This morning I woke up feeling particularly sensitive to absurdity. I apply my "doing is becoming" philosophy to all, as once you see significance in anything, you see it in everything. The first few news stories I reflected upon today made me climb atop a great big soapbox. Here's the result:
When you hear the phrase "new normal," you should realize you and your family are being sold lies based on fear and private greed. It's your money. It's your quality of life. If you held the actual cash in your hand, how would you spend it? Would you continue to kill children whose only crime was to be born in the wrong place at the wrong time? Would you continue to send your neighbors' children into harm's way to intervene in a power struggle, or fight against tribal people, thousands of miles away from your home? Would you give it all and promise more to the fattest guy in the biggest house at the end of the street? Or would you provide clean water, food, clothing, medicine, housing, jobs, libraries, art, learning opportunities (insert what makes your life meaningful and livable here) to yourself and your immediate family?
What you would provide to your family is what you should extend to the collective family of humanity. It's very simple. It's the basic rule of every spiritual and ethical tradition known to mankind. This rule doesn't specify "others whom are just like you." It says very plainly and clearly, "Do unto others, as you would have others do unto you." Just plain "others." All others, no exceptions.
Why do you give up agency just because the dollars flow unseen from your electronic paycheck to a paid representative of the people and a treasurer far away? Why do you let them scare you with their tales of woe? Why do you believe the world will end if we don't do as legislatures and corporations say we must? If they got us into this mess by misspending our money, why do we trust them with the solution? In a democratic republic, it is the hired (elected) person's duty to be responsive to their constituents' actual needs, not to sell their version of reality to us and collect their fee. Stop listening to opinion makers, and start reflecting and crafting your own ideas. Share those ideas with others, especially your paid representative. If they are unresponsive, vote them out of office. It's a beautifully simple system. All it requires is that you author your own life. Care. Share. Act. Cooperate and collaborate to build a livable world. You will be enriched by it personally, and the globe will be a lot more welcoming.
So take a few minutes to reflect:
How many of us wake up each day and say we need to drop a bomb on someone to keep going?
How many of us wake up and say "I must eat"?
The answers are so obvious when you drop the news cycle rhetoric.
What are your actual needs? Do you think there is a person on earth whose real human needs are any different?
Humans are storytellers by nature, always seeing meaning, but sometimes we forget who's telling the tale. You are accountable for the narrative you live. Choose well.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Lessons in Compassion
Maya began attending theater camp last week. It runs 6 1/2 hours per weekday, with an hour lunch break included. While she has had many busy days filled with multiple activities in her nine years, including several half-day camps, and even a one-week, all-day split location camp last summer, this is probably the most "school-like" environment she has ever experienced.
Long hours. No control over the timing of breaks. The randomness of classmates. Running from one building to the next, with little time to spare. The "3 strikes" method of discipline. Crankiness setting in by the end of the day. Homework when you have rehearsals in the evening.
Compassion is something I am hard at work on deepening in myself. I am always trying to feel more for the general human experience. As a parent, it is natural to aid your child's development of empathy. After her first comment about the length of the day, I noted she only had to do this for three weeks. Most kids do this all year long. Some have even longer days, with before and after school care.
This, it seems, really made her pause.
She continues to talk about it.
For three years Maya has been attending a multiplicity of "after-school" programs, like ballet lessons, acting, and modern dance. She is a very serious student, with laser-like focus on the task at hand. While she enjoys meeting kids, and making friends that share interests, she doesn't like to socialize during class.
After class, she has endless tales of woe regarding the demeanor of some of the students. "They won't listen." "They try to talk to me while I'm listening." "They have to go to the bathroom all the time." Analysis ensues. "Why do YOU think these students behave this way?" I ask. We have endless conversations about kids not having much power, parents who mean well, but perhaps don't choose activities that best suit the child, family problems, and what it's like to be powerless and maybe a little bored all day long.
Maya has always seemed to grasp the point of these conversations: Everyone has a story. Every story has an internal logic. Internal logic is not always in tune with external logic, as it is part of a narrative told from only one perspective. Unless we know someone very well, we are only witnessing the actions of the tale, not the motivations.
Sometimes to amuse ourselves, but also as an exercise in empathy, we create stories for all the poor drivers on the road. Sometimes they are bathroom related. Other times they are tales of woe, like the death of pets, driving home from a funeral, or going to a hospital. Maybe they are so excited to see a loved one after a long separation they JUST CAN'T WAIT TO GET THERE!
