The final hour of 2016 approaches and finds me at my computer, ready to sort through this past year and think ahead to the next, all in 80 minutes...
New Years' Eve seems to have arrived on silent cat feet this year. No warning, and so fast! I don't really feel ready for the change. Or maybe its that I don't WANT the year to change. For so many, 2016 was a sad, difficult year. For our family (notable exception of the 2016 election results aside), 2016 was easy and comfortable. We were blessed with health and constancy, and our cups overflowed with vacations and travel and time with friends. Making our photo book this year was an acute reminder of just how good we've had it.
I'd rather not see any of that change, thankyouverymuch.
As I look ahead to the transition in our government in 20 short days, and all of the possible disasters that may unfold thereafter, I can't help but feel that 2017 is not going to be an improvement. And so it is hard to muster any jubilation tonight. We did attend a cozy little party with our friends, Melinda's traditional "New Toddler's Eve" celebration, but absent a few of our regular guests it was a low key affair, with all of the guests over the age of 10 sharing the same apprehension for the year to come. We didn't talk much about it, just drank cherry cosmos and danced in the disco lights with our children and watched the OSU game, soaking up the normalcy of these last hours of the last year in which we are able to rest easy as a nation under strong and competent leadership.
Yet, try as I might, I cannot stop the world from turning these last 70 minutes towards a new year.
And so I look forward. Resolutions right now seem so very vital- and so hard to determine. Reading over posts from past years-- I am working on so many of the same goals, still (aren't we all?) and it is tempting to simply copy-paste and try again.. But this year, in the new world yet to unfold, there is new work to do. I always struggle to find balance and fit in all the living and working and growing I want to do. I am daunted by the prospect of adding political resistance and activism to the mix. I am hoping I can use my resolutions to help me find the right path forward.
1. Pare down. I want to add more to my life so I will need to remove what I can. I will work to pare my spending down to what is essential, pare my possessions down to what is useful or beautiful, pare my eating down to foods that feed my body well. Most challenging, I will need to pare my commitments and activities down to those that are necessary for life or good for my soul. I know I will not achieve this resolution this year. Or perhaps, ever. But I want to get closer. And I feel like this is really important right now, so that I can focus on the work ahead...
2. Choose love. In a world where fear is rampant, I will seek ways to combat it with love and kindness. I will find ways to be kind to others and develop connections, particularly within my own community. I will work towards being an ally for friends and neighbors in marginalized groups. I will face my own white privilege so that I can move beyond it.
3. Seek hope. I will practice gratitude and notice joy, and use joy and hope to guide me towards the best ways to use my time. I will not be paralyzed by fear or pessimism. I will create an atmosphere of hope and and optimism for my children. I will look to them for inspiration. I will seek the company of others who are hopeful too. I will need to be more aware than ever of politics and news, and I will need hope to help balance my heart.
4. Use intention. I want to create memorable days and so I will need to intentionally seek out new experiences for my family. I want to be more in control of my finances and so I will need to spend money intentionally and thoughtfully and only in ways that will enrich my life or the lives of those I love. I want to use my time to help the world and so I will choose groups and causes with intention, where I can use my skills and surround myself with people who inspire me to create change. I want to perpetuate kindness and so I will choose my words with intention.
Because I am a special education teacher, I need some measureable goals to go with all these broad dreams. Some concrete goals for 2017:
*Get passports for the kids. So we can go to Niagara falls, or emigrate if needed. I will not be paralyzed by fear but neither will I be complacent! Seek hope, use intention.
*Continue getting in shape so that I can be strong and ready for the future, as measured by losing 5-10 more pounds. Pare down, use intention.
*Visit at least 5 friends/family within driving distance--"oh, we should really go see..." I want to just go SEE them this year. Choose love, and create memorable days.
*Find ONE new political/activism group or project I can engage with meaningfully. Seek hope, use intention.
*Read a book instead of going on Facebook, at least one time per day. I think this will help with my intentionality. And really, larger world aside, I am tired of being that person who is always on her phone. So, baby steps.
Wish me luck. Wish us all luck. Here we go.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Day 3 and 4
Much like new parents in the aftermath of the birth of their first child, we election survivors have been measuring our lives in hours, then days. The intensity of feeling in each moment, the bone-tired, the complete loss of normalcy-- its is striking how much this period of my life is parallel to the shock of parenting. Terrifying, and daunting, and unknown. So much to learn and a wealth of contrary advice with no real guidebook in sight. Exhausting effort alternating with periods of quiet waiting. Feeling drained and like you've lost yourself completely, and, in the dark small hours of the night, inconsolable baby in arms, like maybe your life will never be better again.
And then the days go by and you figure out how to do the work you need to do, And you put one foot in front of the other and hold on to the smiles and start to measure time in weeks, months. Years. You mark milestones, accomplish goals, settle into a routine, reach for goals. A some point you realize, you feel like yourself again. Only, yourself transformed. Through the fire and out the other side. And even though life is kind of normal again it will never be way it was before. And you look back at who you used to be and wonder what you were *doing* with all that spare time, shocked at how you squandered it.
I'm kind of in that place right now, except for the fact that this is completely different. When I became a parent, I was granted an incredible gift, and had the consolation of a snuggly bundle of potential and hope for the future, to get me through those long nights. This week, we are facing the prospect of having our democracy systematically dismantled, our sense of security and equity and social progress taken away. Yeah. Not so cute and snuggly. Not so full of hope.
I am not trying to downplay our nation's current situation with my analogy. There is scary, real shit going on in our country. People of color and immigrants and Muslims are being directly threatened and harassed. I have Jewish friends who are paralyzed by the echoes of the Holocaust that are everywhere in our new leader's rhetoric. We are looking at some very real consequences for our environment and our freedoms with this change in administration.
Its not really the same thing at all.
But the sleepless small hours feel almost the same. When I was a new mother I felt utterly trapped at times, powerless. There was no going back and no control over how things might move forward.
I am feeling that way now.
Everyone I knew was telling me the right way to do things, how I should feel, what might work. Implicit in their advice was the fact that I didn't know what I was doing, that their way was the right way. Even if I'd heard the exact opposite from someone else.
I am feeling that way now.
If you had talked to me when my first baby was 3 weeks old, and you'd assured me that soon I'd be parenting a child who could brush his own teeth, read and discuss a novel, and sleep through the night consistently, I would have laughed caustically and handed you my colicky son so YOU could take a turn walking him, because it was NEVER going to be different than this.
I think I am feeling that way now.
But I also think I'm getting ready to start measuring time in weeks, not days. Feeling a little bit less lost, a little tiny bit more capable of dealing with this strange new world.
I am looking at my children across the room from me right now, tall and healthy and the most beautiful, joyful accomplishments of my life, and those dark small hours, the fear and the lost-ness and the utter exhaustion seem both a long way away and a very small price to pay for this payoff.
Sadly, I have a very hard time envisioning any positive payoff from this election, for our nation. I think, best-case scenario, we will backslide in every possible arena, losing any gains in our social progress, liberties, and economic growth that were made in the last 8 years. While I am prepared to write letters, attend meetings, and march in protests along the way, I am aware there is little if anything I can do to change the outcome of this political disaster.
But I can change myself. And maybe we (and by we I mean myself and my white, liberal, privileged friends) can change ourselves as a group. Through the fire and out the other side.
And so I am hoping that in the future, when we survive this, we will have something to show. We will be better. We will be stronger. We will be more capable of the real work it takes to build equity. We will take action instead of just talking. We will no longer sit idle and squander our time. We will have something to show for it.
I know. That's pretty hokey and a silly thing to think about right now. But its on my mind and so I am putting it out there because maybe its on your mind too.
----------------------------------
Day 3 and 4 Accomplishments:
Spent time with my friends. In person, real ones. WIth hugs and everything. And tears and drinking and laughter, real laughter. That was nice.
Started to set up a blanket drive, in partnership with Carry the Future, for Syrian refugees trapped at a camp on the border with Jordan, brutal winter coming. Because talk about some real shit going on. Syria- wow. I am worried for my country. I am heartbroken for theirs. Collecting baby blankets and sending them to the collection point in Virginia-- that is something I can DO. And taking action is awesome.
Was thoroughly overwhelmed by the wealth of opportunities for political giving and action tthat are being presented by my online communities. Have not made any decisions about the giving, but will be attending a meeting with SURJ (Standing up for racial justice) next week.
Started drafting a letter to Senators who are against Trump. Did not finish that draft. Now thinking of writing other letters, too. A wealth of opportunities for letter writing. Still seeking my focus there.
Went to the gym on Friday despite every fiber of my being telling me to stay in bed. I get to feel hard core for doing that.
Went to see some theater with my mom, and hashed out some of our feelings about this week. Saw "Finding Neverland" which was just the perfect thing to see. Envisioning our future, believing, honoring childhood. Catchy music, terrific set design, funny and sappy all at once-- I recommend.
Almost caught up on the laundry.
Started to feel pretty normal from time to time, if exhausted. Caught myself feeling normal and reminded myself that maybe I shouldn't feel normal. Its a surprise every time to see the world continuing on as though nothing has changed. I want to feel better but I don't want to feel better, you know? I don't want to get over it because there is work to do.
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Day 2
Because this week has to have all the things... we had parent teacher conferences tonight. And schedule changes at work leading to a hectic, nonstop workday that was, incidentally, 13.5 hours long. I am almost too tired to move my fingers. My nonstop day was great for covering my sorrows with a veneer of busy normalcy... not so good for keeping up with expanding circle of facebook groups and online petitions. Activism in the digital age....
Day 2 Accomplishments:
Got up. Made it to the gym. Totally killed it in my Bosu class. If I am going to fight for social justice, I better damn well be able to make it through 4 minutes of jump-squats.
Taught my students with enthusiasm and love. Focused on being conscious of my time with these kids, and choosing gentleness in my interactions with them. As much as is possible with middle schoolers, anyway.
