Hello, friends.
It's been awhile, yes? It's been a crazy while. We've had some really lovely times, lots of great family moments, including J's first trip to the ocean. We've had some wild times. We've had more than a few rough days. We've had a very full life over the last few months, and it just hasn't come upon me to write. I've had a few things come to mind, but mostly, I was just too busy living, thinking, or feeling to sit and write. (Though sometimes, writing puts that thinking and feeling in its place!) It did occur to me that you need proof there's more than gloom & doom on this little corner of the internet . . . I have a few ideas in the works, but for now, for those of you who are interested, it's back to my 33 things . . .
Just to beg some grace for my absence, here are 33 things that are happening RIGHT NOW.
(Well, not exactly in this moment right now, but definitely very present and current in my life . . . in no particular order . . .)
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
It's April.
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
--T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
It's April.
And if you haven't noticed, I haven't written a thing.
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
--T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
It's April.
And if you haven't noticed, I haven't written a thing.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Chiaroscuro
Pardon me as I digress from Together on Tuesday and indulge my artistic side . . . the missing posts are pending,even partially written, but this is where my heart is now . . .
Palm Sunday in our Lutheran church is so different than when I was growing up. Back then, it was my favorite. It was a party. Celebration, dancing, waving the palms, all of that good stuff. We didn't enter much into the darkness of the Lenten season, but we loved to celebrate. At Bethlehem, the day is Passion Sunday. We begin with celebrations and hosannas and end in somber reflection on the crucifixion.
This year, on Passion Sunday, after opening with joyful Hosannas, my co-soprano and I sang the opening of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater before the sermon. Pastor read the gospel, from the triumphant entry to Jerusalem, through the trial and mocking and torment and misery, to the final breath on the cross. And then, we sang The Mother, grieving, stood beside the cross, weeping, while there hung her Son.
I don't think either of us fully engaged emotionally with this piece until it was time to sing it in the service. That was self-preservation . . . it's haunting, beautiful, and profoundly, painfully sad. And when we finished, both of us were visibly moved, as were many around us.
What could be more raw and real than a mother weeping . . no, wailing . . . for her son?
Since my brother died, nearly 11 years ago, this story has had more power than ever before.
Since I became a mother myself, I can hardly take it.
But Sunday, I understood the contrast of Passion Sunday, and of all of Lent and Easter, in a new way.
On Ash Wednesday, we say "The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." We then, by choice, walk together in a period of darkness, towards the light.
In art, chiaroscuro is the way light and shade play together to create dimension, contrast. In singing, chiaroscuro is the balance of a clear, bright, bell-like resonance with a rich, warm, velvet tone. Without the dark, the light is strident, white, jarring. You can't even see it, or you don't want to hear it. Darkness is a part of art, and darkness is a part of life.
As a mom, I am still working on managing scary intrusive thoughts about the world and my sweet little boy in it. I wouldn't have considered myself a fearful person before, but on the wrong day in the wrong mood with the wrong input, I find myself deflecting thoughts of all kinds of frightening dark scenarios. I have my tips and tricks for chasing them off, but my experience tells me that darkness is very real and often, in many ways, out of my control. When it shows up, it happens just like Passion Sunday . . . and it knocks the wind out of us, to put it mildly.
BUT. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. And that is the story of Easter. A mother, and a father, loved their son, watched him grow, watched him do amazing things, watched him struggle, watched him suffer, watched him die, and lived without him . . . and then lived a miracle, and watched him change the world.
It's so easy to live in the dark, or to live with a fear of the dark. Lent helps us understand the dark, find the beauty there, and face the ugliness head-on--with our light. And Lent always, ALWAYS leads to Easter. Every time. Even when we can't see how. Even when the worst possibility has happened. The light redeems the darkness. The light was here before, and the light is coming again. The light will win, every time.
So, at Easter, I will celebrate the light in my little one, and in my own soul, and in the hearts of those around me. I am grateful for another moment, day, year of carrying that light to the dark places, and I keep the faith that redemption is stronger than pain. All will be well . . . the light will win.
Palm Sunday in our Lutheran church is so different than when I was growing up. Back then, it was my favorite. It was a party. Celebration, dancing, waving the palms, all of that good stuff. We didn't enter much into the darkness of the Lenten season, but we loved to celebrate. At Bethlehem, the day is Passion Sunday. We begin with celebrations and hosannas and end in somber reflection on the crucifixion.
This year, on Passion Sunday, after opening with joyful Hosannas, my co-soprano and I sang the opening of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater before the sermon. Pastor read the gospel, from the triumphant entry to Jerusalem, through the trial and mocking and torment and misery, to the final breath on the cross. And then, we sang The Mother, grieving, stood beside the cross, weeping, while there hung her Son.
I don't think either of us fully engaged emotionally with this piece until it was time to sing it in the service. That was self-preservation . . . it's haunting, beautiful, and profoundly, painfully sad. And when we finished, both of us were visibly moved, as were many around us.
What could be more raw and real than a mother weeping . . no, wailing . . . for her son?
Since my brother died, nearly 11 years ago, this story has had more power than ever before.
