Zip Pip

It's So True

2011-10-12T09:37:00.002-06:00

Is It My Fault I'm Unhealthy?

2011-09-18T19:23:00.000-06:00

Yes, and no.

Oh, how much simpler it would be if I could have titled this post "It's YOUR fault you're unhealthy!" or "It's NOT your fault . . ." Not only would it sound firm and convincing, but it also would have drawn in twice the audience; the part that already agrees with the statement, and the part that wants to argue vehemently about it.

But I'm more of a perspective person--stand back and really think about it. Once you do that, wow! 95% of all your statements will end with question marks followed by the phrase "well, yes and no."

But enough of that!

This is a subject that is near and dear to my heart. And my lungs, And my throat and sinus cavities. Oh, just about every speck of my body because I am the type that is "always sick." I have had more than my share of people looking at me, or hearing I was sick again and then offering me unsolicited and off-base suggestions based on their erroneous assumptions. It occurred to me while I was tuning out the latest person to tell me I should eat more vegetables, that all this input was probably because society has completely swallowed the illusion that we are totally in control of our health.

Now, we do have some measure of control. This is very true, and very important. We control what we eat, how we exercise, how we sleep, and to a great extent the amount of stress we bring into our lives (and this is coming from a mother of two autistic children). Once you've covered those four major bases, you are supposed to have covered the vast majority of what it means to be healthy.

Still, that's not all of it.

You could go even further--you could move to get cleaner air; you could go to a therapist to learn how to have fulfilling relationships; you could Purell your hands every hour (this btw, is not actually a very good thing to do); you can take pro-biotics, vitamins and Omega-3 pills daily; you could sit in the woods for an hour each weekend; etc &etc.

But at the end of all the hazzah and crazyness and after ever hour of your life is devoted to obsessing about your health, it is still not completely in your control. There is still the past, and the unaccountable.

Now, it's true that the past may be "your fault," in that you made some bad decisions that negatively impacted your health on a pretty drastic scale. Especially if it is still plaguing you. However, something can be caused by you, and still not be changeable. So while some of it may be your fault, there is nothing you can do about it. If there is nothing you can do to change the decisions in your past, then the healthiest thing you can do is let go. Don't let others harass you about it either. It's done. If you are doing your absolute best, and still you have problems because of choices in your past, then it is effectively out of your hands.

So in a past-reflective sense, if you are doing the best you can, is your health still your fault? I guess so, but it's not a healthy way of looking at it. In a now-oriented sense, if you are doing the best you can, then your bad health isn't your fault because there is nothing you can do about it. If you can't do anything about it, is it your fault? No. It may have once been, but it is not now.

Now this fancy juggling with words is not letting someone off the hook for their responsibility. This is permission for people to forgive themselves, let go of something they have no control over, and accept that their best is only their practical, actual best--not some theoretical and utterly impossible "best."

The last of it all is the unaccountable. It might be where you were born; when you were born; who your parents are; if there was too much yellow in your nursery; if you caught a cold when you were a baby; if you didn't eat enough dirt; if you ate the wrong dirt; or things are just the way they are and no one but God knows why. The unaccountable is endless because we live in a world that is always changing. One of the hard truths of this life is that a person can be doing the best for themselves, and their health is still mysteriously crippled. It happens. It's the nature of life. We do get sick. There is nothing we can do to anticipate, or prevent this happening completely--this must be accepted.

This essay is for two people.

To the person who is sick, and who for the thousandth time has searched online for any clue as to why they can't get better despite all the things they have done or tried. Recognize that much of your health is in your control . . . but the rest is not. Do the best you can with what you can control, and then rest and let go. Don't continue blaming yourself for things that you can't change or control. Sometimes life is about learning how to live even when you're sick.

To the person who judges the sick--stop. If you don't know with utter certainty what they eat each day, or what they've done to improve their health, or all the trouble they've gone through trying to fix what seems to be an un-fixable problem, then be very careful what you say. Telling them to lay off sugar when they haven't had any for over a year, or trying to teach them the importance of stress reduction when all they can do is lay in bed all day from exhaustion, demonstrates that you think they are doing something wrong, when you have no idea what they are doing at all. A new idea, or a kind suggestion is not a bad thing (tactfully done), but be sure it applies before you offer it, and remember that in the end all your good advice, even strictly followed, may never have the power to bring them back to health.

Many people speak with authority about health, simply because they are lucky enough to be healthy. They feel like they are in control of it because it is currently going their way. It may not always go their way. It was and never will be completely in their control.

Love, Ego, and Recognition

2011-08-25T12:44:00.000-06:00

The other day I was chewing some mental-cud over two different forms of love I see wandering around. The first is the type of love that seems to have no basis on knowing who a person is--the love we may feel for groups of people, strangers, or acquaintances. The other type of love is the more personal love we feel for the people we really know--family members and sweethearts. I caught myself thinking about how much nicer it is to be loved because people actually know you and "love you for who you are. . ."

Then I stopped, and had to think again.

Because we don't really want that. Not really. The trouble with being loved because of who you are is that it is a conditional love. You may change. You may grow out of your behavior. You may pick up a new habit, or let another one go. Your thinking may mellow with age. You are always changing. If someone loves you because of who you are, then there is absolutely no garentee that their love will endure the change.

Some might think this is a good thing. They want to actually earn love--especially those who think they deserve love because they are good or better (the unstated comparison there is "better than others"). But that is just as hazy and uncertain because what makes a person good or better is only a judgement. Those who value hard work will value hard work in others, but it's just as easy to value a relaxed attitude, or a sense of fun, or numberless other attributes. You can be more honest, you can be more caring, you can be more intelligent, and to some extent you can claim this is objective. However, in order for you to be good, or better, someone has to be standing across from you, and saying that being more intelligent is better. So once again, love is based on something that is conditional, and subject to change, because people's values change and evolve as they grow.

Now we have entered a very gray area. There are many who would point out that "wanting to deserve love" can be a very good thing. So many movies and books where the shady past of the hero is put aside because he wants to be worthy of the woman he loves. All very romantic, I'm sure. And far be it from me to discourage someone gaining virtue or leaving behind vice . . . but all the same . . . it seems like a fairly shallow tool. Yes, it may work--but for how long, and under what conditions? What if the lover leaves, dies, or the infatuation wears off? I think it is much wiser for someone to step back from the moment of passion and ask themselves why they feel unworthy. Isn't that really them passing judgment on their own behavior? So are they really changing because of the judgements of others, or because they have judged themselves based on what they value, and found themselves lacking?

But it is hard to ignore the fact that it seems natural to want to be loved for who we are. I'm pretty sure that inclination is just us playing hide and seek with out deepest desires. Again (it's a common game). Really, I think we want to be known. Sure our egos would love the affirmation that once known, people approve of us, but when you strip yourself of that 'need", or come to realize how empty such approval is (as it depends of the opinions, conditions and attitudes of others . . . all of which are almost completely outside of your control), then I think that right there in the newly emptied and swept room you can finally see the pattern on the floor that says we want to be known and loved.

That's the highest form of love. To know who someone is, and to love them without unnecessary judgement. To love them as you watch them change and grow. Children thrive on this type of love; where they are safe to grow up to be who they are, free from the painful judgements or caging approvals of their parents. And I'm just sentimental enough to really believe that our needs as children are just masked, twisted or hidden as adults.

I also believe that past the rigamarole of trying to define our love for one another, most relationships are actually like that. A woman may claim she loves her husband because of one reason or another, but then as he changes, she still loves him and just comes up with new reasons. But on the other hand, I do think that it is easy to forget or lose sight of the nature of a healthy love when we are overcome by emotions, opinions and judgements about what's going on in the muddy work of our daily lives. Still, being aware of what it means to know and love someone will help to order our lives better*.

*"Better" here being a judgement that says being personally happier, and blessing others with love and unconditional support is a good thing.

Be Real With Your Friends--Let Them Be Real With You

2011-04-11T11:53:00.000-06:00

The other day I read about a study that showed there were significant improvements in the cases of mild depression when they pursued other solutions aside from weekly talk sessions with a licensed therapist; namely journal therapy, biblio-therapy, and just-talk therapy.

Easy enough--with the first you write regularly in a journal (though this has been shown to be more effective with helping people though traumatic experiences than with depression, it has still shown some gains), the second you read a special selection of books, and the last, you make an appointment with your friend every week to go out for coffee and they let you talk about how you are feeling.

Huh. Well. Interesting.

But here's the part that just kills me. I sat back thinking about all that, and what it really meant about how we were healing when we pursued those paths--when a rude thought begged me, "how many people would rather pay a stranger $75 an hour rather than admit their weaknesses to a friend?"

I know that I probably would. And I've been working on this whole "shameful honesty" thing for over a year because I do know what "shameful silence" does, and it's my bit to trying to help save the world. People around me may never admit they have problems, but if they spend too much time around me, they'll sure know I do. That basic knowledge keeps people grounded, lets them know that you can be a functioning human being, and still have issues in the closet.

I'm seen a few more "shameful honesty" pieces coming out of the blog o' sphere recently, and I'm glad for it.

So in case you haven't heard recently; it's normal to have problems. It's okay to have problems. Most people do. You don't have to be ashamed that you haven't magically got everything perfect; because we're all here just trying to figure out this "life" thing, and DANG! It's the hardest pop-quiz of all time.

And, to quote an old American blessing; I hope you have a good enough friend that you can call and ask them to help you hide the body.

And maybe call to ask them out for coffee to let you talk.

New This Season, Hating Kids!: or, Society Fashion's Influence on Our Happiness

2011-04-09T23:32:00.000-06:00

The other day I wrote a little about why so many people now-a-days may not enjoy being parents. I believe there are actually many, many numerous reasons, so don't let my minimal tangents fool you--I know the whole thing is complicated, but I'm not here to get into all of that . . .

I'm here to finish up that side thought I introduced by saying that people in the modern American society are actually trained not to enjoy being a parent.

You do know that the society we feed on each day has a tremendous amount of influence on us, right? From the people we hang out with, to the books that we read, to the TV we consume, billboards, conversations we overhear at a restaurant: I am not kidding you, all of this makes a difference in how we think and feel. I don't think this is a bad thing--just a thing. It's the way we are because we are such social creatures.

Stepping back from American culture and looking in makes it easy to see that we aren't very family friendly as far as fashion is concerned (we do, however, take amazingly good and compassionate care of the children we have). All the TV shows seem to feature young un-marrieds going about their ironic and humorous lives. Parties are the "in" thing. Adventuresome lives where a man can just pick up and go climb Everest is romantic, and admired. It's even now become socially acceptable (at least on-line) for people without children to hatefully complain about the fact they must at times come into contact with children, such as when they were hoping to eat out at a nice peaceful resturant.

No, I'm not joking. Those cites are not uncommon. And they shamefully seem to be giving perceived validity to opinions that would have otherwise just been seen as selfish and ridiculous (My word! Did the world not revolve around you today? Darn it! I can't tell you how many times I've told parents to either raise perfect children who behave perfectly, or to not reproduce!).

Sigh.

Anyways. The point was that our society's fashion gives us an unconscious sense that the good life is a life of freedom from responsibility, and when those who feel the profound pull to reproduce have little children, they get caught looking back and thinking about all the parties they're missing.

Now, theoretically, this less-responsibility life has charms (I'm taking people's word for it--I've never been much of a party-person). However, it doesn't have to be the only type of living that brings happiness. Nor does it have to be the one that society pushes.

This struck me when I was watching a movie some weeks ago portraying an eastern culture from another era. The idea that being married and baring children was the best way to assure happiness for a man subtly saturated the society. It had almost no baring on the plot, but you could see it at work in the background. On reflection, I realized that this was probably a fairly common socially accepted fashion in various cultures and time periods, having the same social pull our current less-than-friendly-to-children social fashion has.

So what?

Well, A) our current no-kid fashion is only a fashion, it wasn't always that way and it probably won't always be that way; B) like all other fashions, these only talk about how great one thing is, completely failing to mention all the other great things out there (like having a family); C) if we waste our time thinking about how much fun we could be having if we weren't parents, of course we're going to be less happy as parents.

I guess the "cure" is simple enough. Never forget that there are many things to enjoy in life--including the joy of having kids. Maybe try and limit how much toxic cultural beliefs you are exposed to each day or week. If you aren't enjoying being a parent, stop moping and try to figure out how to enjoy it.

Forget Family Time To Enjoy Parenting

2011-04-08T16:14:00.000-06:00

I read an article that really put a tick in my ear. It talked all about how parents were miserable, and they claimed they weren’t because of “cognitive dissonance”—which is a fancy way of saying we’re trying to convince ourselves (and maybe others too) that we do in fact enjoy being parents.

Oh, yeah. Don’t get me started.

And though I could write annals on what was wrong with the article (*cough* blatant misuse of non-applicable research to prove a point with bad logic *cough*), I just don’t think I have the time to write the 400 page rant.

I am, after all, a mother.

And I like being a mother.

“Oh, there she goes again with her cognitive dissonance. The poor thing.”

Not quite. I think one of the reasons that so many parents are less happy than non-parents is two fold; 1) I think that society actually trains us to not like being parents (another blog post for another time), and 2) we don’t really know how to enjoy being parents. After all, while I always loved my children (God cheats with that whole maternal-instinct thing) it took me a long time to figure out how to enjoy being their Mom.

Ironically, one of the grossly misapplied studies the article actually highlighted a small point that I would like to comment on. The author talked about how a study found that parents claim to enjoy spending time with their children, but when questioned after a family outing, they didn’t really enjoy it at all!

Ladies and gentlemen—the absolute fastest way to learn to enjoy being a parent is learning effective loving discipline. . .

But! The second fastest way to learn to enjoy being a parent is letting go of your plans and learning to love them in your normal day.

I remember when I was inspired by numerous articles to try and create artificial times for my family to be together in a common activity. It sucked. Maybe there are some families that have made this work . . . magically. Seriously, I have no idea how they do it, but kudos to them! For the rest of us, with older children, you might have a chance (depending on the level of belligerence) but with younger children, my experience says families aren’t going to really enjoy it because plans never work out, things go wrong and it winds up being too much work. Stress is high, love factor is low.

When I let all that go, and tried to embrace a slowing down and relaxing, all of a sudden I had time to listen to them insult each other by calling the other “pancakes!” Or I could teach my son how to play Mario Brothers. Or I could read to my youngest. Or I could banish them to their room and come back after they had built a whole city with their blocks. I tried to say “yes” more often when they asked to play Candyland. And we watch cartoons together (gasp!) . . . all the time.

You know what? They are fun, funny, crazy, loving, bizarre little sociological experiments! I enjoy being around them. We tease each other (though I do demand a certain level of respect: see note on fastest way to enjoy being a parent-above). It’s relaxed and enjoyable. Because my stress level is lower since I'm not aggravated that my expectations aren't being met, I'm free to enjoy what is happening.

And now that they’re a little older, I may spontaneously decide it’s time to hit the big park, or go out for a small outing. But I try to never expect anything and just enjoy what happens, and I know that there isn’t much more than one hour before Z gets restless. It’s life!

P.S. The third fastest way to become a happier parent is to throw all parenting magazines (not books—magazines) in a pile and light it on fire while fore-swearing them forever.

Leaf Sketch

2011-03-24T12:45:00.000-06:00

A sketch from one of my all-time favorite photos. Done is graphite and colored pencil.

The Audacity of the Crocus

2011-03-18T17:10:00.002-06:00

the audacity of the crocus
to stand on March dirt or through snow
as the first of spring renewal
so it's peaceful existence
shouts to us

Bird

2011-03-17T09:31:00.002-06:00

Romance and Insomnia

2011-03-16T10:40:00.000-06:00

I have trouble with insomnia. It comes. It goes. It's normal.

But you learn a lot when you are up in the middle of the night. You learn how much light your partner can sleep with, and how to occupy your mind with patience. You begin to appreciate the space of a king-size bed for keeping your sleeplessness on one side You learn at exactly what times those early birds wake up.

I've also learned that Adam talks in his sleep. It's kinda sweet and kinda funny to listen to someone when they don't know what they're saying. You catch a glimpse of who they really are, and what occupies their mind.

Last night, I couldn't sleep. I've learned that Adam is more sympathetic when my tossing and turning hasn't kept him up as well, so I got up and went to sketch something. When I got back to bed, I turned on the my lamp and crawled under the blankets.

In his sleep, he said to me, "Shhh, it's okay, Honey." He muttered something else, and then turned over.

I love being married, because I have a man who is always looking out for me. He knows his role well. He knows it well enough to do it in his sleep.

Relationships and love are beautiful; it's so much nicer than trying to do it all and go at it alone.

New Smart Phone

2011-03-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

It's dangerous buying a phone that's smarter than you. When machines come to take over the world, we won't have good enough memories to meet at rebel rallies, and we'll believe anything Wikipedia tells us. I have a machine that can now do . . . oh, practically anything.

I could brag on the hundreds of crazy apps, but really, if you don't already know about it, you will soon. Until then, enjoy your ignorance--because once you know what is possible, you will wonder how you ever got along without phone GPS hooked up on a 4G network to Google maps. Or the game Angry Birds. Seriously. That is where civilization starts.

Alright, maybe not.

But for a luddite who is trying to sell her Kindle, I'm sure just a little more than a little enamored of my new phone. It really is freaking me out how convenient it makes life.