Worked out the details of my Holiday Hands giving project. All set but for the shopping and sending. Had a nice back and forth email exchange with one of the families. Lots of blessing going on.
Did NOT keep up with my facebook notifications. Decided that was ok.
Thought up a great plan for writing letters to Senators and Representatives who do NOT support Trump (democrat and republican alike), imploring them to consider a wide variety of important issues related to equity as they vote on legislation. Drafted quite the amazing, eloquent missive in my head while driving. Did NOT manage to write any of it down. (see: nonstop day, above). But I think I *will*. I think I will type my drafts here but then handwrite the letters. On that nice stationary where you have the cardstock with dark lines that you place underneath, so your writing is all neat and not sloping downwards on the page. Adds more meaning, that work of writing by hand. Not that my little letters will do too much. But it is an ACTION, you know? More so than clicking "like" or adding my name to a list of electronic "signatures" (which I did 3 times today because who knows? It might work.) And I am eager for all of these feelings to transfer into action, keep the momentum going, right now before we acclimate to the "new normal" of our country.
Read books with my kids. Snuggled my bunny.
Introduced myself to my latest online feminist group. Noted that all of us on said group are pretty much the same. Lots of white, 30-something inner ring mamas. Made plans to get together with my own group of white, 30 something inner ring mamas tomorrow night. Indulged in a brief moment of superiority in which I became convinced that people JUST LIKE ME are obviously the nicest. Realized that line of thinking is pretty much the opposite of my process here. Decided to cut that shit out.
Mantra, on repeat: It's a process, its a process. Patience.
Read posts about violence towards women and minorities. Decided there is no time for patience.
Off to ask my groups if anyone has already compiled that list of Senators. I'm going to have some downtime at conferences tomorrow. I plan to use it.
Day 2 Accomplishments:
Got up. Made it to the gym. Totally killed it in my Bosu class. If I am going to fight for social justice, I better damn well be able to make it through 4 minutes of jump-squats.
Taught my students with enthusiasm and love. Focused on being conscious of my time with these kids, and choosing gentleness in my interactions with them. As much as is possible with middle schoolers, anyway.
Worked out the details of my Holiday Hands giving project. All set but for the shopping and sending. Had a nice back and forth email exchange with one of the families. Lots of blessing going on.
Did NOT keep up with my facebook notifications. Decided that was ok.
Thought up a great plan for writing letters to Senators and Representatives who do NOT support Trump (democrat and republican alike), imploring them to consider a wide variety of important issues related to equity as they vote on legislation. Drafted quite the amazing, eloquent missive in my head while driving. Did NOT manage to write any of it down. (see: nonstop day, above). But I think I *will*. I think I will type my drafts here but then handwrite the letters. On that nice stationary where you have the cardstock with dark lines that you place underneath, so your writing is all neat and not sloping downwards on the page. Adds more meaning, that work of writing by hand. Not that my little letters will do too much. But it is an ACTION, you know? More so than clicking "like" or adding my name to a list of electronic "signatures" (which I did 3 times today because who knows? It might work.) And I am eager for all of these feelings to transfer into action, keep the momentum going, right now before we acclimate to the "new normal" of our country.
Read books with my kids. Snuggled my bunny.
Introduced myself to my latest online feminist group. Noted that all of us on said group are pretty much the same. Lots of white, 30-something inner ring mamas. Made plans to get together with my own group of white, 30 something inner ring mamas tomorrow night. Indulged in a brief moment of superiority in which I became convinced that people JUST LIKE ME are obviously the nicest. Realized that line of thinking is pretty much the opposite of my process here. Decided to cut that shit out.
Mantra, on repeat: It's a process, its a process. Patience.
Read posts about violence towards women and minorities. Decided there is no time for patience.
Off to ask my groups if anyone has already compiled that list of Senators. I'm going to have some downtime at conferences tomorrow. I plan to use it.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Rise Up
It has been a hard 24 hours, to say the least. Last night our world was rocked by a shocking and appalling election result and my friends and I -- along with all people who belong to any possible minority group in the US-- are nearly-paralyzed with fear for the future of our country and those we care about. We have elected to the highest office in the land a man whose top 5 priorities include repealing the Affordable Care Act, building a wall on the Mexican border and waterboarding terrorists. A man who will shape our Supreme Court to allow him to turn back the clock on social progress a good 70 years. I am heartsick and ashamed to be an American. For 24 hours I have been grappling with my feelings of despair and anger and hopelessness. I have been struggling to reconcile my values (kindness) with my gut reaction to the supporters who voted for him (hate and anger and a desire to expel them from the United States). I have been reconfiguring my world view, adjusting paradigms, weighing the desire to flee against the need to protect and preserve. I could not sleep last night, waiting for the final verdict. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind began racing and my body began shaking and instead I just got up and turned to the online community of "Pantsuit Nation," 3 million strong, a safe haven of like-minded voters and fearless feminists. We held one another's virtual hands til dawn.
Twenty-four hours later, I am feeling better. I am calm and able to breathe again. I am tired, but OK. I have noticed this before in other times of stress and fear-- it is hard to maintain such an extreme level of emotion for very long. We seek to regain equilibrium, find a new normal within the anxiety, look for footholds and actions that give us a semblance of control. The helplessness I felt last night-- I think that was the worst. Passively watching it happen. Powerless to do anything-- polls were closed, it was a done deal. No recourse for 4 long years, disaster possible at any point...
There is no way I could live with that feeling, long term..
With the help of my 3 million new online friends, I am climbing up out of the hopelessness. Reclaiming autonomy. Choosing to see opportunity. Instead of being handed victory, we are charged with resistance. We are morally obligated to take action, to speak up, to obstruct and challenge and canvass and sign and volunteer and advocate and protest. To rise up.
We are choosing to be powerFUL.
It's going to be a process. Along with so many of my (white, liberal elite) friends, I am taking a bit of time to wallow in the shock and dismay. I am letting myself read articles that scare the shit out me (though I WON'T listen to the news!) so that I can let the fear run its course. I am dropping to the level of the enemy by calling them the enemy and getting really really pissed off at them.
But I don't intend to stay here. Dismay, hate, mourning.... part of the process but not part of the solution.
What IS the solution?
I have no clue.
I don't know how to fix any of this!!!
But I know that I have to at least try. Put forth more effort! I know that haven't done enough. I've sat back in the luxury of all my white privilege, the comfort of my lucky life, and assumed it would all just work out in the end. Lots of other smart people were in charge. The future would unfold in a logical way. I would exercise my civic duty, vote on the side of history, and carry on.
We thought we'd elect Hillary to look out for us. She would smash the patriarchy for us! She would protect the vulnerable! She would promote equality and straighten out that dysfunctional federal government of ours, no problem. She's a rock star, after all. The best person for the job.
Well. It turns out, we're going to have to do all of that for ourselves.
So-- today is day 1. I am taking charge. I am making change. I am starting with myself. Them I am going to give to others. Then I am going to head out into my community and give some more. Then I am going to find a way to use my gifts and energies to advocate for those who do not have privilege to hide behind. And then I am going to change the world. I am going to have faith that I will find the way when I am ready for it.
I'm bringing this blog space back to life to chronicle my journey. I think it is going to take longer than 30 days. I don't think I will write daily-- at least not for long. But I think I will need some accountability here. Once the anxiety fades and I start to slip back into my comfort zone and the safety complacency, I will have a written record to spur me on.
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Day 1 accomplishments:
Connected and shared my evolving emotional state, in real time, with 3 million new friends on Pantsuit Nation. Blew up my Facebook feed with updates on threads and comments and shares. Joined 3 other feminist action groups with my new friends.
Wrote a large number of sappy posts to share my emotions and intentions with the world. (see captures below). Realized that my emotional state and intentions do not really line up. Realized I need to be patient with myself about that.
Woke up and showered. Put my contacts in.
Showed up for life (which somehow went right along) and taught a full day of school on 2 hours of sleep.
Signed up to help 3 families through Holiday Hands. Signed an online pledge to advocate for women of color. Searched out and saved a number of links for volunteer and service opportunities near Cleveland.
Hugged my kids and plastered them with kisses. Hugged my husband for a nice long time. Had an exceedingly normal family dinner. Made plans to write letters to Hillary with the kids tomorrow.
Ate a totally great, healthy diet all day except for when I totally ate almost all of the candy I had stashed in my classroom "store" for my students. oops.
Took Ivy to ballet. Smiled for real watching her dance with her friends-- of all colors, all religions and nationalities) in our community center, surrounded members of my (reliably blue, beautifully diverse) community. Walked a mile on the track.
Expressed my gratitude for my friends on Facebook. Expressed my continuing desire to maybe just move to a commune in a foreign country. Expressed my desire to be kind and do more.
Snuggled kids before bed.
Vacuumed.
Talked with my mom.
Snuggled my pets.
Wrote this post.
I think I have done enough for today. Off to bed. There is work to do tomorrow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Facebook posts written between 11pm on the 8th and 10 pm on the 9th. I did not copy here the insane number of comments I posted. Can I tell you how great it was to be able to give instant feedback and get instant feedback on that online forum in the middle of the night? SO many people, all in it together, all being so kind to one another, all speaking the same emotions. It was the only thing that kept me sane for a few hours...
(in time order. First posting was when it became apparent that the election polls had been WAY way off....)
Can't watch. Never did like horror movies. Going to go read a book and start planning my emigration. Or the revolution. Or... something. Ashamed of Ohio right now.
Still up at 3 am. final results nearly in..
Exhausted. Can't sleep. When I close my eyes my mind starts racing. Who's up with me? I need to be at work in 5 hours- tomorrow is not going to be fun. On any level.
5am. Done deal.
Ok. Feet on the floor. Head up. Eyes up. Time to get up. We have work to do.