Since I became a mother myself, I can hardly take it.
But Sunday, I understood the contrast of Passion Sunday, and of all of Lent and Easter, in a new way.
On Ash Wednesday, we say "The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." We then, by choice, walk together in a period of darkness, towards the light.
In art, chiaroscuro is the way light and shade play together to create dimension, contrast. In singing, chiaroscuro is the balance of a clear, bright, bell-like resonance with a rich, warm, velvet tone. Without the dark, the light is strident, white, jarring. You can't even see it, or you don't want to hear it. Darkness is a part of art, and darkness is a part of life.
As a mom, I am still working on managing scary intrusive thoughts about the world and my sweet little boy in it. I wouldn't have considered myself a fearful person before, but on the wrong day in the wrong mood with the wrong input, I find myself deflecting thoughts of all kinds of frightening dark scenarios. I have my tips and tricks for chasing them off, but my experience tells me that darkness is very real and often, in many ways, out of my control. When it shows up, it happens just like Passion Sunday . . . and it knocks the wind out of us, to put it mildly.
BUT. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. And that is the story of Easter. A mother, and a father, loved their son, watched him grow, watched him do amazing things, watched him struggle, watched him suffer, watched him die, and lived without him . . . and then lived a miracle, and watched him change the world.
It's so easy to live in the dark, or to live with a fear of the dark. Lent helps us understand the dark, find the beauty there, and face the ugliness head-on--with our light. And Lent always, ALWAYS leads to Easter. Every time. Even when we can't see how. Even when the worst possibility has happened. The light redeems the darkness. The light was here before, and the light is coming again. The light will win, every time.
So, at Easter, I will celebrate the light in my little one, and in my own soul, and in the hearts of those around me. I am grateful for another moment, day, year of carrying that light to the dark places, and I keep the faith that redemption is stronger than pain. All will be well . . . the light will win.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
ToT: RAOK
SO.
Today was a Random Act of Kindness challenge. As in do one, then write about it.
A little background . . .
This one was my idea, for a few reasons. Random Acts of Kindness (RAOK) kind of came back into my view following the Sandy Hook tragedy . . . as in do an act of kindness in honor of each life lost. It's a lovely way to attempt to find the light in a dark situation, I think. It got me thinking . . . I've been doing more than my share of navel gazing over the last couple of years. I'm all for introspection and self-awareness--I believe it makes us better people and therefore makes the world a better place--but the balance has been off. There is plenty of mess and muck to trudge through, and I've made it my career to do so in hopes of making an impact, but it gets awfully heavy sometimes. I wanted to challenge myself to find simple, light-hearted ways to make the world a better place.
I've often thought of little ideas here or there that might be fun, but actually doing them is a different story. Absent-mindedness or laziness sets in, distractions arise, doubts surface, or whatever the reason, many of my so-called good ideas go undone. So what good are they, really? Then there's the whole 'random' aspect. Intentional acts of kindness ring a bit more true to me . . . seeking out a particular person in a particular situation to share a particular something is more my style. And, lots of things people categorize as 'random acts of kindness' seem like just common courtesy . . . you know, like smiling at the check-out clerk.
So, choosing a 'random act of kindness,' meaning some kind of gesture for someone I don't know intended to brighten their day, became the task. If you're an extrovert, maybe this is not daunting at all. In theory, I didn't think it would be either, until it was actually time to DO it. Lots of typical ideas didn't sit right with me . . . I don't go through drive-throughs often at all. Or I convinced myself there were all kinds of logistical reasons I couldn't pull it off, lugging a toddler around. (Again, I just have the one kid--I admire all of you mamas out there with more!) It felt almost awkward, surprisingly, to think about how to do something kind and out-of-the-ordinary without fumbling around . . . Or it just didn't seem special enough, BIG enough, worth writing about.
And then I realized I was doing it again . . . letting the perfect be the enemy of the good. As fellow blogger Danielle's husband (and a stand-up guy from back in high school) said, "Sometimes DONE is better than PERFECT." I could spend days coming up with some elaborate scheme, or I could just brighten someone's day.
So, I just looked in front of me and started there. It has been awfully icky outside, and we have a little stash of Starbucks cards inside, and our mail carrier brings us all kinds of wonderful things like magazines and baby shoes and Etsy packages through all kinds of weather, and warm beverages are cozy and comforting. So I fixed up a little thank you card, added a ribbon to hang it and make it kind of special, threw the gift card inside along with one of the cards to the right (thank you, Pinterest and thirtyhandmadedays.com), hung it on our mailbox, and there you have it.
I don't remember speaking with the mail carrier but once previously, as I happened to be leaving for a run as he was arriving. So he was definitely a stranger. And when the card had awkwardly fallen on the ground before he arrived, he had to awkwardly ring the bell and ask if it was for him--to which I un-awkwardly (by sheer determination) said yes, it was, just a little something. He said thank you, something is better than nothing (he meant that kindly, I think), and went along about his day.
Honestly, this was about the lowest-effort RAOK I could have pulled off. Part of me feels guilty about this. Part of me thinks I should have found something spectacular. Part of me thinks if this was so simple, why did it take nearly 8 years of living here before I left the mailman a thank you?
