to enjoy listening to a lot of Cat Stevens in college, and his song “Hard-Headed Woman” is an oddly apt companion to this essay.
I'm looking for a hard-headed woman,
One who will take me for myself,
And if I find my hard-headed woman,
I will need nobody else, no, no.
I'm looking for a hard-headed woman,
One who will make me do my best,
And if I find my hard-headed woman
I know the rest of my life will be blessed -- yes, yes, yes.
I know a lot of fancy dancers,
people who can glide you on a floor,
They move so smooth but have no answers.
When you ask "Why'd you come here for?"
"I don't know" "Why?"
I know many fine feathered friends
but their friendliness depends on how you do.
They know many sure-fired ways
to find out the one who pays
and how you do.
I'm looking for a hard-headed woman,
One who will make me feel so good,
And if I find my hard headed woman,
I know my life will be as it should -- yes, yes, yes.
I'm looking for a hard-headed woman,
One who will make me do my best,
And if I find my hard headed woman...
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Flourishing: Womanhood and Motherhood (Part I)
Nothing is lost. Establish your family early. You will not be misled.
These are three bedrock, important impressions that have returned to me over and over again during my adult years, when I've been seeking answers to some of my troubling questions, fears, and frustrations. The ideas have come to me at different times and in different ways, but are interconnected in my daily life as well as my long-term goals.
When I see news and headlines undercutting the value of childbearing, or claiming that women need to put economic productivity first rather than 'using up' the world's resources on more people, I really stop and take stock. This isn't new, of course. My high school best friend, before we each headed off to college, warned me in all seriousness not to 'waste myself' by getting married and having kids.
I've recently been thumbing through various anti-natal articles and book reviews, trying to understand the perspective of their proponents; I've also been keeping an eye on the budding "Ordain Women" movement in the LDS church. With both groups, I feel keenly aware of our differences; but I also have a strong sense of obligation to give the benefit of the doubt and to act on the assumption that they, too, are thoughtful and prayerful people who have women's greater welfare in mind. I've always prayed and reflected deeply about my role as a woman and a mother, but I've had chances again to examine and pray more in the context of these modern movements.
As Mormon women, we uniquely in the world believe that we have a heritage from a glorious mother Eve. She was intelligent, faithful, and incredibly courageous, and I have always been taught to honor her. That goes hand in hand with the understanding that when I chose motherhood, I affirmed something eternal and innate in myself. And yet, there have certainly been long, long stretches of motherhood when I did feel 'wasted', as my friend had predicted.
Those wilderness years were very hard, but were also when I received many of those precious answers and feelings that have meant so much to me. I particularly have a strong witness that nothing I have done, sacrificed, or changed on behalf of motherhood caused me to lose anything of myself. I am so grateful that I had the faith to start down that path early and let my personal answer come as it did, slowly and through struggles, until now it's a shining light in my heart. Nothing is lost. Establish your family early. You will not be misled.
When I see news and headlines undercutting the value of childbearing, or claiming that women need to put economic productivity first rather than 'using up' the world's resources on more people, I really stop and take stock. This isn't new, of course. My high school best friend, before we each headed off to college, warned me in all seriousness not to 'waste myself' by getting married and having kids.
I've recently been thumbing through various anti-natal articles and book reviews, trying to understand the perspective of their proponents; I've also been keeping an eye on the budding "Ordain Women" movement in the LDS church. With both groups, I feel keenly aware of our differences; but I also have a strong sense of obligation to give the benefit of the doubt and to act on the assumption that they, too, are thoughtful and prayerful people who have women's greater welfare in mind. I've always prayed and reflected deeply about my role as a woman and a mother, but I've had chances again to examine and pray more in the context of these modern movements.
As Mormon women, we uniquely in the world believe that we have a heritage from a glorious mother Eve. She was intelligent, faithful, and incredibly courageous, and I have always been taught to honor her. That goes hand in hand with the understanding that when I chose motherhood, I affirmed something eternal and innate in myself. And yet, there have certainly been long, long stretches of motherhood when I did feel 'wasted', as my friend had predicted.
Those wilderness years were very hard, but were also when I received many of those precious answers and feelings that have meant so much to me. I particularly have a strong witness that nothing I have done, sacrificed, or changed on behalf of motherhood caused me to lose anything of myself. I am so grateful that I had the faith to start down that path early and let my personal answer come as it did, slowly and through struggles, until now it's a shining light in my heart. Nothing is lost. Establish your family early. You will not be misled.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Flourishing: Distractions
I've been rather indulging myself this month, taking some bigger chunks of time to hibernate, read, and absorb rather than bringing anything up from my own deeps. I guess that's not a bad way to spend a frigid January full of snow days for the kids, and as a matter of fact, I don't feel guilty at all. I feel a tad sad for my empty blog, but not disappointed in my lower expectations.
As a compromise post, I thought I'd fill you in on a little of what I've been distracted by.
Most of my post-college life, I've turned away from fiction and have instead devoured nonfiction. I've attributed it to needing to fill a learning gap after finally finishing those 16 years of nonstop school; it's also been thrilling to choose my own subjects of interest and dig into them (as you probably know if you're my friend and/or a blog reader). But I was given a pair of books for Christmas, and I've since found myself unexpectedly and enjoyably engrossed in a military-science-fiction series. It has 13 books in the original series plus 4 or more whole sub-series, but I think I'll stop with these first two, since they really rather took over my life!