Or . . . it will. Once I get it to talk to my computer so I can type in the several thousand lists I have on a full sized keyboard.

Oh well. If I get frustrated at least I can fling grumpy looking birds at green pigs for stress relief.

Kindle Goes, and Back to Books

2011-02-26T13:59:00.000-07:00

Because I like seeing them on my shelves, and holding them in my hands, and buying them in paper makes them seem like the precious things they are . . . whereas downloading them just didn't feel like the right amount of punch.

Plus Pinky needs a place to hang out.

Books on the Bible

2011-02-22T11:25:00.001-07:00

Having been a seminary student (briefly, and no telling if I'll be going back anytime soon), I can tell you that there are a tremendous and disturbing amount of books written about every aspect of the Bible you can possibly image, and then several dozen more that wouldn't even occur to you.

I have loosely designated them into two groups--books about the Bible, and books on the Bible. Books about the Bible are full of facts, history, tidbits, and general knowledge that are really useful and make reading the Bible a more pleasurable activity. The books on the Bible are people's commentaries about what it means, or what it should mean, or how it really is.

Those books also come in the guise of cultural books, or social books, or single issue treaties, and they use the Bible to support or justify their perspective. Walk into any Christian book store and pick up five non-fiction books. Go ahead and just guess what the odds are that four or all five of them are going to be the latter type.

Now, in case you couldn't guess from the previous paragraph, I have issues with the books which amount to essentially nothing but one person's commentary on what the Bible means. LOTS of issues. Painful, glaring, gnarly, nasty issues that begin with squinted eyes and end with me praying that God would bless my heart that I would one day have love for those I currently don't love.

There is a theory that some of these books aren't about people pushing their own perspective--that they actually feel as though the point they are pushing is something they have discovered in the Bible, and they have to tell the world about it! And bless their hearts, I'll bet they really believe that.

Trouble is that the Bible is a very big book, and it says lots and lots of things, and so what one person may have taken to heart because of their life, position, and introspection may not be what calls out to another. And even if it is an eternal and vital principle, taking it out of the Bible--which is filled to the brim with other vital eternal principles--almost always puts too much emphasis on a single aspect to the detriment of whole world-view advocated by the Bible. We become unbalanced in our thinking, and that can lead to toxic views about God and religion.

More to the point--if the aspect you are advocating is found in the Bible, why would you need to write another book on it? Couldn't believers just go to the Bible and read it for themselves?

Not all "Bible commentary" books are bad. Not by a long shot. Nor am I saying that they should be avoided at all costs. But I am saying that anyone looking into such books should be painfully aware that by the nature of a limited book speaking to a specific aspect of the Bible, it is almost automatically out of balance, and that a diet of such books can lead to an out-of-balance understanding of what God wants.

For those who may already be suffering under a toxic view of God and religion, I would advocate a perfect fast of "Bible commentary" for at least a year. Instead indulge in a personal study of the Bible itself, use a journal to jot down what you are thinking while you are reading it, and if you want to, look into the books on the Bible that have facts and information about it. That way you have a little more when you go into it, instead of someone telling you what you should take out of it.

Oh, Yeah. Very Punny.

2011-02-19T22:53:00.001-07:00

I pun. Well, actually, I rarely pun, but I love a good pun--as many as I can get. It's kind of a family sense of humor. Rumors claim my father says it came from my mother. That wouldn't surprise me.

What's really fun is when you get a whole bunch of my family in a room together, and we all start making jokes. We don't often have an appreciative audience, and so we go all out, and we all laugh and laugh while our spouses just look at each other and shake their heads.

Well, we think it's funny.

So here is to my dear family and our funny sense of humor (ha! look! I mini-punned!). I found a bunch of good ones on this random website: http://www.spiration.co.uk/post/210/great%20puns (you'll notice that it's from the UK. Yet another indicator that I'm an incurable Anglophile).

Energizer Bunny arrested - charged with battery.
A pessimist's blood type is always b-negative. (Ironically, in my case, this is actually true.)
Shotgun wedding: A case of wife or death.
Corduroy pillows are making headlines.
Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
A gossip is someone with a great sense of rumor.
A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two-tired.
A backward poet writes inverse.
When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds.
He often broke into song because he couldn't find the key.

Perspective

2011-02-18T23:47:00.000-07:00

Lord, today I needed a little bit of perspective. It's been frustrating, and I'm in pain. I can't join the military. My back is killing me. Trying to figure out how and where to live and in what is driving me mad. Can you help me out please?

Hmmmmmm.

Yes.

Ah.

I see.

Thank you.

Amen.

Oh, I Guess Maybe I Am Doing Some Good

2011-02-18T08:58:00.000-07:00

M: Thanks for all your hard work on reading Val. I know it's hard for you.
V: Well Mom, I just always remember what you tell me.
M: What's that?
V: Practice is always a good thing.
M: Yeah. You're right.

Summer End

2011-02-17T11:52:00.000-07:00

This was my ode to summer. It's based on the Grasshopper and the Ants story. I know that you're supposed to side with the ants--Why didn't that lazy grasshopper prepare for winter?--but I think a part of me always sided with the grasshopper, who got to spend the whole summer singing and dancing.

That's what I'd like to do someday.

My 6 Year Old Son--A Minor God

2011-02-16T09:18:00.002-07:00

V: Mom, I forgot to tell you something a long long time ago. I'm an expert on the whole Universe and everything in it. Everything.

Pazow In the Garden--version 2.0

2011-02-14T21:16:00.001-07:00

For as much as I complain about watercolors, I do pretty good with them. This is from a seeming forever ago, but I thought I'd share.

Time for Beauty

2011-02-10T10:21:00.002-07:00

Song Huizong

"We know that the average museum visitor stops two seconds in front of each painting. How much beauty can you absorb during that time?" -Ferrucci, Beauty and the Soul

I'm reading a book about beauty (in case you couldn't guess). It's a disarmingly lovely read. I could drivel on about it for hours, but I have a point here, and should probably get around to it.

I read the above quote, and it just stuck in me. Two seconds? Really?

It profoundly reminded me of an anime I stumbled across called, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. In it, one of the characters had come back in time from the future for the sole purpose of being able to see one painting from Old Japan: the original had been lost in the future.

He came across time itself to just look at one painting. And I don't think he would have spent only two seconds looking at it.

Someday I would like to have time to go back again and again to an art museum, just so I can sit in front of a few paintings and just look at them. Just really soaking up what makes them precious.

Haiku -- the sky

2011-02-09T16:09:00.001-07:00

clouds today -
unrolled quilt batting
against blue.

Now THAT'S Romance

2011-02-07T13:15:00.000-07:00

I read poems and that's about it for the romantic stuff. Somewhere along the way I was made to understand by mysterious social forces that, generally, romance was sappy, bad, and made women "silly."

Actually, I still believe this. Spending too much time thinking about romance does make women (and men) silly, and has probably lead to one or more completely unnecessary divorces. (You can insert a long lecture about how marriage is work, here.)

But silliness aside, I've never been much into any form of the genera anyways. It lacks a type of grit and humor that I enjoy in my books and movies. A little of it now and then (if well done and surround by great action sequences) is okay.

This anti-romance attitude has had an interesting impact on my life. It adds masses of shame to my writing, which always seems to wonder firmly down the street of rose-colored glasses and non-sense. But for as bad as my fiction is, it's been kinda nice for my marriage. My husband has never had to surprise me with long stemmed roses, or try to make romantic conversation while staring into my eyes at a fancy restaurant. Which is good. Because my husband is really really bad at romantic conversation.

And I love the grit and humor I get with my man. It works out nicely.

Adam has this pillow. It's awesome. It's a feather pillow with a fancy thermal case that keeps the surface much cooler than a normal pillowcase. Izz comfy. I steal it. Often. But my husband doesn't take that crap from me--he steals it back. And he can still take me in a fight, so I've never actually been able to sleep with the dang thing. It's just a game now.

A few nights ago, I had been threatening to steal, and stealing the coveted pillow. Finally I stopped fooling, and we both went to bed, only to be pried out again a half hour later for some forgotten reason. I was lucky enough to be able to head back to bed before my husband, and tried to walk casually while deviously plotting taking his side of the bed in order to secure the pillow. One last sneak attack, if you will.

But when I cozied down, the pillow wasn't there. It was completely gone.

"HEY!"
Adam was laughing, "I got you."

And that's romantic to me. He knows me so well. When someone knows you that well, it's just cool.

Across Ages

2011-02-02T18:18:00.002-07:00

Behind the city-scapes
and silohoutted skylines
I see ruins--
etchings of human figures
dancing across the rock wall.

I see symbols to mark the sacred center of the world--
and it's not me
or you.

Behind homes I see people
laughing, eating, drumming--
I'm not sure if I'm looking at yesterday
or today.

Across years we still smell the air,
and stretch our limbs,
and reach out to others.
Perhaps that's why those ancient hand-prints
feel so real to me

I can almost put my hand in theirs

sandstone and grit

They were reaching out to me.

Seasons

2011-01-31T13:26:00.001-07:00

Everyone says that we have seasons in our life. I know this may sound like a stupid observation, but we have seasons because if we were to try and do it all at once, we would slay ourselves with stress.

Ironically, being physically limited by our body's natural seasons and the limit of 24 hours in a day is a huge blessing because I'm convinced that Americans are actually idiotic enough to try something like doing everything-all-at-once. And then they'd create websites where you could go and waste time trying to learn how to do everything-all-at-once better. 'Cause this makes more sense than slowing down and doing things mindfully.

But who am I?

I'll tell ya who! I'm the chick that is sick to death of feeling like if I'm not doing everything and several other things besides I'm somehow sub-standard. I'm the chick that wants to digitally spray-paint every life-hack site out there with the phrase "DO LESS TO ENJOY LIFE." I'm the person who sits and stares out windows while drinking tea, and who takes her Aspie son out to coffee to listen to him lecture me about the subtly of Star Wars robots and counts it as the most productive time of my day. That's who.

I'm the one who loves seasons of the year because they remind me of all the different times and different seasons of my life, and what a blessing it is that we only have to do what is called for us to do today, and that there will be more and different tasks to do later, and we should wait for that later to come before we worry about it.

It gives me a little peace and perspective when I'm trying to make the critical decisions about what to do with my life. The wise part of me knows that I should do what I need to do, do it well, and give myself enough time to relax and enjoy it. Everything else can either wait, or doesn't need to be done at all.

Learning to Love Walking

2011-01-28T10:46:00.000-07:00

I used to be a runner. I wasn't on a team or anything, I just got up in the morning and ran. I loved it. Can't explain it, but if there are any runners out there, you know what I'm talking about. End of mile 4, you are ready to conquer the world--at least you feel like a minor deity. I loved it.

Something happened. Something always happens. Idaho and living on the wrong side of the tracks cut me down and then two horrific pregnancies put the nail in the coffin. After Z was born, I optimistically laced up, ready to get back on the track. I had started overweight and with nothing before . . . surely I could do it again. Right?

Ha!

Well, not this time. I've had a long string of ridiculously stupid injuries and a series of strange un-diagnosable lower leg problems. There are general rumors which may or may not be true that this might be the state of my life from now on. Lower back problems (which might be the whole cause of the lower leg problems) are hard to heal completely--especially if you don't have a job that keeps you standing and walking a lot. While I'm not discounting a full healing (I have an excellent chiropractor) . . . but it does make you stop and think.

Major life changes can belt you upside the head. Giving up running--even temporarily--was that bitter pill that got stuck in my throat. But as much as I didn't like it, what was, was. So I went for walks instead.

Month one, it sucked. It was slow. It was boring. There was no rush of adrenaline. I was never going to get fit enough to hike Timp with this!

Month two, eh. At least I'm out of the house. I like the fresh air. There are those nice old guys who always say hello to me. Speaking of hellos, hello! What's this? A trail? A dirt trail? I wonder where that goes . . .

Month three: birds, raccoon tracks, walking across the beams to practice my balance, looking at the trees and their funny colored leaves. Huh. This is nice. Really nice.

I love that whenever one pleasure passes for some reason or another, there is another pleasure right there to take its place. We live in an abundance of joy. Our lives are poised to be overflowing because we just won't live long enough to relish it all. My God is infinite and glorious, and He gives like He knows it. God is just awesome.

The Gluten-Free Caisen-Free Diet

2011-01-27T18:04:00.000-07:00

It's for autistic kids. In case you didn't know. If you didn't know you are friend or family member who reads this blog because they love me. Because every parent of autistic kids I've met does know.

And who can blame them. It's the only really completely affordable autisitc treatment on the market. Every book I've read has recommend it be tried, if only because it wouldn't hurt and it might help. The statistics aren't encouraging . . . but statistics never are in the game of "how to help your autistic child."

I decided to try it about the time I could name the only 5 foods that Z would eat. None of them were fruits and vegetables. I decided not to go cold turkey on the kid, but I just stopped buying the dairy and wheat. I never looked for replacements either--like rice bread--he'd have to learn to like something new.

With in days, I had him trying all kinds of things. The boy who would once throw up at the approach of an unknown food (I'm not joking about that--he'd puke all over me. An excellent defense mechanism), was now willing to be fed one bite of just about anything. To this day, I can get him to eat just about anything. He won't like it all--but he loves carrots, and celery, and apples, and jamba (and we'll pretend really hard that's actually healthy, and not mostly ice-cream).

I didn't notice a major change in his behaviors. But I'm not exactly strict on it, either. We cheat a little just about everyday. Crackers at pre-school, peanut butter sandwiches when Mom's sick; that kind of stuff.

But would I recommend it?

Yes. Because it can't hurt, and it might help. I would especially recommend it for Mom's who are frustrated at their child's limited food choices. I would also recommend not going cold-turkey. It was much easier to let them eat their way through all their supply.

The Point of Relaxation

2011-01-26T21:24:00.000-07:00

Today I can proudly announce that I am not very stressed out.

This is significant! It deserves fan-fare! And noise-makers!

Not very stressed out? That's fantastic! I'm on so much of a relaxation roll, I hope someday to not be stressed at all.

Let me dream. Let me dream.

I've resigned myself to a simplified life. I try hard to be mindful when I get to do my housework, or play with my boys, or help V with his homework. I have a simple sense of delight when I do it right. It makes my daily chores a cool little bit of life. In what free-time I have (not as much as one might think), I'm indulging in a schedule-free range of artistic/playful activity. My homework used to be "Read 300 pages of really tiny print and write two essays on impossibly complex theological concepts. Now it's "Find 5 pretty rocks. Keep them. Aren't they cool?"

I have to admit, I like the change. This is the kind of life I could snuggle down into and just enjoy. I think a major point of relaxation is not the absence of stress, but appreciating the absence of stress.

Thank Goodness You Can't Lose Intangible Gifts

2011-01-25T11:30:00.000-07:00

I'm an odd duck.

And if I had a nickel for every time I said that, or thought that, I would have a really big pile of nickels.

But it's true. I am. And I like it, just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Today's odd duck comment was brought about by the fact that I'm a raging pessimist. Having learned about this from the psychological, behavioral, and neurological stand-point, I can firmly say that it's my mother's fault. It's not the blame game--it's true! We get the majority of our inner dialogue from the parent who spent the most time raising us. Good news is that we can change that if we really want to, and better news is that being a pessimist isn't actually a huge problem unless it gets out of hand, so you may not even care about changing it.

And when my kids grow up, they can blame their pessimism on me. I'll make them T-shirts and everything.

But being a pessimist one might assume that I should be grumpy and unhappy most of the time (and I'll thank my friends and family for not making snide comments here).

Which just goes to show that we may get the habit of our inner dialogue from our mothers, but we get some gifts from God. And God gave me a grateful heart. And I'm so grateful that He did. Because that sense of wonder and gratitude makes even a pessimistic life a thing of beauty and joy. And let me tell you, it's the one gift I've been given that I would be utterly broken-hearted if I ever lost it. With it, I can get through anything. Without, the best life in the world would never be enough.

I hear rumor that you can develop a more powerful sense of gratitude. But I'm a fairly lazy little creature, so I'm awfully glad that I didn't have to work for mine.

Idle Dream, or Dream of the Idle?

2011-01-24T14:20:00.000-07:00

I recently heard of a Mom and Pop coffee shop that went out of business because the Pop hurt his back, and Mom couldn't handle all the heavy bags and packages herself. Apparently, they were running it the whole day themselves (I don't know if they hired any help. . .). Now that's a Mom and Pop shop.

It's also the neatest idea I've ever heard for having one awesome retirement!

Can you image? Empty nest. Regular employment done. So you open up a shop and then serve other people all day and just chat with the customers. Sure, you're doing it because you like talking to people and meeting others, but it also means you get more tips! You get regulars who are friends after a while, and you stay active and involved.

I'm tellin' ya! It's the ticket!

So if I'm ever bored in my retirement (or get bored in my "non-work" after the kids have flown the coop), you can expect to see me opening up and Coffee-Tea-Cocoa shop. I'll be the one behind the counter, teasing the customers.

Creative Inclinations

2011-01-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

I am a creative person.

Nope. . . not yet. Hmmmm . . .

I am a creative person.

Hmmmmmm. . .

I'm working on saying this with a straight face. It isn't happening easily. It's one of those loaded terms: "creative." I actually have a physical reaction everything I hear it. I'm not sure it's a good thing. I have some latent twitches.