Twenty-four hours later, I am feeling better. I am calm and able to breathe again. I am tired, but OK. I have noticed this before in other times of stress and fear-- it is hard to maintain such an extreme level of emotion for very long. We seek to regain equilibrium, find a new normal within the anxiety, look for footholds and actions that give us a semblance of control. The helplessness I felt last night-- I think that was the worst. Passively watching it happen. Powerless to do anything-- polls were closed, it was a done deal. No recourse for 4 long years, disaster possible at any point...
There is no way I could live with that feeling, long term..
With the help of my 3 million new online friends, I am climbing up out of the hopelessness. Reclaiming autonomy. Choosing to see opportunity. Instead of being handed victory, we are charged with resistance. We are morally obligated to take action, to speak up, to obstruct and challenge and canvass and sign and volunteer and advocate and protest. To rise up.
We are choosing to be powerFUL.
It's going to be a process. Along with so many of my (white, liberal elite) friends, I am taking a bit of time to wallow in the shock and dismay. I am letting myself read articles that scare the shit out me (though I WON'T listen to the news!) so that I can let the fear run its course. I am dropping to the level of the enemy by calling them the enemy and getting really really pissed off at them.
But I don't intend to stay here. Dismay, hate, mourning.... part of the process but not part of the solution.
What IS the solution?
I have no clue.
I don't know how to fix any of this!!!
But I know that I have to at least try. Put forth more effort! I know that haven't done enough. I've sat back in the luxury of all my white privilege, the comfort of my lucky life, and assumed it would all just work out in the end. Lots of other smart people were in charge. The future would unfold in a logical way. I would exercise my civic duty, vote on the side of history, and carry on.
We thought we'd elect Hillary to look out for us. She would smash the patriarchy for us! She would protect the vulnerable! She would promote equality and straighten out that dysfunctional federal government of ours, no problem. She's a rock star, after all. The best person for the job.
Well. It turns out, we're going to have to do all of that for ourselves.
So-- today is day 1. I am taking charge. I am making change. I am starting with myself. Them I am going to give to others. Then I am going to head out into my community and give some more. Then I am going to find a way to use my gifts and energies to advocate for those who do not have privilege to hide behind. And then I am going to change the world. I am going to have faith that I will find the way when I am ready for it.
I'm bringing this blog space back to life to chronicle my journey. I think it is going to take longer than 30 days. I don't think I will write daily-- at least not for long. But I think I will need some accountability here. Once the anxiety fades and I start to slip back into my comfort zone and the safety complacency, I will have a written record to spur me on.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day 1 accomplishments:
Connected and shared my evolving emotional state, in real time, with 3 million new friends on Pantsuit Nation. Blew up my Facebook feed with updates on threads and comments and shares. Joined 3 other feminist action groups with my new friends.
Wrote a large number of sappy posts to share my emotions and intentions with the world. (see captures below). Realized that my emotional state and intentions do not really line up. Realized I need to be patient with myself about that.
Woke up and showered. Put my contacts in.
Showed up for life (which somehow went right along) and taught a full day of school on 2 hours of sleep.
Signed up to help 3 families through Holiday Hands. Signed an online pledge to advocate for women of color. Searched out and saved a number of links for volunteer and service opportunities near Cleveland.
Hugged my kids and plastered them with kisses. Hugged my husband for a nice long time. Had an exceedingly normal family dinner. Made plans to write letters to Hillary with the kids tomorrow.
Ate a totally great, healthy diet all day except for when I totally ate almost all of the candy I had stashed in my classroom "store" for my students. oops.
Took Ivy to ballet. Smiled for real watching her dance with her friends-- of all colors, all religions and nationalities) in our community center, surrounded members of my (reliably blue, beautifully diverse) community. Walked a mile on the track.
Expressed my gratitude for my friends on Facebook. Expressed my continuing desire to maybe just move to a commune in a foreign country. Expressed my desire to be kind and do more.
Snuggled kids before bed.
Vacuumed.
Talked with my mom.
Snuggled my pets.
Wrote this post.
I think I have done enough for today. Off to bed. There is work to do tomorrow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Facebook posts written between 11pm on the 8th and 10 pm on the 9th. I did not copy here the insane number of comments I posted. Can I tell you how great it was to be able to give instant feedback and get instant feedback on that online forum in the middle of the night? SO many people, all in it together, all being so kind to one another, all speaking the same emotions. It was the only thing that kept me sane for a few hours...
(in time order. First posting was when it became apparent that the election polls had been WAY way off....)
Can't watch. Never did like horror movies. Going to go read a book and start planning my emigration. Or the revolution. Or... something. Ashamed of Ohio right now.
Still up at 3 am. final results nearly in..
Exhausted. Can't sleep. When I close my eyes my mind starts racing. Who's up with me? I need to be at work in 5 hours- tomorrow is not going to be fun. On any level.
5am. Done deal.
I will tell my kids: we will need to fight harder. We will need to love more. This does not define our family. We will need to be the change, every day.
Revised public post.
I will tell my kids: .
We will need to fight harder.
We will need to love more.
This does not define our family.
This is not the outcome we wanted, but America is still our country.
We will not turn our backs.
We will keep each other safe, and speak for those who may be silenced. We will live our values and act as leaders, and not bow to the power of fear or anger. We will be better than that.
This does NOT define our family, our friends, our schools, our community, or the country we believe in.
We will not let it!
We will need to fight harder.
We will need to love more.
We will need to fight harder.
We will need to love more.
This does not define our family.
This is not the outcome we wanted, but America is still our country.
We will not turn our backs.
We will keep each other safe, and speak for those who may be silenced. We will live our values and act as leaders, and not bow to the power of fear or anger. We will be better than that.
This does NOT define our family, our friends, our schools, our community, or the country we believe in.
We will not let it!
We will need to fight harder.
We will need to love more.
healding out into the real world...
After getting my coffee.. Virtual friends in a "secret" moderated group = safe and cozy!!! Real world = scary!!
OK. Deep breath. My intention today is to greet the world with kindness and love. But when I walked into Starbucks this morning, I could not look anyone in the eye. Because I don't know who they voted for. And I could feel myself succumbing to anger and fear. Reminding myself: most of the people who voted for him are not bad people. They are scared people. Which means they need my kindness even more. This is going to be really hard.
At work...
Arrived at work. Saw a student-made anti-bullying poster on the wall. Thought to myself, "How will we teach that message to our children, when America just elected a bully as president??" Started to cry.
So, readjusting my goals fo myself for today: Survive. Think about kindness. Be patient with myself. Huddle together with my like-minded loved ones. Seek strength.
Tomorrow: Start changing the world.
Tomorrow: Start changing the world.
Bad employee... I was totally on facebook all day. Except when I was teaching surprisingly dynamic and successful lessons to my kids, that is!
I saw a powerful post about what a woman planned to tell her daughter-- to paraphrase: yesterday we thought we would elect Hillary, and she would look out for us and the people we care about. Today we realize we are going to have to do that for ourselves. For each other. We will take care of each other.
Thoughts as of 5pm tonight.
So, I have decided to swear off of all broadcast media for the foreseeable future. Because it turns out I never want to hear the voice of a certain president elect, ever again. This means that during this tumultuous night and day, all of my interactions with the larger world, and updates on current events, have come from my Facebook feed.
I am experiencing intense emotions about my Facebook feed right now. It turns out, I have created quite the safe, liberal enclave for myself on here. My feed is full of nothing but posts from articulate, intelligent, freethinking, kind hearted, liberal and loving people. As I scroll through, I am struck by the fact that you couldn't find a better collection of human beings anywhere. They all amaze me, inspire me, and fill me with gratitude and joy for the privilege of knowing them. But! The posts from these wonderful humans – they are full of despair, anger, so much fear. Just like my own. And I am so angry and hurt about seeing my friends angry and hurt! And I am so scared for our world, that there can be a turn of events which leaves the best minds and hearts in society reeling and paralyzed. Not cool, America. Not cool.
My only hope, as I check notification after notification, reading one thoughtful post or article after another, is this: if all of these brilliant minds and good hearts can truly come together, truly energize, and work for change – how can we not make the world better?
In it for the long game with you, my friends and family. I love and believe in every one of you. We are mourning, angry, scared, and hurting. We are shocked and appalled. I hold onto the hope that we can use these emotions to rise up stronger.
(That, or we are going to form one really kick ass commune when we all move to that private island off the coast of Canada. Not quite ready to take that option off the table just yet...)
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Plugging along
Nothing like getting started on a motivating and large-scale project and then promptly leaving town for a beach vacation, then a weekend at the lake, then starting school and dealing with loss.
Suffice it to say, the great Tidying has found itself a bit off the rails.
But I have not abandoned it! Not by a long shot. In the midst of dealing with All The Things, stopping to clear out a closet or a corner of the basement actually feels kind of ... good. Fulfilling. Lightening. We've done quite a bit of removing over the last two weeks and while I'm not truly honoring the category method, I am still noticing a tangible change in our house. Drawers and shelves that have empty space... with nothing encroaching back into it. Places in the basement where you can almost see the walls. I feel almost like the house is standing taller, taking a deep breath.
We're not there yet. But I feel like we have taken a real step on the journey.
Over the next few weeks I will be trying to get back to categories, with full documentation and before / after photos (because who doesn't love before/after photos??) But for today-- here is what is on my mind:
Why in god's name is it so difficult to find new homes for your discarded possessions??
I know, I know. I am supposed to just throw it all away. Truly discard all these things that do not bring me joy. But! How wasteful can you get??? The environmentalist in me just throws a fit when I try to put a perfectly re-useable item into the trash. So its been piling up, all this good stuff that I just don't want. In nicelyorganized piled boxes and bins throughout the house.
We can I know, take it all to the Salvation Army. But it seems to me that we ought to be able to get all this stuff directly to the people who can use it, right?
So much work.
So much coordinating of drop offs and pickups. Moving bags from porch to trunk and back to porch when you haven't been able to get to that drop-off all week and you need your trunk back. So much schlepping up and down the stairs, pulling in and out of closets. So much dragging on and off of lawns for (very disappointing) yard sales. Can't even give some of this stuff away on the tree lawn!