But somehow, after all these talks, all these mental exercises, I think at age 9 Maya is really finally internalizing this empathetic process. She honestly feels deeply for the unique circumstances of her peers at theater camp.
Conversely, she is also coming to understand how extraordinary our ordinary family's choices are. She's the only one in this particular peer group who doesn't share a narrative. That story powerfully shapes who these kids will become. Will they continue to be reactive? Will they become passive-aggressive? Or just plain passive or aggressive? Hyper-competitive? How many will use this daily, year-after-year experience as a springboard to authenticity, true authorship of their narrative?
Maya is learning that as a family, we may at times have limited funds, limited experience, limited knowledge, and limited power, but we have limitless dreams, fearlessness, and creativity. We believe we can always rewrite the narrative of our lives to avoid overwhelming powerlessness and to stave off boredom. Many people continue to see our home schooling as swimming upstream, a Quixotic adventure. But to me, impossible is just a degree of difficulty. I hope those kids that feel they face the impossible each day will find their true voices and sing.
Long hours. No control over the timing of breaks. The randomness of classmates. Running from one building to the next, with little time to spare. The "3 strikes" method of discipline. Crankiness setting in by the end of the day. Homework when you have rehearsals in the evening.
Compassion is something I am hard at work on deepening in myself. I am always trying to feel more for the general human experience. As a parent, it is natural to aid your child's development of empathy. After her first comment about the length of the day, I noted she only had to do this for three weeks. Most kids do this all year long. Some have even longer days, with before and after school care.
This, it seems, really made her pause.
She continues to talk about it.
For three years Maya has been attending a multiplicity of "after-school" programs, like ballet lessons, acting, and modern dance. She is a very serious student, with laser-like focus on the task at hand. While she enjoys meeting kids, and making friends that share interests, she doesn't like to socialize during class.
After class, she has endless tales of woe regarding the demeanor of some of the students. "They won't listen." "They try to talk to me while I'm listening." "They have to go to the bathroom all the time." Analysis ensues. "Why do YOU think these students behave this way?" I ask. We have endless conversations about kids not having much power, parents who mean well, but perhaps don't choose activities that best suit the child, family problems, and what it's like to be powerless and maybe a little bored all day long.
Maya has always seemed to grasp the point of these conversations: Everyone has a story. Every story has an internal logic. Internal logic is not always in tune with external logic, as it is part of a narrative told from only one perspective. Unless we know someone very well, we are only witnessing the actions of the tale, not the motivations.
Sometimes to amuse ourselves, but also as an exercise in empathy, we create stories for all the poor drivers on the road. Sometimes they are bathroom related. Other times they are tales of woe, like the death of pets, driving home from a funeral, or going to a hospital. Maybe they are so excited to see a loved one after a long separation they JUST CAN'T WAIT TO GET THERE!
But somehow, after all these talks, all these mental exercises, I think at age 9 Maya is really finally internalizing this empathetic process. She honestly feels deeply for the unique circumstances of her peers at theater camp.
Conversely, she is also coming to understand how extraordinary our ordinary family's choices are. She's the only one in this particular peer group who doesn't share a narrative. That story powerfully shapes who these kids will become. Will they continue to be reactive? Will they become passive-aggressive? Or just plain passive or aggressive? Hyper-competitive? How many will use this daily, year-after-year experience as a springboard to authenticity, true authorship of their narrative?
Maya is learning that as a family, we may at times have limited funds, limited experience, limited knowledge, and limited power, but we have limitless dreams, fearlessness, and creativity. We believe we can always rewrite the narrative of our lives to avoid overwhelming powerlessness and to stave off boredom. Many people continue to see our home schooling as swimming upstream, a Quixotic adventure. But to me, impossible is just a degree of difficulty. I hope those kids that feel they face the impossible each day will find their true voices and sing.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Hard Work, Creativity, & Generosity
As Spring sprung forth, the frenzy of activity in our family's life reached yet another peak.
Maya had many rehearsals for Ballet West Academy's Spring production. It was a splendid three-day run, with many impressive performances by dancers ages 8-20. I am always heartened when teachers allow children to reach beyond expectation. The level of technique demonstrated by these students was tremendous, and I felt honored to be in the audience, as the experience was authentically breath-taking. Not something generally said about a school recital, but repeated by everyone I talked to who had attended.