And most of me realizes that is a silly reason to feel guilty--as well as a good reason to change that moving forward. No more *thinking* about baking cookies to take to the new neighbors, just do it! No more hemming and hawing over small gestures because we're not sure how they will be received . . . if they are done in kindness and respect, and the recipient is treated in kindness and respect regardless of their response, that's what matters.
I do have a few more ideas about some RAOKs and intentional acts of kindness that I would like to do moving forward. I loved an idea I read--taping quarters to the children's vending machines at the store. I've had a few ideas on how to brighten the workday at the office. And who knows, maybe I will get a flash of genius about a witty, creative, delightful RAOK to put together with more planning and effort. Maybe I won't. Either way, I believe that small gestures can have a big impact, sometimes cumulatively as the smiles ripple throughout the day, or sometimes all on their own. I want James to believe this, too. So together, as a family, we seek to intentionally share kindness in our world, in the little things every day. It's just good for everyone.
I can't wait to hear the thoughts of the other ToT ladies. Check out the links to the right!
What about you? Have you ever been on the receiving end of one of these RAOKs? Do tell!
Today was a Random Act of Kindness challenge. As in do one, then write about it.
A little background . . .
This one was my idea, for a few reasons. Random Acts of Kindness (RAOK) kind of came back into my view following the Sandy Hook tragedy . . . as in do an act of kindness in honor of each life lost. It's a lovely way to attempt to find the light in a dark situation, I think. It got me thinking . . . I've been doing more than my share of navel gazing over the last couple of years. I'm all for introspection and self-awareness--I believe it makes us better people and therefore makes the world a better place--but the balance has been off. There is plenty of mess and muck to trudge through, and I've made it my career to do so in hopes of making an impact, but it gets awfully heavy sometimes. I wanted to challenge myself to find simple, light-hearted ways to make the world a better place.
I've often thought of little ideas here or there that might be fun, but actually doing them is a different story. Absent-mindedness or laziness sets in, distractions arise, doubts surface, or whatever the reason, many of my so-called good ideas go undone. So what good are they, really? Then there's the whole 'random' aspect. Intentional acts of kindness ring a bit more true to me . . . seeking out a particular person in a particular situation to share a particular something is more my style. And, lots of things people categorize as 'random acts of kindness' seem like just common courtesy . . . you know, like smiling at the check-out clerk.
So, choosing a 'random act of kindness,' meaning some kind of gesture for someone I don't know intended to brighten their day, became the task. If you're an extrovert, maybe this is not daunting at all. In theory, I didn't think it would be either, until it was actually time to DO it. Lots of typical ideas didn't sit right with me . . . I don't go through drive-throughs often at all. Or I convinced myself there were all kinds of logistical reasons I couldn't pull it off, lugging a toddler around. (Again, I just have the one kid--I admire all of you mamas out there with more!) It felt almost awkward, surprisingly, to think about how to do something kind and out-of-the-ordinary without fumbling around . . . Or it just didn't seem special enough, BIG enough, worth writing about.
And then I realized I was doing it again . . . letting the perfect be the enemy of the good. As fellow blogger Danielle's husband (and a stand-up guy from back in high school) said, "Sometimes DONE is better than PERFECT." I could spend days coming up with some elaborate scheme, or I could just brighten someone's day.
 |
| You can download free printables at thirtyhandmadedays.com |
I don't remember speaking with the mail carrier but once previously, as I happened to be leaving for a run as he was arriving. So he was definitely a stranger. And when the card had awkwardly fallen on the ground before he arrived, he had to awkwardly ring the bell and ask if it was for him--to which I un-awkwardly (by sheer determination) said yes, it was, just a little something. He said thank you, something is better than nothing (he meant that kindly, I think), and went along about his day.
Honestly, this was about the lowest-effort RAOK I could have pulled off. Part of me feels guilty about this. Part of me thinks I should have found something spectacular. Part of me thinks if this was so simple, why did it take nearly 8 years of living here before I left the mailman a thank you?
And most of me realizes that is a silly reason to feel guilty--as well as a good reason to change that moving forward. No more *thinking* about baking cookies to take to the new neighbors, just do it! No more hemming and hawing over small gestures because we're not sure how they will be received . . . if they are done in kindness and respect, and the recipient is treated in kindness and respect regardless of their response, that's what matters.
I do have a few more ideas about some RAOKs and intentional acts of kindness that I would like to do moving forward. I loved an idea I read--taping quarters to the children's vending machines at the store. I've had a few ideas on how to brighten the workday at the office. And who knows, maybe I will get a flash of genius about a witty, creative, delightful RAOK to put together with more planning and effort. Maybe I won't. Either way, I believe that small gestures can have a big impact, sometimes cumulatively as the smiles ripple throughout the day, or sometimes all on their own. I want James to believe this, too. So together, as a family, we seek to intentionally share kindness in our world, in the little things every day. It's just good for everyone.
I can't wait to hear the thoughts of the other ToT ladies. Check out the links to the right!