Also, Bejeweled 3. I should feel embarrassed by the amount of time I've spent on that game since my (ahem) daughter received it for her ninth birthday...but I don't. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's a lot like the Candy Crush craze I'm seeing on facebook, so I know I'm not alone. If you wonder where the rest of my deep flourishing posts have gone, they've probably been overcome by the Bejeweled 3 habit. (Not addiction, I promise! I spend about an hour a week, according to my stats. And unlike Candy Crush, it's completely free, no premium add-ons.)
On top of that, I've been slowly working through a book of logic puzzles as well as doing some lumosity training. It has felt good to spend some mental stretch time without an end purpose in mind, and I'm going to let it ride until I feel good and driven to pick up some meaty subjects again.
As a compromise post, I thought I'd fill you in on a little of what I've been distracted by.
Most of my post-college life, I've turned away from fiction and have instead devoured nonfiction. I've attributed it to needing to fill a learning gap after finally finishing those 16 years of nonstop school; it's also been thrilling to choose my own subjects of interest and dig into them (as you probably know if you're my friend and/or a blog reader). But I was given a pair of books for Christmas, and I've since found myself unexpectedly and enjoyably engrossed in a military-science-fiction series. It has 13 books in the original series plus 4 or more whole sub-series, but I think I'll stop with these first two, since they really rather took over my life!
Also, Bejeweled 3. I should feel embarrassed by the amount of time I've spent on that game since my (ahem) daughter received it for her ninth birthday...but I don't. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's a lot like the Candy Crush craze I'm seeing on facebook, so I know I'm not alone. If you wonder where the rest of my deep flourishing posts have gone, they've probably been overcome by the Bejeweled 3 habit. (Not addiction, I promise! I spend about an hour a week, according to my stats. And unlike Candy Crush, it's completely free, no premium add-ons.)
On top of that, I've been slowly working through a book of logic puzzles as well as doing some lumosity training. It has felt good to spend some mental stretch time without an end purpose in mind, and I'm going to let it ride until I feel good and driven to pick up some meaty subjects again.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Flourishing: Making Strides
In looking back over 2013, I think I've met a goal or two, and put myself out there in a few new and scary ways. Here's my quick review, to at least get 2014 started for Karrot Soup.
One of my main goals -- or at least the one I can remember having worked on, which amounts to the same thing -- was to write 50,000 words during the year. I have a private document where I do prompts and freewrites, and it shows a word count of over 40,000; I'm hoping that other things I've written (such as this blog, as well as my old-fashioned pen-and-ink journal) put me over the goal. I think it's bound to be close enough to count, don't you?
That was a nice measurable goal, and it turns out that looking over my year, it's the thing I'm most proud of. Strangely, though, I'm not sure what exactly I can show for it. This blog, I suppose, and my first published essay. Writing is certainly not a quick process, the more I do it the more I realize how true that is!!
I've also been pondering just a little about my hidden strengths, and shouldn't be surprised that they often tie into my weaknesses. For example, as I've gained more and more practice in forgiveness over the course of my life, I'm finding that it's growing into one of my greatest strengths; but since I also so frequently get frustrated with others, it remains a hidden gift, as it mostly just counteracts my irritation and brings me up to par for basic societal/parental interactions...
But, in the spirit of hope and renewal, I will call it the gift that it is, and continue to cultivate it. And I will thank you all for your patience with me and the many times you have likely forgiven me as well. Happy New Year, may you flourish in it!
One of my main goals -- or at least the one I can remember having worked on, which amounts to the same thing -- was to write 50,000 words during the year. I have a private document where I do prompts and freewrites, and it shows a word count of over 40,000; I'm hoping that other things I've written (such as this blog, as well as my old-fashioned pen-and-ink journal) put me over the goal. I think it's bound to be close enough to count, don't you?
That was a nice measurable goal, and it turns out that looking over my year, it's the thing I'm most proud of. Strangely, though, I'm not sure what exactly I can show for it. This blog, I suppose, and my first published essay. Writing is certainly not a quick process, the more I do it the more I realize how true that is!!
I've also been pondering just a little about my hidden strengths, and shouldn't be surprised that they often tie into my weaknesses. For example, as I've gained more and more practice in forgiveness over the course of my life, I'm finding that it's growing into one of my greatest strengths; but since I also so frequently get frustrated with others, it remains a hidden gift, as it mostly just counteracts my irritation and brings me up to par for basic societal/parental interactions...
But, in the spirit of hope and renewal, I will call it the gift that it is, and continue to cultivate it. And I will thank you all for your patience with me and the many times you have likely forgiven me as well. Happy New Year, may you flourish in it!
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Tender Hearts and Christmas Promises
I get this weird sort of heartache on occasion, as if my sometimes-piercing compassion turns in on itself. I'm going to admit publicly that I came home from our festive church services Sunday and cried my little heart out, after seeing women I've repeatedly (and probably selfishly) aspired to befriend exchange little gifts with each other.