But there's nothing really wrong with being creative. Heavens, no! It's just that I can almost sense the hundreds of different stereotypes a person might imagine when hearing that term. Not all of them are good (Ha! Not many of them are good).

But I am a creative person. Whatever the stereotypes may be and however accurately they might be applied.

I love poetry. And collage. And painting (but not watercolor). And inventing things because nothing is ever exactly how I want it (Perfectionist unite! Or we would if we could ever agree on exactly how something should be!) Sometimes I even dabble in a short story now and then. And I don't even regret it.

There. I've confessed. I'm out of the closet. Judge me gently--for you too might be harboring a creative inclination.

What's So Funny About Arizona: or, Thinking About Moving

2011-01-22T12:51:00.000-07:00

Joking about moving causes odd reactions in people. I know this because I recently "joked" about moving to Arizona in the middle of our lovely Utah winter. Apparently the emphasis was on the Arizona, and not on the "joke" part of it, 'cause I started getting lots of advice and ideas from people--most seemed to think it was not at all a bad idea (and not to shocking considering most were living through the same winter I was).

I have this theory that as adults we "joke" about our dreams to test the waters and see if people will react positively or negatively to them. It's a complex game of reading into the humor reaction and it requires a very fine sense for the derision of other people. It's a fine line between, "Oh, that's funny, but wouldn't it be cool?" verses, "Oh, that's hilarious."

I didn't think I was very serious, but then I started to be. That's what happens when you joke around people who think you're serious.

Trouble is . . . I love the idea of warmer weather, but that's not what gets me. I'm a mountain girl. I volunteered (or would have if they hadn't wanted to pay me) to leave behind my Utah summers to go and live in a tent where nights would get so cold I needed a fleece liner for my sub-zero sleeping bag (and Slumberjack, you and I need to talk about how you rate your sleeping bags). So it's not the cold that gets me.

It's the staying inside all the time.

If I've got a good coat and a good hat--I can hang out in the snow all day without a bother. It's ever more sweet when I think about the tea or coffee waiting for me. Working in the cold doesn't bug me. Sitting around the apartment all day, hating the smog that makes it hard for me to breathe . . . now that bugs me.

I remember all fun times I have slogging through an August snow storm on the way down a 12 mile hike. Or ice-skating. Or thinking about how bad I want to try snow-shoeing. I realize it isn't warmer weather I want. It's getting out to play more. It's the health I once had and the time and energy to play.

I'm rambling here because there is a point. I've learned through my vast and impressive experience that when you're going to make huge life altering choices, you had better know exactly why you are making them, or you're libel to make a mistake.

So, I probably won't be moving to Arizona. . . probably.

I will be buying a nicer coat and getting a nicer hat for next season, and we're going to try, hell or high water, to move out of the smog basin of Salt Lake City before next November. Where that will be? I have no idea. Will we manage it? I dunno. I really like my apartment, and change and I aren't often on speaking terms. But by God's grace we may find something that works for us near-ish-by.

Content of Time

2011-01-21T12:36:00.000-07:00

In case you couldn't tell by the hideously random blogging I've been indulging in--time and life, and balancing the two is not always easy.

Right now, Z is jumping like a crazy caged monkey on the trampoline we got him for Christmas, and watching Go, Diego, Go! (I hate that show). It's been busy with him. His IEP is coming up soon, and it'll be a major transition from a well oiled pre-school to I-have-no-idea-what. I'll have to know what we want for him if we're going to ask for it. V is off at school, and probably counting down the time until he gets to come home. He's trying hard and still bringing home "C's". Grades aren't hugely important to me--but knowing that he's only going to struggle more as classes get harder does make me nervous. Adam and I have been thinking about various interventions to try and help him.

Adam and I are also talking about moving . . . about building . . . about Arizona . . . about Lehi? The talk alone is enough to make me tired, really. Tired, but happy. The very threat of being able to actually build a house I've designed is enough to set me off on a blissful tangent of planning and design.

Life really is busy. But it also contains the same 24 hours it always has. People wishing there was more time makes my skin crawl--at times I want to scream at them, "Why? You aren't stressed enough already? You want more hours to cram full of things that don't make you happy?"

But being the tactful soul I am, I haven't said that out loud. Not yet.

Me? I'm better at managing my time than some. I am profoundly grateful for the abundance of time, and the limit of time. I schedule breaks. I try to limit frivolous activities that don't make me happy. When I catch myself "diddling" with time, I know I'm in trouble because I'm avoiding something I should be doing. Sitting and looking those should's right in the eye is tantamount to interrogating a mirror. Oh, and I have very, very little ambition.

That lack of ambition has been a God-send. Because it means I have enough time and clarity of mind to decide that I want mindfulness in my life. I want to really be there with my children when I'm playing with them, or cooking for them, or helping with homework. I want to enjoy my housework, and look at my husband while he's talking to me. Without ambition to compete for my time, I've been able to discover the value of the mundane things that are just asked of me because I'm a person with Responsibility.

See, to me, managing my time well isn't about having good hacks, and endless lists in a day-planner. I believe that managing my time well is about making sure the content of my time is spent well. With care and as much joy as I can remember to muster.

Balancing God

2011-01-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

If you take the character of God, and focus only on the grace and the love, you are harming more than helping. It sets up a false understanding of the full nature of God, and when believers come to passages where His justice and anger are told about, they have either real difficulty, or excuse and adjust the scriptures to fit their own ideas, rather than reading and accepting the text as it stands (I hope the danger there is obvious).

If you take the character of God, and focus only on His requirements, the need for obedience, the sacrifices He asks for, the nature of His anger, and the sinfulness of man, you create just as many problems. It creates real blocks between people and their God. It makes duty and obedience a fear motivated thing rather than a love motivated thing. Frankly, looking at a God like that, I wounder why anyone would want to come to Him.

Only when you can balance and explain the nature of God (as best we know it) does real understanding and love for His greatness become possible.

I struggled for a long time trying to get a grip on the idea of God that would guide me trough the times where I had to walk through lectures or books that were blind to His full nature or too harsh. Something to hold to, to remind me that God is both loving and that He requires all from us.

I did find it. A snapshot to help me keep balance. . .

I really can see God as love. He creates us in an infinitely beautiful world, He gives our hearts the desire for joy, and millions of ways to explore and feel that joy well within the righteous boundaries that He sets out. To make us able to love and feel joy, and to have provided so many ways to feel that joy! That is the heart of someone beautiful.

But He wants more for us than just that. He wants us to learn maturity. Maturity can hurt sometimes. Maturity can be sharing sorrow, or choosing sorrow because it's right. It can be suffering, and learning to suffer well. It's understanding that life is joy, and life is more than that--and it means that you learn to handle that well. So God gives us all these chances to feel joy, but wants us to be willing to leave it at a moment's notice for things that are more important--including Himself . . . who should be our ultimate joy.

God isn't there just to save us and spoil us and love on us--God is here to save us and grow us up.

Maturity means loving and praising for all the beautiful moments God allows/gives us, and living in them for all they are worth. Maturity means being willing to leave them if it's what you are called to do.

Doing the Art WORK: Practice

2011-01-17T11:52:00.000-07:00

Teaching V to draw has been quite the experience for both of us. It's been good.

He's been learning a lot about patience, circles, dots, and lines.

I've been learning a lot about patience, how to deal with my son's high anxiety and frustration levels, and how to get past the perfectionism of a six year old.

My favorite line? "Remember," (You have to say that loudly so he hears it past his dismay and rising tears,) "this isn't about making it perfect. This is practice. And practice is ALWAYS a good thing."

He's heard it so much, that now all I have to do is say "This is practices and practice . . ."

And he'll finish, " . . . is a good thing."

I have explained to him that in order to get better and better we have to get past in-experience. We have to put in the time, and get past the "I suck" stuff. It's work. It's not pleasant, sometimes. But it's always practice, and practice is what makes us better. It's the perfect thing to be doing!

I think I have an inner six year old. I think that inner six year old is still a rabid perfectionist who likes to pout and throw fits. I think that the best techniques for her are the simple lines and thoughts I throw at my other perfectionist six year old.

Last night, as I was doing a save-me-from-my-boredom collage, I was getting a little frustrated because it wasn't looking too good. Then the Mom voice in me gave the six year old me the lecture.

Yeah, yeah. It's practices and practice is always a good thing.

And I felt better. And I finished my piece. And you know what? It looks okay. Not great, but definitely a good thing.

My Soul Pinned Down

2011-01-07T10:37:00.000-07:00

There it is!
My soul pinned down
with tiny flecks of silver stakes
that delicately hold
the moth wings steady.

Inspection is almost too easy
now that it's been stilled and bare.
Behind glass,
standing stark out against
the sterile white paper.

What I see is beyond me--
is me!
I am greater than my understanding
and still a sorry little thing--
still capable of flight,
still able to be pinned down.

How Perfectionism Can Shape God for the Worse

2011-01-03T12:17:00.000-07:00

It’s an old joke that shortly after God created us in His image, we turned around and returned the favor.

Ha. Ha.

It’s so true it’s actually painful. We are crazy little creatures, but it does make sense. We always interpret others through our own perceptions, so it’s inevitable that we’ll interpret God that way too. With other people, we can see their actions, they can explain themselves, and they often work out in the open—very aware that they are being watched and judged. But God is far more subtle: He often works without us being aware, and He doesn’t commonly explain Himself beyond the revelation He’s already given, and He has no fear of judgment from us. So it may be easier for us to understand others than to understand our God.

Because it is difficult to understand God, our knowledge of His character is going to be fluid—shaped here and there by our lives, and our experiences with Him or those who claim to speak for Him. Shaped mostly by our perception, to us it may feel like God exists mostly in our minds. If He exists (as it seems to us) mostly in our minds, then it follows that He’ll be greatly shaped by who we are.

So it isn’t unexpected that if you ask someone what God is like, you’ll see a funny reflection of who they are. Some may be more accurate and objective, but none will be perfectly so. This is a fact—but not necessarily a bad one. It loses a lot of its negative power when people become aware of it, both in themselves, and in others (especially the others who are trying to speak for God).

But there is a negative issue that comes from this “God in our image”-thing, that can be a painful problem for perfectionists. Because they are never satisfied with themselves, because they never think they are doing enough, they may believe that God is never happy with them. For them, God is always disappointed because they could have done more—they should have done more.

I believe that God in His mercy, helps and loves on those who may be acting under this painful thought. He’ll guide them and provide ways and means for them to keep working. However, I also believe it is not right, or good to think such things. I find it hard to image with all the talk of joy, grace and love that God stands on high, frowning at all the things we have failed to do. I have no Biblical justification for this at my fingertips, but I believe that God is pleased by what we are doing right, and only neglect of the duty to love and care for others, and to confess Him and His power in our lives would displease Him.

To the man who only has so much money to give the poor, or to the women who can’t go on that mission to a foreign country because she has to work, or take care of children—don’t be too hard on yourself. God knows that you can’t do everything. Focus on what you are doing that pleases Him. Once a person rests happily in the love of God, it is so much easier to look after others. If a person is always frustrated and sad because they think they can’t please their God, that they’re never doing enough, then their giving will be stunted, painful, and filled with self-concern. It’s from our happiness and our plenty that we can give with joy.

An Asperger's Moment

2010-12-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

My oldest son has so few symptoms with his Asperger's that I usually assume that no one could see it. I have occasionally thought about taking him in for a second opinion, to see if he really deserves the diagnosis. I never do, because he does have some symptoms, and what's in the label except my understanding of where on the spectrum he falls?

I was so sure that he was practically normal that it never even crossed my mind that there wasn't a person out there, except the most paranoid child developmental psychologist, who would tell by casually watching him that he was autistic.

Last night I took him out to an art supply store, to by him a marker for his drawing lessons. At the check out counter, an older man--about 28?--standing just off to the side, said in an almost too quiet voice, something about, "autistic. . . savant?. . . like me?"

He had my attention. "I'm sorry?"

"I asked if he was autistic."

I stared for a second at the man, and then down at my son (yes, it was V, not Z), and in mild shock said, "Yes. Yes, he is."

He nodded. "I am too."

"He's not an art savant--at least as far as I know--but he likes to draw. He's Asperger's."

He walked over a little. He tried to keep eye contact as he got closer, but actually had to turn his body and face away when he got within talking distance. "Me too. I'm functioning Asperger's. I'm a language savant though. I know 9 languages, just from listening."

I'm usually very nervous around strangers. Especially odd ones. He was certainly odd. The way he moved. The way he talked. The way he looked without looking. Now that I watched him, I saw all the symptoms. How many odd-strangers over the years had I met who were autistic, and I was frightened by their oddness? Well, they weren't so frightening any more. I know how to talk to them. I talk to them just like I do my sons: with respect, and knowing they probably understand me more than I think they do.

"That's awesome! Do you get to work with languages now?"

"No. I don't work right now. They want me to go to college and get a degree to work with languages."

I rolled my eyes, "Isn't that the most idiotic thing? Well, if you go, at least you'll be able to teach them something. I had a Spanish teacher who could only teach us Mexican Spanish."

"Not the King's Spanish?"

"Yup."

"Well, ya' know . . . . . ." and then he ran off something in fast-paced Spanish.

"Actually, I don't know, which just goes to show how good a teacher he was."

We both laughed.

About that time I realized the clerks had been watching us the whole time. I apologized for making him wait, and finished check-out while the guy said good-bye.

"Mommy? Who was that?"

"Just a nice guy."

"Was he talking about me?"

"Yeah, he's Asperger's too. He does languages."

"Oh."

That was all V said. I looked down at him and wondered what he was thinking, or if he was old enough to understand any of the complexity of the labels he has to deal with. He knows he's technically Asperger's. I explain that's why he gets more scared than other kids, why he gets angry at loud noises (just like his mother), but I've also told him that it's not a big deal at all--it's just something they call him. After all, I tell myself, it isn't even noticeable.

Or maybe it's more noticeable than I think. I'm always going to wonder what the tip off was. Was it something V was doing that I don't even realize is odd? Or was it something in how I was acting that marks the parent of an Aspie?

Who knows? But I'm glad I'm the type of person that others (even odd strangers) feel that they can come up and talk to. I see people better for that. Maybe someday I'll go around and really notice the people around me, instead of them needing to make themselves noticed.

Creatively Different--Ode to an Interesting Tree

2010-12-28T04:45:00.000-07:00

We mocked my mom, mercilessly. It was actually a part of the holiday spirit. We'd laugh a little at the home-made egg decorations she'd had since the first year of her marriage. We'd laugh at the thread-bared golden tinsel. We'd play around with the clothes-pin reindeer. It was only fun because she's the type that doesn't care one hoot what anyone thinks of her, and had a quip or two of her own.

When I grew up, I wanted an organized tree. I wanted professional ornaments, a color scheme, and balanced, one-color lights. I had it all planned. And, I got it too.

Then I read a section form Brene Brown. She talked about how keeping up with the Jones and looking fashionable really meant that you all looked exactly alike, with one just a little bit prettier. But creativity always looked completely different.

I looked up at my Better-Homes and Garden's tree, and thought, Dammit, she's right. That tree looks like ever other tree out there. Well . . . except for my mom's.

'Cause, guess what Mom! You have a really creative tree. You have a really creative home. You have a really creative life. And you must have raised me, because there's an inner rebel that laughed really hard when I realized I had worked so hard to look like everyone else.

Next year, home-made ornaments (though I'm more of a paper-craft and sewing person, than an egg decorator).

Here's to creativity!

Christmas Conversation

2010-12-19T22:55:00.001-07:00

V: Mom, who's Murder?
M: Um, I don't understand the question.
V: Who is Murder?
M: Murder is a thing you do, not a person, honey.
V: You don't understand. This one is Gold. One is Frank, and the other is Murder!

Recommending The Artist's Way

2010-12-18T15:23:00.001-07:00

A while ago I stated that I didn't have the creativity to manage a long novel. A different type/flash creativity is more my thing . . .

I may have to eat my words. I may not. Who knows?

I found a really weird book, and just had to have it. It's called, The Artist's Way and is all about "unblocking" the inner-artist.

I just started to read it. And I'm not sure what I think of it yet. But I do know that it's a real experience.

I don't think I'll be bounding down the road to a national best-seller, but on the other hand, I have no idea where this is going. Eh. Maybe I'm just in it for the psychology of the thing. It always fascinates me how practical people manage to use the "rules" of psychology without formal training, and sometimes without even knowledge. This is one of the reasons why psychology can sometimes feel like a hobbled science to me. I hope there are curious scholars out there who look at what people are doing, and then try to figure out why it works . . .

So, here I stand. I'm recommending an experience without even knowing how mine is going to turn out. But maybe you could use a little un-blocking yourself? Not just for writers, or visual artists, or actors, or musicians. For anybody. And it would probably do good for everybody.

Check it out!

The Trap of Nihilism and the Alternative--Caring

2010-12-13T13:53:00.000-07:00

I didn't mean to be a nihilist. It just kinda snuck up on me. It seemed so rational. You start by wondering if maybe there are things we do that are more meaningful or valuable than others. Then you find yourself wondering if writing really bad fiction novels can be considered a "purpose." Next your begin to really evaluate if art is meaningful enough to devote your life to. You nod as people say, "I need a new job. I want to make a difference. I want to matter."

I knew I was in trouble the day I actually caught myself thinking that maybe the only really valuable thing to do in society was grow food (teachers having previously been eliminated because there didn't seem to be a point to much of what schools were teaching).