What about you? Have you ever been on the receiving end of one of these RAOKs? Do tell!
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
ToT: Bucket List
Every once in awhile, it hits me that for all my perfectionism and detail obsession, I am not a long-term planner. I was not the little girl who dreamed of my wedding or being a mother; whenever I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn't have an answer. I can be almost neurotic about doing my best in the moment and setting myself up for success, but I'm not always sure what the goal is, for good or for ill.
So, I don't have much of a bucket list. Many of my hopes and dreams are intangible . . . world peace and justice and happiness and all of that. Some of my hopes are well beyond my control and are more about faith. Some are extremely mundane. The vast majority of my hopes are about the people I love . . . watching my boy grow up healthy, strong, and happy, seeing my parents thrive well into the years, living in love with my husband for the rest of our long lives, celebrating joys with dear friends . . . with family, love, and laughter all over the place.
That said . . . there are a few things I've always wanted to do, some of which I just discovered. (Thank you, Together on Tuesday! Check out the links to the right for more ideas.) Here is my completely tangible, and personal (not idealogical), Bucket List.
So, I don't have much of a bucket list. Many of my hopes and dreams are intangible . . . world peace and justice and happiness and all of that. Some of my hopes are well beyond my control and are more about faith. Some are extremely mundane. The vast majority of my hopes are about the people I love . . . watching my boy grow up healthy, strong, and happy, seeing my parents thrive well into the years, living in love with my husband for the rest of our long lives, celebrating joys with dear friends . . . with family, love, and laughter all over the place.
That said . . . there are a few things I've always wanted to do, some of which I just discovered. (Thank you, Together on Tuesday! Check out the links to the right for more ideas.) Here is my completely tangible, and personal (not idealogical), Bucket List.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
ToT: Last Year, This Year
Hello, 2013.
Last year was challenging, inspiring, surprising, healing, tiring, fun, so many things.
It was also pretty tough.
Last year was challenging, inspiring, surprising, healing, tiring, fun, so many things.
It was also pretty tough.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Only at Christmas Time
None of the posts kicking around my head right now seem quite right.
I, like many around the world, am still reeling from the horrific events of last Friday . . . but my flood of thoughts and feelings is nothing compared to the devastation felt by those directly affected by the shooting in Connecticut.
I will likely say more on this matter in the future. For now, my heart is with the families of every person--all of them--affected by this tragedy.
As I held my little boy while he slept on Saturday, I kept thinking about all of those parents who once held their babies just the same way. I expect most or even all of the people at the school last Friday have had a parent hold them close, whisper in their ear, hope for their future, and give them sweet kisses. Not a one of them ever dreamed this for their sweet little baby.
Holidays are tough when you've lost someone precious. They are forever changed. Even more so for these families, with the anniversary of these unspeakable events coming every year as they prepare for Christmas. Christmas is when we tell the story of a sweet little baby, born to do amazing things, born to endure horror, born to save the world. I am thinking of his mother and father, and all of the mothers and fathers grieving in Connecticut and around the world, and my heart is singing this humble prayer.
Rest in Peace, sweet little angels, and peace to all of the souls who have loved you.
Rest in Peace, sweet little angels, and peace to all of the souls who have loved you.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Gratitude
Ah, November. The leaves change from colorful to brown and crunchy, the air from cool to biting. We Scorpios celebrate our birthdays. There's an odd mix of Halloween leftovers and Christmas early birds all around. College football gets serious--OSU vs Michigan, anyone? And we spend the month reflecting on gratitude.
I like the idea of taking all of November listing the many things for which I am thankful--I even got into the spirit on Facebook, which takes some commitment (if you're me). Being the type who is constantly striving to do more and do it better, there is a lot of value in my reflecting on the good things all around me. I've spent a lot of time examining deficits in hopes of improvement, but that's only valuable when you can enjoy the good things as they are. Professionally, social workers try to be strengths-based--the theory being that we grow more when we focus on our strengths rather than our problems. I could use more of that in my daily life--even in this blog, really. I have been blessed with far more rainbows than thunderstorms in my world. So, again, with the lists . . . and since it's my 33rd year, 33 is the magic number.
Here are 33 Things I am Thankful for in my 33rd Year.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
ToT Rewind: Busyness, Stillness
Flashback . . . ToT topic from September . . .
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
33 Things
Hello, old friends.
I've missed writing. I have been occupied with other things. I left a job I loved for a job that was a better fit for my family and my life, and the transition took a lot of energy. We are settling in now and I am so thankful for the opportunity to do what I love and care for my family at the same time. But more about that later.
Danielle at My Peaches and Cream wrote a few weeks back about how hard it is to blog when all this heavy-duty life is going on all around you. I've been living that lately. Lots of serious stuff in lots of places, and our little family keeps trying to share the love where it needs to be shared. It feels silly to sit and type when real life is happening--except that real life is always happening, and writing helps keep me sane.
So, I'm back. At least for now. I'm squeezing this in a small window between rushing home from a rehearsal and hanging out with my husband. And my heart is full, full, full for a dear friend and her family who are grieving a tremendous loss. And I'm getting old, people. In the spirit of my pending 33rd birthday, and in in the interest of writing at all, I give you 33 Things.