I didn't GO to church expecting gifts or goodies, I went with a prayer in my heart for some very specific people, actually. There are sisters that haven't made it in a long time that I was really hoping would come for Christmas; disappointingly, of the 5 or so I was really sending up prayers for, only one made it. (An eighty-year-old biddy who, as S. puts it, has 'lost her filter'. She tells me she should be allowed to feed the missionaries even though there's no male around to help host, because she 'promises not to rape them'. Though she's really great, I'm getting tired of that joke, plus I'm not entirely sure she means it as a joke...)
I always feel torn, and struggle to push away this odd kind of depression, because I know I'm truly blessed and loved mightily. I got holiday hugs from a friend's sister-in-law who was visiting, for goodness' sake, so I feel guilty wishing I were in the popular group. There are so many who are further out on the fringes than I am, and I know I wouldn't really be happier trying to fit in with the cool crowd; but it still stings when people come up with repeated reasons that they would 'love' my children to have playdates with theirs, but not 'this time'. Sadness still lingers on my kids' behalf when years ago, my son wasn't included in an informal science group two friends were running that we had asked about participating in, and my daughter had a church classmate make fun of her dress. Why are these things so hard to overcome and let go of when it's the season of goodwill?
Talking with my husband, trying to regain the cheerful holiday feelings I've actually managed to have for the first Christmas season in a long while, he commented that he was glad I've kept my heart tender through the years. Truthfully, I am too. Not only does it allow me to be more aware of those who need service, but the true balm of the gospel becomes all the more sweet and precious to me.
One of my favorite Christmas carols is 'O Come, O Come Emmanuel', because it expresses that poignant longing for a better world through the promised Savior:
O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
I didn't GO to church expecting gifts or goodies, I went with a prayer in my heart for some very specific people, actually. There are sisters that haven't made it in a long time that I was really hoping would come for Christmas; disappointingly, of the 5 or so I was really sending up prayers for, only one made it. (An eighty-year-old biddy who, as S. puts it, has 'lost her filter'. She tells me she should be allowed to feed the missionaries even though there's no male around to help host, because she 'promises not to rape them'. Though she's really great, I'm getting tired of that joke, plus I'm not entirely sure she means it as a joke...)
I always feel torn, and struggle to push away this odd kind of depression, because I know I'm truly blessed and loved mightily. I got holiday hugs from a friend's sister-in-law who was visiting, for goodness' sake, so I feel guilty wishing I were in the popular group. There are so many who are further out on the fringes than I am, and I know I wouldn't really be happier trying to fit in with the cool crowd; but it still stings when people come up with repeated reasons that they would 'love' my children to have playdates with theirs, but not 'this time'. Sadness still lingers on my kids' behalf when years ago, my son wasn't included in an informal science group two friends were running that we had asked about participating in, and my daughter had a church classmate make fun of her dress. Why are these things so hard to overcome and let go of when it's the season of goodwill?
Talking with my husband, trying to regain the cheerful holiday feelings I've actually managed to have for the first Christmas season in a long while, he commented that he was glad I've kept my heart tender through the years. Truthfully, I am too. Not only does it allow me to be more aware of those who need service, but the true balm of the gospel becomes all the more sweet and precious to me.
One of my favorite Christmas carols is 'O Come, O Come Emmanuel', because it expresses that poignant longing for a better world through the promised Savior:
O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
My Christmas testimony is that Heavenly Father’s promises are fulfilled. The birth of Christ was the ultimate promise, told to prophets and peoples throughout the ages, and hoped for by the most pure in heart. The faith we placed in the Father’s plan before we were born hinged on the birth of Christ and his willingness to live a life of holiness. “And now behold, my beloved brethren, this is the way; and there is none other way nor name given under heaven.” (2 Nephi 31:21)
At Christmastime I remember and know that if God fulfilled this promise, central to it all, then he will still keep his promises to me as well. I trust in him, and hope “that [I] may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that [I] may become the [daughter] of God; that when he shall appear [I] shall be like him, for [I] shall see him as he is.” (Moroni 7:48)
In between all the traffic and travels and cookies and wrappings, I hope (for all of us!) that there is a little room left for quiet reverence at the foot of the manger.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Flourishing: Conference
I guess I need to give a little context, since some of these statements are unclear without providing a window into my mental state. I’ve been doing really well mentally and emotionally, especially in terms of dealing with difficult parental issues this past year, but there are always lingering fears and guilt that I think God would like me to be free of.
At the beginning of the school year, S. gave me a priesthood blessing. What was spoken was slightly surprising, but powerful; it tended to focus on topics of healing and wholeness, peace and forgiveness, along with a few reprimands. It clearly demanded action and faith on my part in a way that was unusual for the blessings I tend to receive. So, I’ve definitely been pondering these things in the intervening weeks, and was looking for related impressions while I listened to the speakers at General Conference.
So, this is my own personal summary/paraphrase of what I got out of all the sessions. Some of it is nearly-quotes, but most of it is a synthesis of spoken ideas with inner inspiration.
I can reflect Christ in womanhood; cultivate and refine my relationships; and aspire to ennoblement. I also can inspire all this in others.
I can have faith to be healed spiritually and become whole, through mercy and grace which minister quietly and without limits. I can let go of my weapons and my burdens at the Lord’s feet.