Those evaluative mind games came to a brickwall-slamming halt when the alter-ego that lives in my head (and is completely convinced I'm full of crap) said, "Well, what's the point of growing food--there doesn't seem to be much worth living for."

That stopped my train of thought so fast I thought I might hit my head on a metaphorical dashboard.

The trouble with beginning to categorize things as "no-point" or "meaningless" is that list just grows and grows the more you indulge in the attitude that says only the best, only the most meaningful can have meaning.

But God? He feeds sparrows and makes lilies that are here today and gone tomorrow. Sure, the verses are there to assure us that God cares about us, so he'll take care of us too--but did you ever stop to think . . . God cares about sparrows and flowers!

Now, I find that very assuring.

You can care about the little things. God does. You can care about the things that are here today and gone tomorrow. Sure, if you put on the thumb screws, you could probably get me to admit that there are things we do in this life that is more meaningful than others, but out of the same breath should come the insistence that most things in life have meaning, and should be appreciated for that.

Indecision

2010-12-11T22:40:00.000-07:00

I heard brief mention
that there is a place inside us
where we make decisions.

Dammit!

I need that address--
that phone number.
Or maybe I won't call first,
just bash on the door
and yell through the windows,

Hey!
I know you're in there!
You can't hide forever.
I brought your secretary Fear,
and I'm through with her.
Don't think you can send her out to get rid of me!

The door creaks.
Wind ruffles dead leaves in the yard.
Fear and I look at each other.
"Maybe no one is home," she says.

Truth Doesn't Take Up Room, It Takes Thought

2010-12-05T11:43:00.000-07:00

I found a treasure, and I have to share. It's a . . . comic? . . . called Indexed.

Drawn on index cards in the morning while coffee is brewing. Mostly funny little graphs . . . all of which are awesome! You have humor. You have truth. You have insight. You have the human heart-condition.

I love this for many many reasons. One is its subtlety. Another its brevity. Another, it's a perfect representation of how we think better in images and flashes than in long drawn out arguments (and take it from the chick who's read a little philosophy and a lot of theology, thinking in long drawn arguments takes training). But mostly because when I see a small graph that makes me smile at the timidity of a new opportunity, or shows the absurdity of behavior leaving a small un-painful poke in my ribs to remind me that's me, it is an awesome little soul connection.

This is a cheerful version of deep insight. I wish all insight came that way.

Check it out! Check it out!

Patience and Humor

2010-12-04T10:56:00.001-07:00

Peace in Serenity by ~cat-craze

One of the things I've learned from being sick a lot, is that it is easier, more beautiful, and more helpful to learn to be patient and have a sense of humor than it is to try and correct others' less than sensitive behavior.

With you, it's a focused job you can always work on, and you enjoy all the benefits.

Trying to teach others is a never ending process that you can only work on bits and pieces, and if you manage to actually change something, it won't be much and you may never see the person again. Besides. If we really wanted to help someone, teaching them to be more patient and to have a sense of humor would be the best thing is the world for them, anyways. After that they might be more open to learning "what they're doing wrong." And patience and humor are best taught by example.

Oh Lord--thank you for my sense of humor and my appreciation of patience. Please carve them into my bones so I don't forget them in the hard times.

Writing Down the Creativity

2010-12-02T10:06:00.001-07:00

writer by ~AmythePirate

I was puttering about the interweb, when I ran across the headline for a blog post which asked, "is creativity important for being a writer?" With my jaw on my lap I hovered over a sentence or two where the conclusion was . . . eh, not so much.

WHAT?!?

Ladies and gentlemen, I have a rant I must now share, and it starts with a little bit of autobiography.

I started doing extra writing assignments (for fun), in the first grade. But the fifth grade, teachers told me to turn in my rough draft because re-copying it to make a final would be too much work. I have handed in 28 page stories for a 2 page assignment. All three years of high school I was in creative writing. I only had three years of high school because my Mom offered to pay for me to go to community college during the summer to graduate early and take writing classes.

I have put is way more than the 10,000 hours required for me to be a master writer. I have read several times that to be considered an accomplished literature-geek. Ladies and gentlemen, I like Moby Dick. Yes. I am qualified to tell you what I am about to tell you.

I was never meant to be a writer.

At least, not like what most people think of when they think of a writer. It's a blushing fact we should acknowledge that writing has become very fashionable, and everyone and their dog now tries their hand at it. And why not? Standards and method of regular publishing have fallen so far that writing which makes English teachers cringe is now routinely being put out because their candy-plot lines and simple reads appease the same masses who watch reality TV and are mad that Buffy went off the air.

Did that sound snobbish? Sorry. But I am a snob. We used to have fewer, but higher quality writers; now they are being lost in the glut of inadequate manuscripts, and frankly, it ticks me off.

Because this is such a fashionable thing, mainstream culture has an almost unconscious understanding of what a writer should be. They write books. Pretty thick ones. Fiction is good. Non-fiction is good too if it's soul-appeasing (or ego-stroking) self-help, or if it's something about leadership and business. Oh! And how-to! Having spent so much time reading, we now actually can't think for ourselves and have to be told how to do everything.

Poetry has died. Short-stories survive because of snobs like me who still read literature magazines. If you claim to be a writer you better have at least one novel under your belt.

And I do. It's awful. It is exactly everything I hate about books these days. It's cliche, and shallow, and sappy, and meandering, and all kinds of terrible. Don't get me wrong--most people enjoy reading it (so I have been told a hundred times)--but I've read the Count of Monte Christo, and Eifelhiem. I know what good books are actually supposed to look like. I know mine falls short.

And I know why mine falls short. It's not because 10,000 hours weren't enough to dredge up talent--I'm actually really good when I'm writing poetry (*cough*sometimes*cough*) or short stories. I'm good at those because my brain works in snap-shots. I see or sense beautiful things, and they come to me complete. I put them down and then edit two weeks later. I'm bad at being a "writer" because novels take a type of thinking and creativity that is foreign to me. I can't haul creativity out for the long run.

Which brings us back to that blog-post which had the audacity to say creativity was second fiddle to skill.

You're right. You can be a writer without seeing a plot laid out before you. You can put all the letters and punctuation in the right place (better than me, at least) without being able to infuse characters with dynamics and realism. You can pump out cheesy novels based on your day-dreams, and people may even like them.

But you know what? If you want to be a good writer--if you want to last forever, and be worth your salt and a little bit of ink too--you need a type of vision and creativity that will make your work matter. You need to have something to say, that is unique to you, and not your personal take on the popular theme of the moment, changed just enough to avoid copy-right infringement.

There are many "writers" out there who may or may not have put in their 10,000 hours, and can make a book. Their "skills" will do them justice. But a true writer will have creativity and imagination that shows us something new, and their skills will bring them honor.

My Perfect Nativity Set

2010-11-30T09:20:00.001-07:00

As I was unpacking my Christmas decorations this year, I was having an internal debate about what to do with my nativity set. It's the heart of my Christmas.

As a little girl, I was fascinated by my mothers white glazed nativity set, with it's precious little figures--I would arrange and re-arrange them everyday until they were put away. As luck would have it, she received her own childhood nativity set, and I was free to make off with my childhood nativity set after I was married. But those beautiful little ceramic figures didn't make it through the three moves we made in the first two years.

Broken heart-ed, I went out and found another set. I did love it. It was simple, and lovely, and acrylic. Much harder to break. I hate broken things. They are imperfect, and such imperfection "offends the eye" (to quote my favorite detective Mr. H. Piorot).

Last year I discovered that one of the tongs from a wise-man's crown had broken off somehow. It bothered me like a back itch where you can't reach the whole month. You're not fooling anyone--I know you're broken . . . I had meant to try and find a nice wall-hanging (Ha! Break that suckers!), but never managed it, because I'm picky. Just in case you couldn't figure that out.

As I was looking at my one-tong-missing nativity set, I decided, oh, what the heck. I put it out just for my boys. It was broken anyways. I might as well let them play with it. Maybe I can teach them the story of Christmas better if they have something to hold.

My little nativity set now has a donkey with only one ear, and I give Joseph's staff only another week at most. V is just like me. He arranges and re-arranges them. He spreads them out. He huddles them together. He builds a fence around them with little blocks. And he knows the story, and even tries to teach it to his little brother, who is far more interested in just lining the figurines up again and again, in his autistic little habit.

I look at that broken little nativity set, and it's the perfect nativity set. It's perfect because it's imperfection freed it from my protection, and now my children get hands-on toys that have a story behind them.

God accepts imperfect things; imperfect people. Sometimes he even uses us to help teach others about his truth. A romantic inference, but one to remember. I also think I learned that perfection isn't always about what offends my eye, but what comes of it's existence.

Do Less

2010-11-24T17:59:00.000-07:00

One of the greatest things that we can do with our lives is less.

Coffee by =Znuese

We are achievement driven crazy types who forget the unspeakably valuable nature of play and rest, and dancing like no one is watching.

Worse! Most of our drive for achievement isn't based on things which are intrinsically important to us--they're based on what we've swallowed from others, teaching us that we have to get into this college, or go that career route, or be that busy. I think many people out there who are struggling are doing it because they don't respect who they are, or what their legitimate needs are.

What a wake up call to stand back and really think about what would make your life happier and more meaningful right this second. No "once I get my job," or "as soon as I finish this project . . ."

When it's meaning right now that's on the list, it's almost always leading out with "spending more time with my loved ones." Hey, guess what? That happens when you're doing less. Or how about "reading that book I want to read?" Or "start meditating?" Yeah. It happens when you've cleared off a section of your day for meaning now.

I believe that respecting who we are is the primer spark that ignites our love of down time.

Owning Your Weaknesses

2010-11-22T14:58:00.000-07:00

Weaving yarn2by *flash750

A few posts ago, I wrote about how it was all okay if we had problems.

I think I didn't take it far enough.

There is a difference between understanding that's it's alright if you have problems--like depression, or anxiety, or if you have anger-issues, or perfectionism, or if you don't react well to stress--and actually owning those problems as your own.

Accepting that it is okay to be human and have problems is good. At least you aren't beating yourself up anymore.

But some would stop there, before they say to themselves (out loud, preferably), "I have a problem. It's okay, because I am not perfect, and no reasonable person or my God expects me to be perfect. But this problem is mine. I own it. I will deal with it."

Knowing that you have a problem is good and rational. Forgiving yourself and loving yourself in-spite of that problem is so important. But actually forth-rightly admitting and then deciding to work with your problem the same way you may work with your strengths in moving the flow and jive of your life is nearly un-American. We may have weaknesses, but you better believe we keep them under-wraps and never spoken of. Weakness and problems are to be ignored and muscled through, right?

Yes, working with your weaknesses is very un-American, and far healthier.

I am extremely analytical and curious. Those are strengths. I work with them to improve the quality of my life. I am also really bad at handling high-stress. I own that. I work to figure out better ways to handle stress, and I try to limit my stress.

I own it.

No muscling through here. Some would judge that as me being weak. But I think it's just sensible, and I'm happier for it.

Are there weaknesses that you may have accepted without really owning and working with?

A Minor Perspective On Loving Yourself

2010-11-21T15:42:00.002-07:00

Being a Christian means walking an odd road. It's three paces off the beaten path and hovers anywhere from inches to miles off this world.

Watching the world turn beneath your feet while you walk shows you a whole new side to the way people work. It has always been an interest of mine to watch. And think. And then assume strange things.

I assume it's a funny little thing that loving yourself is so very important for getting along in this world. I'm not talking about a selfish, narrow, greedy little idea that curls up into itself. I'm talking about thinking that you are okay, worthwhile, loving and forgiving your imperfections and quirks. I'm talking about the fundamental liking who you are. And I don't think it is selfish to like who you are. I think that once you love yourself, you are free to forget yourself and love others. I think those who don't love themselves are obsessively concerned with convincing others to love them instead, and so they'll find it hard to do things out of honest love for others.

I think it's a funny little thing that people have to love themselves by accepting who they are, and letting go of what others might think of them. It is the bottom line for a confusing ledger that loving yourself means saying and meaning, "I am worth loving. I am worthwhile."

But here's the little bit that got me writing:

Those who don't have God, say it to themselves for all that it is worth. (And it is worth a lot.)

Those who know and trust the Christian God--who accept what must be the character of a God who would create and give so freely, and then come down to die to save what He has created--they not only get to say it to themselves, they have an all-powerful, all-knowing, ever-present God who agrees with them. Wholeheartedly. And even when they might not think it of themselves, they can hold to the fact that God thinks it . . .

Yes. A funny little world indeed.

Un-inspired on Art Journals

2010-11-20T16:52:00.000-07:00

I whine. Did you know that?

Ah well. Today shall be an approachable day in my writing. Nothing pompous, or presumptions, or instructive. Well. . . not unless your study project is on me. Then it might be instructive.

But this blog has always been a narcissistic blog. It's for me. Audience come and go as they please. I'm not trying to say I don't love my readers. I do! It's just that I love them because most of them are close friends and family.

I love an audience that already loves ya. That's just awesome.

Sometimes I get the itch to try and make it bigger or press it around and do marketing but then real life pulls back on the reins and starts making actual demands of my time.

Eh. Maybe someday.

But for today, I have been uninspired. This is normally not really a problem, but I have been uninspired for about a week now. I haven't blogged for 6 days.

And yes, that horrifies me. I don't owe the blog anything, but what is wrong with me? Have I really run out of things to say? Or have I become so ~~cowardly~~ careful that I won't always write what I'm thinking that the whole world ought to hear?

It's a disturbing thought. It's more disturbing because I think it is yet another inkling in a trend which will render me a socially conscious worry-wart who never actually says anything if only because I'm trying not to pre-apologize for what I'm about to say!

My devious enemies (. . . uh . . . I may have one) would probably rejoice at this newer, quieter me. Heck, some of my friends might rejoice a little. Well, to heck with them! To heck with them all!

And with that awe inspiring rage against over-self-consciousness done . . . I'm still uninspired.

Crap.

Well, I better go get inspired.

donnadowney.typepad.com

And do you know where I go to get inspired? I blog search the phrase "art journal." Ha! I love it. Since the top five blogs featuring such things were all from very Christian women, I began to wonder if I had run across the Christian equivalent to the BYU scrap booking obsession. This is probably less so than it appears.

But it does appear so very cool! I look at art journals, and all I hear in my head is a little voice saying "play time!" It's a happy voice too.

I catch myself trying to explain to people what things seem like in my head. It never works. I never stop trying. You want to know what it looks like? It looks like the blat of an art journal in full motion with a list running down the left side categorizing everything that's going on. Yup. That's me. Now you all know.

This is probably one of the main reasons I'm so darn attracted to the things. I feel a kin-ship. Like two lonely toads scooting closer on the log to burp together: me and oddly organized chaos.

I felt inspired after that. So, I wrote this.

Hmmmmmmm . . .

Oh, well. At least I've blogged.

You hear me! That's right! No one can keep me silent. I don't care if I pre-apologize until the day I die, I'd rather do that than remain silent! You can't keep me down!

Feeling God's Pleasure

2010-11-14T22:57:00.001-07:00

Dancing by *lieveheersbeestje

"I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure." - Eric Liddell

This quote fascinates me. It has been fascinating me for a few days now. There's a lot of thoughts that can be packed into it.

For instance; you notice that it presents the idea that we can please God. I know that most people would agree this is kind of a fundamental thing, but I know that I have a hard time really grasping it. I wonder if others might think of God as the ever watching eye of disapproval. We will always fall short of perfection . . . but then so do my children, and they still really please me. It may be one of those truths that we know but we don't really get.

More interestingly, this presents the idea that God can be pleased by things that don't have much at all to do with religion, spirituality, or Himself (directly). This also makes sense. God made such an awesome world, and He made an amazing array of things that go on in it. It's a vast display of His creative nature. Then he made us and put us right in the muddle. Did it have to be beautiful? Probably not--but it is. I think that a God willing to come down and die to serve justice and extend mercy is loving, and in His love He would find joy in our righteous pleasure--especially as that pleasure is a reflection of our celebrating His creative nature. Running? Hiking? Looking at a tree? Dancing? All of it is us enjoying what He has created in us and around us.

Which begs the question . . . do you ever feel God's pleasure when you're doing something? Several somethings?

I'm on the lookout now. I like the idea of finding activities where I feel His pleasure, and then filling my life with those activities. . .

The Art of Being Bored

2010-11-10T10:16:00.000-07:00

Boredom by ~ReginaldBull

There is nothing wrong with being bored.

Did you catch that, or should I go back and write it again?

Yeah. You heard me. Nothing wrong.

The problem isn't the boredom. The problem is us and how we handle our boredom.

We tend to strike it with one extreme or another. We either fight it with being frantically busy--living in terror of the knowledge that it is always stalking us . . . or we wallow in it while bemoaning/wailing about our misery. Not very graceful.

I'm no expert, but I think the happy medium would be welcoming it.

Oh! Hello, old friend! I'm so glad I have time for you. Should we sit back and relax? A mug of something does sound nice. Should we read a little? Or draw? Or just sit here and do nothing? Sure. I have time to sit. It is lovely when it's quiet; the world keeps moving around us, and we're just still . . .

The only thing I think needs to be cautioned is that over-thinking is a problem--even more-so when you're bored. You're brain gets antsy and starts working without your permission. I actually have to practice not thinking. When I catch myself mentally fidgeting, and have to get my attention and really ask if it's worth it.