I have this little dream that someone will come over while I am work and remove all the things I don't need. This magical person will somehow know the things I need to keep and those I can let go of, and when I return home, all the extra will just be ... gone! Off to new lives, all those things, happily serving and feeling loved and useful for a change, zip zip! Can you imagine!
Sigh. I will keep dreaming, and in the meantime I will keep schlepping, dragging, and plugging along. It's a process, and it will be worth it, right?
Suffice it to say, the great Tidying has found itself a bit off the rails.
But I have not abandoned it! Not by a long shot. In the midst of dealing with All The Things, stopping to clear out a closet or a corner of the basement actually feels kind of ... good. Fulfilling. Lightening. We've done quite a bit of removing over the last two weeks and while I'm not truly honoring the category method, I am still noticing a tangible change in our house. Drawers and shelves that have empty space... with nothing encroaching back into it. Places in the basement where you can almost see the walls. I feel almost like the house is standing taller, taking a deep breath.
We're not there yet. But I feel like we have taken a real step on the journey.
Over the next few weeks I will be trying to get back to categories, with full documentation and before / after photos (because who doesn't love before/after photos??) But for today-- here is what is on my mind:
Why in god's name is it so difficult to find new homes for your discarded possessions??
I know, I know. I am supposed to just throw it all away. Truly discard all these things that do not bring me joy. But! How wasteful can you get??? The environmentalist in me just throws a fit when I try to put a perfectly re-useable item into the trash. So its been piling up, all this good stuff that I just don't want. In nicely
We can I know, take it all to the Salvation Army. But it seems to me that we ought to be able to get all this stuff directly to the people who can use it, right?
So much work.
So much coordinating of drop offs and pickups. Moving bags from porch to trunk and back to porch when you haven't been able to get to that drop-off all week and you need your trunk back. So much schlepping up and down the stairs, pulling in and out of closets. So much dragging on and off of lawns for (very disappointing) yard sales. Can't even give some of this stuff away on the tree lawn!
I have this little dream that someone will come over while I am work and remove all the things I don't need. This magical person will somehow know the things I need to keep and those I can let go of, and when I return home, all the extra will just be ... gone! Off to new lives, all those things, happily serving and feeling loved and useful for a change, zip zip! Can you imagine!
Sigh. I will keep dreaming, and in the meantime I will keep schlepping, dragging, and plugging along. It's a process, and it will be worth it, right?
Monday, August 3, 2015
Next up: Medicine cabinets
Back from vacation and back to work.... We know how to have fun around here! Tonight: Medicine Cabinets. All three of em. Because everyone needs three medicine cabinets, right?
Two of which are pictured below. (The third, a drawer of random travel sized toiletries and lightbulbs) was tackled rather spontaneously last night after tucking in the kids.)
Before:
The assembled clutter... 8 years worth of accumulation...
Mid-sort. I find I create a circle as I work through each category.
After:
 |
| Kitchen: Only medicines are in middle bin-- vitamins and painkillers. The joy of empty space inside a cabinet should not be underrated... |
 |
| Bathroom: The rest of the medicines are here, upstairs storage has been freed up for bedding. Extra space in this cabinet now houses toilet paper and cleaning products, which were previously shoved into the space around the toilet. Getting better around here, one forgotten little corner at a time.. |
It's a good start, at any rate...
Now, what to work on tomorrow???
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Categories
I'm posting here a list of categories I plan to tackle. Dealing with this mess of a house in part-acts.
Marie advises working in order, from clothes, to books, to papers, to komono (Japanese for miscellany, which is a very large category around these parts), to sentimental items.
So far, it seems I am not being very true to the method, as I've jumped right in to komono..
I hope to get back in order soon but it turns out that the first three categories are SO vast and all encompassing that I have not been up to taking them on, in the limited time I have to devote to this project. I have this feeling that Marie works mostly with single people living in single rooms or small homes, not people trying to organize the clothes, books and papers for an entire household...
I am hopeful that breaking things down will help me feel more empowered.
Please feel free to comment and add category ideas!
Clothing (per person):
Exercise clothes/ swimwear
loungewear/pajamas
Socks
Coats
sweaters
daily wear-- summer
daily wear-- winter
shoes
accessories -- bags, scarves, belts etc
jewelry- done!
Books-- subdivided by person:
reference
fiction
sentimenal (old textbooks, etc)
Papers:
household files
school-related
saved papers for each child
photo albums
Linens:
towels/washcloths
cleaning rags
sheets/blankets
Dishes:
Mugs- done!
glasses
plates/bowls
pots/pans/baking
tupperware/storage/travel mugs
misc cooking
serveware
display/special dishes -- what do I do about those??
food:
baking
pantry
Medicine cabinet supplies
Games
Art supplies- done!
Scrapbooking supplies
Office supplies
notebooks/paper
Toys:
Building toys
play kitchen
dress up
puzzles
pretending sets
miscellaneous
Tools
hardware
electrical cords/lightbulbs/batteries
small appliances
picture frames/art/framed photos
Sports gear (skiing etc)
camping supplies
laundry supplies
Basement (on here as a reminder that I fully intend to get rid of 80% of what is down there, regardless of category, with the exception of my holiday decorations which are sacrosanct. Kidding. They're just stored already and I'll deal with them as each holiday rolls around...)
Marie advises working in order, from clothes, to books, to papers, to komono (Japanese for miscellany, which is a very large category around these parts), to sentimental items.
So far, it seems I am not being very true to the method, as I've jumped right in to komono..
I hope to get back in order soon but it turns out that the first three categories are SO vast and all encompassing that I have not been up to taking them on, in the limited time I have to devote to this project. I have this feeling that Marie works mostly with single people living in single rooms or small homes, not people trying to organize the clothes, books and papers for an entire household...
I am hopeful that breaking things down will help me feel more empowered.
Please feel free to comment and add category ideas!
Clothing (per person):
Exercise clothes/ swimwear
loungewear/pajamas
Socks
Coats
sweaters
daily wear-- summer
daily wear-- winter
shoes
accessories -- bags, scarves, belts etc
jewelry- done!
Books-- subdivided by person:
reference
fiction
sentimenal (old textbooks, etc)
Papers:
household files
school-related
saved papers for each child
photo albums
Linens:
towels/washcloths
cleaning rags
sheets/blankets
Dishes:
Mugs- done!
glasses
plates/bowls
pots/pans/baking
tupperware/storage/travel mugs
misc cooking
serveware
display/special dishes -- what do I do about those??
food:
baking
pantry
Medicine cabinet supplies
Games
Art supplies- done!
Scrapbooking supplies
Office supplies
notebooks/paper
Toys:
Building toys
play kitchen
dress up
puzzles
pretending sets
miscellaneous
Tools
hardware
electrical cords/lightbulbs/batteries
small appliances
picture frames/art/framed photos
Sports gear (skiing etc)
camping supplies
laundry supplies
Basement (on here as a reminder that I fully intend to get rid of 80% of what is down there, regardless of category, with the exception of my holiday decorations which are sacrosanct. Kidding. They're just stored already and I'll deal with them as each holiday rolls around...)
July 22
Carrying on. I've nearly finished reading the book, and found the section on storage to be calming and reassuring. Especially since I've already starting storing a bit, and so far seem to be doing it "right." Key takeaway: Store items of the same category together, in ONE location, in simple storage that is accessible and where all things can be seen.
Yesterday (a busy wonderful day that included time at the Art Museum, time working in my classroom and tutoring, a run at the beach, singing with WSC, and drinks with old friends) demanded a manageable category, so Ivy and I tackled my jewelry. Marie advises that you do the work alone and I can see why. My sweet girl wanted to take every single item back out of the discard pile. She was placated with three pairs of earrings to save for when she gets her ears pierced. Not an approved method but it worked at the time.
Turns out I have a lot of broken beaded necklaces and single earrings. And it turns out I have a HARD time getting rid of jewelry. In retrospect (and further reading) I ought to have saved this category for later as many of the items fell squarely into the "sentimental" subgroup, which Marie recommends saving for the very end. Oh well. This selection was purely pragmatic, as my old storage system consisted of one divided tray and then a large heap of tangled necklaces on my dresser top, thus rendering most of my jewelry unwearable. Also, I discovered a shocking number of tiny boxes and other miscellany completely filling a dresser drawer, and a whole array of items carefully stored (and covered with dust) in the little shelving system I put in the back of my closet a few years ago. Once again, too many spots.
Here's the accumulated pile:
And the improved situation. You can't tell in the picture but there are only three pairs of earrings in each divider, which is a huge improvement. And there is NOTHING in the drawer.
Well, nothing except a whole batch of empty tiny boxes. Because boxes are another category. And I hate throwing away perfectly good tiny boxes...!
I am still learning.
Yesterday (a busy wonderful day that included time at the Art Museum, time working in my classroom and tutoring, a run at the beach, singing with WSC, and drinks with old friends) demanded a manageable category, so Ivy and I tackled my jewelry. Marie advises that you do the work alone and I can see why. My sweet girl wanted to take every single item back out of the discard pile. She was placated with three pairs of earrings to save for when she gets her ears pierced. Not an approved method but it worked at the time.
Turns out I have a lot of broken beaded necklaces and single earrings. And it turns out I have a HARD time getting rid of jewelry. In retrospect (and further reading) I ought to have saved this category for later as many of the items fell squarely into the "sentimental" subgroup, which Marie recommends saving for the very end. Oh well. This selection was purely pragmatic, as my old storage system consisted of one divided tray and then a large heap of tangled necklaces on my dresser top, thus rendering most of my jewelry unwearable. Also, I discovered a shocking number of tiny boxes and other miscellany completely filling a dresser drawer, and a whole array of items carefully stored (and covered with dust) in the little shelving system I put in the back of my closet a few years ago. Once again, too many spots.
Here's the accumulated pile:
After discarding: One large tupperware bin is off to be donated, and I parted out a bunch of necklaces into a bag of beads which are neatly stored in the craft cupboard. I do have to admit that 4 broken necklaces are still out on the coffee table with plans to fix them. I am still learning.
