My dear friends,
I usually attempt to make this blog an expression of my thoughts rather than a vehicle for personal news or too-personal feelings. This morning I make a brief exception.
A year ago September, as all of you know, my 7-year-old niece Carmen was discovered to have had a large brain tumor. It was removed and found to have been a rare and aggressive type of brain cancer. Carmen spent the months from September to June going through radiation and chemotherapy. She lost her hair, she stopped eating, she stopped talking, she stopped walking, she nearly stopped living. It was heartbreaking for all of us and most painfully heartbreaking for her parents.
Happily, in June the treatment was over. Over the last few months, Carmen has been coming alive again. She is eating on her own. She is walking and running. She is talking and talking. She is back in school. She is a happy, active girl who turned 8 years old in August and was baptized at the beginning of September.
Her monthly MRIs have shown no return of the cancer. Until the one on Monday.
We have now been informed that another tumor is growing in her brain. In the next few weeks they will kill it with something referred to as a radiation knife. This, they say, is a treatment with mild effects on the patient. Dorothy said that the doctor said Carmen could get the treatment in the morning and be home and back at school in the afternoon! Wow! Then, if she will tolerate it, she will do some rounds of oral chemotherapy at home. But that is a decision to be finalized later since her parents do not want her to suffer as she did during the previous very aggressive treatment. They want to maintain her quality of life for as long as possible.
There is very little data on this type of cancer recurring. People with this kind of cancer just mostly die. The doctors say she will most likely die. The few statistics that are available indicate that her chances of 3 year survival are 20% at best. So they begin the cancer balancing act: treat as effectively as possible while still maintaining quality of life. Hoping to kill the cancer permanently without killing the person. Because apparently the fact that this tumor has begun growing so quickly after her months of intensive treatment means that the cancer will keep on coming back. They can kill it with quick and mild things like the radiation knife, but it will keep on coming back and hurting Carmen until finally they can't kill it again without killing her.
I am heartbroken at the thought of Carmen's further suffering, or worse, at the thought of losing her. And at the thoughts of what my brother and sister-in-law have already made it though and will go through now and in the near future. But, as my mom says, Carmen is herself. She is a fighter, a strong little girl. A miracle could happen! But the Lord, also, may decide to take her. We don't know. So I guess we'll do our best with what we have.
Anyway, as many of you often ask about Carmen, I thought I'd post it here. Everyone is always so kind and caring. One of the beautiful things about this type of thing is that it really throws into relief the essential goodness and kindness of people. I am amazed at how generous and kind people are. Strangers and friends work so hard for money, for support, for all kinds of help. It truly is amazing and wonderful.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Unselfish Conversation
For a long time I have made a mental effort to not get so caught up in my feelings about homeschooling that I become rabidly anti-public school and therefore unpalatable in conversation to my friends who are parents of public-schooled children. I, myself, had all good experiences in public school and I have never had a desire to hate the system.
For me, homeschooling has always been about the lifestyle rather than the education. Therefore my opinions and emotions have been concentrated the quality of our lives as homeschoolers, rather than the quality of our education. (Someday I want to talk about that here, too, cuz it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately).
September marked the beginning of year number 12 of homeschooling for us, though, and I am getting more and more interested in educating myself about the state of education. I have been reading books about it. I have been talking to others. I have become involved in the government of my own "alternative education" charter school. I am taking tentative steps on the road to "passionately anti-public school".
It is my experience that people with a passion often like to share their passionate ideas with others. This sharing comes in a multitude of forms. Those who have eating passions will exhibit alternative eating behaviors--I had one girlfriend who, when her son came to spend a few days with us, sent him with all his own food, made in her kitchen and packed to travel (he came to us from another state). Those who have reading passions will share info about their latest book (this is a passion that is currently in vogue, so reading conversations are widely accepted and shared). Those who have passions for fitness will look fantastic (lucky passion!) and will talk about their fitness activities--races they have participated in, courses they have golfed, equipment they have purchased, etc.
Often, a passionate person will attempt to convert his/her friends. They love it, they love you, therefore they want you to love it! Then you can all enjoy it together! Some missionaries are more pushy than others. Some use guilt--you really should be more active, you really should read more, you really should eat more healthily.
Sometimes this attempt to convert is offensive. Have you ever felt defensive when someone was trying to convert you to their way of life? I have. And I know I have felt the defensiveness of others at times when I talk about homeschooling. I like to please people, so in response to the occasional defensiveness I have perceived when talking about homeschool, and in response to the feelings of defensiveness in myself that I feel when others try to push their passions onto me, I have long made the effort not to volunteer my feelings about education unless I am actually asked to express my opinion. Or unless I am among fellow homeschoolers who I know won't be offended--unless, in fact, I am pretty sure that they will agree.
But, as I said at the beginning, I have been taking little baby steps on the road to more voluntary sharing. I tend anyway to be generally agressive in stating my opinions during any discussion, unless I am afraid of hurting someone or offending someone (I do that enough by accident anyway, so at least I DO make efforts not to do it on purpose!). So it's not too much of a stretch to begin volunteering my opinions about public school. But. A big BUT. Anti-public school sentiment is almost guaranteed to be offensive to most of anyone I may be conversing with.
SO, (now we come to my point--finally!) I was walking with one of my new friends the other day and we were talking about people. I was telling her about a little get-together I had had at my house with several other homeschooling moms and their kids. I told her how I missed that type of group in my new ward. I mentioned how my new girlfriends here talk a lot about their kids' school stuff: classes, teachers, teams, teams, teams, etc. And how I can't really join in those conversations, except as listener. [Of course, what I didn't mention is how I have been beginning to allow myself to feel those new little seedlings of dissatisfaction, how I am perhaps even beginning to feel a bit patronizing towards these interests which I have chosen not to take...]. And I observed that my girlfriend doesn't really talk about her kids in that way.
And that's when she said something that turned on a warning light in my head. She said that she purposely avoids those types of talking points when she is with others because she feels that it is a form of selfishness in conversation. We went on to talk a bit about that, but meanwhile, echoes of that idea rang through my head and I have been thinking about that ever since.
This idea, that I find most attractive, is that of an unselfish conversation. And I think I'd like to be the kind of person whose conversation is designed to make others feel listened to, to make them feel that I am interested in them and their life. What is conversation anyway, I am wondering? It's at least two people talking about something that is mutually interesting, right? If the topic is only interesting to one of those people, is it still conversation or has it become a lecture?
I'm not really sure. But I am very interested in the idea of being an unselfish conversationalist. If I were to attempt this, I imagine that this means that I would ask more questions, I would listen more carefully, I would focus my thoughts on who I'm talking to rather than what I want to say...in other words, I would really locate myself in that conversation. I imagine that this could be very satisfying to my partners in conversation. I think it would be a way to show respect and love to my friends and family.
I need to think more about this. But in any case, I feel that her words were a timely little warning to me. Yes, I am very interested in learning more about education. I will continue to do that. But I re-establish my opinion that my passions are best kept to myself, or even better: kept in the arena where they can do the most good for others--in my homeschooling circle, in my service to the charter school, etc. I think this is a form of governing passions. I do not deny that I am passionately interested in education. But I will retrace my footsteps along that road to "passionately anti-public school", I think. I do not want to alienate my feelings from the feelings of so many others about whom I care. I would rather be seen as a resource for those who have questions rather than a crusader, wishing to convert or demolish. And my passion for this particular subject need not define me, nor take the lion's share of conversation or thought. I think that would be allowing myself to become unbalanced. And it certainly would not improve my relationships with others.
And I have thought for a long time that relationships with others--family, friends, God--are pretty much what it's all about.
Meanwhile, life goes on outside my own head. I am sitting in my bed as I write this and outside my window, down towards the garden, I can see the compost pile. And currently on the compost pile, sampling its delights, are 2 deer and 8 or 10 wild turkeys. Breakfast for the wildlife. Yum. Cool. Dang. Those turkeys are aggressive. They're chasing off the deer. Piggies. If I caught a wild turkey...and put him on my Thanksgiving table...and ate him....I'd have personally recycled my own compost! A nice thought to begin the morning with. :)
For me, homeschooling has always been about the lifestyle rather than the education. Therefore my opinions and emotions have been concentrated the quality of our lives as homeschoolers, rather than the quality of our education. (Someday I want to talk about that here, too, cuz it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately).
September marked the beginning of year number 12 of homeschooling for us, though, and I am getting more and more interested in educating myself about the state of education. I have been reading books about it. I have been talking to others. I have become involved in the government of my own "alternative education" charter school. I am taking tentative steps on the road to "passionately anti-public school".
It is my experience that people with a passion often like to share their passionate ideas with others. This sharing comes in a multitude of forms. Those who have eating passions will exhibit alternative eating behaviors--I had one girlfriend who, when her son came to spend a few days with us, sent him with all his own food, made in her kitchen and packed to travel (he came to us from another state). Those who have reading passions will share info about their latest book (this is a passion that is currently in vogue, so reading conversations are widely accepted and shared). Those who have passions for fitness will look fantastic (lucky passion!) and will talk about their fitness activities--races they have participated in, courses they have golfed, equipment they have purchased, etc.
Often, a passionate person will attempt to convert his/her friends. They love it, they love you, therefore they want you to love it! Then you can all enjoy it together! Some missionaries are more pushy than others. Some use guilt--you really should be more active, you really should read more, you really should eat more healthily.
Sometimes this attempt to convert is offensive. Have you ever felt defensive when someone was trying to convert you to their way of life? I have. And I know I have felt the defensiveness of others at times when I talk about homeschooling. I like to please people, so in response to the occasional defensiveness I have perceived when talking about homeschool, and in response to the feelings of defensiveness in myself that I feel when others try to push their passions onto me, I have long made the effort not to volunteer my feelings about education unless I am actually asked to express my opinion. Or unless I am among fellow homeschoolers who I know won't be offended--unless, in fact, I am pretty sure that they will agree.
But, as I said at the beginning, I have been taking little baby steps on the road to more voluntary sharing. I tend anyway to be generally agressive in stating my opinions during any discussion, unless I am afraid of hurting someone or offending someone (I do that enough by accident anyway, so at least I DO make efforts not to do it on purpose!). So it's not too much of a stretch to begin volunteering my opinions about public school. But. A big BUT. Anti-public school sentiment is almost guaranteed to be offensive to most of anyone I may be conversing with.
SO, (now we come to my point--finally!) I was walking with one of my new friends the other day and we were talking about people. I was telling her about a little get-together I had had at my house with several other homeschooling moms and their kids. I told her how I missed that type of group in my new ward. I mentioned how my new girlfriends here talk a lot about their kids' school stuff: classes, teachers, teams, teams, teams, etc. And how I can't really join in those conversations, except as listener. [Of course, what I didn't mention is how I have been beginning to allow myself to feel those new little seedlings of dissatisfaction, how I am perhaps even beginning to feel a bit patronizing towards these interests which I have chosen not to take...]. And I observed that my girlfriend doesn't really talk about her kids in that way.
And that's when she said something that turned on a warning light in my head. She said that she purposely avoids those types of talking points when she is with others because she feels that it is a form of selfishness in conversation. We went on to talk a bit about that, but meanwhile, echoes of that idea rang through my head and I have been thinking about that ever since.
This idea, that I find most attractive, is that of an unselfish conversation. And I think I'd like to be the kind of person whose conversation is designed to make others feel listened to, to make them feel that I am interested in them and their life. What is conversation anyway, I am wondering? It's at least two people talking about something that is mutually interesting, right? If the topic is only interesting to one of those people, is it still conversation or has it become a lecture?
I'm not really sure. But I am very interested in the idea of being an unselfish conversationalist. If I were to attempt this, I imagine that this means that I would ask more questions, I would listen more carefully, I would focus my thoughts on who I'm talking to rather than what I want to say...in other words, I would really locate myself in that conversation. I imagine that this could be very satisfying to my partners in conversation. I think it would be a way to show respect and love to my friends and family.
I need to think more about this. But in any case, I feel that her words were a timely little warning to me. Yes, I am very interested in learning more about education. I will continue to do that. But I re-establish my opinion that my passions are best kept to myself, or even better: kept in the arena where they can do the most good for others--in my homeschooling circle, in my service to the charter school, etc. I think this is a form of governing passions. I do not deny that I am passionately interested in education. But I will retrace my footsteps along that road to "passionately anti-public school", I think. I do not want to alienate my feelings from the feelings of so many others about whom I care. I would rather be seen as a resource for those who have questions rather than a crusader, wishing to convert or demolish. And my passion for this particular subject need not define me, nor take the lion's share of conversation or thought. I think that would be allowing myself to become unbalanced. And it certainly would not improve my relationships with others.
And I have thought for a long time that relationships with others--family, friends, God--are pretty much what it's all about.
Meanwhile, life goes on outside my own head. I am sitting in my bed as I write this and outside my window, down towards the garden, I can see the compost pile. And currently on the compost pile, sampling its delights, are 2 deer and 8 or 10 wild turkeys. Breakfast for the wildlife. Yum. Cool. Dang. Those turkeys are aggressive. They're chasing off the deer. Piggies. If I caught a wild turkey...and put him on my Thanksgiving table...and ate him....I'd have personally recycled my own compost! A nice thought to begin the morning with. :)
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Power of Youth
So, here's a quick thought for you, culled from an unremembered website (I can remember what it said, but not where it was!) and an Agatha Christie political suspense novel.