Is it really worth it to worry now about a class that won't even start until January?
If I do manage to grasp the exact nature of the relationship between eastern meditation and Christian living will anyone really benefit from it?
Will my fretting ever magically help my children who are over a mile away and in the hands of capable and loving people?
Is this thought really worth the time it took to think it?

99 times out of 100 it isn't.

So I send it packing like an unwelcome guest and sit back down with boredom who waited patiently for me. Always calm. All the time in the world.

November Come-ith! Grin Ye! Grin!

2010-11-08T07:41:00.000-07:00

I love the fall time-switch. I'm up and hour early, and feeling just as awake as I normally do. It's like being gifted with a few days of early-bird status again.

We've moved swiftly passed the beginnings of autumn and deep into the sadly neglected November season. I don't think retailers have figured out that there's something between Halloween and Christmas. But then again, for how profitable gratitude is . . . it's probably not their kind of profit.

happy by ~roarysea

But, of course, it is profitable. The moment you start noticing your blessings, you feel blessed, which is another blessing, and it only gets better and better from there. You like how feeling blessed feels, so you starting finding more blessings to be grateful for, and before you know it you're a cheerful fool just happy because you got a window seat on a bus that's practically empty anyways because being happy for small blessing feels so darn good!

Doubtless an insidious habit which grows and grows.

I know a bad-day for me is the day my gratitude button is broken. If I honestly can't feel grateful for even the big ones in my life--like two of the sweetest kids on the planet and an ever forgiving husband--then it's time to break out some chocolate, comics, and in dire circumstances . . . Kim Possible cartoons. If I can't be grateful, I am in a bad way.

It's a big wide world we've got here. There is a lot to be grateful for.

Cheers! And here's to a wonderful November. May it prime our hearts for the gratitude we should feel in December.

And here is a most beautiful poem I found to be grateful for this morning.

The Magic Tea Shop--or, slowing down

2010-11-06T12:50:00.000-06:00

Tea-2 by ~OlgaVoronova

I have this little nook I adore. It's a tea shop up in Sugar House known as the Tea Grotto. I think my Mormon friends might hesitate because . . . well, tea. But they have a whole collection of lovely herbals. And my Mormon and Christian friends might hesitate because it's very eastern/Buddhist in look and feel.

But it is beautiful, and calm, and all things I think a tea shop ought to be.

I'm not just here to brag up one of my favorite joints. This morning gave me a little story. I was in a bit of a rush, but had 5 minutes to spare so I dropped in. I flurried in the door, still adjusting my coat from having efficiently made my way from car to shop. About three steps in . . . I slowed down a little.

Then the woman running the shop that morning slowly finished where she was, and came up behind the counter. I slowed down a lot.

I made a semi-humorous comment, she smiled and responded. I ordered my tea (things were about the right non-rush by then). She made my tea with calm sequential actions that all bespoke quality.

I slowly walked out the door while looking around at the beautiful shop and listening to the music.

And I just wasn't in a hurry any more.

It's nice to have little reminders to slow down and really enjoy your life. I don't think we actually have enough of them. The hard weight of our culture is to rush and multi-task and get as many things as possible done in the day. What other culture would create the phrase "stop and smell the roses?" Would a more relaxed people not wonder why we couldn't smell them as we walked by?

I will probably be blogging about slowing down 50 years from now. It's one of those "recurring themes." Some psychologists go into their field because they want to find out what's wrong with them: most writers write about they things they really need to learn.

And heaven help us if our tea-shops ever get a drive through window.

The Habit of Our Thoughtless Hours--or; Default Activities

2010-11-03T21:06:00.000-06:00

We all spend out down/decompression/default times doing a very limited number of things. When all the to-dos are done, and you just want to crash, we pick up our automatic hobbies, and effectively veg our brains.

Knitting by ~RiverAngel

These default activities can wind up representing a shocking number of hours.

What we choose to do with them has a real impact on our lives.

I've been thinking about this more and more recently. My eyes have a limited number of working hours in the day (and my back is bad, and my legs hurt, and if I got any older I think I'd buy a cane and a rocking chair--sheez!), and when they give out I sit there fiddling in angst because reading has always been my default.

With a plethora of time to fidget in angst, I have been observing my son V. His default mode? Drawing.

No kidding! Maybe you aren't as shocked and thrilled as I am, but this is a big deal! He'll watch a little TV now and then. He'll play a few rounds of Bomberman with his mom. Then he gets bored and draws. Call me judgemental, but I am so GLAD that his default activity isn't something with his face pointed at a screen.

Z's default activities involve jumping on beds and playing in sand. He likes his sensory input.

My husband's default is playing on the computer and reading news. I don't mind (most of the time). He likes it, and he's awesome at giving me attention when I ask for it. What more could a girl want?

A sad number of people just watch TV. It actually hurts me to think about it. It pains me a little because of how few good shows there are. It pains me a lot because I have a sneaky suspicion that this is a habit which most (if not all) of them got into without making a choice.

It sure does beg the question though . . . if people sat back, and really made the choice what their default activity would be, then set about making it a convenient habit . . . how different would their lives be? What activity would they choose?

Zombie Poet

2010-11-01T09:58:00.000-06:00

I used to write a lot of poetry. Really, really, really bad poetry. Then I got a little tired of that, and I would occasionally toss in a startlingly good poem amongst all the "stuff," just to mix it up a little. I enjoyed it.

Then . . . well, the poet in me died. Kinda. The sad reality of neurology took over: use that brain real-estate, or lose it to something else. The longer I went without writing and reading poetry the harder and harder it was for me to do it.

But it was only kinda dead. Now I've worked my will over the smelly corpse, and signed up for a Haikuthon for the month of November via . I'm in it for 30 days of my favorite form of poetry. I'm going to make that zombie dance!

I used to sign up for NaNoWriMo. Now I sign up for Haikuthons. Some would see this as a step down. I see this as setting a realistic and more gratifying goal.

Wish me luck, and you can even come and visit me if you'd like to see what poetry from a dead poet looks like.

The First Snow Melted by ~three-red-balloons

Switch

2010-10-29T12:46:00.000-06:00

Background 12 by =ELENADUDINA

It's hard for me to make choices. I often re-think them. The rumors are that this means I am wish-washy, indecisive, ineffective, and no-good because I can't finish anything.

So. I guess that's bad.

But on the other hand that means that I am open to change. I can switch plans if I think I'm on the wrong track. My constant evaluation drastically increases my chance of living a meaningful and fulfilling life because I couldn't be the type that just works to pay bills and watch TV. I'm not the one to spend time and money on things I belated realize aren't worth it to me simply because "I have my pride."

So . . . I guess that's good.

We make judgments on whether we are good or bad. Funny thing is that many of the personality aspects that we criticize or praise have almost nothing to do with "good" and "bad" as we typically understand it--as in what God would call good or bad.

It is good to love others and bad to hurt others. But is it good to make firm decisions/be stubborn and bad to be wishy-washy/constantly evaluate your situation?

Each general personality type has their issues, their strengths and their weaknesses. Often those strengths can do extra work as a weakness. But good or bad? That depends on the good you use it for!

Peacemakers are door-mats? Or do they just love and give without reserve?
Leaders are stubborn and selfish? Or are they efficient and effective?
Perfectionists as bean-counters? Or careful watchers and workers?
Fun-loving people are just scatter-brained? Or are they creative and open to spontaneity?

The outside horror is labeling and judgment. The inside need is balance: understanding of weaknesses, and respect for personal strengths.

The Immesurable Value of Folding Your Laundry

2010-10-26T10:56:00.000-06:00

Naoko by ~Tsukareru

I just finished a book on Monk attitudes. I'm now reading a book on organization. No, I don't need a book on organzation--but I love reading how other people think about organization.

Now, a book on housekeeping . . . that I need.

Or maybe not. Because reading just the two books mentioned has given me a bit of a new perspective on daily chores. Taking care in our lives--taking care of what we do, and our things, is a form of simple holy respect. Mr. Olkholm discusses how the monks believe that everything they own is actually part of the community, even personally owned items are only yours in that God let you be a steward of them. Reflecting on that fact stalled him from banging around pots and pans thoughtlessly. Oh, right. I'm a steward. . . I should probably be a good one.

Ms. Paul uses nearly the same feeling to discuss the reverence we should feel for cleaning of our desks, or doing our dishes, or just putting our keys in the same spot.

We take care of things.

In our mad-rushed society, it's easy to say "I'll take care of that later," "no time now," or "I have better things to do at this moment." It's our minds moving us at a far faster than appropriate pace. Our goal is not to get somewhere faster, or do more in a slip-shod manner. Quantity? No. Quality.

We take care of things, and people.

This is why loving maintenance of our lives, "our" property, and those we are with is so very, very important. In our mad-rush society, we forget that our main object requires care, mindfulness, and a slower life.

We fold laundry, and wash dishes.
We repair our books.
We hug our children.
We take our friends out for coffee.

We take care of things and people.

Compassion to Self

2010-10-25T13:02:00.000-06:00

I think I know one reason why we are so afraid of introspection and self-review. I think it's because we can be really really bad at compassion to ourselves.

Others we might do okay at, but it's not often we hear that we should be compassionate and understanding to ourselves. In fact, before I started studying eastern religions and philosophies, I had heard it maybe once--a little "be kind to yourself" admonition.

But compassion and being kind can be two different things. Though they look almost exactly the same. Being kind is just acting in a considerate and loving way. Compassion is an in and out thing. You are compassionate when you consider that someone is just doing the best they can--they want to be happy, just like you, they are struggling, just like you, etc. Because you see that they to are just doing the best they can where they are, you empathize with them and feel more love, or (if necessary) forgiveness for them. Because you are thinking compassionately you act compassionately.

Compassion by *Digidrama

Being compassionate to yourself mean that you should review the past with the idea that you were doing the best you could at the time, that the past is there to be learned from--that a growing mindset is required--so that even your mistakes become treasures. You are trying to be happy, and you are struggling too. No one is perfect.

If we were compassionate to ourselves as we reviewed our past, I think that much of the discomfort would disappear.

God Likes to Dance

2010-10-24T13:06:00.000-06:00

V: When you put the rocks all together, it says, "I . . . can . . . pray . . . to . . . God." See?
Me: That's really cool. So, do you know how to pray?
V: Well, first you have to sing. 'Cause, God really likes to dance.

I laughed.

It is abnormally sweet, and one of those little sayings we treasure our children for, but a part of me couldn't help but think that he was also completely right.

My God likes music. And dancing. And flowers. And snowflakes. And He likes bright colors.

When you look around at all that God has made, it seems to me like my God is a god who loves joy.

How a Christian Can Relax

2010-10-21T14:36:00.000-06:00

This won't shock any of my regular readers, because they all know me, but . . . I'm a high stress personality. A really high stress personality. I hope I don't cause stress, but I can sure adopt it like a long lost best friend.

This is not a happy thing, and since my "studies" around neurology, psychology, autism, optimism, happiness and human nature all dance across the field of relaxation, I have a little bit of perspective on how one can actual choose to relax, and ways to facilitate it.

But what baffles me is how non-existent the Christian literature on relaxation is. Buddhists? Oh-ho-ho-ho! Yeah, they've got it in spades. Secular? Tons. But the highly prolific writers of Christianity just don't seem to have much to say on the matter.

I'll spare you most of the social commentary, and just say it's a shame because we really need it.

I have found a few nuggets in my study of religion, and I think I might draw some attention to them. These aren't the universal aids--like taking a walk, or getting a hug--these are the ones that are especially Christian:

Study the Bible--I never get tired of typing that. But seriously, if you take a peaceful time out to refresh yourself with God's word, it's a treat. This is a savoring thing, so if you can't crash down and cram like there's a test tomorrow, don't let it worry you. Just read it, and get what God has to say to you.

Set aside a chunk of time to pray--I like to have a long bit of time, but just get some peaceful time to talk with God. Tell him your troubles, and for all you're grateful for, and pray for others in need (to remind yourself there are others out there).

Listen--as in, listen to others, and listen to God. Listening to others is the heart of fellowship. If not all of the heart, then at least a major ventricle. The act of just receiving other people without judgment or comment connects you with others (thus encouraging healthy social ties), and also encourages a stillness. There are some people who can increase stress when you listen to them, but in my experience, they are relatively few. As for listening to God, it does require stillness . . . but that's all I've got. If anyone out there knows more about this, please let me know.

Talk about spiritual things--I wish I remembered the book, but I read somewhere it was a shame that we have access to other believers, and waste most of our time talking about secular things. Talking about God, and the joy he brings our lives can be a huge blessing. It will obviously be more relaxing if it isn't a major debate on theology, and the conversation is positive.

Be actively grateful--that means stop what you are doing every now-and-then, and thank God for the rose you just got to smell. Look at sunsets, and trees, and the face of your loved-ones. Feel grateful, and then express it--to the people around you, and to the God who loves you.

Christian Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Surrender and Prayer--Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is a fancy phrase that means controlling how you think. Because our inner dialogue can be a distressingly large portion of our stress, it helps to know that you can control it. The secular community has come a long way and done good things with this. The Christian version is a kind of call and surrender: anytime you feel stressed, or sad, or anxious, or angry . . . you pray. You take very literally the admonition in Phillipians, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Now it doesn't say that you'll get everything you want--but it does say your heart will be guarded by the peace of God. Which is my whole point. The scriptures are full of places where God is asking us not to worry and to depend on him, so praying every moment we are feeling anxious or stressed will neurologically control our stress caused by inner dialogue, and bring down blessings and grace to endure and trust. Double win!

And . . . there you have it. I'm sure there are more, and I'll probably be writing about them as I come across them, but that's what I have to offer today.

Enjoy.

Holy Habits

2010-10-20T13:29:00.000-06:00

I just started a book which promises to be a wonderful one. It's called Monk Habits for Everyday People, by Dennis Okholm.

In the very first chapter he said something which I've been mulling over like cud for a very long time. When I have nothing else to think of, I bring it back up and chew on it for a while. Okholm mentioned how many Christians (he specified Protestants) don't get into spiritual habits, to wit--habits which would benefit their spiritual lives.

He cites in passing that it's caused by their/our infatuation with spontaneity in worship, which some may mistake for the only real way to worship.

I'll cite in passing the fact that we are busy people who've forgotten how to establish habits, or even how to value habits and use them as a tool to make us or our lives into something we want.

But habits and rituals are valuable. Our brains like them--which is probably why find them completely across the board in cultures and religions. It is true that occasionally a habit only represents going through the motions, but it is often forgotten that just because it's done regularly doesn't mean it has to be devoid of devotion. You could pray the same prayer over every single meal, and mean it every single time. Or, if you're human, you'll mean it sometimes, and go through the motions the other times, but at least you're praying!

And that is what I think matters. By making spiritual habits, we create a net of activities which remind us that there is something more important than the length of our commute or the vacation time coming up. If we persist in the times where we don't mean it, or it isn't very fun . . . then we will be good at it when we need it or are prepared to appreciate it. It's spiritual muscles. You work them out, even when going to the gym sounds like no fun, because you want to be strong when you have to be.

Just a few holy habits I've heard of:

Daily prayer time for self and family
Daily prayer time for special causes, or others
Memorizing scripture
Reciting special verse in the morning or before bed
Ritual prayer for casual (like eating) or special occasions (like birthdays).
Reading your Bible. DAILY. (Come on, we all know this one.)
Reading a psalm after dinner or before bed with the family
Daily time meditating on God
Weekly coffee and spiritual conversation (this is actually a really cool one I heard about--I want to try it someday)
Gratitude journal
Prayer request journal--be sure to include the column for when it was answered
Group Bible studies

and on, and on. . . pretty much anything which helps one's spiritual life can be regularly scheduled, and turned into a habit.

I just pick a few I want, and work one of them at a time until I have them. As my situation changes, so do which habits I do. I'm not memorizing scripture right now, but I will someday. The only ones I will never put off for circumstance is personal Bible study and prayer time each day.

. . . not that I actually do them everyday. But I make darn sure I feel guilty about it when I don't. Then I repent.

2010-10-19T11:52:00.000-06:00

I have nothing to say, but the inescapable desire to write. Back in high school this is usually when I'd write a poem.

Ode to My Back

I am grumpy with my back,
for it is out of whack.
I recline with my icy rice sock,
the aching has ruined my walk.

Hmmmmmm . . .

Probably not going to win any awards.

So, I guess a random topic will have to do today.

My superstitions:

I knock three times on wood whenever a possible bad outcome is mentioned, to distract any minions of fate who might be listening to get ideas.
I feel lucky when I find a penny.
Odd numbers are better than even numbers.
Some card nights lady luck is with me, and sometimes she's not. (Should one capitalize "lady-luck" as a proper name? Does anyone else care?)

Cross Your Fingers by ~mysteriouseye

I still cross my fingers in the moment of anticipation when I'm hoping for something.

I think that's about it. I'm okay stepping on cracks in the sidewalk now, although that was tantamount to criminal activity when I was about 7. It's funny how we carry around these little quirks with us, no matter how old we get, and no matter how rational we might be.

Unless there are people out there so rational they have purged themselves of any such non-sense. I wonder if that purging processes takes the sense of humor with it . . .

Any superstitions for you?