I have an abundance of power and blessings as I faithfully receive ordinances. I can then rely on the Lord and feel his love more constantly, clearly, and personally.
I have been given divine yearnings, along with vulnerability; as I couple them with the grace of Christ’s atonement, I can hope for all these things.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Flourishing: Seasons, Directions, and Boundaries
We've all noticed, I'm sure, the way we pass boundaries in life almost without realizing it until we look back. The day-to-day adds up mostly without fanfare; yet it has its own force, and impels us forward in unexpected ways.
Recently, my family made it down to the Atlantic to swim for the first time this year. The waves that day were excitingly high, as we chanced upon a full moon and a high tide together. I uncharacteristically got right in instead of mincing and wincing as usual, and enjoyed jumping or diving through the oncoming waves.
Along with the surf that day, however, there was a particularly strong longshore current that carried us up the beach very quickly if we weren't careful. I basically spent all my time between swells swimming against it to keep in sight of the kids playing on the sand. At one point, I went back out of the water and left S. still basking in the ocean, and he almost immediately started drifting with that current. Without his glasses, and without me nearby as a landmark*, I guess he just didn't realize how far he was getting. I kept my eye on him as he got further and further away, and finally decided I needed to run and flag him down before he became no more than a speck.
Once out of the water, he (rather comically) asked where the kids were. I pointed far away and we started walking, passing one lifeguard station (our stuff was alongside a further one) and countless sunbathers and umbrellas. After a little bit, he asked incredulously if we weren't there yet -- I answered that we had probably passed the halfway point. He had just gone so far so rapidly.
I heard a lecture once, in a series about complex systems, which mentioned an interesting bit of crowd dynamics that had been studied in busy subways**. At rush hour the influx of passengers and the jostle of people trying to move in opposite directions can be very jumbled and tangled-looking, yet watched in high-speed footage, there are very fluid-but-clear boundaries. I find that fascinating. On the ground, you might be thinking in terms of very small movements -- holding onto your kids or your briefcase, aiming for that door, pushing just the right amount without being rude -- but as everyone is doing those same small things, a larger dynamic emerges. That's how birds and fish school as well, it turns out; small behaviors can become amazingly magnified beyond the sum of their parts in complex systems.
Getting back to home, I was doing my annual shopping for school supplies recently, and had a sudden moment at the checkout where I became conscious that instead of buying piles of crayons, I was buying piles of binders. It was an odd realization, that the days of scribbled crayon drawings are past and the era of term papers is looming; I've had many moments like that this last year, as the reality that I'm beyond 'young' motherhood has suddenly intruded on me. For the most part, I'm just forging ahead day by day, while the inexorable currents of life dwarf my efforts while I'm not even looking; but, just like on the subways and in the ocean, the direction I'm facing and the little internalized habits and pushes are what will tip the system in the end.
Here's to getting somewhere.
*We have one particular ocean story in which we were at a strange beach and underestimated the rough surf, and since I'm the stronger swimmer, S. followed my 'glowingly pale' legs through the murky water back to the safety of the shore.
**A little trivia -- the top 3 subway systems in the world carry a combined total of 21 million people every day; the top 10 carry roughly 18 billion per year. That is a lot of commuters!
Recently, my family made it down to the Atlantic to swim for the first time this year. The waves that day were excitingly high, as we chanced upon a full moon and a high tide together. I uncharacteristically got right in instead of mincing and wincing as usual, and enjoyed jumping or diving through the oncoming waves.
Along with the surf that day, however, there was a particularly strong longshore current that carried us up the beach very quickly if we weren't careful. I basically spent all my time between swells swimming against it to keep in sight of the kids playing on the sand. At one point, I went back out of the water and left S. still basking in the ocean, and he almost immediately started drifting with that current. Without his glasses, and without me nearby as a landmark*, I guess he just didn't realize how far he was getting. I kept my eye on him as he got further and further away, and finally decided I needed to run and flag him down before he became no more than a speck.Once out of the water, he (rather comically) asked where the kids were. I pointed far away and we started walking, passing one lifeguard station (our stuff was alongside a further one) and countless sunbathers and umbrellas. After a little bit, he asked incredulously if we weren't there yet -- I answered that we had probably passed the halfway point. He had just gone so far so rapidly.
I heard a lecture once, in a series about complex systems, which mentioned an interesting bit of crowd dynamics that had been studied in busy subways**. At rush hour the influx of passengers and the jostle of people trying to move in opposite directions can be very jumbled and tangled-looking, yet watched in high-speed footage, there are very fluid-but-clear boundaries. I find that fascinating. On the ground, you might be thinking in terms of very small movements -- holding onto your kids or your briefcase, aiming for that door, pushing just the right amount without being rude -- but as everyone is doing those same small things, a larger dynamic emerges. That's how birds and fish school as well, it turns out; small behaviors can become amazingly magnified beyond the sum of their parts in complex systems.