I get a lot of email from conservative interest political groups. One of them contained a link to an article that they had posted on their website. This article was written by a homosexual activist. This writer claimed that the homosexual movement had converted the majority of youth between the ages of 18-24 and therefore the war was won. They were now concerned with the little skirmishes that would take place as the views of the youth grew to take place over the more conservative views of their elders. Ultimately the youth would be adults and their views would define the political and social climate. The war--won in one generation.
I didn't find this difficult to believe at all. Talk to any bishop of any California LDS single adult ward and he will tell you that his ward members are struggling with the idea of taking a firm stand against homosexual marriage. And these are our kids! It is a walk in the park to convert to homosexual rights any non-religious kid. After all, who would teach him/her any reason to object?
This shouldn't shock us. For many years our kids' most go-to sources for information: school and the media, have been preaching the doctrine of sexual tolerance. No, more than tolerance--they teach the full acceptance of the current "in vogue" sexual deviances i.e. homosexuality, transsexuality, and the like.
Anyway, that little article has been swimming around in the back of my brain and then I read this by Agatha Christie:
"They--whoever they are--work through youth. Youth in every country. Youth urged on. Youth chanting slogans--slogans that sound exciting, though they don't always know what they mean. So easy to start a revolution. That's natural to youth. All youth has always rebelled. You rebel, you pull down, you want the world to be different from what it is. But you're blind, too. There are bandages over the eyes of youth. They can't see where things are taking them. What's going to come next? What's in front of them? And who it is behind them, urging them on? That's what's frightening about it. You know, someone holding out the carrot to get the donkey to come along and at the same time there is someone behind the donkey urging it on with a stick."
She goes on to remind her readers of Hitler's Youth and how they were used so effectively in WWII.
She adds, "What is being promoted, you must understand, is the growing organization of youth everywhere against their mode of government; against their parental customs, against very often the religions in which they have been brought up. There is the insidious cult of permissiveness, there is the increasing cult of violence. Violence not as a means of gaining money, but violence for the love of violence."
Christie's book was a political thriller (and a rather boring one at that) written in 1970. But what it said about youth really struck me. I felt a strong sense of their power and their vulnerability. Am I giving less credit to their individual strength of mind and their openness to the Spirit of God? Probably so. Every generation of youth is bombarded with the most liberal of social ideals and some choose to adopt them and some choose to stand fast with higher morals. Hm. I'll be thinking more about this. What do you think?
I get a lot of email from conservative interest political groups. One of them contained a link to an article that they had posted on their website. This article was written by a homosexual activist. This writer claimed that the homosexual movement had converted the majority of youth between the ages of 18-24 and therefore the war was won. They were now concerned with the little skirmishes that would take place as the views of the youth grew to take place over the more conservative views of their elders. Ultimately the youth would be adults and their views would define the political and social climate. The war--won in one generation.
I didn't find this difficult to believe at all. Talk to any bishop of any California LDS single adult ward and he will tell you that his ward members are struggling with the idea of taking a firm stand against homosexual marriage. And these are our kids! It is a walk in the park to convert to homosexual rights any non-religious kid. After all, who would teach him/her any reason to object?
This shouldn't shock us. For many years our kids' most go-to sources for information: school and the media, have been preaching the doctrine of sexual tolerance. No, more than tolerance--they teach the full acceptance of the current "in vogue" sexual deviances i.e. homosexuality, transsexuality, and the like.
Anyway, that little article has been swimming around in the back of my brain and then I read this by Agatha Christie:
"They--whoever they are--work through youth. Youth in every country. Youth urged on. Youth chanting slogans--slogans that sound exciting, though they don't always know what they mean. So easy to start a revolution. That's natural to youth. All youth has always rebelled. You rebel, you pull down, you want the world to be different from what it is. But you're blind, too. There are bandages over the eyes of youth. They can't see where things are taking them. What's going to come next? What's in front of them? And who it is behind them, urging them on? That's what's frightening about it. You know, someone holding out the carrot to get the donkey to come along and at the same time there is someone behind the donkey urging it on with a stick."
She goes on to remind her readers of Hitler's Youth and how they were used so effectively in WWII.
She adds, "What is being promoted, you must understand, is the growing organization of youth everywhere against their mode of government; against their parental customs, against very often the religions in which they have been brought up. There is the insidious cult of permissiveness, there is the increasing cult of violence. Violence not as a means of gaining money, but violence for the love of violence."
Christie's book was a political thriller (and a rather boring one at that) written in 1970. But what it said about youth really struck me. I felt a strong sense of their power and their vulnerability. Am I giving less credit to their individual strength of mind and their openness to the Spirit of God? Probably so. Every generation of youth is bombarded with the most liberal of social ideals and some choose to adopt them and some choose to stand fast with higher morals. Hm. I'll be thinking more about this. What do you think?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Can a parent be a friend?
Okay.... I had this vision of parenthood the other day when I was thinking so much about family as the best friends.
I've heard often from parenting "experts" that a parent should not be a friend--he/she must parent. And I've always felt vaguely guilty about that because I WANT to be friends with my children. Now that I've been thinking about it all, I've come up with an idea that supports my desires (those are the best kind of ideas. In fact, pretty much all my ideas support what I already think. Why else would I claim them as mine?) :) So, you can see what you think.
I think that there are 2 main phases of parenting, one phase much longer than the other.
The first phase is the real PARENTING part. This is when your kids are young and you must instruct, guide, reprove, protect, set boundaries (and defend them), etc. This is what we do from almost the beginning of parenthood.
The second phase is the FRIEND part. This is when your kids have grown out of the lectures, the rules, the punishments. They no longer want/need the protection and they have already set their own boundaries (which will inevitably vary from some degree from those which were set by their parents). IF a parent attempts to parent during this second phase, they will push their children away. Adult children do not want lectures from their parents. If a parent persists with lectures, boundaries, rules, etc, a child will avoid encounters with parents. These are the situations so often parodied in our sitcoms. The kids belittle the parents behind their backs (sometimes in front of them). The parents look ridiculous because they are providing parenting rather than friendship.
Once you've identified this situation and the cause behind it (i.e. the parent fails to move from parenting into friendship), it seems obvious, right? When does your mom bug you? When she's giving you advice you didn't ask for. It seems like she's not allowing you to be the adult, that she's pushing you back into childhood, maybe? She's not being a random pain, though, she's just being the parent--the same parent that you really needed when you were little. The same parent that you practically worshiped then. She's doing what she's always done only now it doesn't work the same way it did and she wishes she knew what she was doing wrong. And you, the poor child, are so busy pushing her away and defending your own adulthood, that maybe you don't realize what is going on. Plus, as a child, it's easy to stay in childhood roles too and it's hard to make the effort to actually contribute in friendly way to your relationship with your mom. It's just habit to make her to all the work in the relationship and something you may not think about changing. One way or another, the transition to friendship is never made and the relationship can never reach its true potential.
The parent can actually be the best friend: the SUPERFRIEND. A loving parent-child relationship has already all the right ingredients for a great friendship: true caring, unconditional love, shared history, common interests (to name a few). And, this phase is the LONGEST phase of parenting. The rule-setting phase only lasts for a few years, but the friendship phase lasts for the rest of life and on into forever. Therefore, making this phase work is essential to eternal family relationships.
The tricky part is where the two phases collide. When does the first end and the second take over? This is where the mess-ups happen. I'm thinking this transition would be smoother if the parent has been a friend all along. You can add friend characteristics to parent characteristics as you go along from the very beginning, can't you? While still being a parent? I'm thinking YES. But I'm still pretty foggy about details. I have some more thinking to do about this. What do you think?
I've heard often from parenting "experts" that a parent should not be a friend--he/she must parent. And I've always felt vaguely guilty about that because I WANT to be friends with my children. Now that I've been thinking about it all, I've come up with an idea that supports my desires (those are the best kind of ideas. In fact, pretty much all my ideas support what I already think. Why else would I claim them as mine?) :) So, you can see what you think.
I think that there are 2 main phases of parenting, one phase much longer than the other.
The first phase is the real PARENTING part. This is when your kids are young and you must instruct, guide, reprove, protect, set boundaries (and defend them), etc. This is what we do from almost the beginning of parenthood.
The second phase is the FRIEND part. This is when your kids have grown out of the lectures, the rules, the punishments. They no longer want/need the protection and they have already set their own boundaries (which will inevitably vary from some degree from those which were set by their parents). IF a parent attempts to parent during this second phase, they will push their children away. Adult children do not want lectures from their parents. If a parent persists with lectures, boundaries, rules, etc, a child will avoid encounters with parents. These are the situations so often parodied in our sitcoms. The kids belittle the parents behind their backs (sometimes in front of them). The parents look ridiculous because they are providing parenting rather than friendship.
Once you've identified this situation and the cause behind it (i.e. the parent fails to move from parenting into friendship), it seems obvious, right? When does your mom bug you? When she's giving you advice you didn't ask for. It seems like she's not allowing you to be the adult, that she's pushing you back into childhood, maybe? She's not being a random pain, though, she's just being the parent--the same parent that you really needed when you were little. The same parent that you practically worshiped then. She's doing what she's always done only now it doesn't work the same way it did and she wishes she knew what she was doing wrong. And you, the poor child, are so busy pushing her away and defending your own adulthood, that maybe you don't realize what is going on. Plus, as a child, it's easy to stay in childhood roles too and it's hard to make the effort to actually contribute in friendly way to your relationship with your mom. It's just habit to make her to all the work in the relationship and something you may not think about changing. One way or another, the transition to friendship is never made and the relationship can never reach its true potential.
The parent can actually be the best friend: the SUPERFRIEND. A loving parent-child relationship has already all the right ingredients for a great friendship: true caring, unconditional love, shared history, common interests (to name a few). And, this phase is the LONGEST phase of parenting. The rule-setting phase only lasts for a few years, but the friendship phase lasts for the rest of life and on into forever. Therefore, making this phase work is essential to eternal family relationships.
The tricky part is where the two phases collide. When does the first end and the second take over? This is where the mess-ups happen. I'm thinking this transition would be smoother if the parent has been a friend all along. You can add friend characteristics to parent characteristics as you go along from the very beginning, can't you? While still being a parent? I'm thinking YES. But I'm still pretty foggy about details. I have some more thinking to do about this. What do you think?
What is friendship?
My close girlfriend is in the middle of getting a masters degree. She's reading and writing a ton, but she still manages to email me now and again. Since she's knee deep in ideas, she can't help but pass some of them along and this latest one really made me think. Here's how it started out, from her:
"I read something in the Gatto book that I have been pondering a lot, and I wonder what your thoughts are. He writes about the fact that we don't really have friendships as adults, only networks. He says we don't even know the difference between communities and networks, communities being a collection of real families who participate in life--argue and help and make things together. Networks don't require the whole person. You suppress all the parts of you but the ones that are necessary to your job (calling, board, club). He says that networks seem to address human and social needs, but they don't really encourage the friendship that we constantly seek. [He says:]
'With a network, what you get at the beginning is all you ever get. Networks don't get better or worse; their limited purpose keeps them pretty much the same all the time, as there just isn't much development possible. The pathological state which eventually develops out of these constant repetitions of thin human contact is a feeling that your "friends" and "colleagues" don't really care about you beyond what you can do for them, that they have no curiosity about the way you manage your life, no curiosity about your hopes, fears, victories, defeats. The real truth is that the "friends" falsely mourned for their indifference were never friends, just fellow networkers from whom in fairness little should be expected beyond attention to the common interest.'
So... I've been thinking a lot about this. Here are some of my thoughts. What do you think?
Firstly, I agree with the network/community idea. Our mobile society has not been kind to communities. Nor is it kind to friendships. We move a lot. It's hard to build true communities (as Gatto describes them) in this kind of atmosphere. We try, though. We all want those kinds of connections. Perhaps networks are the best substitute that we manage to generate in our efforts to build communities. Networks are a series of positions that can be filled by whomever is present, so I guess it's kind of a framework for a kind of friendship. Some enduring friendships are made from those network beginnings. Communities seem to require a pre-supposed kind of committment e.g. when generations of families lived and died in the same place together, they knew they'd always be around each other and therefore there was a committment to living among each other. We just don't ever get to that place now. What social folks do instead is join multiple networks. They have many different groups of peers. In my area it's: book clubs, bunco groups, church groups, teams, school groups, etc. Pile up a lot of limited networks and maybe the community spirit comes close to being reached?
Secondly (and this is just a vague idea): I wonder sometimes if our general inability to form and maintain intimate friendships might be designed to bring us to God, or at least to leave a craving in us for that perfect relationship that only He can offer. After all, no human can be the perfect friend. Every friend has a flaw. Even our most intimate friend (hopefully), our husband, can never offer us the perfect love that can only be offered by God. Can anyone know every part of us and love us still? Are we even capable of showing anyone every part of ourselves? I'm not sure that we are. I think that we are flawed in what we can offer as a friend just by virtue of our humanity. We are incapable of complete unconditional love because we can't do anything perfectly. But God is God and he offers that love unceasingly, if only we can find our way to it. And there's the rub, eh? Hm.