Ordinary Life in Holy Robes

2010-10-13T10:55:00.000-06:00

Is it weird to welcome pain into your life as a type of Sabbatical? Yeah. It probably is. Most people think that if you're welcoming pain at all then there is probably something really wrong with you. Of course, if you do need a Sabbatical, then there is something wrong with you; your life is off balance and you need a break.

Across The Great Belt by *51ststate

It's a nice time to step back and let go of everything you thought was important in the face of something which refuses to be ignored. It's like ol' Wormwood said--if you're trying to get a man to manufacture sorrow, then spare him at all costs from a real tooth ache, because an ounce of real pain unmasks the make-believe tragedy for what it is. If she thinks that fretting over philosophical and theological conundrums are important, give her some real pain and lets see if real life will wake her up.

Okay. I'm awake.

And you know what I learned from my little time being awake?

I looked up the blog a holy experience I used to read all the time by a woman named Ann Voskamp. She now has a book deal with Zondervan for her book One Thousand Gifts. It was good for my heart to learn that. I have benefited from her work. She blogs about just her ordinary life, and how that ordinary day by day life is a holy experience. Sure, we all say it. But the way she writes doesn't preach . . . it kinda shows it.

And you know what? That beats the pants off most of those heavy-minded, super-studious, well-researched Turabanian-cited scholarly Bible books I've been reading. Some of them could have been written by a machine, and some could have been written by an apostate machine. The good ones were just a load of pure information. The bad ones were snarky suppositions masquerading as thought. The information was valuable, and I was humbled by what I learned. The soul-sucking secular skepticism in holy robes was less valuable.

All that learning and scholarship, and it's Ann Voskamp and her ordinary life which helps me. And she will probably do more to draw people closer to God than most of those scholarly books and papers combined.

It isn't about brains and prestige. It's about seeking the kingdom in an ordinary life. And you don't have to hold a degree to serve God. You can do it just by sharing your life with others.

Did You Know It's Okay If It's "All in Your Head?"

2010-10-12T15:16:00.000-06:00

Rain by ~JureDolzan

Sometimes, honesty can be a little bit painful. You put just a little too much of yourself out there. I think it's because we know that there are people who judge harshly and quickly, and we care perhaps a little to much about the opinions of others.

Now, really, that's all non-sense. To assume that anyone could understand us completely, and so accurately judge who we are and why we do what we do is silly. The best we're hoping for is that they guess well of us. But no matter who we are and how we present ourselves, everyone is still guessing, and we really can't control what they think.

So worrying about what others may or may not think of you is worrying about something that is completely outside of your control, and has so much more to to with the person judging than it has to do with the person being judged.

Non-sense!

But still, there it is.

Why bring this up? I'm still waiting for the good doctors to ask me if, maybe, just maybe-the-littlest-please-don't-hate-me-bit could the pain in my leg be more accurately described and being in my head. I've read over psychology and neurology, and a few other -ologies in my day. A pain with no other indicator which doesn't respond to OTC pain-meds?

But they won't ask. I don't blame them. In my own tactless way, I've trod on toes by suggesting a . . . mental concern . . . and then had my head promptly torn off by the rampaging offended person.

Which brings me to my final topic for this Percacet inspired post:

Did you know it's okay if you have depression? Did you know that doesn't mean that you're weak, or emo, or "too negative?" Did you know that you can be a good, loving, fun person, and still have an anxiety disorder? Did you know that it's okay if you aren't happy? It doesn't mean that you're ungrateful or shallow, or whiny, or selfish? It just means you aren't happy.

People, in my experience are afraid to confront the fact they may have a "mental problem." And that's a problem. Because in all my studying I've come to a conclusion: either the problem is because of chemical neurological issues which you can't learn how to address or control until after you understand them, or the problem is a complication of thought-habits which effect your mental health/chemical neurological profile, and you can't address or control them until you face the issues.

We're all just living our lives over here. There may be some people who have it all together. And good for them! They aren't the rest (the vast majority) of us. Learning to be the best person and live the best life is an on-going process where many mistakes will be made, and many dead ends will be hit, and many new things will have to be addressed. If you do have a mental issue, then that is just a new problem to fix, or a sign that there is something in your life that needs some work and perspective. Denying it, and being angry at the thought that there's something "wrong" with you is ridiculous--you aren't perfect. No one is. It's especially hurtful to pretend you are if it means you refuse to try and fix the problem.

(And before I go around assuming the pain is "in my head" I'll have to get with a doctor and make sure there isn't another explanation. 'Cause if it is all from my head . . . dang. I have a wicked powerful brain.)

The Paradoxical Definition of Life

2010-10-09T15:06:00.000-06:00

I am writing this through an oxycodone headache. A painkiller . . . gives you a headache. Ah, the irony.

My leg has hit an interesting section of self destruct. Pins-and-needles, and pain. But nothing that a doctor can really sink a scalpel into. Pulse is fine. Capillary refill is fine. I will not be dying of a pulmonary embolism today.

But oh, my! how I have wondered if I would be arrested for shooting off my leg and then going in for treatment.

I would love to be one of those people who gets to be revoltingly cheerful when people ask her how she is doing. I think that is one of the best job descriptions in the whole world. Sadly, at least at this moment, it would also take a rather profound measure of dishonesty.

How am I doing? Well, crappy. But otherwise, really good.

And that's the part that makes me laugh a little. I am the only person I know who is doing horribly and wonderfully at the same time.

The seasons are turning, and I get to snuggle down into a comfy blanket. The leaves look gorgeous on the trees, and on the ground. One of my favorite holidays is coming up. I have discovered silk eye-pillows. Beautiful art is being created everyday. Fun and quirky books are coming my way to read. I have the two sweetest boys on the planet, and they both love to snuggle. My husband is awesome. School is going well, despite my . . . distraction.

But oh, what a distraction it is. This thing hurts and I get all worried because I don't know if they'll be able to diagnose it before I run out of Percacet. It's hard to remember all the good when you're facing a problem like this one.

So how am I doing?

I feel like hell, and I'm scared. But life sure is beautiful.

And that paradox is the definition of Life.

Really, Really Random Stuff from the Procrastinating Student

2010-10-07T12:31:00.000-06:00

~ Desk mess~ digging under three open books, around 17 scattered papers, needing to move the water, dropping the clipboard on the floor and holding the pen in your mouth, because you know that your phone is there somewhere--you can hear it beeping!

“Good philosophy must exist, if for no other reason, because bad philosophy needs to be answered.”
- C.S. Lewis

A lovely picture to share:

She Has Her Sources by `jasinski

* Great philosophical question for the day: If a turtle doesn't have a shell, is it naked or homeless?

Brain For Sale!

2010-10-05T21:37:00.000-06:00

Plinky asks "Do you think with your head or your heart?"

Oh, honey. What a question!

I think with my head. All. The. Time.

When called for I utilize my emotions, opinions and preferences--so I'm not totally out of touch with my heart--but for the VAST majority of the time I do all my thinking with my head.

And I'll confess, I wish it weren't so most of the time. Most of the time I wish I were the type that could surrender to simple belief without question, and then walk through life with dozens of un-questioned convictions, and act without hesitation.

Not because I don't like who I am. But it's just really, really tiring being me. I think it would be nice to be someone who doesn't have to think so hard all the time. Especially since most of my thinking ends with big question marks and calculated uncertainties. It hardly seems worth the work.

And then I remember all those people who are ruled by there emotions and how many mistakes they make, often without learning from them. Or I reflect on how people who never question can never really approach truth. Then I get those "sometimes" moments where I'm glad I'm me.

Does God Want Me To Be Happy?

2010-10-04T20:43:00.000-06:00

I actually blog to relax. At the end of a big day, I like to sit at my computer and blat all over the screen to just wiggle my fingers and feel like I'm adding to the world.

On days where I have nothing to write, I check out Plinky to see if there is inspiration, or I'll comb through links to see if there is something cool I can give my loyal little audience. I apparently haven't been collecting any really cool links recently, and wracking my brains for something to offer I could think of only one thing:

Philosophy/Theology.

Because last night I was dreaming about it. And that is the final sign that something has really overtaken my life. Which just isn't cool on so many levels. I'll whine about it later, I'm sure.

In the mean time, this is what I've got, and before you think I am wisdom incarnated--note that I quote no sources or scriptures. This means that it's coming from my own head, and is therefore possibly wrong.

You have been warned.

Eye Of God Nebula by =Moonchilde-Stock

Does God Want You To Be Happy?

The short answer is "Yes, BUT . . ."

BUT there are more important things than happiness in both this life and the next. Like a mother knows that icky vegetables are important for a child's health and future happiness, God knows that there are things which may not make us happy here and now, but matter deeply to the there and then, and even the there-after.

SO God is going to care most about the most important things. If you really want the best life/eternal life I'd trust in the All-Knowing God for your perspective: makes His priorities, your priorities.

AND from what I know of the Bible, happiness isn't top of the list. It *may* look something like this: your salvation, your on-going growth and relationship with Him, spreading the Good News and loving other people, and doing right (which is actually kinda spread all over, and shouldn't really be tacked on the end. . .)

REALITY CHECK says that there is going to be happiness and suffering in every life, and that more important than trying to be happy all the times is learning to keep with God all the time.

STILL if God is a loving God, and He made you with tastes and preferences it doesn't make sense that He would then sadistically intend that you would never enjoy acting on your righteous tastes and preferences.

TO SUM UP-- Because God loves you, He does want you to be happy, but certainly not at the cost of what is right, or what is more important.

(Tah-dah! Now, tonight we'll see if I dream of something more normal.)

Oddly Thoughts on Thinking

2010-10-02T23:10:00.000-06:00

I may sound like a complete lunatic, but I love to think about thinking. I have, on occasion even thought that everyone in the world ought to know a little bit more about thinking--because when you think about thinking it changes the way you think.

But about 7 minutes into a rant about how sad it was that no one seemed to really think about thinking, or study how we think, it occurred to me that all the people who really thought about thinking were the ones that were phenomenally bad at it. Myself included.

Oh we fret and bet, and hedge and humm, and worry and contemplate and . . . and too much of our lives are spent thinking. Seriously. Then we go and start reading books about thinking, and well, it doesn't help much. Not enough. Par say. Not like it makes us more normal.

There are people who just go around living life--no big deal. And they make choices--no big deal. And they seem generally happy and fulfilled. Do they really need to read books about thinking when they're so darn good at doing it when they know nothing?

So, now I think that tao-thinkers ought to be left to their own devices, happy to be doing well the thinking that lunatics like me actually read about.

(And that, ladies and gentlemen, is your completely random blog-post of the day.)

Great Children's Books

2010-10-01T22:37:00.000-06:00

Just some of my personal favorites. No particular order, and not exhaustive by any means. These are the ones I can read again and again. Which is good, because when you're reading to your kids, you will wind up reading them again and again.

An utterly beautiful classic. It has it all. It's pleasant to read, and has beautiful illustrations. You should know. Everyone has read this one. Am I right?

Actually, any book by Lobel is right up there with the best. I own five of his collections. But Mouse Soup is just the sweetest and oddest collection there is.

This one is Z-Bug's favorite. So it's a good thing I like it too. Actually we like all the old Litter Critter books, and have amassed quite the collection.

I have the companion book, Fabian's Escape, too. I love them both. I think the only proper adjective is, charming.

If you haven't read this book, you ought. It is a fantastic little adventure.

Reading is a gift. Reading to your children is a triple gift--you get to read, they get to read, and you get to sit really close to some awfully cute little people. Heck, even if you don't have kids, owning these books just feels like you have something nice in your life.

(I'm such a sentimental slob.)

The Trouble with Skeptics

2010-09-23T14:51:00.000-06:00

You know the trouble with skeptics? Without fail they are utterly convinced that theirs is the most rational position. Of course, the most rational position is that of an open mind because it allows for the possibility that truth could come from any angle. Skeptics actually have to block of entire pathways of knowledge that are too fantastic for them to allow.

A miracle? Nope. Sorry. I'm a skeptic.

They often won't try to find out if it's actually true or not, because, rationally they are sure it can't be. Because as skeptics, they know that kind of thing doesn't happen.

But let me tell you something; it takes a wise and open minded skeptic to realize that their skeptical attitude might just be wrong. And if you can't be skeptical about skepticism, what kind of a skeptic are you, really?

Thinking Thoughts by ~Neriah-stock

Choose to Persist, or Choose to Turn, But Never Choose to Be a Victim.

2010-09-22T14:02:00.000-06:00

Did I ever tell you about Jacques Lussyran? He's one of my heroes. He went blind in a childhood accident, and over that summer his parents taught him how to read braille and work with the machines he would need in order to stay in a normal classroom when the school said it was keep-up or drop-out. He kept up.

He kept up all the way through a normal university experience. Then when Germany invaded France in WW2 he became involved in the resistance. He was eventually caught and captured, but lived through his experience in the camp.

He wrote his autobiography And There Was Light.

It is an awesome book.

He is my hero, not just because he's a fantastic writer, but because he worked hard and did what it took to excel despite his blindness. He was never a victim to it. It was just a part of who he was, and he dealt with it.

Life is a hesitating balance between knowing when to try another road, and knowing when to persist with the road you are on. Some obstacles don't have to be overcome--they could be the place where we divert. Or you could do what it takes to overcome them. That choice is very real, and unless one makes a habit of quitting in defeat rather than mindfully choosing another way, it would be hard to say that either way is best.

Does the runner with injuries stop and work on his love of swimming instead? Or does he keep trying through frustration and pain until he succeeds?

Does the composer who goes deaf keep writing music, or does he turn to painting to channel his creativity and love of beauty?

We are profound little creatures. We should respect the way we walk.

Why so thoughtful?

I'm a student who spends hours a day writing by hand and typing on the computer. I have carpal tunnel syndrome. And it really, really hurts. Pain makes me thoughtful.

How To Be a Poet

2010-09-19T14:13:00.002-06:00

How To Be a Poet
by Wendell Berry

(to remind myself)

i

Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill—more of each
than you have—inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.

ii

Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.

iii

Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.

New Bible

2010-09-17T12:14:00.000-06:00

Speaking of things that I love. I got a new Bible. I love my old ESV study bible. All those notes are worth their weight in gold--which is good because it's about as heavy as a gold brick. I use it whenever I'm studying (which is often), but it's been getting damaged from hauling it around to various studies and classes.

About the 57th time I gave a sad gasp and minor yell because it sustained another bruise I decided it was time to find a thrash-Bible to haul around.

I found this. It's a NIV--which don't get me wrong, is a fine translation, but I was rather partial to the ESV. But this Bible had something no (under 20 lbs., text-based) ESV could offer: a HARD COVER.

I don't know why this escapes publishers. Leather, leather everywhere, and not a book-board to be found. Sigh.

I love the brown/purple cover. I love how it lays completely flat without any struggle, on any page. I love the purple elastic which keeps it closed in my bags. I love the size. It's sewn binding. I could go on and on. I really like this Bible.

Ribbons. I do miss the ribbons. But that's about it.

And someday, when I'm filthy rich, I'm going to see if I can custom order an ESV to get something like this. Because hardcover is awesome.

Javajavajavajavajava

2010-09-16T14:41:00.000-06:00

This:

plus this:

equals this:

which is equal to TASTY!

Just thought I'd share. Because I'm avoiding an essay for the moment.

And because I haven't shared with the world how much I love home-made soy lattes and my darling AeroPress which makes those lattes. At least not lately.

The Inescapable Meaning of Life: Others

2010-09-14T13:39:00.001-06:00

I once read an account of a father's suicide written by his son. I was amazed at how tragic, horrible, and senseless the son portrayed it. Though the son was grown, and had his own life and things to worry about, he had trouble recovering from the shock. The underlying pain was, "Didn't he realize how it would hurt us?"

Americans--at least the ones I know--are preoccupied with the meaning of their own life. They question their work. They question their hobbies. Or they drowned out the questions by distracting themselves. This search and struggle can go on for years, and at the end, the person is no more fulfilled or happy than when they started.

But there is something which we are prone to forget: life . . . all by itself . . . has meaning. There is a meaning in life that is automatically written into the fabric of existence and can't be escaped (for good or for ill). We are always touching other people's lives. We have an impact on others. We mean something to our families, our friends, and our children.We even matter to co-workers and strangers.

Side note: this is a huge reason for trying to be a better person--so that we can be a blessing to others. We will always have an impact, but we decide what type of impact we'll have.

Americans seem to be gluttons though. This inherent meaning in life isn't enough for us. We have to matter more. We have to matter to more people. We have to make a bigger impact. I suppose there is nothing automatically wrong with that ambition . . . but it does seem like many times it's a lot of struggle with very little result. I'm also pretty sure that many people are only holding on to this ambition because it was handed to them by their crazy culture. They would otherwise be perfectly happy with the meaning that their lives already have, if they only realized what it was.

Burning the Quran? Hardly Biblical . . .

2010-09-09T13:21:00.000-06:00

What's that I say? Yes. Yes, indeed. Some pastor over in Florida is going to burn copies of the Quran. I'm no expert, but here's the article I read, and here are some of my thoughts on it:

I think this pastor probably ought to go back and read his Bible a little more. I'm pretty sure there are some parts in there about not returning evil for evil (Romans 12:17), and loving your enemies (Matt 5:44) and doing good to them (1 Thess 5:15). Before the positive do unto others golden rule, there was the negative don't do to others what you wouldn't want done to you (Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free, 110.). Now, I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say that burning a holy book qualifies as "evil," or at the least, something the Muslims really don't want done to them. It's not loving, and it's not doing them any good.