Getting back to home, I was doing my annual shopping for school supplies recently, and had a sudden moment at the checkout where I became conscious that instead of buying piles of crayons, I was buying piles of binders. It was an odd realization, that the days of scribbled crayon drawings are past and the era of term papers is looming; I've had many moments like that this last year, as the reality that I'm beyond 'young' motherhood has suddenly intruded on me. For the most part, I'm just forging ahead day by day, while the inexorable currents of life dwarf my efforts while I'm not even looking; but, just like on the subways and in the ocean, the direction I'm facing and the little internalized habits and pushes are what will tip the system in the end.
Here's to getting somewhere.
*We have one particular ocean story in which we were at a strange beach and underestimated the rough surf, and since I'm the stronger swimmer, S. followed my 'glowingly pale' legs through the murky water back to the safety of the shore.
**A little trivia -- the top 3 subway systems in the world carry a combined total of 21 million people every day; the top 10 carry roughly 18 billion per year. That is a lot of commuters!
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Flourishing: Complexity
Information can seem rather like a hydra -- cut off one head, answer one question, get results to one experiment -- and exponentially more come writhing out. I've noticed, in some of my reading and learning, a disturbing trend of many fields of expertise to make what I might call a complexity leap. Human knowledge reaches a point at which it appears we're poised to completely master something -- for example, Newtonian physics or the human genome -- but then suddenly we're plunged into the deep, deep water of quantum mechanics and epigenetics. (Charm quarks and histone acetylation, anyone? A far cry from the famous double helix and objects at rest.)
It's almost the opposite of the 'line upon line' concept of learning; the trends and predictions that all the previous information might have indicated just sort of go off a cliff at a certain point. A complexity cliff, if you will.
Especially problematically, the new layers of inquiry that such complexity demands are nearly impossible to measure or detect, much less manipulate or untangle. The level at which we perceive and interact with our world appears vastly removed from the level it actually functions at. I'd be willing to bet that we're facing a few leaps in complexity in other fields, as well, though I'm not an expert there: computing, communications, the microbiome, how our minds work, astronomy, and many others.
Technology offers us increasingly powerful new tools, and we're just fools enough to think they will iron out the last theoretical wrinkles and bring us to the pinnacle of understanding. Instead, we fall off the edge into some odd, otherworldly soup of Escher, Dali and Picasso and wonder what happened.
Of course, I think nutrition is being affected by this problem. We used to just have the basic food groups, along with simple vitamins to ward off scurvy and rickets; now we have a pantheon of macronutrients and micronutrients, gluten-free and low-glycemic charts, ratios and absorption levels of omega fats, etc. It's fascinating, but it makes me tired just thinking about it.
Still, I love to learn, and complexity is a real mental turn-on for me. At the same time, I believe pretty strongly in the line upon line, precept upon precept model. So how do the two fit together? What's the 'universal theory' that guides my knowledge-seeking? I don't know yet, but I have experienced those exhilarating moments when patient accumulation of facts, techniques, and patterns suddenly brings a new, explosive unity of understanding. I've been especially grateful, these past few years, to have opportunities to combine lots of types of learning and experience, to build on patterns and tweak them and weave in new knowledge as I go. Cooking has been a good medium to do all that -- it can be both sensual and academic -- but I hope that I'm really just priming my mind to dive into more of my favorite issues down the road, in all their complexity.
Of course, I think nutrition is being affected by this problem. We used to just have the basic food groups, along with simple vitamins to ward off scurvy and rickets; now we have a pantheon of macronutrients and micronutrients, gluten-free and low-glycemic charts, ratios and absorption levels of omega fats, etc. It's fascinating, but it makes me tired just thinking about it.
Still, I love to learn, and complexity is a real mental turn-on for me. At the same time, I believe pretty strongly in the line upon line, precept upon precept model. So how do the two fit together? What's the 'universal theory' that guides my knowledge-seeking? I don't know yet, but I have experienced those exhilarating moments when patient accumulation of facts, techniques, and patterns suddenly brings a new, explosive unity of understanding. I've been especially grateful, these past few years, to have opportunities to combine lots of types of learning and experience, to build on patterns and tweak them and weave in new knowledge as I go. Cooking has been a good medium to do all that -- it can be both sensual and academic -- but I hope that I'm really just priming my mind to dive into more of my favorite issues down the road, in all their complexity.
*Reading scientific history can be far from dry, by the way; Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything is full of miraculous discoveries, unsolved mysteries, epic fiascos, and characters in all shades of quirky, menacing, and tragic. A good mental romp.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Flourishing: By the Numbers
TIME
Sometimes it feels like I spend my whole life doing dishes or picking up junk off of the floor.
But I guess I don't...
Per week:
sleeping 64 hours
cooking/dishes 16 hours
cleaning/chores/child care 13 hours
church/spiritual 11 hours
driving 10 hours
eating/grooming 8 hours
screen time 8 hours
reading/writing 6 hours
misc. 22 hours (things such as exercising, making phone calls, playing the piano, or socializing)
I took the trouble to fill out a little time-tracker worksheet a few weeks back, when I was posting about time, and it was actually rather encouraging. I only kept record for one exact week, which is bound to be off from the average in some way or other -- in this case a nasty blister kept me from exercising my customary amount, and I had more church work to do than usual -- but it was still fascinating.
