I hate confrontation. I also hate contention. I dislike debate. I don't trust discussion. I am acutely uncomfortable with anger--to me it signals imbalance. I think unsolicited criticism is always hurtful. I don't believe there is such a thing as "constructive" criticism. In fact, I question the value of any negative interaction.
I may be courting disagreement when I embrace this position. I fully admit that these are opinions are absolutely personal to me and how I am. But I'm thinking that there may be people that feel very much as I do about this.
Consider:
Something you say--with the best intentions--inadvertently hurts your good friend's feelings (or your husband's feelings, or your sister's feelings, etc). I think popular opinion would encourage her to confront you with it--to confess her feelings and request an apology. She knows you didn't MEAN to hurt her feelings, but you did and she wants you to know it. Somehow this is supposed to clear the air.
But! If she goes ahead with her plan and tells you that you hurt her, you will feel mortified! You will feel and be deeply apologetic. She may shed tears, you may shed tears. She elicits your apology which you give very willingly. You love her and had no wish to hurt her.
The result? You now take away from this encounter deep mortification. Before, she felt bad and you felt fine. Now you both feel bad. Not only that, but you are unsure of yourself and unsure of her. You thought she understood you. You thought you understood her and that she would understand what you say. But what actually happened is that, even though she KNEW you didn't mean to hurt her, she chose to take the hurt--she chose to misunderstand--and now she's passed on the pain to you. Everybody's hurting and the relationship is different. You feel the need to walk on eggshells around her for at least a little while.
What do I think SHOULD have happened? I think the one who has taken the hurt must assume the best and push the hurt away.
I believe that true friends have the obligation to assume the best of the ones they love. When my friend offends me, I must remember that she loves me and would never purposely TRY to offend me. So therefore it is my job to assume that she didn't mean to offend me. This means I have a CHOICE to remain un-offended. And, on the off chance that she DID mean to offend me, I also have a choice: I can assume she's having a bad day and move on OR I can re-evaluate the friendship for viability. If she offends me continually I could either show her more love in the interest of contributing to many more good days for her, or discontinue the close association if I feel she is truly toxic to me and that I cannot contribute any good to her life without being overwhelmed by the bad I receive in return. That would be abuse, though, and I'm not talking about that here. I'm talking about friendship and love.
I am not convinced that the urge to "talk it out" is even really motivated by a desire to strengthen a relationship. What motivates a hurt person to confront the author of injury? Will saying "you hurt my feelings" really contribute a positive note to the relationship? Will eliciting an apology really make anyone feel better? I think soliciting apology smacks of "an eye for an eye". I think it might make the relationship stronger to "turn the other cheek" and continue in love to meet and interact with your friend. As you show even more love to her, she will feel more secure and will in her turn reflect more love to you. Is this not how relationships REALLY work? When a member of a relationship seeks balm for her own feelings, is this not really a selfish action? Isn't the Christ-like way to return good for evil, to turn the other cheek, to go the extra mile EVEN after having been compelled to go the first?
I think, then, that true friendship and love must be rooted in unconditional love and acceptance, and in giving without expectation of return. I think this is how love REALLY works. Of course, in order to have the best of relationships, both parties must participate in this unconditional affection. But no one ever made another person love them. No person ever badgered or guilted or in any other way pressured someone into a loving exchange. Depth in relationships is achieved by unselfishness, service, acceptance, forgiveness, consideration, courtesy, sacrifice and charity--the pure love of Christ.
And I don't think confrontation or contention have any place there. Communication, certainly, but only when motivated by charity for the loved one, seeking his/her good, seeking to understand and strengthen him/her. Strangely enough, this kind of giving doesn't deplete the giver, but, in the chemistry of Christ, fills the giver too. Amazing grace, that's what it is.
Now if only I could be this kind of loving friend myself! I've got a long, long way to go. Fortunately I have a husband who is ahead of me on this road and he smooths the way for me as we go, so I don't trip too often (unless it's over my own big feet) while I'm trying to catch up. :)
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
So you like shopping?
I just read this book entitled, "I Want That!:How We All Became Shoppers". I, like many women, love to shop. Mostly. I also feel frustrated, overwhelmed, guilty, irritated and conflicted about shopping.
Lately I've been seeking for some sort of balance in the whole wanting and consuming cycle. What is okay to want? How much luxury can one have without crossing the line into decadence? How much of my "discretionary" income should be spent on entertaining me and my family and how much should be dedicated to the service of others? If I am blessed by God with more than enough money to meet the needs of my family, is it vain to spend that extra on luxury acquisitions and entertainment? I have no answers to these questions.