Or here's another angle that makes even more sense to me: Our unsatisfying temporary friendships with others should encourage us to seek those more permanent friendships with the people who are truly permanent in our lives--our family. As I make and lose friends over years and years, I realize more and more that the most stable, lasting relationships that I have are family relationships. These are the relationships that are divinely designed to last forever and they have the most capacity for unconditional love and acceptance. However, these are also the relationships that can become most deeply flawed and therefore most deeply painful (which things are a good indication of how powerful these relationships are). And it's not always the fault of parents who are trying their best and children who are attempting to do what's expected of them. I believe that society has poisoned our notions about what family is.
One of the falsities of this "dynamic" sociality that is sold to us by our world is that our families are the enemy and our social peers are our friends, that family is to be outgrown, while friends are kept forever. This leads us to mock and abandon the "difficult" family relationships while we seek depth in the "easy" relationships with our friends. So we can never be satisfied. We invest in shallow relationships and feel the lack of them at the same time we are critical of the relationships that could really satisfy us.
I really think, though, that this campaign to destroy the family relationships has been going on for a long time, and that family dynamics today have fallen into patterns that create these disconnects. It starts in grade school when our teacher becomes our exemplar and we begin to see the inadequacies of our parents. As we get older, we become convinced that our parents (and most other adults) cannot understand us and that our peers can best provide that understanding and counsel that our parents seem incapable of offering. No sibling can be as close to us as a friend. Parents often become merely wardens and bankers. There are families that overcome these typical patterns, of course. Thank goodness for that! I'm suggesting only that these are common patterns that we have somehow been fooled into accepting as "normal". Some strong families see beyond "normal", but many people just follow conventions and, if they're lucky, they may manage to overcome the societal norms, and parents and children can build things in common and be friends. But, as the children grow to adulthood, too often parents and children follow their parallel paths to occasional visits, vastly different interests, regular back-biting and complaining, and general dissatisfaction.
So perhaps the loose networks that exist and that can provide foundations for deeper friendships are acceptable as long as we as a society remember to care for our family relationships. But that's the rub, isn't it? Family can be so much harder than casual friends. Have we discarded family members as our intimates in favor of our comfortable friends within our loose networks? And what does this say about our capacities for forming lasting relationships of value and depth? Are we, as individuals within a loosely knit society becoming too isolated? If so, will this isolation incubate selfishness, pride, enmity, and all those other destroying characteristics? Perhaps. Perhaps not. In any case, I'm sure thinking a lot about my friendships and family relationships and what I am (or am not) contributing to them. It's something to think about....
"I read something in the Gatto book that I have been pondering a lot, and I wonder what your thoughts are. He writes about the fact that we don't really have friendships as adults, only networks. He says we don't even know the difference between communities and networks, communities being a collection of real families who participate in life--argue and help and make things together. Networks don't require the whole person. You suppress all the parts of you but the ones that are necessary to your job (calling, board, club). He says that networks seem to address human and social needs, but they don't really encourage the friendship that we constantly seek. [He says:]
'With a network, what you get at the beginning is all you ever get. Networks don't get better or worse; their limited purpose keeps them pretty much the same all the time, as there just isn't much development possible. The pathological state which eventually develops out of these constant repetitions of thin human contact is a feeling that your "friends" and "colleagues" don't really care about you beyond what you can do for them, that they have no curiosity about the way you manage your life, no curiosity about your hopes, fears, victories, defeats. The real truth is that the "friends" falsely mourned for their indifference were never friends, just fellow networkers from whom in fairness little should be expected beyond attention to the common interest.'
So... I've been thinking a lot about this. Here are some of my thoughts. What do you think?
Firstly, I agree with the network/community idea. Our mobile society has not been kind to communities. Nor is it kind to friendships. We move a lot. It's hard to build true communities (as Gatto describes them) in this kind of atmosphere. We try, though. We all want those kinds of connections. Perhaps networks are the best substitute that we manage to generate in our efforts to build communities. Networks are a series of positions that can be filled by whomever is present, so I guess it's kind of a framework for a kind of friendship. Some enduring friendships are made from those network beginnings. Communities seem to require a pre-supposed kind of committment e.g. when generations of families lived and died in the same place together, they knew they'd always be around each other and therefore there was a committment to living among each other. We just don't ever get to that place now. What social folks do instead is join multiple networks. They have many different groups of peers. In my area it's: book clubs, bunco groups, church groups, teams, school groups, etc. Pile up a lot of limited networks and maybe the community spirit comes close to being reached?
Secondly (and this is just a vague idea): I wonder sometimes if our general inability to form and maintain intimate friendships might be designed to bring us to God, or at least to leave a craving in us for that perfect relationship that only He can offer. After all, no human can be the perfect friend. Every friend has a flaw. Even our most intimate friend (hopefully), our husband, can never offer us the perfect love that can only be offered by God. Can anyone know every part of us and love us still? Are we even capable of showing anyone every part of ourselves? I'm not sure that we are. I think that we are flawed in what we can offer as a friend just by virtue of our humanity. We are incapable of complete unconditional love because we can't do anything perfectly. But God is God and he offers that love unceasingly, if only we can find our way to it. And there's the rub, eh? Hm.
Or here's another angle that makes even more sense to me: Our unsatisfying temporary friendships with others should encourage us to seek those more permanent friendships with the people who are truly permanent in our lives--our family. As I make and lose friends over years and years, I realize more and more that the most stable, lasting relationships that I have are family relationships. These are the relationships that are divinely designed to last forever and they have the most capacity for unconditional love and acceptance. However, these are also the relationships that can become most deeply flawed and therefore most deeply painful (which things are a good indication of how powerful these relationships are). And it's not always the fault of parents who are trying their best and children who are attempting to do what's expected of them. I believe that society has poisoned our notions about what family is.
One of the falsities of this "dynamic" sociality that is sold to us by our world is that our families are the enemy and our social peers are our friends, that family is to be outgrown, while friends are kept forever. This leads us to mock and abandon the "difficult" family relationships while we seek depth in the "easy" relationships with our friends. So we can never be satisfied. We invest in shallow relationships and feel the lack of them at the same time we are critical of the relationships that could really satisfy us.
I really think, though, that this campaign to destroy the family relationships has been going on for a long time, and that family dynamics today have fallen into patterns that create these disconnects. It starts in grade school when our teacher becomes our exemplar and we begin to see the inadequacies of our parents. As we get older, we become convinced that our parents (and most other adults) cannot understand us and that our peers can best provide that understanding and counsel that our parents seem incapable of offering. No sibling can be as close to us as a friend. Parents often become merely wardens and bankers. There are families that overcome these typical patterns, of course. Thank goodness for that! I'm suggesting only that these are common patterns that we have somehow been fooled into accepting as "normal". Some strong families see beyond "normal", but many people just follow conventions and, if they're lucky, they may manage to overcome the societal norms, and parents and children can build things in common and be friends. But, as the children grow to adulthood, too often parents and children follow their parallel paths to occasional visits, vastly different interests, regular back-biting and complaining, and general dissatisfaction.
So perhaps the loose networks that exist and that can provide foundations for deeper friendships are acceptable as long as we as a society remember to care for our family relationships. But that's the rub, isn't it? Family can be so much harder than casual friends. Have we discarded family members as our intimates in favor of our comfortable friends within our loose networks? And what does this say about our capacities for forming lasting relationships of value and depth? Are we, as individuals within a loosely knit society becoming too isolated? If so, will this isolation incubate selfishness, pride, enmity, and all those other destroying characteristics? Perhaps. Perhaps not. In any case, I'm sure thinking a lot about my friendships and family relationships and what I am (or am not) contributing to them. It's something to think about....
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Hormones and drugs and tears, oh my!
I have occasionally had the idea floating vaguely, half smug, half ashamed, in the back of my mind, that people who take mood-altering drugs could probably control their moods/emotions by themselves if only they just tried hard enough.
Of course, these are fighting words for anyone who has ever needed meds of this kind and it's a thought that I've pretty much kept in that vague, uncertain, unstated place in my head. For obvious reasons. It's a hidebound and intolerant opinion. And it's the kind of opinion that only those who've never needed such things will maintain. Like so many opinions formed on the very insecure basis of assumption and ignorance (and perhaps a bit of fear), it's offensive to anyone who has actually HAD any experience in that area.
I can say this because I'm coming off a horrific month where one day I'm feeling my normal self and then the next day I'm feeling physically exhausted and emotionally delicate, where I'm fighting back tears any number of times for any number of reasons, silly and otherwise. It's these nasty types of days where I feel like I don't know myself and I can't figure out why I feel so badly! Being the analytical type, I trot out all the reasons for depression/dissatisfaction/fear/sadness that I could possibly have. I think about them all and wonder which one is bugging me all out of proportion to normality. I come to conclusions and I try to suck it up and, if I'm lucky, I take a nap and feel a little bit better. Or if I'm not lucky, I just wallow and worry and drive my husband batty with my total exhaustion and my intermittent tears.
Then, I wake up the next day feeling totally normal, which for me means happy, energetic, optimistic and full of plans and ideas. I wonder what the heck happened the day before and I go about my business.
After a while of this bumpy ride this month (and in times past) it occured to me that I should perhaps start thinking about my thyroid meds. My thyroid, you understand, is being attacked and killed by my body. It's called Hashimoto's disease and it's an auto-immune kind of thing. It's hereditary and I have no control over it at all, of course. So, about 10 years ago I was put on a synthetic version of the hormone that my thyroid is supposed to be producing, but is not. And it made an immediate difference to the way I felt. Hormones are mysterious things, you know, filtering throughout one's entire system and affecting any number of things, known and unknown.
Anyway, my dosage has recently been fiddled with, sending my body and emotions into convolutions, trying to adjust to the new dose. And when I remembered this, it was an "aha!" and a bit of a relief to realize that THAT'S probably what is going on. Chances are that I'm not really drowning in my own exhaustion and emotion, it's just a temporary squall and I'm getting really wet. Gotta call the doctor.
But of course when I'm treading water in the hormone ocean, swallowing sea water, tiring out and getting chilled to the bone (metaphorically speaking), my thyroid meds are the last thing that occurs to me as what may be causing the problem. I turn myself inside out looking for what I'm doing that's causing my troubles. And I try to figure out what I can do to fix it. I have no idea I'm in the middle of the hormone squall and struggling in the high waves (there's my metaphor again). I just think I'm messing up somehow.
And that's kind of sad. And it's not helpful. So. Finally I called the doctor this morning and told her about how I'd been feeling and she reassured me: your body is just adjusting, hang in there. And I felt so relieved! That this WAS the reason for my uncharacteristic feelings! That it would get better! And that it wasn't my fault.
And, on the flip side, I felt irritated again at this evidence of my powerlessness--because my body just goes its own way, messing up my days, tying my emotions up in knots, affecting my ability to perform my duties and pleasures. And in order to take control of all those things, I gotta take that little pill every morning!
When I was first diagnosed, and I realized that I would be on meds for the rest of my life, I felt betrayed by my body. I was barely into my 30s and I was angry that my body was incapable of balancing things on its own. I've adjusted now, though, and I'm used to the idea. I've accepted the bottom line: I take a pill every day because I feel rotten without it.
And that's hormones for you. And a reminder for me. I have gained experience in this arena and can say with empathy: sometimes a medication makes a very big difference. Sometimes a person cannot control something without the meds. Even as I say it, I don't like it. Why? Maybe it's a control thing or an independence thing or a pride thing. I don't know. It doesn't matter. But maybe it's a good thing that every once in awhile, as we fiddle with dosages, I'm thrown into that stormy ocean again, tossed and ill and confused, and I remember how hard it is without these great medicines. And I'm grateful that somebody sometime figured it all out so all I have to do is swallow that little pill and I can have my normal life every day. And that there are lots of people who, like me, are grateful for those rescuing meds. Yeah, it's good to be reminded.
And today is a very good day. Tomorrow? We'll see. And can I say? Next time that controversial half-acknowledged opinion floats to the surface of my consciousness, I'm gonna knock it on its head and bury it deep. Because I've got that first hand experience. And I'm pretty incapable of changing that thyroid disease on my own no matter how hard I try. So thank goodness for those life-altering drugs. And good luck to anyone who's trying to find that dosage balance. May your stormy days be numbered, with lots of sunshine in your future (metaphor finis).
Of course, these are fighting words for anyone who has ever needed meds of this kind and it's a thought that I've pretty much kept in that vague, uncertain, unstated place in my head. For obvious reasons. It's a hidebound and intolerant opinion. And it's the kind of opinion that only those who've never needed such things will maintain. Like so many opinions formed on the very insecure basis of assumption and ignorance (and perhaps a bit of fear), it's offensive to anyone who has actually HAD any experience in that area.
I can say this because I'm coming off a horrific month where one day I'm feeling my normal self and then the next day I'm feeling physically exhausted and emotionally delicate, where I'm fighting back tears any number of times for any number of reasons, silly and otherwise. It's these nasty types of days where I feel like I don't know myself and I can't figure out why I feel so badly! Being the analytical type, I trot out all the reasons for depression/dissatisfaction/fear/sadness that I could possibly have. I think about them all and wonder which one is bugging me all out of proportion to normality. I come to conclusions and I try to suck it up and, if I'm lucky, I take a nap and feel a little bit better. Or if I'm not lucky, I just wallow and worry and drive my husband batty with my total exhaustion and my intermittent tears.