What surprised me: that I only spent 39 hours on what I would consider 'mom jobs', but that a quarter of that was schlepping around in the car. I really thought it would skew more towards dishes than driving. And that the total would be higher. (Though, note from some professional time-trackers, time use is just as hard to pin down as diets and people always overestimate their work hours.)
But, taking into account that my church time and exercise time would normally regress to the mean, I think that's not a bad life. It's one that would have been unbelievable to many of my past selves; I wonder what the breakdown would have looked like for my childhood, my college life, my newborn-babies stretch, etc.?
Note: I only kept track of what I was doing on the hour every day, without rounding up or down to what I may have been actually doing most of that hour.
MONEY
So, I'm not that good at teasing out what goes to taxes and our pre-tax contributions to retirement and health care, but when we get our paycheck home for 'discretionary' use, here's what Mint.com tells me we've (roughly, rounded) spent in the last 12-month period:
Mortgage and home maintenance 30%
Savings 15%
Tithing and charity 10%
Student loan payments 9%
Food and dining 7%
Vacations 5%
Utility bills (incl. phones, internet, trash, power, water, etc.) 5%
Transportation < 4%
Kids' school/activity costs < 4%
Clothing 2%
Gifts 2%
Out-of-pocket health, dental, vision < 2%
Entertainment < 2%
Misc. whatever's left, around 5% (things like home decor, craft items, life insurance, sporting goods, cleaning supplies, lawn and yard care)
In the 7 years since S. graduated from law school, we've gone from having no job and negative net worth (student debt) equal to a year's worth of starting salary, to owning a home and having a positive net worth equal to a year's current salary.
We still have what feels like tons of debt and our house has depreciated significantly rather than the reverse, but I'm pretty proud of that record. Much of our increase has been in our 401(k) where we can't touch it, and we still have no equity in our home, so the worth is largely on paper; add in the generous benefits from S.'s firm, and we certainly can't take all the credit for frugal living. Nonetheless, as a comparison, his coworker has told him over the years that she lives paycheck to paycheck and contributes nothing to a retirement account, despite the fact that she has no children and quite a bit of seniority (i.e., salary) over him.
If you can quantify flourishing in terms of time and money management, this isn't a bad slice. We definitely have a reputation for being frugal, skimpy, and/or stingy, for spending way too much time doing things the hard way; but I think we also have some good street cred for being pretty happy, healthy, and self-reliant. I can go into the hows and wherefores in another post, but this one has taken up enough time for now. And as you can see from the data, I'm not one to spend hours in front of the computer...
Sometimes it feels like I spend my whole life doing dishes or picking up junk off of the floor.
But I guess I don't...
Per week:
sleeping 64 hours
cooking/dishes 16 hours
cleaning/chores/child care 13 hours
church/spiritual 11 hours
driving 10 hours
eating/grooming 8 hours
screen time 8 hours
reading/writing 6 hours
misc. 22 hours (things such as exercising, making phone calls, playing the piano, or socializing)
I took the trouble to fill out a little time-tracker worksheet a few weeks back, when I was posting about time, and it was actually rather encouraging. I only kept record for one exact week, which is bound to be off from the average in some way or other -- in this case a nasty blister kept me from exercising my customary amount, and I had more church work to do than usual -- but it was still fascinating.
What surprised me: that I only spent 39 hours on what I would consider 'mom jobs', but that a quarter of that was schlepping around in the car. I really thought it would skew more towards dishes than driving. And that the total would be higher. (Though, note from some professional time-trackers, time use is just as hard to pin down as diets and people always overestimate their work hours.)
But, taking into account that my church time and exercise time would normally regress to the mean, I think that's not a bad life. It's one that would have been unbelievable to many of my past selves; I wonder what the breakdown would have looked like for my childhood, my college life, my newborn-babies stretch, etc.?
Note: I only kept track of what I was doing on the hour every day, without rounding up or down to what I may have been actually doing most of that hour.
MONEY
So, I'm not that good at teasing out what goes to taxes and our pre-tax contributions to retirement and health care, but when we get our paycheck home for 'discretionary' use, here's what Mint.com tells me we've (roughly, rounded) spent in the last 12-month period:
Mortgage and home maintenance 30%
Savings 15%
Tithing and charity 10%
Student loan payments 9%
Food and dining 7%
Vacations 5%
Utility bills (incl. phones, internet, trash, power, water, etc.) 5%
Transportation < 4%
Kids' school/activity costs < 4%
Clothing 2%
Gifts 2%
Out-of-pocket health, dental, vision < 2%
Entertainment < 2%
Misc. whatever's left, around 5% (things like home decor, craft items, life insurance, sporting goods, cleaning supplies, lawn and yard care)
In the 7 years since S. graduated from law school, we've gone from having no job and negative net worth (student debt) equal to a year's worth of starting salary, to owning a home and having a positive net worth equal to a year's current salary.
We still have what feels like tons of debt and our house has depreciated significantly rather than the reverse, but I'm pretty proud of that record. Much of our increase has been in our 401(k) where we can't touch it, and we still have no equity in our home, so the worth is largely on paper; add in the generous benefits from S.'s firm, and we certainly can't take all the credit for frugal living. Nonetheless, as a comparison, his coworker has told him over the years that she lives paycheck to paycheck and contributes nothing to a retirement account, despite the fact that she has no children and quite a bit of seniority (i.e., salary) over him.