However, Thomas Hine, the guy who wrote the book I mentioned, refers to an idea about shopping that I find very interesting and not a little amusing. Mr Hine explains a theory postulated by an anthropologist named Daniel Miller. Here is his idea, quoted from "I Want That!" in the chapter entitled "Responsibility: Why Women Take Shopping Seriously":
Shopping has cosmic meaning.
"Shopping does connect with something deep, ancient, and widespread in human behavior... The shopper . . . is more like a priestess. And shopping is a ritual of sacrifice.
"A sacrifice, he says, consists of three stages. The first is the moment of expenditure, such as the slaying of the animal, the offering of the fruits. The second stage involves isolating that portion of the sacrifice that is sacred, which belongs to the gods. In several cultures, this is done when the entrails are burned and the smoke that rises into the air is viewed as the property of the gods. In Jewish tradition, blood, viewed as life itself, is the sacred portion. In Jewish ritual slaughter, it must be returned to God and not eaten by humans. The third part of the sacrifice is when the sacrifice becomes food, and people eat it.
"It's not difficult to see how the first and third aspects of sacrifice are part of daily life, but it's harder to discern the central stage. To what gods are things being sacrificed? And what is the part of it that belongs to the gods?
"Based on his interviews, Miller concluded that the central aspect of the shopper's sacrifice is the aspiration to thrift. Virtually every shopper to whom he spoke expressed a belief that shopping must be done carefully so that money won't be wasted. The shopper should look out for sale items, for coupons, or for items that, though they might be more expensive initially, will last longer and offer greater value in the long run. By striving to be thrifty, the shopper tells herself that she is making a sacrifice to ensure the future of her family. She is careful, not wasteful. By observing the rituals of coupons and discount cards, the shopper can reassure herself and demonstrate to others that she takes a sacred responsibility seriously.
"Shopping is a ritual, and like all rituals, it must be done properly or something will be lost. You must strive not to pay full price. The discounts you receive are an offering to the future."
Amusing, isn't it? I love it--it feels serious, yet it makes me laugh at the same time. It's also a kind of an explanation for why shopping feels so dang good when you get THE deal, and why you feel so virtuous when you pay much less than your purchase was "worth". It's definitely a kind of triumph when a shopper gets what she wants and pays less than she expects. I've felt this triumph so often that I have become "addicted" and I can't bear to pay "full price" (whatever that is) for anything.
This idea of shopping as ritual also has plenty of "good stewardship" overtones--and we all know that we have a responsibility for stewardship and thrift with our resources. How many times have we heard the counsel: live within our incomes, stay out of debt, save for a rainy day?!
However seriously you feel about consumption and excesses and whatever your definition of luxury and entertainment, spending hard-earned money on needed/desired goods is worth thinking about. I'm still setting my own limits and I'm sure they'll change depending on my income, my perception of "righteousness" and, more trivially, my mood and my hormones! Anyway, I still love this idea:
"Shopping is a ritual, and like all rituals, it must be done properly or something will be lost. You must strive not to pay full price. The discounts you receive are an offering to the future."
That's me, high priestess of the outlet mall.
Lately I've been seeking for some sort of balance in the whole wanting and consuming cycle. What is okay to want? How much luxury can one have without crossing the line into decadence? How much of my "discretionary" income should be spent on entertaining me and my family and how much should be dedicated to the service of others? If I am blessed by God with more than enough money to meet the needs of my family, is it vain to spend that extra on luxury acquisitions and entertainment? I have no answers to these questions.
However, Thomas Hine, the guy who wrote the book I mentioned, refers to an idea about shopping that I find very interesting and not a little amusing. Mr Hine explains a theory postulated by an anthropologist named Daniel Miller. Here is his idea, quoted from "I Want That!" in the chapter entitled "Responsibility: Why Women Take Shopping Seriously":
Shopping has cosmic meaning.
"Shopping does connect with something deep, ancient, and widespread in human behavior... The shopper . . . is more like a priestess. And shopping is a ritual of sacrifice.
"A sacrifice, he says, consists of three stages. The first is the moment of expenditure, such as the slaying of the animal, the offering of the fruits. The second stage involves isolating that portion of the sacrifice that is sacred, which belongs to the gods. In several cultures, this is done when the entrails are burned and the smoke that rises into the air is viewed as the property of the gods. In Jewish tradition, blood, viewed as life itself, is the sacred portion. In Jewish ritual slaughter, it must be returned to God and not eaten by humans. The third part of the sacrifice is when the sacrifice becomes food, and people eat it.
"It's not difficult to see how the first and third aspects of sacrifice are part of daily life, but it's harder to discern the central stage. To what gods are things being sacrificed? And what is the part of it that belongs to the gods?