1. Life is amazing.
2. A wise woman once told me we never feel we have enough time with the people we love.
3. Think about that as you decide what's important to do RIGHT NOW. Today. Tomorrow.
4. Also, all of the time we get with the beautiful people placed in our lives is a gift.
5. I have always thought people deserve respect just for being human.
6. That includes people who are different from us.
7. There are good, kind, intelligent, caring people on all sides of any issue.
8. There are people who get the brunt of other people's frustration far too often.
9. Those are the people I feel drawn to protect.
10. They probably don't need my protection--they have done just fine without me for a long time.
11. So instead, I will constantly work for what I believe is just and true.
12. And, I will constantly look around, listen to other people, and learn about what justice and truth really mean.
13. That's what I love about being a social worker.
14. I hope I can be the kind of mom whose children grow up knowing integrity, compassion, and courage.
15. If people were as engaged in service as they are in political rhetoric, the world would be a better place.
16. I am extremely grateful for my parents.
17. I am extremely grateful for my friends.
18. I am extremely grateful for my mind and education.
19. I am extremely humbled and grateful that I continue to grow and change.
20. My mom said a few years back that there is no reason the coming years can't be the happiest of our lives.
21. That was a big deal, because we have a big hole in our family that will never be filled.
22. I thought that was a pretty courageous statement.
23. I think that's what hope means.
24. I'm glad my husband challenges me.
25. Being a mother challenges me in ways I never could have conceived before.
26. Watching my child grow is ridiculous and inspiring and humbling and fascinating and joyful.
27. I guess I have been feeling soulful these days.
28. Impermanence is the only permanence.
29. It is an honor to grow older.
30. I wonder if being an adult means there is more heavy-duty life going on around us all the time.
31. Maybe that's why there are children--to bring the joy and light.
32. I love my boy so much it hurts. Really.
33. In honor of a dear friend:
"I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, only more love."
I've missed writing. I have been occupied with other things. I left a job I loved for a job that was a better fit for my family and my life, and the transition took a lot of energy. We are settling in now and I am so thankful for the opportunity to do what I love and care for my family at the same time. But more about that later.
Danielle at My Peaches and Cream wrote a few weeks back about how hard it is to blog when all this heavy-duty life is going on all around you. I've been living that lately. Lots of serious stuff in lots of places, and our little family keeps trying to share the love where it needs to be shared. It feels silly to sit and type when real life is happening--except that real life is always happening, and writing helps keep me sane.
So, I'm back. At least for now. I'm squeezing this in a small window between rushing home from a rehearsal and hanging out with my husband. And my heart is full, full, full for a dear friend and her family who are grieving a tremendous loss. And I'm getting old, people. In the spirit of my pending 33rd birthday, and in in the interest of writing at all, I give you 33 Things.
1. Life is amazing.
2. A wise woman once told me we never feel we have enough time with the people we love.
3. Think about that as you decide what's important to do RIGHT NOW. Today. Tomorrow.
4. Also, all of the time we get with the beautiful people placed in our lives is a gift.
5. I have always thought people deserve respect just for being human.
6. That includes people who are different from us.
7. There are good, kind, intelligent, caring people on all sides of any issue.
8. There are people who get the brunt of other people's frustration far too often.
9. Those are the people I feel drawn to protect.
10. They probably don't need my protection--they have done just fine without me for a long time.
11. So instead, I will constantly work for what I believe is just and true.
12. And, I will constantly look around, listen to other people, and learn about what justice and truth really mean.
13. That's what I love about being a social worker.
14. I hope I can be the kind of mom whose children grow up knowing integrity, compassion, and courage.
15. If people were as engaged in service as they are in political rhetoric, the world would be a better place.
16. I am extremely grateful for my parents.
17. I am extremely grateful for my friends.
18. I am extremely grateful for my mind and education.
19. I am extremely humbled and grateful that I continue to grow and change.
20. My mom said a few years back that there is no reason the coming years can't be the happiest of our lives.
21. That was a big deal, because we have a big hole in our family that will never be filled.
22. I thought that was a pretty courageous statement.
23. I think that's what hope means.
24. I'm glad my husband challenges me.
25. Being a mother challenges me in ways I never could have conceived before.
26. Watching my child grow is ridiculous and inspiring and humbling and fascinating and joyful.
27. I guess I have been feeling soulful these days.
28. Impermanence is the only permanence.
29. It is an honor to grow older.
30. I wonder if being an adult means there is more heavy-duty life going on around us all the time.
31. Maybe that's why there are children--to bring the joy and light.
32. I love my boy so much it hurts. Really.
33. In honor of a dear friend:
"I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, only more love."
~Mother Teresa
Another day, I'll be back with a lighter heart. For now, my heart is grateful for my mama, my family, my friends. I'm a lucky one.
Monday, August 13, 2012
ToT: A letter to the past . . .
Yes, I'm writing nearly a week late. Life happens. And for some reason, the life that happened last week left me just not in the mood to talk to that 16-year-old me. But I have a few things to say to her now . . .