Then, I wake up the next day feeling totally normal, which for me means happy, energetic, optimistic and full of plans and ideas. I wonder what the heck happened the day before and I go about my business.
After a while of this bumpy ride this month (and in times past) it occured to me that I should perhaps start thinking about my thyroid meds. My thyroid, you understand, is being attacked and killed by my body. It's called Hashimoto's disease and it's an auto-immune kind of thing. It's hereditary and I have no control over it at all, of course. So, about 10 years ago I was put on a synthetic version of the hormone that my thyroid is supposed to be producing, but is not. And it made an immediate difference to the way I felt. Hormones are mysterious things, you know, filtering throughout one's entire system and affecting any number of things, known and unknown.
Anyway, my dosage has recently been fiddled with, sending my body and emotions into convolutions, trying to adjust to the new dose. And when I remembered this, it was an "aha!" and a bit of a relief to realize that THAT'S probably what is going on. Chances are that I'm not really drowning in my own exhaustion and emotion, it's just a temporary squall and I'm getting really wet. Gotta call the doctor.
But of course when I'm treading water in the hormone ocean, swallowing sea water, tiring out and getting chilled to the bone (metaphorically speaking), my thyroid meds are the last thing that occurs to me as what may be causing the problem. I turn myself inside out looking for what I'm doing that's causing my troubles. And I try to figure out what I can do to fix it. I have no idea I'm in the middle of the hormone squall and struggling in the high waves (there's my metaphor again). I just think I'm messing up somehow.
And that's kind of sad. And it's not helpful. So. Finally I called the doctor this morning and told her about how I'd been feeling and she reassured me: your body is just adjusting, hang in there. And I felt so relieved! That this WAS the reason for my uncharacteristic feelings! That it would get better! And that it wasn't my fault.
And, on the flip side, I felt irritated again at this evidence of my powerlessness--because my body just goes its own way, messing up my days, tying my emotions up in knots, affecting my ability to perform my duties and pleasures. And in order to take control of all those things, I gotta take that little pill every morning!
When I was first diagnosed, and I realized that I would be on meds for the rest of my life, I felt betrayed by my body. I was barely into my 30s and I was angry that my body was incapable of balancing things on its own. I've adjusted now, though, and I'm used to the idea. I've accepted the bottom line: I take a pill every day because I feel rotten without it.
And that's hormones for you. And a reminder for me. I have gained experience in this arena and can say with empathy: sometimes a medication makes a very big difference. Sometimes a person cannot control something without the meds. Even as I say it, I don't like it. Why? Maybe it's a control thing or an independence thing or a pride thing. I don't know. It doesn't matter. But maybe it's a good thing that every once in awhile, as we fiddle with dosages, I'm thrown into that stormy ocean again, tossed and ill and confused, and I remember how hard it is without these great medicines. And I'm grateful that somebody sometime figured it all out so all I have to do is swallow that little pill and I can have my normal life every day. And that there are lots of people who, like me, are grateful for those rescuing meds. Yeah, it's good to be reminded.
And today is a very good day. Tomorrow? We'll see. And can I say? Next time that controversial half-acknowledged opinion floats to the surface of my consciousness, I'm gonna knock it on its head and bury it deep. Because I've got that first hand experience. And I'm pretty incapable of changing that thyroid disease on my own no matter how hard I try. So thank goodness for those life-altering drugs. And good luck to anyone who's trying to find that dosage balance. May your stormy days be numbered, with lots of sunshine in your future (metaphor finis).
Monday, June 23, 2008
What NOT to write in your journal
So.. I have this journal that I take to church. I have lots of journals. I keep one on the computer and I keep a written one at home AND I have this one that I take to church in which I take notes from the speakers and lessons and in which I also write my impressions and feelings. Whatever is running through my mind at church is what I write in that journal. It didn't begin life as a church journal, though, so it has some regular personal stuff at the beginning too. So, let me tell you a little story.
This weekend was our stake conference (the bi-annual meeting where all the local congregations gather together for general counsel--a large meeting). I went to the Saturday evening adult session, was distracted by a friend on the way out, put down my journal to check my calendar and.... left the journal behind! Disaster.
I did't discover this until the next morning, of course. I had to be at the church over an hour early (before the general morning session began) for choir practice. I was accompanying the stake choir and our final practice was in the morning before the conference. I was VERY nervous about this because there were 3 songs and it was the first time I had played in front of such a big congregation since we moved here. Also the 3rd song I found very challenging and, even after many hours of practice, there was still the very real chance that I'd get so nervous that I'd totally mess up and make a fool of myself. So I was rushing out of the house for this practice when I remembered my journal and went back into the house to get it. Couldn't find it. Looked and looked. And this is when the fear was born. What if I'd actually left my journal behind?
Now, I was going to church over an hour before the general session began, so I could easily look for the journal before the church filled with people. But. There was a general priesthood leadership session already in progress--it had begun at 8:30am (just when I was leaving the house in order to arrive at 8:45 for choir practice). So there had already been a bunch of men milling around in the room where I suspected I'd left the journal.
So I left the house and made the drive to church.
This is when I feverishly tried to remember: what had I written in the journal? Anything embarrassing? Oh, surely. Anything mean? Oh, I hope not. Anything silly? Inevitably. Anything private? Obviously. Anything identifying? Oh, I HOPE not. And I also hoped that whomever found it would not be the overly curious type of person who would actually READ what I'd written in an effort to find who the journal belonged to. But how else would the journal be reunited with its owner--me?
So I got to church and ran around for a few minutes before choir practice looking in some random places, hoping it might have been set aside in a relatively discreet location, awaiting discovery by a worried writer. Didn't find it. Joined the choir. My nervousness about playing the piano was swallowed up in my agitated concern to find my journal. A blessing? Hm.
Anyway, when we finally moved into the chapel for the final run-through of the songs, I had a few minutes (while the choir was straggling in) to ask one of the men already on the stand: "Where is the lost and found?" He made an explanation: there is no formal lost and found, blah blah blah blah. I grabbed his lapels: "I lost my journal. I NEED to find it." He gave me a big smile and said, "Oh, I know where that is." He pointed to the podium and there it sat, my lost journal. It had been found last night, he said, and in the priesthood leadership meeting, it had been held up before the congregation, "Did anyone lose this journal? It is almost filled!"
So, I got the journal back. And, incidentally, my nervousness about playing the piano was considerably abated by this distraction. Nice.
And I've been thinking. About what is best to put in journals and what is not good to put in journals. I have kept journals since I was a child and I have re-read them a few times. One time only have I actually started with the beginning journal and read through them all. That was an editing trip, where I glued black paper over things I'd written about that I never wanted to remember ever again. Occasionally I'll think of something or someone from the past and I'll go back and read what I have written about it or them. Sometimes I'm trying to remember a date and I'll go back and consult what I've written.
Which brings me to a question. Why do we keep journals? For LDS church members, the first answer may be perhaps that we have been commanded to do so. We are a church of record keepers. In fact, the scriptures are records. All saints are commanded to keep records. I think I would keep a journal even without being commanded to do so, though, because I am the sort of person who has a need for expression.
And what do we typically write in journals? When I read back in my journals I noticed a preponderance of entries about boys. Sigh. But also I wrote a lot about my spiritual feelings. Many entries were the exit point for strong feelings: love, infatuation, anger, hurt, inspiration, discovery. When I was young and single I wrote nearly every day and those entries covered a variety of emotions. After I got married, had babies and became busier, I noticed that I most often wrote when I was depressed or angry or worried. I think it was because I had no other outlet for those non-constructive feelings. And when I read back on those years, one of the main impressions I got of my life at that time was that I was often, well, depressed or angry or worried. I did write about joyful things too, but most often I made the time to write because I had feelings that I felt could only be safely expressed in my journal. And, since it is much easier to share good and happy feelings with those around you, it was the bad and sad feelings that got relegated to the private pages of my journals. Sadly, the joyful things were not recorded as often.
So pretty much my journals, up to about 5 or so years ago, were mainly a repository of expressions that I felt could only safely be left in those private places. I don't know who I imagined would read them. Or what purpose they would serve. But it was about 5 years ago (I think) that I sat down and read through them all. And that is when I reevaluated the purpose of my journals.
That purpose was, I decided, to be uplifting. I don't know who will read them. My children have no interest in them at this point. I like to read back now and then. And I don't regret what I've written (except those few entries that got black-papered). Some of it is entertaining. Some of it is touching. Some of it is kind of depressing. Some of it is downright painful.
And I still feel the need to express those kinds of things. But what I decided was that when I recorded those sad or painful things, I needed to follow those up with expressions of faith, possible solutions, and long lists of gratitude. So the idea I began with is that whenever I would turn to my journal because of anger, depression or worry, the first thing I would do is write a list of the things I was grateful for. Then at the end of the list, I could write whatever I was worried about. Often, the gratitude list mitigated my negative emotions and I felt less of a need to rant or complain or whatever. At the very least, my lists of gratitude gave me perspective on my worries and I was able to write about the worry and then about possible solutions, or other ways to see the problem, and also about the faith I felt that all would be resolved, or I could record at least a partial restoration of the comforting perspective of this worry being only a small portion of an otherwise very happy life. These kinds of entries not only relieved my feelings, but also left me feeling more hopeful and positive. These are also the kinds of journal entries that I feel uplifted by re-reading. So to me, that's a win-win: fulfilling to write and uplifting to read.
I also decided to write about scriptures that especially spoke to me. So my journal became part of my scripture study routine. I would read the scriptures and then whatever passage stuck in my mind I would copy into my journal and then write about how that particular scripture (s) was relevant to me right now. That's nice to re-read too.
And I think this is the kind of record of myself that I don't mind leaving for my posterity. (That is if they even want to read them. There are a ton of those journals--and I'm only40, so there will be a bunch more--and some poor descendent is going to have to hoick those things around. But that's not my problem) I don't want anyone to see a rosy, problem-free version of my life. But what I want them to see is what I see: worries and fears and depression and upsets interspersed with the faith to carry me through them AND a life otherwise full of happiness, pleasure, joy and comfort.
I don't want a record of my petty complaints about others. I don't want a catalogue of my own faults. I don't want to enshrine my dark feelings. And I certainly want no permanent account of my sins.
And not only this, but I have found that when I give vent to negative feelings without the mitigation of a hopeful solution or a restored perspective, I only give additional life and strength to those negative feelings. For me, it's like the expression of an anger just feeds the flames. When I write in my journal about being angry, I reinforce all the arguments in my favor and I build up all my self-righteousness about whatever I'm angry about. And when I write about being depressed, I'm just putting into tangible form those amorphous emotions that have been swirling around in my heart. And for me, expression makes the vague much more substantial. So if a depression is forming and I write about it, the depression is NOT relieved, no, instead it's formation is completed. And it becomes more real and has more power over me.
So for me, expression gives life to whatever I'm expressing. Is this true of other people too? It is something to consider, certainly. I have gotten to the point where before I write I must ask myself: Do I want to give this feeling life? Because once I write it, it's alive and working in me, for good or evil.
Now, I don't always successfully avoid giving life to the negative things. You may have already observed that in my blogs. But I am, at least, very aware of this principle. For me, words have power that I have the ability to control. I am in charge of what I express, so in a very real way, I am in charge of what I record on my soul.
And besides. What if I lost that dang journal and everybody read it?
This weekend was our stake conference (the bi-annual meeting where all the local congregations gather together for general counsel--a large meeting). I went to the Saturday evening adult session, was distracted by a friend on the way out, put down my journal to check my calendar and.... left the journal behind! Disaster.
I did't discover this until the next morning, of course. I had to be at the church over an hour early (before the general morning session began) for choir practice. I was accompanying the stake choir and our final practice was in the morning before the conference. I was VERY nervous about this because there were 3 songs and it was the first time I had played in front of such a big congregation since we moved here. Also the 3rd song I found very challenging and, even after many hours of practice, there was still the very real chance that I'd get so nervous that I'd totally mess up and make a fool of myself. So I was rushing out of the house for this practice when I remembered my journal and went back into the house to get it. Couldn't find it. Looked and looked. And this is when the fear was born. What if I'd actually left my journal behind?
Now, I was going to church over an hour before the general session began, so I could easily look for the journal before the church filled with people. But. There was a general priesthood leadership session already in progress--it had begun at 8:30am (just when I was leaving the house in order to arrive at 8:45 for choir practice). So there had already been a bunch of men milling around in the room where I suspected I'd left the journal.
So I left the house and made the drive to church.
This is when I feverishly tried to remember: what had I written in the journal? Anything embarrassing? Oh, surely. Anything mean? Oh, I hope not. Anything silly? Inevitably. Anything private? Obviously. Anything identifying? Oh, I HOPE not. And I also hoped that whomever found it would not be the overly curious type of person who would actually READ what I'd written in an effort to find who the journal belonged to. But how else would the journal be reunited with its owner--me?