"Based on his interviews, Miller concluded that the central aspect of the shopper's sacrifice is the aspiration to thrift. Virtually every shopper to whom he spoke expressed a belief that shopping must be done carefully so that money won't be wasted. The shopper should look out for sale items, for coupons, or for items that, though they might be more expensive initially, will last longer and offer greater value in the long run. By striving to be thrifty, the shopper tells herself that she is making a sacrifice to ensure the future of her family. She is careful, not wasteful. By observing the rituals of coupons and discount cards, the shopper can reassure herself and demonstrate to others that she takes a sacred responsibility seriously.
"Shopping is a ritual, and like all rituals, it must be done properly or something will be lost. You must strive not to pay full price. The discounts you receive are an offering to the future."
Amusing, isn't it? I love it--it feels serious, yet it makes me laugh at the same time. It's also a kind of an explanation for why shopping feels so dang good when you get THE deal, and why you feel so virtuous when you pay much less than your purchase was "worth". It's definitely a kind of triumph when a shopper gets what she wants and pays less than she expects. I've felt this triumph so often that I have become "addicted" and I can't bear to pay "full price" (whatever that is) for anything.
This idea of shopping as ritual also has plenty of "good stewardship" overtones--and we all know that we have a responsibility for stewardship and thrift with our resources. How many times have we heard the counsel: live within our incomes, stay out of debt, save for a rainy day?!
However seriously you feel about consumption and excesses and whatever your definition of luxury and entertainment, spending hard-earned money on needed/desired goods is worth thinking about. I'm still setting my own limits and I'm sure they'll change depending on my income, my perception of "righteousness" and, more trivially, my mood and my hormones! Anyway, I still love this idea:
"Shopping is a ritual, and like all rituals, it must be done properly or something will be lost. You must strive not to pay full price. The discounts you receive are an offering to the future."
That's me, high priestess of the outlet mall.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Aristotle and Politics
I am reading Aristotle. Well, I'm trying to. Philosophy is like another language. I read a paragraph and then I read it again. And maybe still again. I'm a total ignoramus when it comes to philosophy.
Here's one of the ideas I've gleaned so far:
According to Aristotle, politics is the "highest" art because: "it is this that ordains which of the sciences should be studied in a state, and which each class of citizens should learn and up to what point they should learn them . . . Since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from..." therefore, politics "is most truly the master art." (Aristotle "Nicomachean Ethics" Book 1, chapter 2). Whew!
He goes on to clinch this argument by pointing out that since politics has the power to do the greatest good to the most people ("it is finer and more godlike to attain [good] for a nation or for city-states" than "merely for one man"), it is really the most authoritative art.
It seems that he's invested politics with far more power than I somehow imagine it having. It's so easy to scoff at the politicians, to be angry and disdainful at their posturing and their pontificating. But I think I have gotten into the habit of underestimating their effect on my day-to-day life. Science, literature, medicine, art... these all contribute greatly to my comfort and even to my survival. But Aristotle is correct--all of these are subject to legislation. What is available to me is available because the law allows it to be so. What is studied for my sake (and for the sake of all consumers) is studied because it was legislated or permitted to be taught. I really never thought about it this way. I get used to the idea that we are "free" and we are indeed free--to a wonderful and great extent. But.... consider how much of our freedoms have been legislated away and are now being legislated away in the name of "fairness" or "safety", etc. Very interesting.
Interesting too, because of his reference to the state dictating what their citizens should learn. This has been happening since compulsory public school first began, less than a century ago. And when compulsory public education began, it was with the idea of suiting the worker to the industry--therefore, policy really did dictate class education. And really, nothing has changed. Politics dictate curriculum. Every public school student studies what the state says he/she should study. Every person who opens a textbook or some other compilation of information is reading pre-digested material, chosen for him/her by someone else, some remote "expert". Is this bad? Probably not. But it's good to be aware of.
I hope we never lose the ability to access and understand original source writing. I am reading Aristotle (slowly and painfully) after reading a pre-digested summary of his philosophies. I find it hard work. This is because I am used to reading things that are simply written, with sound bite ideas and quotable thesis statements. I read things that are written for my rapid consumption, glittering with entertainment and leaving me wanting more. I do like this kind of reading material. There's definitely a place for it in my life (just check out my goodreads library). But Aristotle is reminding me that there should be a place for the real stuff too. I need to want substance as well as air.
Here's one of the ideas I've gleaned so far:
According to Aristotle, politics is the "highest" art because: "it is this that ordains which of the sciences should be studied in a state, and which each class of citizens should learn and up to what point they should learn them . . . Since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from..." therefore, politics "is most truly the master art." (Aristotle "Nicomachean Ethics" Book 1, chapter 2). Whew!
He goes on to clinch this argument by pointing out that since politics has the power to do the greatest good to the most people ("it is finer and more godlike to attain [good] for a nation or for city-states" than "merely for one man"), it is really the most authoritative art.