I am still learning.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Tidying up
On Friday we said goodbye to our treasured cottage.
It is hard to leave a space like this. It calls me back in and says, stay. Be at peace. Breathe. Life is good and all things are possible.
It is such a tiny little space. It doesn't feel that way, somehow, with its vaulted ceiling and open floor plan, but there's not much to it. And while there's ever plenty of antique furniture in every room, there's not much else. All of the basics for day to day living, but only the basics. Just enough.
I can deep-clean the cottage in an hour. Fifteen minutes a day keeps it spiffy. The biggest mess is our clothing and with just a little attention it's possible to keep things in order and reap the rewards of a glowing, happy living space.
A clean house with room to breathe AND plenty of free time NOT spent cleaning? It really is paradise.
Then, we come home.
Ok, the above picture is an exaggeration. Our house didn't really look quite like that upon our arrival. But it felt that way to me. I've spent the last few days feeling intensely overwhelmed by ALL THIS STUFF. It's everywhere, our stuff. We have the basics.. . and then some... and then some more. And all my time! If I'm not picking something up, I'm wandering around trying to find something else...And this house is NOT small when you are walking around it 3 times trying to find some goddam scotch tape, I'll tell you that,
Enter this book.
I actually ordered this while we were at Farley's, because I knew it was coming, this malaise and discontent with my home. Happens every year after we leave the cottage. This year, though? It's the year of action so I am DOING something.
I am TIDYING.
And I am going to use this blog to chronicle the journey. Come along if you like. Apparently it will be life changing.
We will see about that. From my first foray I can tell you that at the very least it will take a LOOOONG time.
Marie Kondo's method for changing your life through tidying appears to be based on three main tenets: 1. throw a shit ton of stuff away. Like, 2/3 of what you own. 2. tidy by category and do ALL of each category in one go. 3. only keep things that "spark joy" and store them where they can be seen and used.
Number three seems to sum up life at Farley's, utterly. And so I am totally buying into this. I am DOING it, gosh darn it. Every year I try and try and try to bring "lake life" home. Maybe this is the trick. And even if it's not, this house could stand some tidying.
The above picture is the "before" of category number 1, Art and Craft Supplies.
These supplies were gathered into a heap from five disparate locations. I am not sure why we felt the need to keep craft supplies in five different locations. Must be ready to craft at any moment, in any room!! Or something.
And why in god's name did we need SO MUCH crafting crap? We could run a small preschool with that pile. A very disorganized preschool...
One of the principles from Marie's book-- you need to get all of the things in each category in ONE place, to really know just how much you have, how far into TOO MUCH you have gone. Then, handle each object and only keep it if it sparks joy. Otherwise, thank it for its service and let it go...
A few hours and 6 trash bags later, our Art and Craft Supplies are all here:
I was so completely overwhelmed by that pile of craft stuff. Perhaps even more so by the knowledge that this is just one tiny little category in this huge house of mess. But I focused, and handled each object, and tried my best. I am not sure I was entirely true to the system. I mean, really, does a jug of washable tempera paint really spark joy? No. But is sure is darn useful when you need to entertain a batch of kids. And entertained kids DO spark joy. So there.
Category 2 (a small one today as we had to spend a good deal of the day out on Lake Erie in Becca and Joe's boat, poor us...)
Mugs.
These are the mugs we are either letting go of, or storing neatly in a box for Fake Christmas Morning.
And these are the ones that made the cut, accessible and visible and ready to be enjoyed on this shelf above the coffee maker. I didn't manage to get a picture of our overcrowded mug shelf before but trust me when I say that this is MUCH more joyful.
Friday, November 7, 2014
November 7
Focusing on the positive tonight after a long and tiring week at work.
I am grateful that I get to have long and tiring weeks at work, in this world where so many cannot find work.
I am grateful for wonderful, inspiring co-workers who commiserate and support, who are like minded and believe in what we are doing, perhaps more than I do these days.
I am grateful that at moments, my job rocks. Moments like when I get to be paid to watch an amazing iMax movie about the South Pacific.
I am grateful for coral reefs (and really want to visit West Papua now).
I am grateful for dinner with friends, for easy conversation and three happy little girls, for book recommendations and venting about school, pasta dinner and harvest tea and laughing at the dog until we cry. I've missed Fridays with our friends recently. Tonight felt good.
I am grateful that I get to have long and tiring weeks at work, in this world where so many cannot find work.
I am grateful for wonderful, inspiring co-workers who commiserate and support, who are like minded and believe in what we are doing, perhaps more than I do these days.
I am grateful that at moments, my job rocks. Moments like when I get to be paid to watch an amazing iMax movie about the South Pacific.
I am grateful for coral reefs (and really want to visit West Papua now).
I am grateful for dinner with friends, for easy conversation and three happy little girls, for book recommendations and venting about school, pasta dinner and harvest tea and laughing at the dog until we cry. I've missed Fridays with our friends recently. Tonight felt good.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
November 5
What better time to resurrect the Thirty Days blog than November, the original month of gratitude?
And how better to do it in classic Amanda fashion than 5 days late?
You guys, daylight savings time is killing me this year. Seriously. I'm twice as tired as usual at night and yet still twice as tired in the morning, too. More and more to accomplish, less and less time. Or less and less daylight, at any rate.
Definitely needing me some gratitude.
So here goes. We'll just call it 20 days instead of 30, and shoot for now til Thanksgiving, sound good?
November 5
Tonight I am grateful for the blue skies and warm weather that graced the day. Not many of these days left, I fear, so I am holding on to each one. I am even more grateful that I got to be outside, albeit briefly, in that wonderful weather this afternoon, by virtue of running to the UPS store over lunch. It has been such a crazy year, this is the first time I have been able to step out at lunchtime. Need to do it more often. I am so grateful for fresh air.
I am also grateful for Starbucks iced Americanos. Nothing tastes more sublime on a blue-sky, fair weather day. The taste of this drink , paired with sunshine glancing off the plastic cold cup, has the power to transport me to the base of Vail mountain, on a spring break almost 9 years ago. My first spring skiing in Colorado, my first iced Americano. Together forever.
I am grateful that I have the memory of skiing Vail mountain. We led a charmed life indeed, all those years ago. I'm not sure we knew just how charmed. But I think we did enjoy it thoroughly and I am grateful for that.
I am grateful for quiet evenings with my kids, for our local grocery store where the deli workers hand my kids a cookie while we wait, where the children know where to find everything as well as I do, where there is never a line at the checkout. Seriously. It is a terrific grocery store.
I am grateful for leaf-finding walks with bikes and scooters and dogs, for feet and wheels swishing through leaves along the sidewalks in the gathering dark.
I am grateful for a bright, blue, full moon blazing between the trees.
I am grateful for bedtime stories and two children that love them, for my daughter's questions and my son's ability to tune out the world when he picks up a book. I am grateful for the glimpses of myself that I see in them, for the bit of immortality that comes from the way Jack-- just like me-- compulsively reads any words he sees; from the way Ivy --just like me-- loves to turn the world into a great game of pretend.
I am grateful for graham crackers and milk at bedtime.
November 4
I am grateful for family and music tonight. Grateful that we live so close to my mom-- grateful for her presence in the world, the simplicity of family dinner at her place every week, the gift of time she gives to Nat and I when she keeps the kids, the gift of time she gives to them.
I am grateful for the weekly walk Nat and I take in Lakewood park. I am grateful that we went today even though it was rainy, because it always works out to be more perfect that we imagine. Tonight-- a gray lake blending with a gray sky, a foggy city skyline int he distance, lights twinkling, smooth soft air, a happy spaniel prancing along the path.
I am grateful for my choir, for my wonderful director, for the bits of music theory he effortlessly teaches us, for the challenge of learning music and the joy of making music. I am grateful for the friendship of Fiona, my driving buddy, for the stories she regales me with and the inspiration she provides.
November 3
November 3rd was a Monday. the Monday after Halloween AND daylight savings time. It was not an easy day. Looking back, I'm having a tough time coming up with much. I suppose that night I was grateful that the day was over. And that my kids did well at their piano lessons, both reportedly picking things up quite well. I am grateful for this opportunity for them to build a musical foundation.
November 2
I am grateful for IKEA, for sunny chilly driving days and consumer therapy and making a low-key weekend memorable.
November 1
There's a reason I didn't start this right away. It's called rainy, 40 degree weather. I don't do well with rainy, 40-degree weather. I was kind of a grump on Saturday.
I am looking forward to letting the practice of gratitude get me through the rest of November unscathed...
And how better to do it in classic Amanda fashion than 5 days late?
You guys, daylight savings time is killing me this year. Seriously. I'm twice as tired as usual at night and yet still twice as tired in the morning, too. More and more to accomplish, less and less time. Or less and less daylight, at any rate.
Definitely needing me some gratitude.
So here goes. We'll just call it 20 days instead of 30, and shoot for now til Thanksgiving, sound good?
November 5
Tonight I am grateful for the blue skies and warm weather that graced the day. Not many of these days left, I fear, so I am holding on to each one. I am even more grateful that I got to be outside, albeit briefly, in that wonderful weather this afternoon, by virtue of running to the UPS store over lunch. It has been such a crazy year, this is the first time I have been able to step out at lunchtime. Need to do it more often. I am so grateful for fresh air.
I am also grateful for Starbucks iced Americanos. Nothing tastes more sublime on a blue-sky, fair weather day. The taste of this drink , paired with sunshine glancing off the plastic cold cup, has the power to transport me to the base of Vail mountain, on a spring break almost 9 years ago. My first spring skiing in Colorado, my first iced Americano. Together forever.
I am grateful that I have the memory of skiing Vail mountain. We led a charmed life indeed, all those years ago. I'm not sure we knew just how charmed. But I think we did enjoy it thoroughly and I am grateful for that.