So I got to church and ran around for a few minutes before choir practice looking in some random places, hoping it might have been set aside in a relatively discreet location, awaiting discovery by a worried writer. Didn't find it. Joined the choir. My nervousness about playing the piano was swallowed up in my agitated concern to find my journal. A blessing? Hm.
Anyway, when we finally moved into the chapel for the final run-through of the songs, I had a few minutes (while the choir was straggling in) to ask one of the men already on the stand: "Where is the lost and found?" He made an explanation: there is no formal lost and found, blah blah blah blah. I grabbed his lapels: "I lost my journal. I NEED to find it." He gave me a big smile and said, "Oh, I know where that is." He pointed to the podium and there it sat, my lost journal. It had been found last night, he said, and in the priesthood leadership meeting, it had been held up before the congregation, "Did anyone lose this journal? It is almost filled!"
So, I got the journal back. And, incidentally, my nervousness about playing the piano was considerably abated by this distraction. Nice.
And I've been thinking. About what is best to put in journals and what is not good to put in journals. I have kept journals since I was a child and I have re-read them a few times. One time only have I actually started with the beginning journal and read through them all. That was an editing trip, where I glued black paper over things I'd written about that I never wanted to remember ever again. Occasionally I'll think of something or someone from the past and I'll go back and read what I have written about it or them. Sometimes I'm trying to remember a date and I'll go back and consult what I've written.
Which brings me to a question. Why do we keep journals? For LDS church members, the first answer may be perhaps that we have been commanded to do so. We are a church of record keepers. In fact, the scriptures are records. All saints are commanded to keep records. I think I would keep a journal even without being commanded to do so, though, because I am the sort of person who has a need for expression.
And what do we typically write in journals? When I read back in my journals I noticed a preponderance of entries about boys. Sigh. But also I wrote a lot about my spiritual feelings. Many entries were the exit point for strong feelings: love, infatuation, anger, hurt, inspiration, discovery. When I was young and single I wrote nearly every day and those entries covered a variety of emotions. After I got married, had babies and became busier, I noticed that I most often wrote when I was depressed or angry or worried. I think it was because I had no other outlet for those non-constructive feelings. And when I read back on those years, one of the main impressions I got of my life at that time was that I was often, well, depressed or angry or worried. I did write about joyful things too, but most often I made the time to write because I had feelings that I felt could only be safely expressed in my journal. And, since it is much easier to share good and happy feelings with those around you, it was the bad and sad feelings that got relegated to the private pages of my journals. Sadly, the joyful things were not recorded as often.
So pretty much my journals, up to about 5 or so years ago, were mainly a repository of expressions that I felt could only safely be left in those private places. I don't know who I imagined would read them. Or what purpose they would serve. But it was about 5 years ago (I think) that I sat down and read through them all. And that is when I reevaluated the purpose of my journals.
That purpose was, I decided, to be uplifting. I don't know who will read them. My children have no interest in them at this point. I like to read back now and then. And I don't regret what I've written (except those few entries that got black-papered). Some of it is entertaining. Some of it is touching. Some of it is kind of depressing. Some of it is downright painful.
And I still feel the need to express those kinds of things. But what I decided was that when I recorded those sad or painful things, I needed to follow those up with expressions of faith, possible solutions, and long lists of gratitude. So the idea I began with is that whenever I would turn to my journal because of anger, depression or worry, the first thing I would do is write a list of the things I was grateful for. Then at the end of the list, I could write whatever I was worried about. Often, the gratitude list mitigated my negative emotions and I felt less of a need to rant or complain or whatever. At the very least, my lists of gratitude gave me perspective on my worries and I was able to write about the worry and then about possible solutions, or other ways to see the problem, and also about the faith I felt that all would be resolved, or I could record at least a partial restoration of the comforting perspective of this worry being only a small portion of an otherwise very happy life. These kinds of entries not only relieved my feelings, but also left me feeling more hopeful and positive. These are also the kinds of journal entries that I feel uplifted by re-reading. So to me, that's a win-win: fulfilling to write and uplifting to read.
I also decided to write about scriptures that especially spoke to me. So my journal became part of my scripture study routine. I would read the scriptures and then whatever passage stuck in my mind I would copy into my journal and then write about how that particular scripture (s) was relevant to me right now. That's nice to re-read too.
And I think this is the kind of record of myself that I don't mind leaving for my posterity. (That is if they even want to read them. There are a ton of those journals--and I'm only40, so there will be a bunch more--and some poor descendent is going to have to hoick those things around. But that's not my problem) I don't want anyone to see a rosy, problem-free version of my life. But what I want them to see is what I see: worries and fears and depression and upsets interspersed with the faith to carry me through them AND a life otherwise full of happiness, pleasure, joy and comfort.
I don't want a record of my petty complaints about others. I don't want a catalogue of my own faults. I don't want to enshrine my dark feelings. And I certainly want no permanent account of my sins.
And not only this, but I have found that when I give vent to negative feelings without the mitigation of a hopeful solution or a restored perspective, I only give additional life and strength to those negative feelings. For me, it's like the expression of an anger just feeds the flames. When I write in my journal about being angry, I reinforce all the arguments in my favor and I build up all my self-righteousness about whatever I'm angry about. And when I write about being depressed, I'm just putting into tangible form those amorphous emotions that have been swirling around in my heart. And for me, expression makes the vague much more substantial. So if a depression is forming and I write about it, the depression is NOT relieved, no, instead it's formation is completed. And it becomes more real and has more power over me.
So for me, expression gives life to whatever I'm expressing. Is this true of other people too? It is something to consider, certainly. I have gotten to the point where before I write I must ask myself: Do I want to give this feeling life? Because once I write it, it's alive and working in me, for good or evil.
Now, I don't always successfully avoid giving life to the negative things. You may have already observed that in my blogs. But I am, at least, very aware of this principle. For me, words have power that I have the ability to control. I am in charge of what I express, so in a very real way, I am in charge of what I record on my soul.
And besides. What if I lost that dang journal and everybody read it?
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Know what I mean?
Think of your favorite book or movie. Chances are that its plot is centered around some sort of miscommunication. Either someone lied, withheld information, misunderstood or in some other way miscommunicated with someone else and hey presto! You've got a plot. Any movie, any book--well, some adventure movies MAY be based on something other than a miscommunication. But generally, if there's dialogue, there's miscommunication that drives the plot.
[And okay, I'll make another possible exception for some sci-fi or fantasy. When there's a clear bad vs. good conflict, then that conflict will drive the plot and it's possible that any dialogue-based miscommunications could be just added subplots. Although...many of the sci-fi/fantasy elements in books and movies are just window dressing for a plot that revolves around--you guessed it--miscommunications, especially lots of secrets. Sci-fi/fantasy loves secrets, especially ones lost in the past]
Some of my favorites:
Pride and Prejudice--Mr. Bingley is MISINFORMED and so leaves Jane, who ASSUMES that he didn't love her. Elizabeth's initial negative impression of Mr. Darcy is hardened into positive dislike by the abovementioned MISUNDERSTANDING between Bingley and Jane (which Darcy furthered) and also by the LIES of Wickham.
Dear Frankie (movie)--Frankie is LIED to by his mother. Finally she has to pay someone else to LIE too. And Frankie himself is deaf, so his existence is peppered with communication problems.
Strictly Ballroom (movie)--Dad and Mom keep SECRETS, and the big guy (Mr. Fife) just out and out LIES--in fact Mom and Dad have been at odds for years because of this initial big LIE. And Scott never EXPLAINS what's going on to Fran, he just sort of leaves her behind. And she ASSUMES he's just a scared jerk.
Nine Coaches Waiting (book)--the family lives a LIE, she ASSUMES Raoul is a murderer because of someone's LIES
Galaxy Quest (movie)--The whole plot is based on a series of MISCOMMUNICATIONS, starting with the first biggie: the Thermians are telling the truth, but the Commander ASSUMES they are acting a part.
North and South (book/movie)--The main action in the book pivots around the LIES, ASSUMPTIONS and MISUNDERSTANDINGS between the masters and the workers. And the biggest falling out between the main characters is based on a SECRET and an ASSUMPTION.
Any mystery: LIES--of the criminal, of those that seek (mistakenly or on purpose) to protect him/her, SECRETS--all those dirty little secrets that the suspects keep for one reason or another, etc etc.
I could go on and on; I'm having a lot of fun. I'm thinking, however, that this might not be as fun for a reader. So I'll reign myself in.
Imagine if everyone in fiction or film always told the absolute truth and made sure before they left the scene that they and their feelings and intentions were absolutely clear. How boring our entertainment would be! :)
And think of the major "incidents" in your own relationships, or perhaps the ongoing irritations you have with a relationship. I'll bet that in many cases it's a communication-based problem.
The times I've been angry or hurt or embarrassed almost all have something to do with something someone said, something I said, something I misinterpreted, something someone ELSE misinterpreted, something I assumed (but that wasn't accurate), something that someone failed to listen to or refused to understand, etc etc.
Many times the problem is just that a person can't seem to say what they really mean or what they really feel, leaving their co-communicant (is that a real term?) just guessing at things, making assumptions based on their OWN feelings and thoughts (that's a risk, isn't it?). There's been a lot written about the different "languages" of men and women and even adults and teenagers. That's just another way of saying that people misunderstand each other all the time.
Sometimes a person just plain doesn't WANT to communicate (gasp!).
I find this whole idea of communication and its being at the root of most (if not all) troubles very interesting. I, myself, am very interested in communication. I have almost an obsession with it. I feel frustrated when I read a book or watch a movie where the whole situation is messed up because a person didn't open their mouth and say something that needed to be said. I hate unnecessary secrets. When I or my children are involved in clubs, teams or other organizations I feel frustrated when there is little or no communication about events or plans or activities. The "silent treatment" would be the ultimate torture to me.
So I think that in a perfect world, perhaps perfect communication will be the cornerstone of a perfect understanding. No lies, nothing important unsaid, everyone understood and understanding.... until then, however, I think I am doomed to talk around issues, to malaprop, to withhold critical information, to say things I don't mean, to be misunderstood and to misunderstand, to assume, to imply, to mistakenly mislead, to fail to communicate or fail to be communicated with in a thousand different ways.
And this is why I can never write a book. The miscommunications required to drive a really good plot would DRIVE ME INSANE. I just don't think I could do it. Sigh.
[And okay, I'll make another possible exception for some sci-fi or fantasy. When there's a clear bad vs. good conflict, then that conflict will drive the plot and it's possible that any dialogue-based miscommunications could be just added subplots. Although...many of the sci-fi/fantasy elements in books and movies are just window dressing for a plot that revolves around--you guessed it--miscommunications, especially lots of secrets. Sci-fi/fantasy loves secrets, especially ones lost in the past]
Some of my favorites:
Pride and Prejudice--Mr. Bingley is MISINFORMED and so leaves Jane, who ASSUMES that he didn't love her. Elizabeth's initial negative impression of Mr. Darcy is hardened into positive dislike by the abovementioned MISUNDERSTANDING between Bingley and Jane (which Darcy furthered) and also by the LIES of Wickham.
Dear Frankie (movie)--Frankie is LIED to by his mother. Finally she has to pay someone else to LIE too. And Frankie himself is deaf, so his existence is peppered with communication problems.
Strictly Ballroom (movie)--Dad and Mom keep SECRETS, and the big guy (Mr. Fife) just out and out LIES--in fact Mom and Dad have been at odds for years because of this initial big LIE. And Scott never EXPLAINS what's going on to Fran, he just sort of leaves her behind. And she ASSUMES he's just a scared jerk.
Nine Coaches Waiting (book)--the family lives a LIE, she ASSUMES Raoul is a murderer because of someone's LIES
Galaxy Quest (movie)--The whole plot is based on a series of MISCOMMUNICATIONS, starting with the first biggie: the Thermians are telling the truth, but the Commander ASSUMES they are acting a part.
North and South (book/movie)--The main action in the book pivots around the LIES, ASSUMPTIONS and MISUNDERSTANDINGS between the masters and the workers. And the biggest falling out between the main characters is based on a SECRET and an ASSUMPTION.
Any mystery: LIES--of the criminal, of those that seek (mistakenly or on purpose) to protect him/her, SECRETS--all those dirty little secrets that the suspects keep for one reason or another, etc etc.
I could go on and on; I'm having a lot of fun. I'm thinking, however, that this might not be as fun for a reader. So I'll reign myself in.
Imagine if everyone in fiction or film always told the absolute truth and made sure before they left the scene that they and their feelings and intentions were absolutely clear. How boring our entertainment would be! :)
And think of the major "incidents" in your own relationships, or perhaps the ongoing irritations you have with a relationship. I'll bet that in many cases it's a communication-based problem.
The times I've been angry or hurt or embarrassed almost all have something to do with something someone said, something I said, something I misinterpreted, something someone ELSE misinterpreted, something I assumed (but that wasn't accurate), something that someone failed to listen to or refused to understand, etc etc.
Many times the problem is just that a person can't seem to say what they really mean or what they really feel, leaving their co-communicant (is that a real term?) just guessing at things, making assumptions based on their OWN feelings and thoughts (that's a risk, isn't it?). There's been a lot written about the different "languages" of men and women and even adults and teenagers. That's just another way of saying that people misunderstand each other all the time.