It seems that he's invested politics with far more power than I somehow imagine it having. It's so easy to scoff at the politicians, to be angry and disdainful at their posturing and their pontificating. But I think I have gotten into the habit of underestimating their effect on my day-to-day life. Science, literature, medicine, art... these all contribute greatly to my comfort and even to my survival. But Aristotle is correct--all of these are subject to legislation. What is available to me is available because the law allows it to be so. What is studied for my sake (and for the sake of all consumers) is studied because it was legislated or permitted to be taught. I really never thought about it this way. I get used to the idea that we are "free" and we are indeed free--to a wonderful and great extent. But.... consider how much of our freedoms have been legislated away and are now being legislated away in the name of "fairness" or "safety", etc. Very interesting.
Interesting too, because of his reference to the state dictating what their citizens should learn. This has been happening since compulsory public school first began, less than a century ago. And when compulsory public education began, it was with the idea of suiting the worker to the industry--therefore, policy really did dictate class education. And really, nothing has changed. Politics dictate curriculum. Every public school student studies what the state says he/she should study. Every person who opens a textbook or some other compilation of information is reading pre-digested material, chosen for him/her by someone else, some remote "expert". Is this bad? Probably not. But it's good to be aware of.
I hope we never lose the ability to access and understand original source writing. I am reading Aristotle (slowly and painfully) after reading a pre-digested summary of his philosophies. I find it hard work. This is because I am used to reading things that are simply written, with sound bite ideas and quotable thesis statements. I read things that are written for my rapid consumption, glittering with entertainment and leaving me wanting more. I do like this kind of reading material. There's definitely a place for it in my life (just check out my goodreads library). But Aristotle is reminding me that there should be a place for the real stuff too. I need to want substance as well as air.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Just Another Brick in the Wall
On tests to measure education: "If we stick only with the national exams as a means of [measuring children] . . . it is transparent and simple, but it will tend to narrow our definition of talent, and it will tend to narrow our definition of success." --Tharman Shanmugaratnam, Singapore's minister of education
On ADHD and drugs: "...there is a consensus that many children are being diagnosed with ADHD for the wrong reasons. This is part of a broader cultural shift. These days, rather than change the environment we live in, we prefer to rewire our brains to fit the environment. Shyness, anger, sadness and other "undesirable" emotions or traits are increasingly seen not as a natural part of the human condition but as diseases, symptoms of an imbalance in the chemistry of the brain, problems to be fixed with drugs . . . 'We are not prepared to live with variation as we did in the past,' says Professor David Healy, director of North Wales Department of Psychological Medicine. 'We want kids to conform to ideals based often on parental insecurities and ambitions.'" --from the book Under Pressure by Carl Honore
I believe there is too much pressure towards homogeneity and that our kids feel it the most. We school them to state and federal sameness. We test them by the same yardsticks. We push them into the same education and career paths. We expect them to conform to the societal mainstream that is dictated by the media--dress the same, act the same, have the same interests and likes. We want them to all behave the same: sit down, be quiet, get good grades, be cute, be polite. We want them all to have the same strengths: math, English, writing, sports..... etc etc.
We say we encourage individuality, but we don't really mean it.
When society pushes sameness, it invites dissatisfaction in everyone. We AREN'T all the same, of course, and pushing us all into the same mold makes everyone uncomfortable, and some of us desperately unhappy. Is this push for sameness what is causing our epidemic of depression?
When society pushes sameness, it punishes brilliance.
When society enforces homgeneity, it destroys genius.
When society punishes differences it feeds our fear of those who are different from us. We become bullies when we won't let others be who they are but instead push them into the boxes that are not made to fit them.
I don't know what I'm preaching here. It's not anarchy or rebellion or any kind of certain doom. But I really hope that I can be one of those people who is not afraid of differences and can look for and find the particular bent of genius in each individual and point it out and celebrate it. I'm not sure I am one of those visionary folks, but I'd certainly like to give it my best effort. No one should be "just another brick in the wall."
On ADHD and drugs: "...there is a consensus that many children are being diagnosed with ADHD for the wrong reasons. This is part of a broader cultural shift. These days, rather than change the environment we live in, we prefer to rewire our brains to fit the environment. Shyness, anger, sadness and other "undesirable" emotions or traits are increasingly seen not as a natural part of the human condition but as diseases, symptoms of an imbalance in the chemistry of the brain, problems to be fixed with drugs . . . 'We are not prepared to live with variation as we did in the past,' says Professor David Healy, director of North Wales Department of Psychological Medicine. 'We want kids to conform to ideals based often on parental insecurities and ambitions.'" --from the book Under Pressure by Carl Honore
I believe there is too much pressure towards homogeneity and that our kids feel it the most. We school them to state and federal sameness. We test them by the same yardsticks. We push them into the same education and career paths. We expect them to conform to the societal mainstream that is dictated by the media--dress the same, act the same, have the same interests and likes. We want them to all behave the same: sit down, be quiet, get good grades, be cute, be polite. We want them all to have the same strengths: math, English, writing, sports..... etc etc.