I am grateful for quiet evenings with my kids, for our local grocery store where the deli workers hand my kids a cookie while we wait, where the children know where to find everything as well as I do, where there is never a line at the checkout. Seriously. It is a terrific grocery store.
I am grateful for leaf-finding walks with bikes and scooters and dogs, for feet and wheels swishing through leaves along the sidewalks in the gathering dark.
I am grateful for a bright, blue, full moon blazing between the trees.
I am grateful for bedtime stories and two children that love them, for my daughter's questions and my son's ability to tune out the world when he picks up a book. I am grateful for the glimpses of myself that I see in them, for the bit of immortality that comes from the way Jack-- just like me-- compulsively reads any words he sees; from the way Ivy --just like me-- loves to turn the world into a great game of pretend.
I am grateful for graham crackers and milk at bedtime.
November 4
I am grateful for family and music tonight. Grateful that we live so close to my mom-- grateful for her presence in the world, the simplicity of family dinner at her place every week, the gift of time she gives to Nat and I when she keeps the kids, the gift of time she gives to them.
I am grateful for the weekly walk Nat and I take in Lakewood park. I am grateful that we went today even though it was rainy, because it always works out to be more perfect that we imagine. Tonight-- a gray lake blending with a gray sky, a foggy city skyline int he distance, lights twinkling, smooth soft air, a happy spaniel prancing along the path.
I am grateful for my choir, for my wonderful director, for the bits of music theory he effortlessly teaches us, for the challenge of learning music and the joy of making music. I am grateful for the friendship of Fiona, my driving buddy, for the stories she regales me with and the inspiration she provides.
November 3
November 3rd was a Monday. the Monday after Halloween AND daylight savings time. It was not an easy day. Looking back, I'm having a tough time coming up with much. I suppose that night I was grateful that the day was over. And that my kids did well at their piano lessons, both reportedly picking things up quite well. I am grateful for this opportunity for them to build a musical foundation.
November 2
I am grateful for IKEA, for sunny chilly driving days and consumer therapy and making a low-key weekend memorable.
November 1
There's a reason I didn't start this right away. It's called rainy, 40 degree weather. I don't do well with rainy, 40-degree weather. I was kind of a grump on Saturday.
I am looking forward to letting the practice of gratitude get me through the rest of November unscathed...
Saturday, April 5, 2014
April 5-- Runner's High
I think I'll take this moment to ramble on a bit about my first 11 mile run, right now at this moment when my endorphins are running high and I love the beauty of life and this ache in my hips and knees.
After starting off with wind and grey and even a few flakes of snow, the day transformed itself into perfection, blue blue cloudless sky and a crisp 50 degrees. It begged me to get outside, this day, so after a morning of shopping and family time, I laced up and headed out on a bit of an odyssey. I decided, while driving back from Lakewood, that it was about time I run through Rockefeller Park. After all, I've driven through that park for my whole life, taking MLK to the highway at least once a week for the past few years. But I've never walked through even one of the cultural gardens, can you imgine? I clocked the distance and found it to be just over 5 miles and so I set off with my goal in mind....
What a wonderful way to be a tourist in my own city, winding my way down the hill, through Case Western, a little detour to scope out a $40,000 house just up from the park, gawking at the mansions on Wade Park and East Boulevard along the way. I ran up and down some stairs in the Italian Garden, and underneath two of the wonderful bridges. At the playground-that-time-forgot I happened upon a group of deer, who looked up at me calmly then went back to grazing. A moment of kinship. Or perhaps they were just secure in the knowledge that I was already moving at my maximum speed and they had nothing to worry about. At 8 miles I found myself at the pond in front of the Art Museum and allowed myself 1 minute to stop and stretch and revel in this city I call home. I ran along Euclid, making plans to attend the Music at Meditation on Wednesdays at that one beautiful church. I headed up hill through Little Italy, noticing details on buildings I'd never seen before, the charming hidden gardens on the hillside. Running up Edgehill, hitting the steepest of the hills I'd encounter on the way home, my Pandora playlist came through, with a little "Fix You" timed just right to sing (gasp) along and keep up a 9:30 pace through to the top.
Mile 1-3, warm up, excitement to be on an adventure. Hardly noticed them passing as I concentrated on my route.
Mile 4-5, an adventure, finding the little house to look at (no backyard, sorryy, no dice) and then finding my way down to the park. Fast miles, feeling good-- good enough to run up and down those stairs. Smiling at fellow pedestrians, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Mile 6-- A little slow. No more downhills. Flat and long through the park. A road I've driven before so no more mystery either. I found myself checking my distance. A lot. Fifty degrees started to feel a little too warm.My knees began to yell at me.
Mile 7-8 Heading up out of the park. Winding along that stretch of MLK we never drive, carefully avoiding geese. Feeling surprisingly fine, positive, in love with life and springtime mud and the fragility and perfection of it all. Loving the all the people out walking on Euclid, a wonderful random collection of humanity. Finding even construction sites to be beautiful .Runner's High, anyone?
Mile 9-10 Hills. That's all.
Mile 10-11:30. Every single step hurt. But running felt a great deal better than walking actually, so I plodded on.
I'd planned to run 12 miles today. But I didn't have the heart to keep going that last .70 when I found myself one block from home. Some days, 11:30 is enough. Today was one of those days, and I am feeling fine about it. Sore, tired, and rather hungry, but fine.
It's odd to feel this good after spending two hours of my fleeting weekend time torturing my body while very slowly traversing a route I could drive in 10 minutes.
Right now, I can't think of a better way to have spent those hours.
After starting off with wind and grey and even a few flakes of snow, the day transformed itself into perfection, blue blue cloudless sky and a crisp 50 degrees. It begged me to get outside, this day, so after a morning of shopping and family time, I laced up and headed out on a bit of an odyssey. I decided, while driving back from Lakewood, that it was about time I run through Rockefeller Park. After all, I've driven through that park for my whole life, taking MLK to the highway at least once a week for the past few years. But I've never walked through even one of the cultural gardens, can you imgine? I clocked the distance and found it to be just over 5 miles and so I set off with my goal in mind....
What a wonderful way to be a tourist in my own city, winding my way down the hill, through Case Western, a little detour to scope out a $40,000 house just up from the park, gawking at the mansions on Wade Park and East Boulevard along the way. I ran up and down some stairs in the Italian Garden, and underneath two of the wonderful bridges. At the playground-that-time-forgot I happened upon a group of deer, who looked up at me calmly then went back to grazing. A moment of kinship. Or perhaps they were just secure in the knowledge that I was already moving at my maximum speed and they had nothing to worry about. At 8 miles I found myself at the pond in front of the Art Museum and allowed myself 1 minute to stop and stretch and revel in this city I call home. I ran along Euclid, making plans to attend the Music at Meditation on Wednesdays at that one beautiful church. I headed up hill through Little Italy, noticing details on buildings I'd never seen before, the charming hidden gardens on the hillside. Running up Edgehill, hitting the steepest of the hills I'd encounter on the way home, my Pandora playlist came through, with a little "Fix You" timed just right to sing (gasp) along and keep up a 9:30 pace through to the top.
Mile 1-3, warm up, excitement to be on an adventure. Hardly noticed them passing as I concentrated on my route.
Mile 4-5, an adventure, finding the little house to look at (no backyard, sorryy, no dice) and then finding my way down to the park. Fast miles, feeling good-- good enough to run up and down those stairs. Smiling at fellow pedestrians, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Mile 6-- A little slow. No more downhills. Flat and long through the park. A road I've driven before so no more mystery either. I found myself checking my distance. A lot. Fifty degrees started to feel a little too warm.My knees began to yell at me.
Mile 7-8 Heading up out of the park. Winding along that stretch of MLK we never drive, carefully avoiding geese. Feeling surprisingly fine, positive, in love with life and springtime mud and the fragility and perfection of it all. Loving the all the people out walking on Euclid, a wonderful random collection of humanity. Finding even construction sites to be beautiful .Runner's High, anyone?
Mile 9-10 Hills. That's all.
Mile 10-11:30. Every single step hurt. But running felt a great deal better than walking actually, so I plodded on.
I'd planned to run 12 miles today. But I didn't have the heart to keep going that last .70 when I found myself one block from home. Some days, 11:30 is enough. Today was one of those days, and I am feeling fine about it. Sore, tired, and rather hungry, but fine.
It's odd to feel this good after spending two hours of my fleeting weekend time torturing my body while very slowly traversing a route I could drive in 10 minutes.
Right now, I can't think of a better way to have spent those hours.
Monday, March 24, 2014
March 23-- Becky
Today is my friend Becky's birthday and I am so happy to write about her. Becky is one of my oldest friends. Well, not really oldest, she's younger than me... but we go way back. Back to that golden age at Hiram, back to The Group, The Friends. She is one of the ones that has shaped who I have become and I am so grateful to have her as a part of my life.
How to describe Becky? The first words that come to mind are: kind, honest, unapologetic, and brave. There is so much more to Becky than meets the eye. When you first meet Becky-- or perhaps, hear her voice from several miles away (sorry, Becky, you know your voice carries! :) ) you might miss the complexity of her, and only notice her sense of humor and her fierceness of spirit. Not that those things aren't enough! In fact, Becky's fierce tenacity is one of the things I admire most about her. I have always wished I could emulate her forthright speech and brash confidence. Becky is a true friend and will go to the ends of the earth for the people she cares for. She will also fight the forces of hell to right a wrong. Woe to those on Becky's bad side! And what a friend to have for those she loves!
It seems that what I love most about my friends are the things I have discovered underneath the amazing faces they show the world. The secret about Becky is the sensitive and gentle soul she keeps just beneath all the jokes. She cares deeply and passionately for friends, family, animals. She is a brilliant scientist with an analytical mind I cannot fathom. But she never makes anyone feel less. She is always approachable, down to earth, real.
Becky has faced so much adversity in her life. She is beautifully resiliant and has only stood straighter against the obstacles she has faced. Nothing will keep Becky down for long; she is my role model for bravery.