After a long week of late nights at the theater, a dip in our friend's neighborhood pool was delightful. We are fortunate to be part of the Carlson "surrogate" family.
Chad and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary in Idaho, courtesy of another set of amazingly generous friends.
Maya was so excited to sleep in a loft!
We biked around Redfish Lake, and enjoyed the stunning scenery.
Peaceful moments are great gifts to young and old alike. Though we could have used this visit to Idaho to reinforce factual concepts learned through our home school, this time we took an opportunity to quietly contemplate. Here and there I may have directed notice to an interesting rock, mass of moss, cloud, or sap-exuding tree, but no quizzing ensued. As an always-learning, always-teaching sort of person, sometimes it's hard for me to be still mentally (and physically). But it was easy in Idaho.
I'm not a trained birder, but I am very interested in these descendants of dinosaurs. Ravens and crows seem to follow us wherever we go, often making me think of Native American spirit animal tales. Idaho was no exception to this recurring experience. But this time we also were visited by 3 ospreys. The birds were taking advantage of easy prey at a fish hatchery pond. Watching the ospreys dive into the water was breathtaking. Listening to them communicate with one another was fascinating, as well.
A bald eagle also flew overhead and circled for a bit, but was too high for my camera to capture adequately.
Maya wanted to learn about fishing, so Chad put on his grandpa's fishing outfit, got out the antique gear, and gave it a whirl.
Maya was terribly concerned about not hurting the fish, and also about what sort of bait to use. Being a life-long vegan, it's difficult for her to avoid thinking about such matters, which is a good thing, but I've always encouraged her to follow what her heart tells her. I personally think the most important ethical act a human can perform is truly conscious decision-making.
In our historical studies, Maya has learned much about the impact of the environment on culture, and how in contemporary times we sometimes forget how tied to the land people have mostly been. I thought it was good for her to experience this primeval activity, to develop greater empathy for our ancestors and for those on earth now with limited mobility and opportunity. And, of course, she could catch and release!
Namaste, little fish. Thank you for helping my daughter learn. And good work, Chad, at helping Maya release so quickly! Boy, did that fish swim fast!
Maya had many rehearsals for Ballet West Academy's Spring production. It was a splendid three-day run, with many impressive performances by dancers ages 8-20. I am always heartened when teachers allow children to reach beyond expectation. The level of technique demonstrated by these students was tremendous, and I felt honored to be in the audience, as the experience was authentically breath-taking. Not something generally said about a school recital, but repeated by everyone I talked to who had attended.
After a long week of late nights at the theater, a dip in our friend's neighborhood pool was delightful. We are fortunate to be part of the Carlson "surrogate" family.
Chad and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary in Idaho, courtesy of another set of amazingly generous friends.
We biked around Redfish Lake, and enjoyed the stunning scenery.
I'm not a trained birder, but I am very interested in these descendants of dinosaurs. Ravens and crows seem to follow us wherever we go, often making me think of Native American spirit animal tales. Idaho was no exception to this recurring experience. But this time we also were visited by 3 ospreys. The birds were taking advantage of easy prey at a fish hatchery pond. Watching the ospreys dive into the water was breathtaking. Listening to them communicate with one another was fascinating, as well.
A bald eagle also flew overhead and circled for a bit, but was too high for my camera to capture adequately.
Maya wanted to learn about fishing, so Chad put on his grandpa's fishing outfit, got out the antique gear, and gave it a whirl.
Maya was terribly concerned about not hurting the fish, and also about what sort of bait to use. Being a life-long vegan, it's difficult for her to avoid thinking about such matters, which is a good thing, but I've always encouraged her to follow what her heart tells her. I personally think the most important ethical act a human can perform is truly conscious decision-making.
In our historical studies, Maya has learned much about the impact of the environment on culture, and how in contemporary times we sometimes forget how tied to the land people have mostly been. I thought it was good for her to experience this primeval activity, to develop greater empathy for our ancestors and for those on earth now with limited mobility and opportunity. And, of course, she could catch and release!
Namaste, little fish. Thank you for helping my daughter learn. And good work, Chad, at helping Maya release so quickly! Boy, did that fish swim fast!
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