Bad idea. One that we'll get to chalk up on the list of really stupid things Christians have done in the name of their Lord.

And the Muslim response? Well, if the article is correct, some Muslims appear to be holding our entire people responsible for the actions of one man, despite the fact all the leaders in this country have spoken out against it.

Hmmmmmm. Not very reasonable. I don't know if that's okay in the Quran. I do know that's not philosophically okay. You don't punish a whole bunch of innocent people because they happen to live on the same continent as the one fanatic who they've already condemned.

What can I say? I emphatically and passionately disagree with the pastor's intentions. I think what he's doing is evil. But my usually tolerant and understanding mind hits a wall right there--because I'm having trouble sympathizing with the people quoted who seem to think it's okay to threaten retribution against a culture that has already spoken out against the pastor's actions.

They aren't making it any easier to love them.

Sigh.

Sometimes being called to love is a tough calling.

Revelation--or Not: respecting the unique nature of an individual's walk with God

2010-09-08T11:04:00.001-06:00

I love God with all my heart. And I am very confident that He is there and that He loves me. But He and I have a . . . unique relationship. I talk. And He doesn't really talk back.

Oh, I hear from Him, alright. In a thousand different ways. Otherwise I find it hard to imagine I could have any faith. But I don't often get specific, undeniable revelation of His will for me. Being raised Mormon where it's a routine expectation made it really difficult to cope with. However, I've learned to come to terms with it. I always wait, and listen . . . as I'm plowing forward, doing the best I can and dealing with the mistakes I make.

Eh. It works.

The rough part is not knowing. I feel like a blind look-out.

"Blinkin, what are you doing?"
"I'm guessing, sir? I'm guessing that nobody's coming?"

"Ki, what are you doing?"
"I'm guessing, Sir? I'm guessing that this is Your will?"

As I reflect on how I observe others walking with God, and how bizarrely different my own walk feels, I remember an idea I gleaned from the first few pages of a books called How God Changes Your Brain. It basically says that no matter how much dogma and doctrine we know, no-one's idea of God is the same, and the more you study and think about Him, the more unique that perspective becomes. I believe this carries over to how we feel about God, and how we work with God--which sums up how we walk with God.

I also believe that respecting that unique walk when we see it in others is almost as important as respecting and enjoying the uniqueness in our own walk.

pic: The Holy Bible by ~nathan-101

The Historical Question

2010-09-07T12:28:00.000-06:00

"If you could talk to any historical person for advice, who would it be and why?"

No kidding--it would be Jesus Christ. I'd walk right up to him, after pressing my way through the crowds, and ask him, "Rabbi, is there a best way to approach or understand God and, or, religion?"

And then I would listen like everything and everyone in the world depended on it.

Adult

2010-09-06T13:27:00.000-06:00

I've realized several times in my life adult-ness was creeping into my head. It never occurred at a monumental occations--like getting married or having my babies. Which is actually a little odd, because for a while I kept looking at those beautiful little boys and wondering who thought I was mature enough to raise them.

One of the first times I realized I was an adult was doing grocery shopping. I was the fast responsible shopper keeping my family fed. I felt like a real adult then.

But recently I've been feeling more and more adult because I've been studying how we think. Reflecting on the act of thinking is guaranteed to mature you a few years. But then I actually began to understand the nature of change and how it's bound into everything in this world. And then I began to understand the value of life. And then I think I hit rock-bottom for maturity the moment I caught myself thinking that I was beginning to value the times of suffering and trouble--in a different, but no less real way than I value my happiness.

Fortunately, I'm only this reflective part of the time. The rest of the time I can still be immature.

Balance.

(. . . also an aspect of maturity. . .)

A Letter To My Son: or an unabashed Mom moment

2010-09-05T09:07:00.000-06:00

Dear V,

I haven't seen you for a while. I was out when you got home from your sleepover, and you were asleep when I got back in. But you have apparently woken up. I know because I can hear you singing and talking in your room.

You are a fundamentally cool kid. And I love ya!

Just hearing you makes me smile. You're so one of a kind. You're hilarious and this beautiful mix of "good boy" and "still learning."

I know you don't care about this, and may never care about this--but recently I've been reading an article on women who are choosing not to be mothers, and the social pressures they face. I feel bad for them because they are struggling against all kinds of culture and expectations (which is never easy) but my heart utterly broke for them because I wanted to shout "Hey! I can't explain it, and you won't understand unless you become a Mom, but there is really nothing cooler in the world!" and I knew that even if they could hear me, they wouldn't believe me.

Because I really can't explain it. You get all the pain and worry and fun and frustration--but over everything is (insert cheesy music) this love. It teaches you all kinds of things if you're willing to learn.

Eh. But maybe they've made a good choice for them. If you aren't willing to have children, would you be willing to learn from them? What a double edged sword! Those who want to be mothers are *more* likely to be willing to change to be better mothers--while those who don't want to be mothers (most cited reason is because it would change their lives too much) are less likely to be willing to change . . .

Well, I'm wondering on a tangent. I just want to say thank you for being my kid.

Love,
Mom.

Dear World--

In case someone hasn't told you recently, YOU CAN CHANGE! Life doesn't have to stay the way it is, and you don't have to stay the way you are. Both can improve. Think about it.

Sincerely,
Concerned citizen.

Plinky Survives--and My 10 Best Qualities

2010-09-02T10:23:00.000-06:00

I had to rearrange my tool-bar tabs this morning, and Plinky survived the cut. Goodreads was moved to the folder before Plinky! This is significant.

A part of me felt odd because, I shouldn't really need a prompter to write in my blog. If my blog was really that important to me, surely I'd be coming up with content on my own.

Then I told myself to blow it out my ear. I make dumb judgments sometimes--and there is nothing wrong with using prompts. Especially if the content coming from them is more creative, interesting, and dare I say it . . . thought-provoking. (It probably isn't, but just roll with me here.) More to the point--I enjoy using Plinky. I use it when I want, and I ignore it when I don't. Why stop doing what you love because you have a totally random and arbitrary snob-complex about where writing comes from?

On a not totally un-related matter, I'm studying perfectionism at the moment. It's actually a complimentary study to the one I do on happiness--because one of the psychology articles I read talked about how one of the greatest hindrances to happiness was perfectionism. Turns out it's totally tied in with everything from internal dialogue and pessimism to flexibility and victimhood.

People have always told me I was "anal-retentive" (MAN, I hate that phrase), but I didn't realize how much of a perfectionist I was until I started reading all the thought patterns you find in them. Geeps.

And now I'm always seeing my perfectionist thinking. I don't mind. I get to call it out on the carpet and give it what-for if it isn't helping me. Never having noticed it before, I was never able to tell how full of crap I could be. This first half of the post is testament to the power of that ability. I noticed my judgment on Plinky was arbitrary, unfair, and I wasn't going to let it rob me of my enjoyment.

Ironically--one of Plinky's recent prompts is to list "your 10 best qualities," which also touches on perfectionism, because perfectionists tend to devide the world arbitrarily in half and only focus on the negative half. You worked hard on a project and only got a "B." You tear off the half of reality that says you worked hard (a positive thing) and focus only on the "B" (a negative because it doesn't meet expectations). Perfectionists do this with people to: a husband can be loving and attentive 95% of the time, but if he fails to take out the garbage, he's a slob. Ignore the good, focus on the bad.

You know. It sounds a lot worse when you write it down then when you do it. Yes, I know it's a bad thing, but still! A healthy(-er) perfectionist learns to just sigh and let go (that's mostly me) but the thought pattern is still there (when it doesn't have to be).

Anyways.

Perfectionists also do it with themselves. . .

Without further ado, my un-repentant 10 best qualities in no particular order:

I really, really care about people. I can't help it. Every last one of them is a real person to me, just doing what they can to live their life. Empathy.
I am introspective enough to see who I am, where I'm going, and whether that's a good idea or a bad one.
I am always willing to be corrected and to change--it may take me a while, but the willingness is there, and I've come to really see that I'm always changing and that's a good thing.
I am really hard to offend.
I'm good at connecting ideas across boundaries and seeing how they work and what they're worth, especially when it comes to crazy human nature.
I have a sense of humor which preserves me, and a sense of fun that keeps me grounded from all my head-work.
I like to listen. I love listening.
I'm willing to explore, and I am un-endingly curious.
I love beautiful things in art and in nature.
I am a very grateful person who is always pleased by the awesome things that life just puts in my way.

Wow. That felt really good. It was hard at first not to include minor derogatory aspects to "balance" the statements, but I did it (HA! Take THAT perfectionism!). And it felt nice.

You should try it.

So Ordinary

2010-08-31T20:43:00.000-06:00

Random philosophical thought:

Life, for the most part, is made up of very ordinary moments. We all have to sleep, and eat, and wash our dishes, and just do all the little things. While many people run around like a hysterical gaggle of geese complaining that they aren't ever happy that their lives aren't fulfilled, one might point out that Americans are really lousy at loving the ordinary moments of life.

Those moments are peaceful routines. They have the opportunity to take us out of our busy minds and just relax as we do gentle work. We need more work. We need to understand how good real work feels, and not just relegate it to being a "chore." It will never be totally done, but it blesses us each time we do it.

And if you're luck enough to have a family to take care of, then it's a double blessing because you get to do it out of love too.

I think that happiness and fulfillment have their place--but it sure seems like a shame if we lose so much of our lives by failing to practice enjoying our ordinary moments.

First Day of Fall

2010-08-30T15:20:00.004-06:00

The dark clouds are clinging and dripping from the branches.
I open my window to invite them in for coffee.
The pouring sunlight invites itself—
the cold collects in my cups—
I can smell the change of the seasons
and it displaces me.

The leaves will start to change soon.
They remind me time is changing me too.
Stillness is my peace with motion—
I was born transition.

The Perfectionist Perspective: Have You Hugged Your Anal Retentive Person Recently?

2010-08-26T20:26:00.000-06:00

I just finished a 1,400 word essay on the three accounts of Paul's conversion related in Acts. It's minimum requirement was 400 words.

Yes, I am a perfectionist. Does it show?

But here's MY story:

This professor up from told us that the minimum would get us a "C," because that was average work. I'm in it for "A"s. I'm also very very very wordy and tend to write ridiculously long sentences which don't employ enough punctuation. This gave me license to actually write without paring down the final project. I didn't have to spend three hours editing my work down to direct sentences--slashing out whole paragraphs of important arguments just to make it reasonable. I could write in my obnoxious style, and include all the points I thought were worth mentioning.

So I should be happy I have the change to show off, right? Little Miss 1,400 words.

Let me be straight with you. I hate these assignments. As a perfectionist, I feel compelled to do the best job I can. Sadly for me, that happens to be a really good job which ties me up for hours. My eyes ache and my brain swirls. I look up and my whole day is shot. I didn't do more than I had to--I just answered the questions adequately. I lothe the fact they ask such complex questions, and then walk off to eat while I slave away to try and condense a book's worth of information into a minor essay which is worth more than a "C."

I don't think I'm showing off. I'm just answering the question with complete reasons and evidence for the arguments. Under my breath I'm muttering things a seminary student probably shouldn't be muttering. But after all the horror, I can sit back and enjoy the fact I did a good job . . . right?

Wrong!

After years of being called "over-achiever," "teacher's pet," "show-off," and "anal-retentive" I can only enjoy my good job as long as I trust it isn't better than everyone else's. Otherwise people get mad at me.

So I get to hate doing the essay, and then I get to hate worrying about whether or not my classmates are making voo-doo dolls of me. This is unlikely, as it is a seminary class. Most people attending probably don't know how to do voo-doo.

I'd like to just forget worrying about what other people think of me, but the reality is we are social creatures, and we do want to be liked. Or at least I would like it if people would stop calling me names to my face.

So I would like to propose an alternative perspective for all you non-perfectionist types.

Rather than thinking dark thoughts about our selfish motivations, why don't you just tell yourself that we're made that way, with the driving need to do things well. Then why don't you spare a moment to pity us, because "perfection" as a priority really SUCKS, and you don't have to suffer with it. Then why don't you remind yourself that "perfection" isn't your priority, so why should you worry if your work doesn't meet a standard you don't care about? You are the "good-enough" crowd, and you have less stress and more free time.

Then why don't you walk up to that anal-retentive, teacher's pet, show-off and pat them on the shoulder and say, "You know, you did a really good job on that." And respect the fact that is what they do, even if you think they're crazy.

Avoidence

2010-08-23T22:19:00.000-06:00

I often avoid house-work. I'm good at avoiding that.

I occasionally avoid school work--but not since I've wandered into Professor Nemesis' class of Death by New Testament (it took me 2 hours to read and take notes from only 27 pages. 27!). I can't afford to miss one moments work.

Sometimes I avoid making a choice. Mostly because I feel like I never have enough information.

I also avoid starting little tasks and projects to see if I lose interest in doing them. I figure if I still want to do it a year later, then it's probably something worth doing. Then I put it off a little more, just to let it mellow. This year I'm really thinking about making that Christmas Advent Calendar I've been planning for four years now.

I really avoid at almost any cost telling other people about my plans because I know how often I reconsider, hesitate, and muse over a choice. This often drives people insane. I also avoid yelling at people that maybe they shouldn't be so personally invested in my choices, how long it takes me to make them, and how firmly I stand by them. It's apparently rude to say things like that. Apparently.

But today I didn't avoid anything.

I did the dishes right after breakfast. I got my house-work done. I ran through reams of useless paperwork for myself and my children. I finished all my homework in two neat sessions and prepped a watercolor paper for my next art piece.

Which means that I'll have to avoid going to bed. Just for the sake of consistency.

Honey! Honey! I Think I've Found my Calling!"

2010-08-17T10:16:00.000-06:00

To some readers, I will have skated over the key issues; to others, I may have fallen into the traditional theologians' trap of giving incomprehensible answers to questions nobody was asking."
The Resurrection of the Son of God
-N. T. Wright

I Believe in Indoctrinating Them Young

2010-08-15T23:09:00.000-06:00

Me: So you see Val? I can call Daddy sexy because I'm married to him. Are you married to anyone?
Val: Nooo.
Me: Yeah. So you probably shouldn't call anyone sexy. Okay?
Val: Okay. I guess. But Mommy, how can I get married? You and Daddy got married, but I don't know how to get married.
Me: *Pause* Welllll, first you have to get a lot older. You need to be like 20. Or 24. Then you have to find a girl you like and she likes you. Then, if Mommy likes her, you can marry her.
Val: Oh. So I can marry her if you like her. You have to like her.
Me: Absolutely. That's very very important.
Val: Okay.
Me: Don't forget it.
Val: I won't.

P.S. I never thought I would have to teach my 6 year old when it was and wasn't appropriate to call someone sexy. It boggles my mind the kind of stuff kids pick up.

I'm Offended

2010-08-13T18:46:00.000-06:00

Actually, I'm not. That's the point of all of this.

I'm going to blog about something which is dear to my heart, and I occasionally just ache because I see the suffering that it causes in the world.

There are people out there who are far too easily offended. They are wounded when no wound was intended. They carry unnecessary pain around and fill their lives with anger. I don't believe they do it because they enjoy suffering. I believe they do it because they've made it a habit, and they don't know how to escape.

It causes the person taking offense pain and suffering, and it causes others suffering. The pain-gatherers will tend to lash out and attack people, or snoot and sniff to show indignation. Or they just stay quietly mad, poisoning the air. All of this is often hurting someone who never meant to offend in the first place, effectively harming an innocent party. It also destroys honesty--people would rather lie to you or avoid you because they never know what they're going to do "wrong" if they share the truth or just spend time with you. Relationships die by lies or by neglect. You suffer even more than before.

Escape is easy when you reflect on a new perspective, and make a habit of that reflection when the trigger is tripped.

Most people don't actually mean to offend or hurt you. This is very true and very important to understand. There are so many other possible ways to look at what happened: choosing the perspective which harms you is a sad choice. The woman who slammed the door on you, might not have seen you. The friend who wasn't listening to you on the phone might have been very tired or stressed. The man who cut you off in traffic, might have just made a mistake. There are very few people who are actually out to offend you--realize this.

Don't take criticism personally. This is a hard one, but very important to practice, even imperfectly. If you make a batch of cookies that someone doesn't like, does that mean that you are a bad person? Does that mean you are skill-less and worthless? Or does it far more likely mean that the person has a different palate, and just doesn't like your cookies? If you are putting so much of your self identity into every little thing you do, then you don't love yourself enough. This is as true for the the writer and her novel, as it is for the baker and his cookies. We are all imperfect. We are all growing. We are all learning by the tumble of this life and the criticism of others. We all deserved to be loved. Criticism should be taken as commentary on your place in the long path of growth--not as a statement on your value.

Personal criticisms aren't personal either. Sometimes criticism comes not just about what we do, but who we are. This is a very painful type of criticism. But it helps to remember a few things; 1) the person saying it may just be venting pain, 2) the person saying it is probably speaking from their own mind-set, 3) the person saying it may be saying it because they love you.

No matter how it's said, the statement can only be one of two things; pertinent or not pertinent.

If the statement is not pertinent that can be because the person wasn't well informed, misunderstood, or in venting anger got something wrong. It can also be because they're judging you from their own mind set--if I value thoughtfulness, and someone says I'm worthless because I can't make a decision quckily, then I don't need to worry much. I value what I do, and if someone doesn't like that, what's that to do with me?