We say we encourage individuality, but we don't really mean it.
When society pushes sameness, it invites dissatisfaction in everyone. We AREN'T all the same, of course, and pushing us all into the same mold makes everyone uncomfortable, and some of us desperately unhappy. Is this push for sameness what is causing our epidemic of depression?
When society pushes sameness, it punishes brilliance.
When society enforces homgeneity, it destroys genius.
When society punishes differences it feeds our fear of those who are different from us. We become bullies when we won't let others be who they are but instead push them into the boxes that are not made to fit them.
I don't know what I'm preaching here. It's not anarchy or rebellion or any kind of certain doom. But I really hope that I can be one of those people who is not afraid of differences and can look for and find the particular bent of genius in each individual and point it out and celebrate it. I'm not sure I am one of those visionary folks, but I'd certainly like to give it my best effort. No one should be "just another brick in the wall."
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Time
Time is my enemy.
It pushes me into doing things I don't want to. When I have to meet a deadline, time brings it closer and closer, pressuring me into doing what I have to do to meet that deadline. I can't choose when I will do something--time forces me to do it arbitrarily. When I am eager to do something, time brings it to me slowly and then rushes me through it before I am ready to be done with it.
Time keeps me from doing all the things I do want to do. Time limits my reading, my piano playing, my shopping, my visiting. When I want to go on and on doing the things that make me happy, time runs out and I must stop and move on to what time next requires I do.
Time limits my contact with the people I love. Time keeps track of my phone calls and cuts them off before I am ready. Time sweeps away my vacations and holidays before I am ready for them to be gone. Time makes my husband go to sleep early when I want to talk, and it wakes him up early too. Then it dictates when he leaves the house and when he is able to return.
Time makes me tired because it goes so quickly when I read in bed and it causes my alarm to wake me before I have gotten enough sleep. I never get enough time to sleep because time is greedy and keeps itself all to itself. It rations my sleep and I'm always hungry for more.
Time takes my children from me. It passes without stopping and they grow and then they leave to spend their time in other pursuits. Time makes them forget many of the precious memories that we have forged together. Time separates us inexorably, taking them to other places and among other people. As time passes, these things must happen. If time were to stand still, could I freeze the best moments to hold forever?
Time hurts my body. It takes away my youth and brings me ever closer to my death. Its passing steals my flexibility, my energy, my hair color, my smooth skin, my clear eyes, my strong body.
Time takes away my grandparents and it will take away my parents too. It passes unstopping, leading them all to their old age, taking away their good health, their dignity, their independence and freedom, and enforcing their eventual death.
Time, this week, has run out for my young niece. Like a thief it has stolen her future. Like a dictator it has trampled over her wish to live. Time is my enemy because it keeps me from seeing her again for so very, very long. Time stands between me and togetherness with her and all the family I have lost to death. Time takes away my clear memories. Time will throw a blanket over the hole she has left in our lives. I don't want this hole to be disguised. I don't want to forget anything. I know I will see her again, but time makes me wait. Time will force me to be old and slow and diminished and dead before I can see again Carmen and all those others whom I love and who will have passed, or who have already passed.
So today I am not afraid of poverty or loneliness or even death or pain. Because I could stand all of these if time were not involved. But time sticks its pushy head in my business and makes all of the bad things last for an unspecified duration that I cannot control or stop. It makes the good things speed away. I want to grab those and keep them in the now. But it whisks them away farther out of my reach as every minute, hour, day, month and year passes. Unkindly, it slows down for that which is undesirable or painful. No one can stop it. No one can hold it fast. It just goes on and on, with its own will never challenged, always getting its way. This is why time is my enemy.
It pushes me into doing things I don't want to. When I have to meet a deadline, time brings it closer and closer, pressuring me into doing what I have to do to meet that deadline. I can't choose when I will do something--time forces me to do it arbitrarily. When I am eager to do something, time brings it to me slowly and then rushes me through it before I am ready to be done with it.
Time keeps me from doing all the things I do want to do. Time limits my reading, my piano playing, my shopping, my visiting. When I want to go on and on doing the things that make me happy, time runs out and I must stop and move on to what time next requires I do.
Time limits my contact with the people I love. Time keeps track of my phone calls and cuts them off before I am ready. Time sweeps away my vacations and holidays before I am ready for them to be gone. Time makes my husband go to sleep early when I want to talk, and it wakes him up early too. Then it dictates when he leaves the house and when he is able to return.
Time makes me tired because it goes so quickly when I read in bed and it causes my alarm to wake me before I have gotten enough sleep. I never get enough time to sleep because time is greedy and keeps itself all to itself. It rations my sleep and I'm always hungry for more.