Sometimes a person just plain doesn't WANT to communicate (gasp!).
I find this whole idea of communication and its being at the root of most (if not all) troubles very interesting. I, myself, am very interested in communication. I have almost an obsession with it. I feel frustrated when I read a book or watch a movie where the whole situation is messed up because a person didn't open their mouth and say something that needed to be said. I hate unnecessary secrets. When I or my children are involved in clubs, teams or other organizations I feel frustrated when there is little or no communication about events or plans or activities. The "silent treatment" would be the ultimate torture to me.
So I think that in a perfect world, perhaps perfect communication will be the cornerstone of a perfect understanding. No lies, nothing important unsaid, everyone understood and understanding.... until then, however, I think I am doomed to talk around issues, to malaprop, to withhold critical information, to say things I don't mean, to be misunderstood and to misunderstand, to assume, to imply, to mistakenly mislead, to fail to communicate or fail to be communicated with in a thousand different ways.
And this is why I can never write a book. The miscommunications required to drive a really good plot would DRIVE ME INSANE. I just don't think I could do it. Sigh.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Definition of Charity?
We live in such a wealthy society. I watched some little thing on the computer the other day about what the middle class expects to be able to afford now compared to what the middle class expected to afford 30 years ago and it underscored our wealth. The narrator of this program was addressing the constant reporting in the news of the middle class "squeeze"--i.e. that the middle class is making less money, etc. He disagreed with this complaint. And then he went on to point out that today's middle class buys bigger homes with air conditioning and many expensive appliances. Unheard of for the middle class 30 years ago. Today's middle class buys boats and expensive cars and goes on regular vacations--often overseas. Not so 30 years ago. We are a much more entitled middle class today, aren't we?
Anyway, we're comparatively wealthy. And I was reading in the scriptures about the consequences of wealth. This is the pattern that we've all read about and discussed in sunday school: a righteous society is blessed with prosperity. Prosperity is followed by pride. This prideful group then begins persecuting the less prosperous. They taste vice and soon become immersed. Then they are troubled by dissention among themselves. Then they are humbled by war (or sometimes famine or drought). Then they remember God and call upon him again and slowly they become righteous again. And the cycle then repeats itself. Sometimes it takes just a few generations to go through the whole cycle and sometimes it takes more than that--hundreds of years, perhaps.
So I read about this and I try to compare these ripe-for-destruction societies to our society. We are in the wealthy part of the cycle now, generally. And one of the biggest indicators of a society that is soon to be destroyed is that they ignore and then persecute the poor. And most of the time I comfort myself with the assurance that our society does NOT ignore our poor. There are so many organizations that exist now, and even that are currently being created, that assist the poor in our own nation and in many other poverty-stricken nations. Our own government welfare program is such a monster--it bleeds us all and takes very good care of our nation's "poor". So I think we are still not "ripe for destruction".
But...
I was talking to a girlfriend the other day. Her mother is ill and needs constant attendance. She works full time and cannot afford to quit in order to stay at home and take care of her mother. Her mother cannot pay for constant care. The extended family cannot provide this care. My friend was in tears. I thought: THIS is what caring for our people should be about. Our congregation should be taking care of this. The ladies should be rotating days at her house, to take care of her mother. They should be regularly finding opportunities to bring dinner, to give a call, to check in. This is not financial poverty, it's emotional poverty, as my friend's emotional resources are slowly being drained by her stress and worry and by the heavy load on her shoulders. This is the poverty we are meant to relieve personally, I think.
I thought of how easy it is to write that check to that trusted charitable institution and feel you've contributed. Or to give a dollar to the beggar and consider yourself generous (after all, the bum should be working hard like you do and after all, he'/she will most likely spend the money on drugs or alcohol or maybe he/she is just a con artist and you've been taken. Like it's our job to examine a supplicant for worthiness. I never saw that in the scriptures). Anyway, my point is that it seems that most of our charitable efforts have become so institutionalized. So write-a-check-and-forget-it.
But perhaps true charity was meant to be more personal. And perhaps it was meant to involve more sacrifice. Like giving up a day a week for my friend's mother. Or making dinner for the lady I am assigned to visit once a month (that's not much, but it feels hard to me cuz I dislike cooking and am self-conscious about many of my efforts), or giving money anonymously to someone that I know is struggling. Someone once--not related to me--actually gave me thousands of dollars in cash because he knew I was in trouble. I have NEVER forgotten it and the effect it had on my feelings, not to mention on my bills at that time.
Many people hide their need too, because in America we have somehow come to believe that it is shameful to need to ask for help. We are proud of our independence and our hard work ethics. And, in fact, these are traits that made this nation strong. But are they becoming perverted? We have wealth and ease now and are the younger generations as hard-working as were the earlier generations? I know my work ethic is a pale shadow of that of my grandmother's or even my mother's. Is our comfortable middle class raising lazy children who expect to have many possessions and who are unwilling to bodily help another? And has our proud independence made us ashamed to be interdependent, to ask for or accept help from others? And to look down on people who do as for help? And if help is not requested, are we out of the habit of offering? Are we too busy to notice?
I don't feel able to draw any hard and fast conclusions about this. I've just been thinking of it lately. I feel a call to be more useful to the Lord and the most obvious way to do this, it seems to me, is to be more available to meet the needs of His children. And I don't mean writing a check. For one thing, my checks are needed at home right now and what I can give financially cannot possibly be as useful as what I can give physically, in my efforts with my neighbors and my church congregation. But I am woefully inadequate in this meeting needs thing. I have trouble noticing. And then when I notice I have trouble remembering. And then when I remember I have trouble knowing what to do.
Of course I know the answer to all these troubles is to pray. Pray for the awareness and the remembrance and the inspiration of what to do. I know this. And I'm working on it. And thinking about it......
Anyway, we're comparatively wealthy. And I was reading in the scriptures about the consequences of wealth. This is the pattern that we've all read about and discussed in sunday school: a righteous society is blessed with prosperity. Prosperity is followed by pride. This prideful group then begins persecuting the less prosperous. They taste vice and soon become immersed. Then they are troubled by dissention among themselves. Then they are humbled by war (or sometimes famine or drought). Then they remember God and call upon him again and slowly they become righteous again. And the cycle then repeats itself. Sometimes it takes just a few generations to go through the whole cycle and sometimes it takes more than that--hundreds of years, perhaps.
So I read about this and I try to compare these ripe-for-destruction societies to our society. We are in the wealthy part of the cycle now, generally. And one of the biggest indicators of a society that is soon to be destroyed is that they ignore and then persecute the poor. And most of the time I comfort myself with the assurance that our society does NOT ignore our poor. There are so many organizations that exist now, and even that are currently being created, that assist the poor in our own nation and in many other poverty-stricken nations. Our own government welfare program is such a monster--it bleeds us all and takes very good care of our nation's "poor". So I think we are still not "ripe for destruction".
But...
I was talking to a girlfriend the other day. Her mother is ill and needs constant attendance. She works full time and cannot afford to quit in order to stay at home and take care of her mother. Her mother cannot pay for constant care. The extended family cannot provide this care. My friend was in tears. I thought: THIS is what caring for our people should be about. Our congregation should be taking care of this. The ladies should be rotating days at her house, to take care of her mother. They should be regularly finding opportunities to bring dinner, to give a call, to check in. This is not financial poverty, it's emotional poverty, as my friend's emotional resources are slowly being drained by her stress and worry and by the heavy load on her shoulders. This is the poverty we are meant to relieve personally, I think.
I thought of how easy it is to write that check to that trusted charitable institution and feel you've contributed. Or to give a dollar to the beggar and consider yourself generous (after all, the bum should be working hard like you do and after all, he'/she will most likely spend the money on drugs or alcohol or maybe he/she is just a con artist and you've been taken. Like it's our job to examine a supplicant for worthiness. I never saw that in the scriptures). Anyway, my point is that it seems that most of our charitable efforts have become so institutionalized. So write-a-check-and-forget-it.
But perhaps true charity was meant to be more personal. And perhaps it was meant to involve more sacrifice. Like giving up a day a week for my friend's mother. Or making dinner for the lady I am assigned to visit once a month (that's not much, but it feels hard to me cuz I dislike cooking and am self-conscious about many of my efforts), or giving money anonymously to someone that I know is struggling. Someone once--not related to me--actually gave me thousands of dollars in cash because he knew I was in trouble. I have NEVER forgotten it and the effect it had on my feelings, not to mention on my bills at that time.
Many people hide their need too, because in America we have somehow come to believe that it is shameful to need to ask for help. We are proud of our independence and our hard work ethics. And, in fact, these are traits that made this nation strong. But are they becoming perverted? We have wealth and ease now and are the younger generations as hard-working as were the earlier generations? I know my work ethic is a pale shadow of that of my grandmother's or even my mother's. Is our comfortable middle class raising lazy children who expect to have many possessions and who are unwilling to bodily help another? And has our proud independence made us ashamed to be interdependent, to ask for or accept help from others? And to look down on people who do as for help? And if help is not requested, are we out of the habit of offering? Are we too busy to notice?
I don't feel able to draw any hard and fast conclusions about this. I've just been thinking of it lately. I feel a call to be more useful to the Lord and the most obvious way to do this, it seems to me, is to be more available to meet the needs of His children. And I don't mean writing a check. For one thing, my checks are needed at home right now and what I can give financially cannot possibly be as useful as what I can give physically, in my efforts with my neighbors and my church congregation. But I am woefully inadequate in this meeting needs thing. I have trouble noticing. And then when I notice I have trouble remembering. And then when I remember I have trouble knowing what to do.
Of course I know the answer to all these troubles is to pray. Pray for the awareness and the remembrance and the inspiration of what to do. I know this. And I'm working on it. And thinking about it......
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Aha!
I have made a big discovery.
I've been thinking about how people change. Most of us change in response to situations or enviroment--pretty organic stuff, evolving according to what has rubbed up against us.
Fewer people change with purpose, identifying things they dislike about themselves and then actually making a consistent effort to change. Some of these types of changes last for ever, many don't last very long. Habit is a firm master. Once we make a habit--any habit--it takes great effort to change.
So I've been thinking about the kind of effort it takes to change and the processes one has to go through to truly change. There's a lot of information out there about how to change--self help books, weight loss books/plans/pills, parenting books, etc etc. And the reason it's such a huge market is because it's SO hard and folks are always looking for the "perfect" way. I imagine "perfect" mostly means "quick and easy".
I think change requires a driving and consistent desire. I have these strong desires to change now and again and I may feel passionately about them for days, maybe weeks, very occasionally months. But eventually the strong feeling passes--for a variety of reasons--and then, very often, I'll drift back into the old habits. They're comfortable. They're easy. They're not so bad. I can't really remember what I was all worked up about in the first place.
So I'm in the middle of an attempted change (and I've attempted this one many times before) and I'm reading a book. And one sentence I read has stuck in my head. It says:
"You can mature beyond doing what you want to do, to doing what you know to be best for you."
I think the reason this statement first stood out to me was the author's connecting maturity to self-mastery. I consider myself mature, but I do NOT have an advanced degree in self-mastery. And that would imply I have some maturing to do. So I saw this statement almost like a challenge.
I also thought that a person doesn't always realize what's actually best for themselves! All of us are caught up in some behaviors that hurt us. Sometimes we don't even recognize what we're doing that is making us unhappy.
So. This is my great discovery. About me (of course).
Talking too much makes me unhappy, most often when it happens in group situations i.e. when I'm talking to more than one person at the same time.
!!!!!
For a long time I just assumed this was part of my character, something I had to endure and something other people had to accept. But it was moving away from the people I had lived near for almost all my life that showed me how I feel about this.
When we moved I was thrown into a group of people that I didn't know and that didn't know me. So, not surprisingly, I was more quiet. I never spoke up in classes at church, I never volunteered information in social situations, etc etc. I thought this would be restricting and unfulfilling for me. But what I noticed was that I found it liberating! I felt much better about myself, the QUIETER self, that is.
Amazing. To me, anyway. Part of the definition of me is that I am a talker and I always have something to say about everything and... I say it. And I never realized that it made me unhappy.
So. But the big-picture discovery for me is that I found that something about me that I totally took for granted, that I thought was inseparable from me as a person, something that I had been in the habit of being and doing for my whole life....was voluntary. Something that was very much a part of my character, yes, but it was my CHOICE to be or not to be that way. And by accident (as a result of being a stranger in this new town) I chose to not be the way I had always thought I just "was". And I liked it better. Wow.
I think this is an exciting idea. If I can change this, what can't I change? I feel the potential power.
The sticky thing is that I just made this change by accident, just happened to notice I liked it better, and will not find it difficult to stay the course--since I've already been doing it with these "new" people for a year. And especially now that I've identified it, I feel I have control over it.
So I'm not sure how to take this kind of control when it's not "by accident". The thing is, I lived the new way for months and that's what caused me to recognize how much I liked it. Usually when I approach something I want to change, it's from a more negative point. That is, I dislike the consequences of a certain behavior and I want to escape those consequences in any possible way. If there's an easy way, I want to take it. If it's hard, I can keep it up only for as long as I still feel bad about the behavior. As soon as I forget the bad feelings, the effort to change the behavior wanes. And pretty soon I'm back where I was... until I feel negatively about it again.