To my 16-year-old self,
A lot has happened in your first 16 years . . . and that's a good thing. Because the next 16 years will bring changes you could never have imagined. Most of those are pretty wonderful. Some, devastating. If I could change some of those things, believe me, I would. I am not sure this letter has that much power . . . but if it did, here's what I would tell you.
To my 16-year-old self,
A lot has happened in your first 16 years . . . and that's a good thing. Because the next 16 years will bring changes you could never have imagined. Most of those are pretty wonderful. Some, devastating. If I could change some of those things, believe me, I would. I am not sure this letter has that much power . . . but if it did, here's what I would tell you.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
ToT: Current Events
There are real people involved in these issues.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
ToT: Laundry List
If you haven't noticed, my fellow Together on Tuesday bloggers are pretty busy. There have been vacations, moves, babies on the way, and just craziness in life. I have been enjoying my Monday evening blogging pomodoro as part of the rhythm of my week, and I'm pretty proud of that--though there will be some hiatus in the future. (Yep, I blog for Tuesdays on Monday. Sue me.) Anywho, in deference to playing catch-up, and with regards to the great Carla Morgan (from whom I stole the idea), I give you the Laundry List.
(Which, as we discussed on Carla's private blog, doesn't make much sense. Who lists their laundry? Then I remembered I did list my laundry . . . when Hotel Tsentralnaya washed and ironed ALL my clothes--underwear and socks too--on a visit to Kirov, Russia. So that's what a real laundry list is.)
(Which, as we discussed on Carla's private blog, doesn't make much sense. Who lists their laundry? Then I remembered I did list my laundry . . . when Hotel Tsentralnaya washed and ironed ALL my clothes--underwear and socks too--on a visit to Kirov, Russia. So that's what a real laundry list is.)
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
ToT: La Musica
How has music impacted my life? More like how hasn't it.
Music is as integrated into my life as food or sleep. Sometimes it is glorious, sometimes it is a responsibility, sometimes it is hardly noticed. It has been a long time since I really reflected on music. Now, I'm thinking of all of my musical memories, experiences, and aspirations . . . oy, this could take awhile.
Music is as integrated into my life as food or sleep. Sometimes it is glorious, sometimes it is a responsibility, sometimes it is hardly noticed. It has been a long time since I really reflected on music. Now, I'm thinking of all of my musical memories, experiences, and aspirations . . . oy, this could take awhile.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
ToT: Then and Now
I finally got around to reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. Fascinating stuff, I think. One interesting idea Gretchen encountered on her quest to become happier was that we are happiest doing the same things we did for fun when we were children, say age 10. In theory, as adults we are either too busy to worry about being happy or we're focused on what we think should make us happy, while as kids, we just lived it. I'll buy that, and it got me thinking . . .
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Together on Tuesday: Keeping in Touch
I am so thankful to have wonderful friends. And all of my friends have wonderfully full lives. I think of my friends so often--much more often than I make contact, and certainly more often than I see them. This week's Together on Tuesday topic has me thinking about creative ways to keep in touch.
Most people think I'm an extrovert. It's been this way all of my life. I'm comfortable enough in a crowd, I apparently smile a lot (so I'm told), and I talk way. too. much. But here's the thing: I'm not. I am not, nor do I think I have ever been, an extrovert. After a big to-do, I am found at home, crashing, either in solitude or with my even more introverted husband. I need my downtime to recharge--my theory is I have a deficit after my crazy-busy high school and college years (which went on for 3 degrees!). I never feel quite like myself in a big group of people--unless I have something keeping me busy, which is why I often end up in the kitchen. I have always preferred the intimacy of one-to-one conversation or a small gathering to the boisterous fun of a party.
I think this may be one reason why my friends don't really know each other too well . . . interesting. I tend to keep in touch with my friends one-on-one, for the most part. And while I love tradition, I realize that I have very few traditions with my friends. Time to change that, I think.
Being a mom changes everything (right?). I have my lovely little guy, and we have a ton of fun together, and he takes a LOT of time. But more than that, my schedule is completely rocked . . . I am still working on getting a rhythm going, balancing part-time work and mommyhood and other tasks. And I spend a lot of time with family, which I love. These days, seeing friends is requiring more planning and forethought than ever before.
One of the best friends a gal could ask for lives about 7 minutes away and has for most of my life. I love her to bits, and her family is pretty great too. We were in a pretty solid rhythm of hanging out about once a week, often with our husbands and her kiddo. The last year brought changes neither of us could have imagined . . . some amazing, and some beyond heartbreaking. We still stay in touch every way you can think of--phone chats, email, Facebook, and every week or so we grab some time together, but life has knocked us off of our old rhythm. We'll see what happens when her twins come and rock her world even more! We'll find a way, though. We always have, even after 27 years. Lucky, lucky me.
Another great friend I've been lucky enough to have since I was 12 has also had a whirlwind of a year. We are both so busy--for once, she is more than I am--and our Saturday brunches or Sunday afternoon football games have been fewer and farther between. Time to send a quick note. Then there are my out-of-town friends. One of the best outcomes of my crazy undergrad experience was another once-in-a-lifetime friendship. We haven't lived in the same town for 10 years now, but it doesn't matter. We trade voicemails a lot, and we trade a few weekends every year--either she comes here or I go to Chicago. I'm looking forward to Peanut's first of many trips to Lincoln Park Zoo this summer.