Time takes my children from me. It passes without stopping and they grow and then they leave to spend their time in other pursuits. Time makes them forget many of the precious memories that we have forged together. Time separates us inexorably, taking them to other places and among other people. As time passes, these things must happen. If time were to stand still, could I freeze the best moments to hold forever?
Time hurts my body. It takes away my youth and brings me ever closer to my death. Its passing steals my flexibility, my energy, my hair color, my smooth skin, my clear eyes, my strong body.
Time takes away my grandparents and it will take away my parents too. It passes unstopping, leading them all to their old age, taking away their good health, their dignity, their independence and freedom, and enforcing their eventual death.
Time, this week, has run out for my young niece. Like a thief it has stolen her future. Like a dictator it has trampled over her wish to live. Time is my enemy because it keeps me from seeing her again for so very, very long. Time stands between me and togetherness with her and all the family I have lost to death. Time takes away my clear memories. Time will throw a blanket over the hole she has left in our lives. I don't want this hole to be disguised. I don't want to forget anything. I know I will see her again, but time makes me wait. Time will force me to be old and slow and diminished and dead before I can see again Carmen and all those others whom I love and who will have passed, or who have already passed.
So today I am not afraid of poverty or loneliness or even death or pain. Because I could stand all of these if time were not involved. But time sticks its pushy head in my business and makes all of the bad things last for an unspecified duration that I cannot control or stop. It makes the good things speed away. I want to grab those and keep them in the now. But it whisks them away farther out of my reach as every minute, hour, day, month and year passes. Unkindly, it slows down for that which is undesirable or painful. No one can stop it. No one can hold it fast. It just goes on and on, with its own will never challenged, always getting its way. This is why time is my enemy.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Shades of Grey
I see things in black and white. I am a woman of absolutes. [Except of course, with my own greys--and I'm sure I have plenty--which are so integrated into my personal world view that I don't notice their blended shades.] I like being a black and white person. I have an organized mind which helps me think things out and helps me express myself clearly. I tend to be generally orderly and neat, in body and in mind. I am typically focused, goal-oriented and obedient. Mostly.
However, as with any characteristic, there are both strengths and weaknesses inherent in it, and the big weakness of the black and white person is his/her tendency for comparison and judgement. I have a passion for pigeonholing. I have a compulsion to categorize. I am obsessed with order. In the corners of my mind I am sure there is only ONE right way and I feel pressed to find it and adopt it.
Of course I know this about myself and over the years I have taken steps to avoid judging. I know it's wrong and it's not fair, either. And it doesn't lead to comfortable relationships or happiness in general. Still more painfully: as harshly as I tend to judge others, I judge myself just as harshly. So I have first person experience of my own worst tendencies. Making me even more eager to blunt those sharp edges of mine. So I have been working on it for a long time. Especially I have worked hard to cease judging the people in my life. And I'm still working on it. And I'll be working on it for a long time yet, I am sure.
Thankfully, I have a generally loving nature. I am a first child and I am eager to please and eager to be liked. This helps me want to accept others just as they are. So I'm getting better and better at reserving judgement and offering acceptance instead. But keep in mind my black and white nature. It's so me. And my mind always functions that way first. It isn't like I can suddenly see those shades of grey, it's just that now I can acknowledge they exist and they're seen by many others. I still have trouble seeing them. One way I try to get around this in conversation is to offer disclaimers.
Here's one now: When I express myself regarding a new thought to me, my words nearly always come out in an extreme version of whatever thought I am having. It takes me awhile to talk around to what I really think. It helps to have others give me their opinions. It helps to read stuff. It helps to think more about it. But what I SAY on the journey to what I'm figuring out does NOT necessarily represent the destination. There is my classic disclaimer for everything I say.
So now onto what has been floating around in the back of my mind for the last few days.
I'm going to quote from a book I am reading. A girl has arrived at a large old home in which she is to work for the next 6 months. She is shown into her room by an ageing and dignified lady, the owner of the home and the girl's employer. The girl sees a large room with an expanse of bare wood floor:
"The curtained bed was an ancient four-poster and the polished wood floor was devoid of rugs.
'If you need something to put your feet on in the morning you must ask. I don't believe in pampering myself, but I don't expect everyone to follow my spartan example,' the old lady said."
It's just a few words, but it resonated for me. And it was the final polish on a thought that I think has finally crystallized for me.