So, the positive approach--where I changed behavior in response to something outside of myself and then felt the fruits of my efforts--worked really well, but the negative approach--where I hate something about myself and make a desperate and short-term stab at changing it, only to ultimately fail--never works.
So how can I work around this? Is is possible to act out according to the fruits (i.e. act like you're already the way that it'll actually take work for you to be) and then magically have the habits changed? That reminds me of the scripture that says "As a man thinketh, so is he".
It's all mental, what I'm talking about here. I'm just wondering if there's a better way to approach change than the: identify the bad thing, set a goal, break it down into steps, and then DO IT approach. Cuz that one doesn't really work for me. Hm..... I have to think about this some more.
And. Just in case you were wondering. I'll always be a talker. I like it. Mostly. And the part that I don't like? Taken care of. (Mostly) :D
I've been thinking about how people change. Most of us change in response to situations or enviroment--pretty organic stuff, evolving according to what has rubbed up against us.
Fewer people change with purpose, identifying things they dislike about themselves and then actually making a consistent effort to change. Some of these types of changes last for ever, many don't last very long. Habit is a firm master. Once we make a habit--any habit--it takes great effort to change.
So I've been thinking about the kind of effort it takes to change and the processes one has to go through to truly change. There's a lot of information out there about how to change--self help books, weight loss books/plans/pills, parenting books, etc etc. And the reason it's such a huge market is because it's SO hard and folks are always looking for the "perfect" way. I imagine "perfect" mostly means "quick and easy".
I think change requires a driving and consistent desire. I have these strong desires to change now and again and I may feel passionately about them for days, maybe weeks, very occasionally months. But eventually the strong feeling passes--for a variety of reasons--and then, very often, I'll drift back into the old habits. They're comfortable. They're easy. They're not so bad. I can't really remember what I was all worked up about in the first place.
So I'm in the middle of an attempted change (and I've attempted this one many times before) and I'm reading a book. And one sentence I read has stuck in my head. It says:
"You can mature beyond doing what you want to do, to doing what you know to be best for you."
I think the reason this statement first stood out to me was the author's connecting maturity to self-mastery. I consider myself mature, but I do NOT have an advanced degree in self-mastery. And that would imply I have some maturing to do. So I saw this statement almost like a challenge.
I also thought that a person doesn't always realize what's actually best for themselves! All of us are caught up in some behaviors that hurt us. Sometimes we don't even recognize what we're doing that is making us unhappy.
So. This is my great discovery. About me (of course).
Talking too much makes me unhappy, most often when it happens in group situations i.e. when I'm talking to more than one person at the same time.
!!!!!
For a long time I just assumed this was part of my character, something I had to endure and something other people had to accept. But it was moving away from the people I had lived near for almost all my life that showed me how I feel about this.
When we moved I was thrown into a group of people that I didn't know and that didn't know me. So, not surprisingly, I was more quiet. I never spoke up in classes at church, I never volunteered information in social situations, etc etc. I thought this would be restricting and unfulfilling for me. But what I noticed was that I found it liberating! I felt much better about myself, the QUIETER self, that is.
Amazing. To me, anyway. Part of the definition of me is that I am a talker and I always have something to say about everything and... I say it. And I never realized that it made me unhappy.
So. But the big-picture discovery for me is that I found that something about me that I totally took for granted, that I thought was inseparable from me as a person, something that I had been in the habit of being and doing for my whole life....was voluntary. Something that was very much a part of my character, yes, but it was my CHOICE to be or not to be that way. And by accident (as a result of being a stranger in this new town) I chose to not be the way I had always thought I just "was". And I liked it better. Wow.
I think this is an exciting idea. If I can change this, what can't I change? I feel the potential power.
The sticky thing is that I just made this change by accident, just happened to notice I liked it better, and will not find it difficult to stay the course--since I've already been doing it with these "new" people for a year. And especially now that I've identified it, I feel I have control over it.
So I'm not sure how to take this kind of control when it's not "by accident". The thing is, I lived the new way for months and that's what caused me to recognize how much I liked it. Usually when I approach something I want to change, it's from a more negative point. That is, I dislike the consequences of a certain behavior and I want to escape those consequences in any possible way. If there's an easy way, I want to take it. If it's hard, I can keep it up only for as long as I still feel bad about the behavior. As soon as I forget the bad feelings, the effort to change the behavior wanes. And pretty soon I'm back where I was... until I feel negatively about it again.
So, the positive approach--where I changed behavior in response to something outside of myself and then felt the fruits of my efforts--worked really well, but the negative approach--where I hate something about myself and make a desperate and short-term stab at changing it, only to ultimately fail--never works.
So how can I work around this? Is is possible to act out according to the fruits (i.e. act like you're already the way that it'll actually take work for you to be) and then magically have the habits changed? That reminds me of the scripture that says "As a man thinketh, so is he".
It's all mental, what I'm talking about here. I'm just wondering if there's a better way to approach change than the: identify the bad thing, set a goal, break it down into steps, and then DO IT approach. Cuz that one doesn't really work for me. Hm..... I have to think about this some more.
And. Just in case you were wondering. I'll always be a talker. I like it. Mostly. And the part that I don't like? Taken care of. (Mostly) :D
Monday, May 12, 2008
Why blog?
So I feel a little ambivalent about writing a blog. It's like I'm sort of embarrassed. And I've started and stopped before. But I am still attracted to the idea. And. I think I've figured out why.
I should mention here that I figured it out by talking to my friend Laura about it. :)
Cuz you know that's how I figure things out: in conversation. I'm handicapped that way. It just doesn't crystallize in my mind until it comes out of my mouth. And the first 3 or 4 (or more) versions out my mouth may not be what I really think either. With me it's always another moment in the process. Even when I think I've arrived at what I really think, something that someone else says on the same subject, or something I come across in reading or studying may change that "final" thought on something. That's natural, right? Many of our opinions change as we ourselves change in the natural growth that should be a part of life. (Now is your time to reassure me that it's natural)
And this is why I so often regret something I've said. It was in my head somewhere along the way to where I was going with whatever idea it may have been. And, naturally (for me), it came out of my mouth too. But perhaps it wasn't where I ended up in my thought process, or worse, maybe it was even an embarrassing or stupid thought along the way. But to the person that heard it, maybe they believed that was the end point of my thinking. And that kind of situation just tortures me. I hate to be misunderstood. Hate it.
Anyway, I'm getting rather far afield here. But maybe you can already see where I'm going. I like the idea of keeping a blog because I need to connect with people. I need to talk ideas out. Something is almost always simmering away in my head and I don't know that I'm even capable of keeping things to myself. (Except for stuff that's not about me--I've gotten pretty good at keeping other people's stuff to myself. You gotta, you know, or you cannot be trusted.)
When I was first married and we lived in a college town, I had a large group of girlfriends and we got together in one form or another almost every day, with our babies in tow. And we were all either college graduates or college students, so we talked about a lot of things all the time--college kind of trains you to organize and express ideas, or at least that's one of the things it's supposed to do, I believe. And anyway, that's the time of life where you're very likely to be exploring all sorts of ideas. You're settling who you are as an adult, you know? It starts a bit in the last high school years and really gets going in college and then as a girl starts being married and having babies, she's really fixing her life philosophies, don't you think? Anyway, maybe that's when I got addicted. :)
But life moves on and we all get busy and somehow or another, I just don't have the contact with my listening girlfriends that I'd love to have. But I still have the need to talk about.... so many things. And when I do get together with girlfriends I can't just babble on and on about all the things I'm thinking about. I listen too. I love to listen as well as talk. But the talking is there, pressing on me, waiting to come out.
And my long suffering husband is a very generous listener. But honestly, he's a guy. More than that, he's the strong silent type. (Why am I so attracted to that type?) I wouldn't change him, nope. But he just doesn't have the interest in talking things out that I do. So I need my girls. It's just more of a girl thing, isn't it?
So. That's why the blogging. And a lot of folks blog. I think that's because a lot of people need to talk it out, or need to be heard, or need to feel understood. It's interesting that such a large percentage of the internet is about making connections with other people. We are so all about connections and as life picks up its pace (which I hate and which I go out of my way to avoid, not always successfully), somehow the person-to-person connections don't get made as they should. So I guess we are blessed to have an electronic option. Even though it's not quite as good as a face-to-face. Not nearly as good. Nope. I love my girls. All of you girls. You are important to me. Without your listening and your replies my life would be very frustrating. So thanks.
Talk to you later!
I should mention here that I figured it out by talking to my friend Laura about it. :)
Cuz you know that's how I figure things out: in conversation. I'm handicapped that way. It just doesn't crystallize in my mind until it comes out of my mouth. And the first 3 or 4 (or more) versions out my mouth may not be what I really think either. With me it's always another moment in the process. Even when I think I've arrived at what I really think, something that someone else says on the same subject, or something I come across in reading or studying may change that "final" thought on something. That's natural, right? Many of our opinions change as we ourselves change in the natural growth that should be a part of life. (Now is your time to reassure me that it's natural)
And this is why I so often regret something I've said. It was in my head somewhere along the way to where I was going with whatever idea it may have been. And, naturally (for me), it came out of my mouth too. But perhaps it wasn't where I ended up in my thought process, or worse, maybe it was even an embarrassing or stupid thought along the way. But to the person that heard it, maybe they believed that was the end point of my thinking. And that kind of situation just tortures me. I hate to be misunderstood. Hate it.
Anyway, I'm getting rather far afield here. But maybe you can already see where I'm going. I like the idea of keeping a blog because I need to connect with people. I need to talk ideas out. Something is almost always simmering away in my head and I don't know that I'm even capable of keeping things to myself. (Except for stuff that's not about me--I've gotten pretty good at keeping other people's stuff to myself. You gotta, you know, or you cannot be trusted.)
When I was first married and we lived in a college town, I had a large group of girlfriends and we got together in one form or another almost every day, with our babies in tow. And we were all either college graduates or college students, so we talked about a lot of things all the time--college kind of trains you to organize and express ideas, or at least that's one of the things it's supposed to do, I believe. And anyway, that's the time of life where you're very likely to be exploring all sorts of ideas. You're settling who you are as an adult, you know? It starts a bit in the last high school years and really gets going in college and then as a girl starts being married and having babies, she's really fixing her life philosophies, don't you think? Anyway, maybe that's when I got addicted. :)
But life moves on and we all get busy and somehow or another, I just don't have the contact with my listening girlfriends that I'd love to have. But I still have the need to talk about.... so many things. And when I do get together with girlfriends I can't just babble on and on about all the things I'm thinking about. I listen too. I love to listen as well as talk. But the talking is there, pressing on me, waiting to come out.
And my long suffering husband is a very generous listener. But honestly, he's a guy. More than that, he's the strong silent type. (Why am I so attracted to that type?) I wouldn't change him, nope. But he just doesn't have the interest in talking things out that I do. So I need my girls. It's just more of a girl thing, isn't it?
So. That's why the blogging. And a lot of folks blog. I think that's because a lot of people need to talk it out, or need to be heard, or need to feel understood. It's interesting that such a large percentage of the internet is about making connections with other people. We are so all about connections and as life picks up its pace (which I hate and which I go out of my way to avoid, not always successfully), somehow the person-to-person connections don't get made as they should. So I guess we are blessed to have an electronic option. Even though it's not quite as good as a face-to-face. Not nearly as good. Nope. I love my girls. All of you girls. You are important to me. Without your listening and your replies my life would be very frustrating. So thanks.
Talk to you later!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
The Kid Contract
My baby turned 10 this week. Sigh.
This same baby has been testing his boundaries lately. You know, sometimes he's an angel and sometimes he's...... not.
So I sat him down the other day and explained the contract between parents and chidren:
A parent's responsibility: to love, nurture, feed, protect, teach and in every way take care of the child.
A child's responsibility: To be loving, obedient and respectful in return.
If someone fails to fulfill the terms of the contract, the relationship between parent and child suffers and the structure of the family is weakened, making it more difficult for everyone to fulfill his/her role in the family.
For example, if a child becomes defiant and refuses to be obedient, then it tempts a parent to show less love and causes that parent to, perhaps, feel a lessened desire to nurture, feed, protect, etc. Or if a parent is surly and unkind, a child will not feel motivated to be obedient and respectful. This, in turn, creates tension and unhappiness that everyone in the family can feel. Everything deteriorates when one member doesn't take his place in the family as he should.
So if we want a strong family, we each have to understand our place in the family and we have to fulfill our contracts.
And I don't buy this "I never signed any contract" garbage (not that I've heard that one yet, but I'm getting ready for my reply, just in case:D). If I'm doing the Mom thing, then he/she must do the kid thing. That's how it works.
An idea like this helps me to preserve my sense of person-hood. I need to be considered as part of a parent/child team in order to be happy. If I am treated like a piece of furniture, then I am unhappy. My idea of motherhood did not incude losing the sense of being a person who should be valued and loved and taken care of in return for my contributions to the ones I am responsible for serving.
So. Did my baby listen? Yes. Has he become miraculously obedient and respectful? Not yet. :D But he will. I'm gonna drill it in his head and love him to death. He'll get it in the end. The other three have--mostly. So he will too. Plus he's a sweetheart with a tender heart and he loves his mom, so he'll get there.