Then there are the social worky friends, current and former co-workers, for whom I am SO grateful. In my field, you need good people around who understand the craziness and can help keep your head up. One lovely lady I worked with a few years back started a book club with another of our friends and some great people from her current job, and we get together monthly to eat, catch up, and sometimes discuss the book :). We chat throughout the month as well, about everything from our family lives to just about every topic on this blog. In fact, conversations with her sparked Just Living.
What else . . . a few of us from high school used to have a monthly dinner club with our husbands, that was pretty fun (especially when we introduced them to a true Russian dinner party!). Different friends and I have different lunch dates we tend to recycle, which is kind of like a tradition, right? Now that I've joined the mommy club, I've connected with some other mamas in various settings, and it has been fun to trade tips and watch our babies grow. And who can forget Facebook, which I was so reluctant to join (as a closeted introvert) but which has proved pretty useful in keeping up and reconnecting with good people. If it wasn't for Facebook, I might not be in this Together on Tuesday brigade!
So as it turns out, maybe I have a few more traditions than I think I do, they are just simple--which is just the way I like it. I like finding rhythm in life, too, which is why settling into more regular contact sounds quite nice, I think. I am pretty stinkin' blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life. I want to make the most of that and show them just how much I appreciate them. :)
Check out Nan, Danielle, Michelle, and Charlotte to see how they keep up with the special people in their worlds.
Most people think I'm an extrovert. It's been this way all of my life. I'm comfortable enough in a crowd, I apparently smile a lot (so I'm told), and I talk way. too. much. But here's the thing: I'm not. I am not, nor do I think I have ever been, an extrovert. After a big to-do, I am found at home, crashing, either in solitude or with my even more introverted husband. I need my downtime to recharge--my theory is I have a deficit after my crazy-busy high school and college years (which went on for 3 degrees!). I never feel quite like myself in a big group of people--unless I have something keeping me busy, which is why I often end up in the kitchen. I have always preferred the intimacy of one-to-one conversation or a small gathering to the boisterous fun of a party.
I think this may be one reason why my friends don't really know each other too well . . . interesting. I tend to keep in touch with my friends one-on-one, for the most part. And while I love tradition, I realize that I have very few traditions with my friends. Time to change that, I think.
Being a mom changes everything (right?). I have my lovely little guy, and we have a ton of fun together, and he takes a LOT of time. But more than that, my schedule is completely rocked . . . I am still working on getting a rhythm going, balancing part-time work and mommyhood and other tasks. And I spend a lot of time with family, which I love. These days, seeing friends is requiring more planning and forethought than ever before.
One of the best friends a gal could ask for lives about 7 minutes away and has for most of my life. I love her to bits, and her family is pretty great too. We were in a pretty solid rhythm of hanging out about once a week, often with our husbands and her kiddo. The last year brought changes neither of us could have imagined . . . some amazing, and some beyond heartbreaking. We still stay in touch every way you can think of--phone chats, email, Facebook, and every week or so we grab some time together, but life has knocked us off of our old rhythm. We'll see what happens when her twins come and rock her world even more! We'll find a way, though. We always have, even after 27 years. Lucky, lucky me.
Another great friend I've been lucky enough to have since I was 12 has also had a whirlwind of a year. We are both so busy--for once, she is more than I am--and our Saturday brunches or Sunday afternoon football games have been fewer and farther between. Time to send a quick note. Then there are my out-of-town friends. One of the best outcomes of my crazy undergrad experience was another once-in-a-lifetime friendship. We haven't lived in the same town for 10 years now, but it doesn't matter. We trade voicemails a lot, and we trade a few weekends every year--either she comes here or I go to Chicago. I'm looking forward to Peanut's first of many trips to Lincoln Park Zoo this summer.
Then there are the social worky friends, current and former co-workers, for whom I am SO grateful. In my field, you need good people around who understand the craziness and can help keep your head up. One lovely lady I worked with a few years back started a book club with another of our friends and some great people from her current job, and we get together monthly to eat, catch up, and sometimes discuss the book :). We chat throughout the month as well, about everything from our family lives to just about every topic on this blog. In fact, conversations with her sparked Just Living.
What else . . . a few of us from high school used to have a monthly dinner club with our husbands, that was pretty fun (especially when we introduced them to a true Russian dinner party!). Different friends and I have different lunch dates we tend to recycle, which is kind of like a tradition, right? Now that I've joined the mommy club, I've connected with some other mamas in various settings, and it has been fun to trade tips and watch our babies grow. And who can forget Facebook, which I was so reluctant to join (as a closeted introvert) but which has proved pretty useful in keeping up and reconnecting with good people. If it wasn't for Facebook, I might not be in this Together on Tuesday brigade!