I miss Becky these days. Our lives have pulled us apart and I don't get to spend hours talking with her or reveling in nature with her or telling dirty jokes over a drink. (Someday soon, Becky??) But she should know that she is in my heart every day, a little piece of me. When I am brave, when I stand up for myself, when I fight injustice or just give someone a piece of my mind, I am channeling Becky, and grateful to call her my friend.
How to describe Becky? The first words that come to mind are: kind, honest, unapologetic, and brave. There is so much more to Becky than meets the eye. When you first meet Becky-- or perhaps, hear her voice from several miles away (sorry, Becky, you know your voice carries! :) ) you might miss the complexity of her, and only notice her sense of humor and her fierceness of spirit. Not that those things aren't enough! In fact, Becky's fierce tenacity is one of the things I admire most about her. I have always wished I could emulate her forthright speech and brash confidence. Becky is a true friend and will go to the ends of the earth for the people she cares for. She will also fight the forces of hell to right a wrong. Woe to those on Becky's bad side! And what a friend to have for those she loves!
It seems that what I love most about my friends are the things I have discovered underneath the amazing faces they show the world. The secret about Becky is the sensitive and gentle soul she keeps just beneath all the jokes. She cares deeply and passionately for friends, family, animals. She is a brilliant scientist with an analytical mind I cannot fathom. But she never makes anyone feel less. She is always approachable, down to earth, real.
Becky has faced so much adversity in her life. She is beautifully resiliant and has only stood straighter against the obstacles she has faced. Nothing will keep Becky down for long; she is my role model for bravery.
I miss Becky these days. Our lives have pulled us apart and I don't get to spend hours talking with her or reveling in nature with her or telling dirty jokes over a drink. (Someday soon, Becky??) But she should know that she is in my heart every day, a little piece of me. When I am brave, when I stand up for myself, when I fight injustice or just give someone a piece of my mind, I am channeling Becky, and grateful to call her my friend.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
March 11-- Melinda
I am excited that today is the birthday of one of my very best friends and I get to write about her! What a privilege. And what a challenge! She has been a part of my life for almost two decades and how to sift through all those shared memories for the very best? Really, any memory will do because they're all the best. Just having her as a part of my life for all these years-- I am the luckiest.
So, Melinda. We met freshman year at Hiram, but not right away. I can't remember the first time I talked with her but I think she was there that night we played sardines in Colton, and then after that, well, we were just all together. She moved in with Jen and Leigh and that was it. We were the group. We dressed up to go dancing, we helped Jen cook feasts in the kitchenette, we stayed up too late taking My favorite memories? Cooking spaghetti in the summer dorm. Hoping the Dodge Colt would make it up the hill on 700 so we could get to work. The music festival. That one night we planned out, in great detail, just how we would all move to Portugal and live a life of communal perfection. There is hardly a memory of my time at college that doesn't have her in it. But the really great thing about my friendship with Melinda is that the memories go on after college too. The Shaker house and dinner parties in Bedford, moving away and then coming back home-- with my dear friend to welcome me. We've moved in tandem into this next phase of our lives-- husbands, houses, dogs, kids--and I can't imagine it any other way. Watching our children play together every Friday night, I am immeasurably grateful for a friendship that has grown and changed and endured all this time.
When you meet Melinda today, what you'll notice about her right away is that she is kind, and so utterly giving of herself that she doesn't even notice it. You'll also know that she is a great cook, even if she never writes down the recipes, and she's a brilliant writer, and she's got great taste in jewelry and in art. When she is all in her teacher-and-mom persona, she will impress you plenty. Because she is so put-together and so calm, so confident with that tiny little lift to her chin, so at ease with herself. She has this wonderful wry smile and this incredible talent for knowing the right words to say, almost all the time. She is honest and real and approachable and she makes you want to stay a little longer to just enjoy her presence.
And if you do stay longer, and you get to know her a little more? Then you'll see what I really love about her, because she'll start to let her guard down a little and underneath, she is passionate and irreverent and delightfully funny, a dreamer of dreams like no one you've met. I love to hear her talk about books, her deep knowledge and intelligence and insight coming out in every gesture. I love to get her laughing at some silly double entendre, because she will laugh so hard she cries and everyone in the tri-state area will have no choice but to laugh along with her. She has a joy that is contagious.
When we met, all of us friends back at Hiram, we all fell in love with Melinda because of that joy, the way she attacked life so fearlessly and beautifully, sweeping us along with her. It didn't matter if we were heading off to go camping, driving to work, or sitting drinking wine in a dorm room--everything was more fun when she was around. Nineteen years later I still love that about her, even though we have all settled into our adult lives and nothing is quite so sweeping any more. But what I find myself noticing the most now, is how true she is. How she will do anything for her friends, how she perseveres, how she devotes herself to causes and to people, how she channels her passion to make change in the world. I love to watch her as a mother, to know her as a teacher, to see her as a wife and a daughter and a friend-- because everything my beautiful friend does, she does so very very well.
I hope she knows that she's always been an inspiration to me, and that every day I know I am so very lucky to have her as my friend.
So, Melinda. We met freshman year at Hiram, but not right away. I can't remember the first time I talked with her but I think she was there that night we played sardines in Colton, and then after that, well, we were just all together. She moved in with Jen and Leigh and that was it. We were the group. We dressed up to go dancing, we helped Jen cook feasts in the kitchenette, we stayed up too late taking My favorite memories? Cooking spaghetti in the summer dorm. Hoping the Dodge Colt would make it up the hill on 700 so we could get to work. The music festival. That one night we planned out, in great detail, just how we would all move to Portugal and live a life of communal perfection. There is hardly a memory of my time at college that doesn't have her in it. But the really great thing about my friendship with Melinda is that the memories go on after college too. The Shaker house and dinner parties in Bedford, moving away and then coming back home-- with my dear friend to welcome me. We've moved in tandem into this next phase of our lives-- husbands, houses, dogs, kids--and I can't imagine it any other way. Watching our children play together every Friday night, I am immeasurably grateful for a friendship that has grown and changed and endured all this time.
When you meet Melinda today, what you'll notice about her right away is that she is kind, and so utterly giving of herself that she doesn't even notice it. You'll also know that she is a great cook, even if she never writes down the recipes, and she's a brilliant writer, and she's got great taste in jewelry and in art. When she is all in her teacher-and-mom persona, she will impress you plenty. Because she is so put-together and so calm, so confident with that tiny little lift to her chin, so at ease with herself. She has this wonderful wry smile and this incredible talent for knowing the right words to say, almost all the time. She is honest and real and approachable and she makes you want to stay a little longer to just enjoy her presence.
And if you do stay longer, and you get to know her a little more? Then you'll see what I really love about her, because she'll start to let her guard down a little and underneath, she is passionate and irreverent and delightfully funny, a dreamer of dreams like no one you've met. I love to hear her talk about books, her deep knowledge and intelligence and insight coming out in every gesture. I love to get her laughing at some silly double entendre, because she will laugh so hard she cries and everyone in the tri-state area will have no choice but to laugh along with her. She has a joy that is contagious.
When we met, all of us friends back at Hiram, we all fell in love with Melinda because of that joy, the way she attacked life so fearlessly and beautifully, sweeping us along with her. It didn't matter if we were heading off to go camping, driving to work, or sitting drinking wine in a dorm room--everything was more fun when she was around. Nineteen years later I still love that about her, even though we have all settled into our adult lives and nothing is quite so sweeping any more. But what I find myself noticing the most now, is how true she is. How she will do anything for her friends, how she perseveres, how she devotes herself to causes and to people, how she channels her passion to make change in the world. I love to watch her as a mother, to know her as a teacher, to see her as a wife and a daughter and a friend-- because everything my beautiful friend does, she does so very very well.
I hope she knows that she's always been an inspiration to me, and that every day I know I am so very lucky to have her as my friend.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
March 8- Claire
Today on her birthday, let me tell you a little about Claire. I'm lucky enough to be her daughter-in-law and I absolutely treasure this woman. She's an inspiration to me every day and I simply love to spend time with her.
Claire has this way about her that just puts people at ease. I love this about her: We'll come upon her talking to someone, engrossed in easy conversation, and we'll think, oh, Claire's run into an old friend again. And then we'll come to find out, she's only met them moments ago. But the thing is, they ARE friends already. And that that person will remember Claire, for certain, remember the way she made them feel so very important, the way she really listens to them, gives them her heart. It's no surprise she really does run into old friends everywhere she goes.
Claire is so patient and so careful with her time and her tasks. When you are with her, the world slows down and you don't need to rush anymore. There will be time enough to get it all done, and beautifully. There must be, because she does. She always thinks of the little touches--the bits of pine tucked into the box of Christmas presents, a bit of ribbon tied around a plain package, just the perfect flowers arranged on the counter-- to make everything feel a little bit more special.
I love being in her home, because she creates such comfort and beauty there. So many little spots to nestle into, all with something beautiful in sight-- but nothing fussy. There is nothing fussy about Claire! This is a woman who can handle anything the world throws at her, and meet it with graciousness and calm.
The best thing is watching her with my children. The way she helps them explore the world around them, guiding them as she follows their lead. Giving them her utter attention, sharing her peaceful aura; its a beautiful thing.
Did I mention she's an artist? And she's the keeper of the family stories, and a lover of good books, and a friend to animals. But mostly she is a person who just feels so good to be around. We are lucky indeed.
Claire has this way about her that just puts people at ease. I love this about her: We'll come upon her talking to someone, engrossed in easy conversation, and we'll think, oh, Claire's run into an old friend again. And then we'll come to find out, she's only met them moments ago. But the thing is, they ARE friends already. And that that person will remember Claire, for certain, remember the way she made them feel so very important, the way she really listens to them, gives them her heart. It's no surprise she really does run into old friends everywhere she goes.