The statement is pertinent if it does have baring on what you value and who you want to be. This can come from angry rants (which is why it's important to objectively consider even angry complaints) just as much as from loving chats--the loving words are just easier to swallow. Consider if the statements are true and relevant. If they are, don't beat yourself up! Thank them for helping you, and realize--just like for what you do--you are on a path of growth as a person. They have helped you realize how you can grow, and you have the chance to be better for it. This is a good thing! It may hurt, but only as long as you hold on to the self-harming delusion that you should have been perfect already.

Realize that no one is universally liked--and that's okay. Think about it--there are people that you like to be around, and others that you don't like to be around. It's the same for everyone. Just because a few people don't want to be around you, this does not mean that you are bad or worthless. It means that they prefer to be around a different personality, or to share with a different mind (often because it is closer to their own). It can be a matter of taste, without baring on your value.

To fix this negative habit of taking offense:

Commit to changing and letting go of your anger and pain.
Each and every time you feel offended stop and think! Take a few mindful breaths if you need to.
Tell yourself what is valuable to tell yourself. Remind yourself they probably didn't mean to offend you. Remind yourself that you are valuable because of you, not because of what you do. Remind yourself that you are in a state of growth and it is delusional to demand perfection. Remind yourself to be gentle to yourself and to others.
Negative thoughts are persistent, so be prepared to do this many, many times, even over the same small instance.
If you mess up and take offense, realize that you aren't going to be perfect each time in this either, and that it is never too late to stop and let go of offense. If the offended feeling is still there, then the ability to let go of it is as well.

And please, don't feel justified in being offended on behalf of another person. You can defend them, and encourage kind words in others, but love yourself enough to stop dragging unnecessary and unhelpful pain into your life, and love others enough to stop harming them by taking offense too easily.

Explatives, Dammit!

2010-08-11T10:06:00.000-06:00

I guess I'm on a language rant. First you get my favorite quotes, and then you get some odd phrases. Now you get my opinion on swearing and expletives. Which are NOT the same thing. Swear words are the words society has deemed "unacceptable." Expletives are whatever come out of your mouth (often during times of high-stress) which express emotion without any idea. This can range from "ouch!" or "ugh!" all the way to "Sprocket joint!"

This matters to me because once upon a time I got in a debate with a wonderful high school teacher of mine about the use of cuss-words. She said they were unnecessary. You stub your toe, you don't have to say anything. If it serves no purpose then it shouldn't be used, right?

Sorry, I still say no!

Expletives are universal and wonderful. If we all use them, maybe they actually do serve a useful purpose. Possibly expressive therapy; by just expressing ourselves we feel better? Besides, I like using expletives. It's fun and stress relieving. A study has shown what I could have told them--when you use expletives, you can tolerate more pain. Don't ask me why. I have no idea.

But I do love expletives. Most of them aren't actually cuss/swear words. I cycle through non-sense phrases, and use them when I stub my toes. Or knock my head. Or forget to wear my contacts to my eye-doctor appointment. I've used "great googly-moogly," "yak-breath" and "Hannah Montana." Nothing against Miss Cyrus. I pick my phrases based on how they feel when I say them. I like them to have a certain rythem and impact.

Which is also why I love the word "damn." Best word in the world. That word is ALL impact. And it feels so good when you're mildly frustrated and let out one good "DAMN."

As for the rest of the bad words, I (generally) avoid them. Especially in casual conversation. Being crass when you aren't mad is only offensive and strikes me as pathetically childish. Offending others is not my cup of tea. What can I say? I like people.

So my opinion on swearing? Eh. Give or take so long as it isn't casual or truly offensive (you know. . . those words . . . the ones that actually still have the power to really offend because of their meaning). Expletives in general? I like 'em. But I think they should be used carefully so as to not lose their effectiveness. Is "damn" a swear word? I guess that depends on who you are. Me? I like it.

Language is a lot like eating. You talk and eat to survive, but now and then you find something you just enjoy.

Put These Ends in Your Pipe and Smoke 'Em

2010-08-06T22:50:00.000-06:00

I love odd turns of phrase. I like how they add color and humor to communication. I love "uber," and I uber like "my peeps." I try to limit my usage of the odd-turns because I know that speech habits are harder to break that my skull--should anyone become annoyed with their uber-usage.

(Uber! Uber!)

But there are two phrases that I really like, because I think they're evocative.

I am at ends.

Nobody specifies what ends. Nobody has to. Whenever I've traced a full thought pattern, or life situation, or something--weaving many threads in and out of what they mean and how they relate-- then suddenly I've just reached the ends. The threads, or situations, or thoughts, or whatevers just stop. But they aren't all neatly tied and finished. They're just sitting there. Nothing to go on with, and nothing to add to them. "I am at ends." It's rough when it's a train of thought. It's worse when it's a series of actions and thoughts you thought might go somewhere.

Very disconcerting.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

This works for so many people in so many ways.

I picture a man in a velvet smoking jacket reclined in his easy chair, tamping his pipe and thinking he's top of the intellectual tower, and then wham-bam! I hit him with a whole new idea, and he sits back, and smokes. . .considering. Testing it. Tasting it. Hmmmmmm.

Or I'm talking to a chuckling dude with a less than legal substance, who takes a big drag as I'm talking to him and he leans back and just lets the idea mess with his head. Enjoying the ride.

It denotes open-ness to me. Here! I've got something to say! Now you just think about it. That's right! Uh-huh.

This funny little post is brought to you by my-life right now. I've been feeling at-ends recently, and looking for something to stick in my pipe and smoke. Just thinking of those phrases made me smile, and I love to share a smile.

Who Needs Sleep?

2010-07-27T21:59:00.000-06:00

What keeps me up at night?

That's an almost cruel prompt to give a part-time insomniac, Mr. Plinky. Really, a better prompt would have been what actually puts me to sleep. For cryin' out-loud! I've actually had to do research and experiment on that one.

(Psssst! Use candles instead of a bedside lamp*, read Garfield or Peanuts to get to sleep, and exercise during the day.)

But what keeps me up? Only two things . . . well, three.

The third reason is trying to solve a puzzle. Especially when I get the random urge to design a floorplan. But those are rare and stupid days, especially considering I have almost no intention of ever building my floorplans.

The first two are lists and racing-brain.

If I go to bed without completely shutting down my head (thus the comics), I will start reminding myself of what I intend to do, or buy, or make, or any number of other crazy things that wind up making large lists. They say that writing these down helps. Not for me. I just stay up thinking of more things to write on my lists. And writing by candle-light in bed is hard to do. . . not to mention mildly dangerous.

Plus, I never really use the lists. If they were important, I had already written them down. If they weren't important, I wouldn't want to keep them around lest my husband decides I'm crazy enough to need therapy.

"Honey. What is this?"
"A list of all the stuffed animals I owned as a child."
"And what is it for?"
"Well, at three A.M. it just seemed really important."
"Uh-huh."

The racing-brain (or racy-brain, in some circles) is when I just can shut my head up. If I'm thinking of philosophical questions, or replaying a scene in my head, or just having my thoughts jump around like a delirious rabbit. . . you know. The usual. I don't wind up with lists at the end of this one, but only because there's nothing really to write down.

I think I solved most of America's ills one night, but then I finally fell asleep and lost most of it. Ah, well. It would have been awful hard to implement anyways.

Funny thing is that these symptoms are actually really common. Funnier thing is that it plagues people for years before they think to ask for help. Hilariously, there are actually quite a few things that a person can try which might help. Number 1 and 2 most helpful are to exercise during the day, and to go to bed at the same time every night. After that, if you still need help, you have to experiment because everyone's racing-brain is a little different.

____________
*Use with extreme caution, and don't sue me if you took the advice of a random blogger and lit your bed on fire. In fact, if I were you, and you were the suing type, I'd recommend getting a fake-electric candle that gives off only orange light. Orange light--no blue light spectrum, got that? That's the important point. And while you're at it, pick up one that turns on and off when you just tap it. I love those.

My Music

2010-07-26T18:52:00.000-06:00

I have always been more of an art-lover than an artist. I love beautiful things in all forms, while I spent much of my life . . . writing. Ah, well. A mis-spent youth, no doubt.

In the mean time, I also adore music. When I was younger, my tastes were as varied as my mood. Namely--angry music, or not-angry music. No--I kid. I did have lots of variation on my music, which ranged anywhere from classical pieces to some select harder-rock songs.

As I age, I've noticed that my taste in music stays fairly varied, while my actual selection to purchase and play gets slimmer and slimmer. Now I only have a few play-lists I listen to regularly. This is because most of my listening pleasure is based on coping with adult-ness.

I listen to stuff like this through the day when I need to do housework or just keep some background noise going while the kids cause trouble. It's relaxing, but kinda up beat. It doesn't have a prescribed genera (this needs to be rectified, because despite what iTunes thinks, it shouldn't be shunted in with all the other "pop" music) but everyone knows what I'm talking about when I mention it includes Jack Johnson and John Mayer.

Then while I'm studying or when I've turned off all the lights and trying to relax by the fine art of breathing and listening, I go back to some simple and beautiful classical/almost classical stuff. The grab bag includes Yo-Yo Ma, soundtracks, and whatever catches me.

But for the pure art of music, I've found a sub-genera that I call "modern-classical." It's more structured than easy-listening, it's dynamic and fascinating to just listen to, and most of it (but not all) tends to be really invigorating. This is my favorite example:

Oh! Lovely.

Here's to music, and loving it.

Pet Snarling Monster Peeve

2010-07-21T10:07:00.000-06:00

The great Plink-inator, has subliminally instructed my oh-so impressionable brain to write on a pet-peeve. And I wanted to obey . . . must obey . . .

*chech-chem*

Where was I? Right!

I am fascinated by what irritates people. Personal likes sometimes have good stories. Dislikes sometimes have funny stories. But I have never found a pet peeve that didn't have some interesting little piece of the person hung on the other side of the coin. I knew that I had more than a few pet peeves, because I'm irritated at how easily I get irritated (hey look! I found another!), but I wasn't sure what they were.

Then I walked in last night to find my bro-Jeremy watching 30 Rock. And it hit me. Like a baseball bat to the face.

I can't stand sit-coms. In fact, I'm not sure this qualifies as a "pet" peeve. More of a "monster-loose-in-Tokyo" peeve. It's a passion with me.

I don't think they're funny. I hate embarrassment humor because it only makes me feel painful sympathy for an actor which is happy he could get paid that much. And the first 40 seconds (and the only 40 seconds) I've seen of 30 Rock included a philandering man, his ultra-defensive wife, and the women with glasses trying to lie for him. And I have issues with infidelity.

The only notable exception to this rule is 3rd Rock from the Sun. I risked quite a few episodes, and I've never been disappointed. It is laugh out loud funny, and they just ticklishly explore the oddest sides of human nature and American culture. Better yet, what could be embarrassment humor, doesn't come across that way because the aliens are so oblivious that they never get that they've done something wrong.

I guess that's why sit-coms are only a pet-peeve, and not a riot-and-campaign issue to me. It has shown me that something good and funny can come of it.

Summer Love

2010-07-20T18:02:00.000-06:00

Summer used to mean that I would go up into the frigid mountains where there was likely snow, and work for 8 weeks as a Boy Scout camp staff member. I adored it. Even the bad year. I would look forward to it all year, and then I would live it up for all it was worth.

Then I got married and had children. Real life seemed to think that being a staff member when I was taking care of two cougar-baits was not the wisest idea. The parting broke my heart--and I could tell I was healing based on how many dreams I would have about camp around May each year. Each year I would have a few less.

Time does, in fact, heal most wounds.

This year, I think I might have reached a full recovery. I'm a little busy with school, but otherwise, the boys and I just chill. We watch some shows. We play at the park and swimming pool. We try a little Nintendo. We meander through their school-work-books. We ignore each other, and we sometimes even play with each other.

I'm really enjoying it: just a stupid simple summer. It's so laid back. Each day kinda just melds into the next--I thought for sure that would mean that it would take forever for summer to pass. . . but nope. It's just kinda slipping away.

And I like that. If I can't be up in the mountains, being paid to act like a total nut and composing songs about the Mario Brothers, then I'll just sit back and let the summer slink away. Let the kids stay up a little late to play when the sun is finally down.

As I grow up, the more I think it's possible to really enjoy the majority of situations I'm likely to wind up in. And thank goodness for that.

Trip Down the Literary Rabbit Hole

2010-07-19T15:07:00.001-06:00

Have you seen "I Write Like?"

It's a web page. You put in a bit of your writing and then it tells you which famous author you most resemble.

Now, I know that I have various writing styles for different projects, but this list I got was well on to ridiculous.

Blog: William Gibson
School Essays: H. P. Lovecraft and James Joyce
Fiction: J. K. Rowling, Anne Rice, Margaret Mitchell, and L. Frank Baum.

I do think that it is seven kinds of funny that my school essays read like Lovecraft and Joyce. Maybe that's what I should stick with.

On the other hand, Rowling and Rice do okay for themselves and Mitchell and Baum are classic authors! Potential, potential!

Talent there is, but apparently, not consistency.

Crayola Me

2010-07-17T23:11:00.001-06:00

Plinky and I have an interesting relationship. I've never really used them before, but now that my brains are being systematically sucked out my head to unroll and stuff more information in, I find that my blasted desire to do a little writing here and there has to be satisfied without actually using intelligence. Or at least not much of it. And I have to admit--Plinky can occasionally come up with some cool questions. Like this one:

"You only get three crayons to make your picture. Which do you choose?"

Crayons and I have an interesting relationship. I use them all the time, and for a while considered using them exclusively for my . . . (chech-chem) fine art (cough). Then I discovered that Crayola makes colored pencils that work even better for my stuff than the crayons do! But there will always be a soft spot in my heart for good ol' crayons.

And I often wonder if there is some significant symptom of human nature evident in how someone chooses their favorite colors. I know some people just . . . pick them. Mine kinda grow on me--like learning to like the taste of sushi. And it seems to switch every couple of years too. I don't know what that says about me, but whatever it is, I'm okay with it.

Right now, if all I got was three colors, I'd tell you to pass me cornflower blue, purple, and bright yellow. Then we'd probably get in a fight about whether it was properly known as violet or purple. You'd win because someone thought that putting parenthesis around "purple" was enough of an apology for naming the color "violet."

No, I'm serious! See? It's actually called "violet (purple)."

Which is lame, because purple is such a cool word. Try saying it: "purple." Now, that is a happy word.

Of course, I'd still wind up using mostly yellow. Because it's got so much bright life in it. And apparently, that's what I'm into right now. If you all still care in three years, ask me again and we'll see how it's changed.

If any of you actually care now. (Riveted to the edge of your seat, I'm sure.)

So, does anyone know the human-nature significance of how one chooses and/or/verses discovers their favorite color? 'Cause my brain is currently being plied with a crow-bar to induce me to remember just a few more facts about the Mosaic Law, and I can't think of nothin'.

Enthusiasm

2010-07-16T16:34:00.000-06:00

It is no secret that I love quotes. I have a subject subset on my blog for them, and I have a "quote of the day" on my homepage--and I read it everyday. I love quotes from poems, and comedy sketches, and serious essays, and random quotes from my friends are among my favorites. But if you were to stick me on a rusty torture-rack and make me pick a favorite (and it would take about that), I would probably whip out this puppy:

"We all do foolish things; do them with enthusiasm." - Colette

What can I say? It's like a mantra that perfectly describes what I do in my better moments, and what I ought to be doing in my more idiotic moments.

I'm a serious person (stop laughing, I am!), born with the general inclination to be very serious, and then was raised by a bunch of the goofiest people on the planet. I wish I had video so I could make an apt demonstration. Then you'd all be nodding your heads.

"And this is Andy, my younger brother." Nods. Nods and murmurs. "This is Dale, he's the laid back one giggling over here." Nods, a few ahhs. "And this one is Nathan. He's the one with the jokes. All the jokes." Nods, sighs. "And this is my Mom. . ."

I'm not very good at cracking jokes that people get, and I like the performance panache my brothers have, but I love irony and puns. It's like being the weirdo who prefers the $5 wines. And I do excel at saying completely random and idiotic things that people do laugh at, which still keeps me in the realm of "funny." I had to make basic qualifications, or I might not have been allowed at family reunions.

Where I come from, you have a sense of humor. You rejoice in your oddness. You become one with your bizarre inner-self. And for all those other serious-born people, allow me to assure you, you do indeed have a bizarre inner-self. In that we are bizarrely enlightened, my family is often being foolish, and enthusiastic about it. Is there another way to be? Would you really want to be that way?

Me neither. Which is why this little serious-girl was given to the family she was.

Conversation on the Home Front--Sexism

2010-07-15T10:17:00.001-06:00

V: Hey, no I meant I want disk three because then there's Dora and Diego.
Me: Eh, whatever. You watch what I put on. Okay? Besides, I like Diego way better than Dora.
V: WHAT?!? No, you can't like Diego better than Dora. You love Dora! You're a girl!
Me: Excuse me? I do like Diego better than Dora, even though I'm a girl. I like Daddy the most. He's a boy. And I like you. And I like Zaney. In fact, if you think about it, there aren't a whole lot of women in my life. Maybe I've learned to like boys.
V: Well . . . I guess that's okay.