So as it turns out, maybe I have a few more traditions than I think I do, they are just simple--which is just the way I like it. I like finding rhythm in life, too, which is why settling into more regular contact sounds quite nice, I think. I am pretty stinkin' blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life. I want to make the most of that and show them just how much I appreciate them. :)
Check out Nan, Danielle, Michelle, and Charlotte to see how they keep up with the special people in their worlds.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Wednesday Wisdom
Well, well, what do we have here . . .
I'm back.
And my world was rocked. And I love this guy to bits.
And a few other things happened, and 6 months flew by . . .
I'm back.
If you hadn't noticed, I was gone awhile. My last post was 18 days before this happened . . .
And a few other things happened, and 6 months flew by . . .
And now I have a busy, mobile 8 month old with two teeth and the best belly laugh you've ever heard.
I've always known motherhood wasn't for wimps, but this is no joke. My mind is blown, and I am learning constantly. Sometimes I'm learning lessons I thought I already nailed, like . . . .
"The perfect is the enemy of the good." --Voltaire
You would think a classical singer/social worker would have figured out by now that perfectionism is not terribly productive. But old habits die hard . . . so this mama reignited her neurotic pursuit of complete mastery of all things.
Not. Helpful.
When your husband takes all of your baby books and locks them on a high shelf . . . and you're only 5 feet tall . . . you better come up with another plan.
Time to reconnect with the core of me and get to know the new me. Time to take care of body, mind, and spirit, and time to tune in to that famous mother's intuition.
One simple way to do some of this is blogging again--here and with our Russian friends, of course. And when I saw my dear friend Nancy had reconnected with some lovely ladies from high school, Danielle and Michelle, it was a perfect (ugh, there it is again!) opportunity. They, along with Charlotte, have challenged each other to blog together every Tuesday. Perfection not required. So, I'm in. Not this week, I couldn't pull it off, but that's OK! (See what I did there?) My plan is to get a quick post up at least every Tuesday, in whatever form it comes.
So, I'll be blogging our shared Together on Tuesday topics from a Just Living perspective . . . social justice and the like. I'm also thinking about Just Living in a new way, with my little one here. Just Living . . . as in simply living . . . as in making space for my child to soak all the joy out of life while making the world a better place. As in wondering how to preserve the sanctity of childhood in this crazy world. As in learning how to simply breathe and accept that while we can change our worlds in many ways, there are some times you just have to trust everything will be OK.
So, I'm back to blogging, and I'm on my way back to just living. Glad you're along for the ride. :)
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Wednesday Wisdom
"We fear that we are inadequate, but our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves: 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be these things? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people around you won't feel insecure. We are all meant to shine as children do. We are born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically releases others."
-Nelson Mandela
Monday, June 20, 2011
Red/Black
I love being married to smarty-pants, socially-minded historian. That means that on Father's Day, which also happened to be Juneteenth this year, we spent the day at the Red/Black exhibit at the Eiteljorg Museum. We've been meaning to go since it opened. It's one of those fascinating places where our two disciplines meet. In fact, opening day hosted lectures from historians and social workers alike. It was fascinating! But more on that later.
First, Juneteenth? Yes, this is one of those interesting and important days I had never heard of until I was married to this smarty-pants guy. It turns out Juneteenth is the oldest commemorative date for celebrating the end of slavery in the US. Pretty important! I'll leave it to you to learn more, if you're interested. In this house, where studying the effects of slavery on 20th century African Americans and dealing with long-term effects of oppression are regular occurances, Juneteenth gets some notice. Not to mention the millions of people still enslaved today, but more on THAT later too.
Lucinda Davis, 1937, former slave of the Creek tribe, from Library of Congress
Examples . . . there were times when Native peoples and African slaves were enslaved side-by-side, and then fought their oppressors side-by-side. There were times when certain tribes owned African descended slaves themselves. There were times, even in recent history, when certain groups were quick to reinstate dividing lines between those groups, seeking 'pure' bloodlines and excluding African descendents from citizenship within the tribe. And there were times when groups worked together culturally, socially, and politically, for unity and positive change.
One display asked the question (paraphrased) "Why do people in power exploit others, and when will it end?" I wish we knew. There are more slaves living today than there were during the height of US slavery and legal slave trade--some estimates at 29.2 million. These slaves work in sweatshops, agriculture, manufacturing, housekeeping, massage parlors, nail salons, strip clubs, brothels, you name it. And despite our best efforts, our culture is designed such that you and I likely benefit from this ugliness on a regular basis.
I walked away with another perspective on how easy it is for people to segregate themselves and label the 'other,' if it benefits them. Let those people worry about themselves, I have enought to attend to. I also saw how beautiful it is when people cast those distinctions aside and come together--that is where true change can happen. One man, descended from both African slaves and a native group, shared that he was doubly strong because he had two blood lines--and this in a time when it was illegal for a White person to marry outside the race. There have been brave people throughout history who have changed the culture--even just the culture in their corner of the world--and made the world safer, brighter, and richer for it.
I want to be like that! What if we all were? Could we eradicate slavery in its current form? I believe we could, I really do.
So yes, we were inspired. And humbled.
And we are planning to commemorate Juneteenth each year, from now on.
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