If you can quantify flourishing in terms of time and money management, this isn't a bad slice. We definitely have a reputation for being frugal, skimpy, and/or stingy, for spending way too much time doing things the hard way; but I think we also have some good street cred for being pretty happy, healthy, and self-reliant. I can go into the hows and wherefores in another post, but this one has taken up enough time for now. And as you can see from the data, I'm not one to spend hours in front of the computer...
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Flourishing: Time
I recently grabbed a book out from the library called 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think. And by chance in my private writing, I've been working through some prompts around the themes of how I spend my time. For example, what my favorite childhood activities were in those wonderful bygone days when time was mine to kill; and also if I've ever had any time addictions, so to speak, ways that I escape if I possibly can at all. (For the record, besides reading and looking at plants, as a child I loved to draw imaginary neighborhoods/subdivisions and make winding streets that I gave all sorts of creative names. And my only time addiction or escape is sleep. Ah, blessed, blissful bed...)
Ironically, I've decided my priorities right now do not include reading a book about time management, and that I need to be much more realistic about the size of my pile of library books.
Beyond that, though, I've been thinking about time and how it's really not as linear as maybe I envision it. It's more a pearl or cupped hands to fill than a path to be trod one way or another. I want to think about it as something more vital than a set of railroad tracks carrying me forward against my will.
Elder Uchtdorf spoke wonderfully about this topic last October: "Sad to say, we even wear our busyness as a badge of honor, as though being busy, by itself, was an accomplishment or sign of a superior life."
How do you flourish without time? You can't. But while time is not money, and you can't hoard it, or give it away to someone else (not really), I've started to notice my relationship with it change over these years as I've tried to flourish and be my true self.
You can use time to give yourself more time. You can't get time back once it's gone, but you can claim it to fuel important things first so that crises don't take over down the road. Though, important things are often small things, not momentous ones. You know, Quadrant II and the jar with rocks and sand and all that.
On the other hand, it can be valuable to just let time go and not stress about it. That one's hard for me, though I know the balance may skew in the other direction for many people. I just have to tell myself that some things that come up, or get in the way, or take time from me almost by force -- illnesses, the DMV, car accidents -- are just water under the bridge. To borrow a phrase from the most entertaining fitness instructor out there, do your best and forget the rest.
In an odd way, time is the seed of eternity, the real measure of our identity. I don't think it's just a matter of having the right apps on your phone, multitasking, or being inflexible. Time is the sum of what we become, because it's the medium in which we act. We don't always choose when and where things happen, but we're the only ones living that moment and recognizing it within ourselves. Meditation, good whole food, exercise, sleep, loving relationships with people and with Deity -- we've got time for those things. We burnish the time we've got when we nourish ourselves in those ways.
One of my nitty-gritty personal tricks is what I call a "work party". I hate that paralyzing, overwhelming feeling when you have too many things to do, you know you can try with all your might and you'll only be swimming upstream, and you wonder where to even start. For those moments when I just want to scream or cry or go crawl back under the covers and I haven't even started on my day, I have a little idea that gives me some built-in perspective and jump-starts my momentum. The kids like it too on occasion. This only works on a day that doesn't have too many external time constraints, but is just bursting at the seams.
I put down a list on paper of everything, everything that's on my mind to get done. It's funny how for me, at least, that list gets longer the more stressed and busy I feel. My brain just keeps churning out reasons to be discouraged...Anyhow, I let it all out, each item on its own line with some space between. Then I think of some things that I want to do, that I would choose to do if I had complete free time that day. If I have little kids underfoot, I add things that they will want to do as well. Quick bike rides, making cookies, or just reading a book or having a giant group hug have been popular ones around here.
Then, I cut all the items up into strips that I put into a hat. I find a timer. Then I draw one task, and go for 10 minutes. That's it. I figure I can do just about anything for only 10 minutes, even something I really hate; and that combined with the chance that I might draw something wonderful from the basket (like playing the piano, or reading a magazine) is decent motivation to start. Even the kids are willing to do something if they know that particular misery will end in only 10 minutes; and I give them the added incentive that if they happen to finish a particular task early, they can read until the timer goes off. Often, if I'm working alone, I find that I don't like to leave a task halfway done, so I keep going a little longer and finish it off and feel amazingly proud of myself.
Of course, I never finish all the items. That's not the point. But I often get a head start on things I would have otherwise procrastinated, which is an awesome feeling, and I totally more than break even in terms of what I would have done if I puttered around on my own, afraid of facing it all. Knowing that I won't finish it all is sort of a relief going into it, as well; then I don't think of it as a mongo list that I'll never conquer, I just take it each task at a time and accept that I did my best.
Of course, that best varies over the seasons and stages of life; I wouldn't have been able to sit here and work on my writing for hours when I had newborns. But I see the time then and the time now as related. The way I spent my time with my very young children set the path for me to have (relatively more) time to flourish now. My abilities, priorities, and outer emotional and physical boundaries were stretched and stretched again, more than they ever would have been if I had lived as even my most ambitious, driven self without kids. I continue to find it amazing, that what I thought I lost of my core being during those long years was only dormant, and has come roaring back even brighter than before.