Since I've been in this new town I've seen more fancy houses owned by people like me than I have ever seen before. For a relief society activity last week, the ladies were invited to tour a friend's new house (and sit in her hot tub!) in the fancy neighborhood. And it was an impressive house. Many bedrooms. 7 bathrooms. 2 staircases. Pool and hot tub. Outdoor kitchen. Vaulted ceilings everywhere. Really lovely house. And I've seen a lot of these here. And it's taken me all this time, these last few years and all the years before these to finally figure out that: I can really appreciate and admire these beautiful, opulent and showy houses. I do like looking around and I enjoy attending parties in these well-cared for little mansions. I like staying in fancy hotels too and I enjoy ooohing and aahing at amazing houses with their extensive and amazing grounds. I really like to play house in luxury.
BUT. I do not see myself actually living with it day to day. Currently I live in the loveliest house I've ever lived in or expect to live in ever. I love my furniture and I'd like to buy some additional pieces of furnishings too. In a perfect world I'd love a covered pool and a hot tub somewhere on the property. But that's just about as much luxury as I desire for myself. It's taken me so long to figure out what I actually dream of for myself.
I don't know why it's been so hard to clarify this for myself. Perhaps I have been derailed by lean times, by intermittent fears for my own future. Perhaps I've been distracted by the extreme luxury I see in the surroundings of others--and my own sensual enjoyment of it. Perhaps I've been confused by the driven pursuit of worldly goods that I observe in some of the people I love. And being the black and white woman that I am, I have for years attempted to draw some arbitrary line, to set some general standard of what is allowable to wish for or to want. And I have had so much trouble trying to impose my black and white vision on what is really so very grey! And it's been a frustrating attempt, too. Obviously doomed to failure from the onset and promising to give me grief all along the way.
But now I feel freed from that desire to prescribe what is proper to aspire to. For some reason my heart has found its place and settled right into it. I actually know what I like for myself and I can see that this is only what it is--my personal preference. What a relief. I whole-heartedly agree with the lady in my book: I don't wish for that degree of luxury for myself, but I certainly don't expect others to feel the same way that I do. After all, why in the world should they?
However, as with any characteristic, there are both strengths and weaknesses inherent in it, and the big weakness of the black and white person is his/her tendency for comparison and judgement. I have a passion for pigeonholing. I have a compulsion to categorize. I am obsessed with order. In the corners of my mind I am sure there is only ONE right way and I feel pressed to find it and adopt it.
Of course I know this about myself and over the years I have taken steps to avoid judging. I know it's wrong and it's not fair, either. And it doesn't lead to comfortable relationships or happiness in general. Still more painfully: as harshly as I tend to judge others, I judge myself just as harshly. So I have first person experience of my own worst tendencies. Making me even more eager to blunt those sharp edges of mine. So I have been working on it for a long time. Especially I have worked hard to cease judging the people in my life. And I'm still working on it. And I'll be working on it for a long time yet, I am sure.
Thankfully, I have a generally loving nature. I am a first child and I am eager to please and eager to be liked. This helps me want to accept others just as they are. So I'm getting better and better at reserving judgement and offering acceptance instead. But keep in mind my black and white nature. It's so me. And my mind always functions that way first. It isn't like I can suddenly see those shades of grey, it's just that now I can acknowledge they exist and they're seen by many others. I still have trouble seeing them. One way I try to get around this in conversation is to offer disclaimers.
Here's one now: When I express myself regarding a new thought to me, my words nearly always come out in an extreme version of whatever thought I am having. It takes me awhile to talk around to what I really think. It helps to have others give me their opinions. It helps to read stuff. It helps to think more about it. But what I SAY on the journey to what I'm figuring out does NOT necessarily represent the destination. There is my classic disclaimer for everything I say.
So now onto what has been floating around in the back of my mind for the last few days.
I'm going to quote from a book I am reading. A girl has arrived at a large old home in which she is to work for the next 6 months. She is shown into her room by an ageing and dignified lady, the owner of the home and the girl's employer. The girl sees a large room with an expanse of bare wood floor:
"The curtained bed was an ancient four-poster and the polished wood floor was devoid of rugs.
'If you need something to put your feet on in the morning you must ask. I don't believe in pampering myself, but I don't expect everyone to follow my spartan example,' the old lady said."
It's just a few words, but it resonated for me. And it was the final polish on a thought that I think has finally crystallized for me.
Since I've been in this new town I've seen more fancy houses owned by people like me than I have ever seen before. For a relief society activity last week, the ladies were invited to tour a friend's new house (and sit in her hot tub!) in the fancy neighborhood. And it was an impressive house. Many bedrooms. 7 bathrooms. 2 staircases. Pool and hot tub. Outdoor kitchen. Vaulted ceilings everywhere. Really lovely house. And I've seen a lot of these here. And it's taken me all this time, these last few years and all the years before these to finally figure out that: I can really appreciate and admire these beautiful, opulent and showy houses. I do like looking around and I enjoy attending parties in these well-cared for little mansions. I like staying in fancy hotels too and I enjoy ooohing and aahing at amazing houses with their extensive and amazing grounds. I really like to play house in luxury.