Claire is so patient and so careful with her time and her tasks. When you are with her, the world slows down and you don't need to rush anymore. There will be time enough to get it all done, and beautifully. There must be, because she does. She always thinks of the little touches--the bits of pine tucked into the box of Christmas presents, a bit of ribbon tied around a plain package, just the perfect flowers arranged on the counter-- to make everything feel a little bit more special.
I love being in her home, because she creates such comfort and beauty there. So many little spots to nestle into, all with something beautiful in sight-- but nothing fussy. There is nothing fussy about Claire! This is a woman who can handle anything the world throws at her, and meet it with graciousness and calm.
The best thing is watching her with my children. The way she helps them explore the world around them, guiding them as she follows their lead. Giving them her utter attention, sharing her peaceful aura; its a beautiful thing.
Did I mention she's an artist? And she's the keeper of the family stories, and a lover of good books, and a friend to animals. But mostly she is a person who just feels so good to be around. We are lucky indeed.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
March 5- Kate
I think today I will tell you about my friend Kate. Happens to be her birthday today and so far (on this my second day of my challenge) birthdays seem to be as good a way as any to choose a person to honor.
So, Kate. We go way back. She was my TA at Hiram, back when I was young and impressionable and blonde (no, really, I bleached my hair for a while). I even carried a purse, a fact which Kate never lets me forget. I don't think she liked me very much. I found her funny, and more than a little intimidating, with her dry wit, her cadre of equally intimidating witty friends, and the easy condescension of an upperclassman.
I'm not entirely sure how we gravitated together but suddenly there we were, going dancing at Trilogy and staying up too late, rooming together over the summer, drinking Red Dog, pulled into friendship in that accidental Hiram way.
I am so grateful for that.
Over the years I've known Kate I have discovered these things about her:
She is a fantastically amazing writer. Don't let her tell you otherwise. She is wicked smart. That easy condescension of hers in college? I think it was a cover for a soft heart and the kind of vulnerability that makes you want keep her forever. She loves animals (but you knew that) and she loves her friends and family with the same unconditionality, accepting us equally with all of our flaws, seeing our beauty underneath. She is steadfast, and kind, and hilarious. I love to spend time with her.
Kate (and Marc and menagerie) have moved far enough away from the the Heights -- beyond the accepted 30 minute drive-time-- that we don't see them nearly often enough anymore. But Kate should know how much I treasure her and her friendship, our shared memories from these intertwined 17 years. Kate, you are a gift to us all and I celebrate you today!
So, Kate. We go way back. She was my TA at Hiram, back when I was young and impressionable and blonde (no, really, I bleached my hair for a while). I even carried a purse, a fact which Kate never lets me forget. I don't think she liked me very much. I found her funny, and more than a little intimidating, with her dry wit, her cadre of equally intimidating witty friends, and the easy condescension of an upperclassman.
I'm not entirely sure how we gravitated together but suddenly there we were, going dancing at Trilogy and staying up too late, rooming together over the summer, drinking Red Dog, pulled into friendship in that accidental Hiram way.
I am so grateful for that.
Over the years I've known Kate I have discovered these things about her:
She is a fantastically amazing writer. Don't let her tell you otherwise. She is wicked smart. That easy condescension of hers in college? I think it was a cover for a soft heart and the kind of vulnerability that makes you want keep her forever. She loves animals (but you knew that) and she loves her friends and family with the same unconditionality, accepting us equally with all of our flaws, seeing our beauty underneath. She is steadfast, and kind, and hilarious. I love to spend time with her.
Kate (and Marc and menagerie) have moved far enough away from the the Heights -- beyond the accepted 30 minute drive-time-- that we don't see them nearly often enough anymore. But Kate should know how much I treasure her and her friendship, our shared memories from these intertwined 17 years. Kate, you are a gift to us all and I celebrate you today!
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
March 4-- Sarah
Today I want to tell you about my mom.
It's her birthday and so its a good day to celebrate her-- but so is every day. Because every single day she is an inspiration to me.
She has faced so much adversity in her life-- and she rises to the challenge every time. She is my role model for resilience and perseverance. When you look at her slight frame and pretty smile you might miss the core of steel that is in her, the utter strength she has called upon over and over to get through some pretty dark times. She comes out the other side still smiling, her passion for life and her sense of humour and her unconditional love for her family intact. I smile all the time because she has showed me how. She has taught me-- as she has so many others in her life as a teacher, Recovery leader, church member, friend-- how to be headstrong and determined, generous and gentle, all at the same time. She never stops giving of herself.
She also has really great taste in clothes and dogs and decorative pottery, and you can't find a better shopping buddy (though you'll undoubtedly spend more than you planned on, with her help). She's a great writer and a lover of music, art and film, and her passion and enthusiasm are contagious. I love going to special exhibits at the art museum with her, or seeing an interesting film and chatting about it afterward. My favorite, though, has always been dreaming our way through open houses in big old mansions. I am so grateful that she has given these passions to me. I just wish we had more time to share them together these days...
But I can't complain about the reason we don't-- in her spirit of giving she eagerly steps in as our main "babysitter", taking my kids for overnights, or to fun activities, or just hanging out with them and sharing her talents for teaching and parenting. Lucky kids. Lucky us. I am so grateful we live close enough that she can be such an active force in the lives of my children. And that I get to see her every week, too. I don't tell her that often enough.
Thank you, mom, for all you've done for me, and for all you continue to give to me every day, just by being yourself in the world. You are my moral compass, my role model, my friend. I am so lucky to be your daughter.
It's her birthday and so its a good day to celebrate her-- but so is every day. Because every single day she is an inspiration to me.
She has faced so much adversity in her life-- and she rises to the challenge every time. She is my role model for resilience and perseverance. When you look at her slight frame and pretty smile you might miss the core of steel that is in her, the utter strength she has called upon over and over to get through some pretty dark times. She comes out the other side still smiling, her passion for life and her sense of humour and her unconditional love for her family intact. I smile all the time because she has showed me how. She has taught me-- as she has so many others in her life as a teacher, Recovery leader, church member, friend-- how to be headstrong and determined, generous and gentle, all at the same time. She never stops giving of herself.
She also has really great taste in clothes and dogs and decorative pottery, and you can't find a better shopping buddy (though you'll undoubtedly spend more than you planned on, with her help). She's a great writer and a lover of music, art and film, and her passion and enthusiasm are contagious. I love going to special exhibits at the art museum with her, or seeing an interesting film and chatting about it afterward. My favorite, though, has always been dreaming our way through open houses in big old mansions. I am so grateful that she has given these passions to me. I just wish we had more time to share them together these days...
But I can't complain about the reason we don't-- in her spirit of giving she eagerly steps in as our main "babysitter", taking my kids for overnights, or to fun activities, or just hanging out with them and sharing her talents for teaching and parenting. Lucky kids. Lucky us. I am so grateful we live close enough that she can be such an active force in the lives of my children. And that I get to see her every week, too. I don't tell her that often enough.
Thank you, mom, for all you've done for me, and for all you continue to give to me every day, just by being yourself in the world. You are my moral compass, my role model, my friend. I am so lucky to be your daughter.
Say it now
A former colleague of mine, who has been battling cancer for years, died last night. She truly was a light in the world, and I am not just saying that because its what you say when someone dies. She, really, truly was amazing-- always happy, full of energy, unfailingly kind. My heart is heavy today even though I have not seen her in a long time. At least, not in person. I have been lucky enough to keep up with her on Facebook, to read her status updates and admire photos of her enjoying every ounce of life with her beautiful family over these past few years. And, most recently, to revel in the wonderful, love-filled posts crowding her wall as family and friends and co-workers from all facets of her life poured their hearts out to her, keeping her company in virtual form during her last days in the hospital. All these stories of students she'd turned around, crazy-fun times with friends, the little things people love about her. Visiting her Facebook page was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. I know. How is any part of this beautiful, you ask? Most of it is not. Cancer sucks. And this wonderful woman-- mother, teacher, sister, friend-- should be busy building her life, not finished with it. And it is not right and it makes me angry and so very sad.
But it was beautiful because these people, these friends and family, parents and students whose lives she touched-- they said these amazing these to her, they brought the truth, they put the words out into the world while she was alive. So she knew it. So she could feel it. So that some of the light she gave to the world bounced back to her and glowed before her as she faced the darkness. They didn't wait til after, didn't wait for their truth to become platitudes. They told her when it mattered most and that was beautiful and important and right.
Say what you will about Facebook. In the last week I've witnessed digital space becoming sacred space, virtual reality wrapping people tight across miles. Inside my heavy heart there is gratitude sparkling, for the ease with which we can touch each other and make they world a softer place. We are lucky indeed.
And so for March, in honor of Barb and everyone who knew her, I will use my thirty days to take advantage of social media, to use it for good. To say it now. Every day I will post to someone in my life, share a memory, tell a story. Let them know just how perfect they are, how important. And let the whole world, know too. I will not wait until they are in their last days. I will say it now.
We need to tell people why we love them, today. When it matters. Without letting another too-busy moment go by, without another excuse. Don't you think?
But it was beautiful because these people, these friends and family, parents and students whose lives she touched-- they said these amazing these to her, they brought the truth, they put the words out into the world while she was alive. So she knew it. So she could feel it. So that some of the light she gave to the world bounced back to her and glowed before her as she faced the darkness. They didn't wait til after, didn't wait for their truth to become platitudes. They told her when it mattered most and that was beautiful and important and right.
Say what you will about Facebook. In the last week I've witnessed digital space becoming sacred space, virtual reality wrapping people tight across miles. Inside my heavy heart there is gratitude sparkling, for the ease with which we can touch each other and make they world a softer place. We are lucky indeed.
And so for March, in honor of Barb and everyone who knew her, I will use my thirty days to take advantage of social media, to use it for good. To say it now. Every day I will post to someone in my life, share a memory, tell a story. Let them know just how perfect they are, how important. And let the whole world, know too. I will not wait until they are in their last days. I will say it now.
We need to tell people why we love them, today. When it matters. Without letting another too-busy moment go by, without another excuse. Don't you think?
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