I found someone else's blog that put this sense of time very well: "So listen closely, darlings. Time is not anything like what we have been told. It is not a linear thing with equal increments of seconds, hours, months and years. It is fluid, dynamic, malleable. It breathes and stretches and bends to expand and contract the moments, to hold the possibilities. Time wrinkles to bring us together right here, right now, when our bodies aren’t face to face, but here we are, interacting, connecting, me and you." (Link)
Glad you're here.
 |
| And, this is my bedside table. Way beyond possible. |
Ironically, I've decided my priorities right now do not include reading a book about time management, and that I need to be much more realistic about the size of my pile of library books.
Beyond that, though, I've been thinking about time and how it's really not as linear as maybe I envision it. It's more a pearl or cupped hands to fill than a path to be trod one way or another. I want to think about it as something more vital than a set of railroad tracks carrying me forward against my will.
Elder Uchtdorf spoke wonderfully about this topic last October: "Sad to say, we even wear our busyness as a badge of honor, as though being busy, by itself, was an accomplishment or sign of a superior life."
How do you flourish without time? You can't. But while time is not money, and you can't hoard it, or give it away to someone else (not really), I've started to notice my relationship with it change over these years as I've tried to flourish and be my true self.
You can use time to give yourself more time. You can't get time back once it's gone, but you can claim it to fuel important things first so that crises don't take over down the road. Though, important things are often small things, not momentous ones. You know, Quadrant II and the jar with rocks and sand and all that.
On the other hand, it can be valuable to just let time go and not stress about it. That one's hard for me, though I know the balance may skew in the other direction for many people. I just have to tell myself that some things that come up, or get in the way, or take time from me almost by force -- illnesses, the DMV, car accidents -- are just water under the bridge. To borrow a phrase from the most entertaining fitness instructor out there, do your best and forget the rest.
In an odd way, time is the seed of eternity, the real measure of our identity. I don't think it's just a matter of having the right apps on your phone, multitasking, or being inflexible. Time is the sum of what we become, because it's the medium in which we act. We don't always choose when and where things happen, but we're the only ones living that moment and recognizing it within ourselves. Meditation, good whole food, exercise, sleep, loving relationships with people and with Deity -- we've got time for those things. We burnish the time we've got when we nourish ourselves in those ways.
One of my nitty-gritty personal tricks is what I call a "work party". I hate that paralyzing, overwhelming feeling when you have too many things to do, you know you can try with all your might and you'll only be swimming upstream, and you wonder where to even start. For those moments when I just want to scream or cry or go crawl back under the covers and I haven't even started on my day, I have a little idea that gives me some built-in perspective and jump-starts my momentum. The kids like it too on occasion. This only works on a day that doesn't have too many external time constraints, but is just bursting at the seams.
I put down a list on paper of everything, everything that's on my mind to get done. It's funny how for me, at least, that list gets longer the more stressed and busy I feel. My brain just keeps churning out reasons to be discouraged...Anyhow, I let it all out, each item on its own line with some space between. Then I think of some things that I want to do, that I would choose to do if I had complete free time that day. If I have little kids underfoot, I add things that they will want to do as well. Quick bike rides, making cookies, or just reading a book or having a giant group hug have been popular ones around here.
Then, I cut all the items up into strips that I put into a hat. I find a timer. Then I draw one task, and go for 10 minutes. That's it. I figure I can do just about anything for only 10 minutes, even something I really hate; and that combined with the chance that I might draw something wonderful from the basket (like playing the piano, or reading a magazine) is decent motivation to start. Even the kids are willing to do something if they know that particular misery will end in only 10 minutes; and I give them the added incentive that if they happen to finish a particular task early, they can read until the timer goes off. Often, if I'm working alone, I find that I don't like to leave a task halfway done, so I keep going a little longer and finish it off and feel amazingly proud of myself.
Of course, I never finish all the items. That's not the point. But I often get a head start on things I would have otherwise procrastinated, which is an awesome feeling, and I totally more than break even in terms of what I would have done if I puttered around on my own, afraid of facing it all. Knowing that I won't finish it all is sort of a relief going into it, as well; then I don't think of it as a mongo list that I'll never conquer, I just take it each task at a time and accept that I did my best.
Of course, that best varies over the seasons and stages of life; I wouldn't have been able to sit here and work on my writing for hours when I had newborns. But I see the time then and the time now as related. The way I spent my time with my very young children set the path for me to have (relatively more) time to flourish now. My abilities, priorities, and outer emotional and physical boundaries were stretched and stretched again, more than they ever would have been if I had lived as even my most ambitious, driven self without kids. I continue to find it amazing, that what I thought I lost of my core being during those long years was only dormant, and has come roaring back even brighter than before.
I found someone else's blog that put this sense of time very well: "So listen closely, darlings. Time is not anything like what we have been told. It is not a linear thing with equal increments of seconds, hours, months and years. It is fluid, dynamic, malleable. It breathes and stretches and bends to expand and contract the moments, to hold the possibilities. Time wrinkles to bring us together right here, right now, when our bodies aren’t face to face, but here we are, interacting, connecting, me and you." (Link)
Glad you're here.
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