BUT. I do not see myself actually living with it day to day. Currently I live in the loveliest house I've ever lived in or expect to live in ever. I love my furniture and I'd like to buy some additional pieces of furnishings too. In a perfect world I'd love a covered pool and a hot tub somewhere on the property. But that's just about as much luxury as I desire for myself. It's taken me so long to figure out what I actually dream of for myself.
I don't know why it's been so hard to clarify this for myself. Perhaps I have been derailed by lean times, by intermittent fears for my own future. Perhaps I've been distracted by the extreme luxury I see in the surroundings of others--and my own sensual enjoyment of it. Perhaps I've been confused by the driven pursuit of worldly goods that I observe in some of the people I love. And being the black and white woman that I am, I have for years attempted to draw some arbitrary line, to set some general standard of what is allowable to wish for or to want. And I have had so much trouble trying to impose my black and white vision on what is really so very grey! And it's been a frustrating attempt, too. Obviously doomed to failure from the onset and promising to give me grief all along the way.
But now I feel freed from that desire to prescribe what is proper to aspire to. For some reason my heart has found its place and settled right into it. I actually know what I like for myself and I can see that this is only what it is--my personal preference. What a relief. I whole-heartedly agree with the lady in my book: I don't wish for that degree of luxury for myself, but I certainly don't expect others to feel the same way that I do. After all, why in the world should they?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Silken Tent
So, here's my favorite poem. It's by Robert Frost
The Silken Tent
She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
I love this poem because I feel my own internal life is a balance between staying where I need to be, where I love to be... and wanting to run away, to escape. And this poem paints this special kind of bondage--the mom/wife/daughter/woman bondage--in such a beautiful way.
I must be a coward at some essential level of my soul because my first impulse in the face of any kind of stress or trouble is "RUN AWAY"! But when I most want to run away I look at what I would be running away from: everything that I love and all that brings me joy. And I know I couldn't be happier living any other life. This poem covers it all and I see myself: the silken tent with the heavenward sure core, standing free until the wind blows and then the guy ropes pull and I feel it. And sometimes it feels really windy and I feel all tied down. But like the poem says, my life is summertime and the tent is beautiful, and the central pole is solid and sure, and pointed towards Heaven.
Anyway, I love this poem. And there must be thousands, millions of women like me who wish to run away sometimes, but stay in their lives where there is beauty as well as there are burdens.
Carmen is sicker. She's grown a new tumor and this one has spread all down her spine. They go to the doctor tomorrow to discuss options. Carmen is in good spirits, her mom says. I am afraid to lose her.
And I do have my versions of running away. When I'm most worried I read almost non-stop. I can read 5 (or sometimes more) books in a day when I'm "running away". And I play the piano, especially when I am angry or frustrated. It's like, having the playing to concentrate on takes just enough brain power to slow everything in my head and heart down so I can cool down and consider things.
Life is good. I feel my ties tonight but I am happy to be "strictly held by none," but "loosely bound by countless silken ties of love and thought". I embrace the ties tonight and... I'm gonna read myself to sleep and read some more tomorrow. :)
The Silken Tent
She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
I love this poem because I feel my own internal life is a balance between staying where I need to be, where I love to be... and wanting to run away, to escape. And this poem paints this special kind of bondage--the mom/wife/daughter/woman bondage--in such a beautiful way.
I must be a coward at some essential level of my soul because my first impulse in the face of any kind of stress or trouble is "RUN AWAY"! But when I most want to run away I look at what I would be running away from: everything that I love and all that brings me joy. And I know I couldn't be happier living any other life. This poem covers it all and I see myself: the silken tent with the heavenward sure core, standing free until the wind blows and then the guy ropes pull and I feel it. And sometimes it feels really windy and I feel all tied down. But like the poem says, my life is summertime and the tent is beautiful, and the central pole is solid and sure, and pointed towards Heaven.
Anyway, I love this poem. And there must be thousands, millions of women like me who wish to run away sometimes, but stay in their lives where there is beauty as well as there are burdens.
Carmen is sicker. She's grown a new tumor and this one has spread all down her spine. They go to the doctor tomorrow to discuss options. Carmen is in good spirits, her mom says. I am afraid to lose her.
And I do have my versions of running away. When I'm most worried I read almost non-stop. I can read 5 (or sometimes more) books in a day when I'm "running away". And I play the piano, especially when I am angry or frustrated. It's like, having the playing to concentrate on takes just enough brain power to slow everything in my head and heart down so I can cool down and consider things.
Life is good. I feel my ties tonight but I am happy to be "strictly held by none," but "loosely bound by countless silken ties of love and thought". I embrace the ties tonight and... I'm gonna read myself to sleep and read some more tomorrow. :)
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