And. Did I mention it has been 10 years since my last child was born. 10 years! Yes, I believe I did mention that. Sigh. Life just keeps on getting better.
This same baby has been testing his boundaries lately. You know, sometimes he's an angel and sometimes he's...... not.
So I sat him down the other day and explained the contract between parents and chidren:
A parent's responsibility: to love, nurture, feed, protect, teach and in every way take care of the child.
A child's responsibility: To be loving, obedient and respectful in return.
If someone fails to fulfill the terms of the contract, the relationship between parent and child suffers and the structure of the family is weakened, making it more difficult for everyone to fulfill his/her role in the family.
For example, if a child becomes defiant and refuses to be obedient, then it tempts a parent to show less love and causes that parent to, perhaps, feel a lessened desire to nurture, feed, protect, etc. Or if a parent is surly and unkind, a child will not feel motivated to be obedient and respectful. This, in turn, creates tension and unhappiness that everyone in the family can feel. Everything deteriorates when one member doesn't take his place in the family as he should.
So if we want a strong family, we each have to understand our place in the family and we have to fulfill our contracts.
And I don't buy this "I never signed any contract" garbage (not that I've heard that one yet, but I'm getting ready for my reply, just in case:D). If I'm doing the Mom thing, then he/she must do the kid thing. That's how it works.
An idea like this helps me to preserve my sense of person-hood. I need to be considered as part of a parent/child team in order to be happy. If I am treated like a piece of furniture, then I am unhappy. My idea of motherhood did not incude losing the sense of being a person who should be valued and loved and taken care of in return for my contributions to the ones I am responsible for serving.
So. Did my baby listen? Yes. Has he become miraculously obedient and respectful? Not yet. :D But he will. I'm gonna drill it in his head and love him to death. He'll get it in the end. The other three have--mostly. So he will too. Plus he's a sweetheart with a tender heart and he loves his mom, so he'll get there.
And. Did I mention it has been 10 years since my last child was born. 10 years! Yes, I believe I did mention that. Sigh. Life just keeps on getting better.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
So sleepy....
I went to the LDS temple in Oakland this morning. I got up at 5, left the house at 6 and began the service at 7. All A.M. And I was SO VERY SLEEPY! I struggled to stay alert. Well, I struggled to stay awake, anyway--I think alert may have been beyond possible this morning.
So I was thinking what I could do differently in order to be less sleepy and I thought: it's more than just going to bed early on Tuesday nights (we go every Wednesday morning), because if I stay up late over the weekend and maybe on Monday night too, I'm going to still feel bad on Wednesday morning no matter WHEN I go to bed on Tuesday. Can't make up for that much missed sleep in just one night.
There was a time when I could skip sleep and still be alert. But those days are past. So sad.
So the conclusion I came to was that in order to be alert and attentive in the temple, to get the most out of the worship there, I need to be going to bed and getting up reasonably early EVERY DAY. Like, in bed by 10:30 and up by 6:30 pretty much every day just so I can be rested enough to be awake earlier on Wednedays. And also so my body is USED to being awake and doing at 7am.
(Oh. And exercise. But let's not go there today.)
So. Kind of a tall order for me. At least once a week I find myself staying up til the wee hours reading a book. And then I need to sleep in until 8 or so to catch up on that lost sleep, you know. And then the next night inevitably is still late, although not wee hours. And that means I'm still so tired that getting up before 7:30 is out of the question. And so it goes on.....(and my kids reinforce this too, cuz they like it when I'm slow to be out at the table, all ready for school. The slower I am, the more free time they have in the morning! Nasty little children. :D)
But still. Gotta get my early to bed and early to rise habits in place. Consistent care of my body will lead to long term good benefits. I think this is pretty obvious.
And then I thought: (keep in mind that this was quite early this morning and I've already been sleep deprived for quite some time) This is like a METAPHOR for life! For the gospel and the happiness to be found therein!
If I don't read/study my scriptures every day and pray night and morning (etc etc) with no or few failures, then I can't be prepared to receive all the blessings that are just waiting to be released to me, conditional on my obedience and worthiness, right? I DO believe that the Lord blesses unworthy people (otherwise almost no one would ever get any blessings). But if I were consistent on getting the spiritual "sleep" (gotta follow the metaphor), then I would always be spriritually "awake"!
!!!!!!
That's my metaphor for the day, courtesy of several nights of insufficient sleep, a nice morning at the temple, and a bit of free time this afternoon! :D
So I was thinking what I could do differently in order to be less sleepy and I thought: it's more than just going to bed early on Tuesday nights (we go every Wednesday morning), because if I stay up late over the weekend and maybe on Monday night too, I'm going to still feel bad on Wednesday morning no matter WHEN I go to bed on Tuesday. Can't make up for that much missed sleep in just one night.
There was a time when I could skip sleep and still be alert. But those days are past. So sad.
So the conclusion I came to was that in order to be alert and attentive in the temple, to get the most out of the worship there, I need to be going to bed and getting up reasonably early EVERY DAY. Like, in bed by 10:30 and up by 6:30 pretty much every day just so I can be rested enough to be awake earlier on Wednedays. And also so my body is USED to being awake and doing at 7am.
(Oh. And exercise. But let's not go there today.)
So. Kind of a tall order for me. At least once a week I find myself staying up til the wee hours reading a book. And then I need to sleep in until 8 or so to catch up on that lost sleep, you know. And then the next night inevitably is still late, although not wee hours. And that means I'm still so tired that getting up before 7:30 is out of the question. And so it goes on.....(and my kids reinforce this too, cuz they like it when I'm slow to be out at the table, all ready for school. The slower I am, the more free time they have in the morning! Nasty little children. :D)
But still. Gotta get my early to bed and early to rise habits in place. Consistent care of my body will lead to long term good benefits. I think this is pretty obvious.
And then I thought: (keep in mind that this was quite early this morning and I've already been sleep deprived for quite some time) This is like a METAPHOR for life! For the gospel and the happiness to be found therein!
If I don't read/study my scriptures every day and pray night and morning (etc etc) with no or few failures, then I can't be prepared to receive all the blessings that are just waiting to be released to me, conditional on my obedience and worthiness, right? I DO believe that the Lord blesses unworthy people (otherwise almost no one would ever get any blessings). But if I were consistent on getting the spiritual "sleep" (gotta follow the metaphor), then I would always be spriritually "awake"!
!!!!!!
That's my metaphor for the day, courtesy of several nights of insufficient sleep, a nice morning at the temple, and a bit of free time this afternoon! :D
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Why can't I forget this?
Have you ever noticed how long-lasting emotional memories are?
This was first made obvious to me when I used to take care of my grandmother. She was senile, but she remembered emotion. When we got upset with her it made her sad and she stayed sad long after she forgot WHY she was sad. In fact her emotions always lasted long after the actual events they were associated with.
Since then I've noticed it in myself. Sometimes I'll have a little niggling bad feeling inside me and I have to really think to remember what it's connected with--maybe something little I said that I thought was stupid or somebody doing something rude on the freeway--those little things that you can't really do much about but that bug you anyway.
Also I don't get really angry very often but I have been blazingly, mindlessly angry a couple of times in the last 20 years and I remember the anger and what I did when I was angry (one time I locked myself in the bathroom to calm down) very well. I don't remember what made me angry, however. (Probably my kids :D)
I think this emotional residue is one of the things that both destroys and builds relationships. After the apologies, the emotional recollection of the hurt remains for a long time. This memory of the emotional pain can stunt trust and forgiveness and can build up into a collection of negative emtional memories that affect how a relationship develops even after the hurts themselves are far in the past, apologized for and forgotten. Likewise, consistent warmth from a person builds deep trust and security around that person. I think this happens all the time in family relationships. These emotional memories cause patterns of behavior between spouses and parents and children and siblings to form and cement themselves. This happens with good emotional memories as well as bad emotional memories, of course.
For example, my dad has been consistently generous with me for many many years. He gives his time, his money, his love, his advice, his praise, his support and his protection unstintingly. Consequently, I totally adore and trust him. When I was little he represented absolute security and even now that I am grown up and can see faults in him (just little ones :D) I still see him as a source of comfort and security. He set those patterns a long time ago.
I need to mention the idea of true forgiveness at this point too. True forgiveness, where the power of the atonement has been accessed, I believe must be able to erase negative emotional memory. Or at least to enable us to have power over our emotional habits. I think one of the most powerful things about the atonement is the ability it gives us creatures of habit to CHANGE. And having the power to change our paths despite our emotional history is a big deal. And so I believe this power exists through Christ. But I also think that most of us fail to use it most of the time. Or perhaps I'm being too pessimistic about that?
What makes any idea valuable is its ability to be applied. So this is how I think of applying this idea of emotional memory. I think it's important to not be the cause of someone else's negative memory. I think of this with my children and with my husband especially. I would wish to be a positive emotional memory maker for them. And so you know what I think is the blanket approach to that? I believe it is my job to be the builder. To tell them they're wonderful, to give them lots of hugs and kisses, to be their cheerleader, to listen to them when they talk, to offer them warm looks and touches, to never criticize, to never belittle, mock or discourage. EVEN if I don't think they're wonderful at that moment, if I don't feel like hugs and kisses or nice touches and EVEN if I think they need to be criticized and EVEN if I feel totally justified in doing so.
After all, when did negative criticism from a parent or spouse ever lead to positive change? What do you do when your husband criticizes you? Or when your child says something hurtful?
I think that when a warm and close relationship is perpetuated, with plenty of service and laughter and time together, then children and husbands are more likely to look for ways to please you. I think that if that emotional history of safety and security is built, then the relationship can survive the ups and downs of life-in-general. I think it's my job as wife and mother to be the ultimate cheerleader. It is my job to spy out every good trait and behavior and point them out. It's my job to praise them to others, to defend them from criticism, and to avoid criticizing them behind their back (although I am not as good at that last one when I am frustrated with the kids, I'm afraid. I tell myself that I need to "vent" to a girlfriend or to my husband, but talking about what irritates me never makes it better. In fact, it tends to exacerbate my irritation, feeding that fire somehow--but that's a different blog topic, I think).
I haven't talked about how discipline fits in here. (I haven't talked about very many specifics at all.) That's cuz I'm fuzzy on points of discipline in general. I expect my kids to obey me because they love me and want to make me happy. When they won't fall in line with that, I am often unsure of what to do. Fortunately for me (thus far), my kids mostly want to keep the peace. So most of the time I'm not stumped. However, I'm just not good at discipline. I can tell you a hundred ways to make my kids feel loved, but I can't tell you more than one method of consequence enforcement. Yup. My dark secret.
So. What do you think?
This was first made obvious to me when I used to take care of my grandmother. She was senile, but she remembered emotion. When we got upset with her it made her sad and she stayed sad long after she forgot WHY she was sad. In fact her emotions always lasted long after the actual events they were associated with.
Since then I've noticed it in myself. Sometimes I'll have a little niggling bad feeling inside me and I have to really think to remember what it's connected with--maybe something little I said that I thought was stupid or somebody doing something rude on the freeway--those little things that you can't really do much about but that bug you anyway.
Also I don't get really angry very often but I have been blazingly, mindlessly angry a couple of times in the last 20 years and I remember the anger and what I did when I was angry (one time I locked myself in the bathroom to calm down) very well. I don't remember what made me angry, however. (Probably my kids :D)
I think this emotional residue is one of the things that both destroys and builds relationships. After the apologies, the emotional recollection of the hurt remains for a long time. This memory of the emotional pain can stunt trust and forgiveness and can build up into a collection of negative emtional memories that affect how a relationship develops even after the hurts themselves are far in the past, apologized for and forgotten. Likewise, consistent warmth from a person builds deep trust and security around that person. I think this happens all the time in family relationships. These emotional memories cause patterns of behavior between spouses and parents and children and siblings to form and cement themselves. This happens with good emotional memories as well as bad emotional memories, of course.
For example, my dad has been consistently generous with me for many many years. He gives his time, his money, his love, his advice, his praise, his support and his protection unstintingly. Consequently, I totally adore and trust him. When I was little he represented absolute security and even now that I am grown up and can see faults in him (just little ones :D) I still see him as a source of comfort and security. He set those patterns a long time ago.
I need to mention the idea of true forgiveness at this point too. True forgiveness, where the power of the atonement has been accessed, I believe must be able to erase negative emotional memory. Or at least to enable us to have power over our emotional habits. I think one of the most powerful things about the atonement is the ability it gives us creatures of habit to CHANGE. And having the power to change our paths despite our emotional history is a big deal. And so I believe this power exists through Christ. But I also think that most of us fail to use it most of the time. Or perhaps I'm being too pessimistic about that?
What makes any idea valuable is its ability to be applied. So this is how I think of applying this idea of emotional memory. I think it's important to not be the cause of someone else's negative memory. I think of this with my children and with my husband especially. I would wish to be a positive emotional memory maker for them. And so you know what I think is the blanket approach to that? I believe it is my job to be the builder. To tell them they're wonderful, to give them lots of hugs and kisses, to be their cheerleader, to listen to them when they talk, to offer them warm looks and touches, to never criticize, to never belittle, mock or discourage. EVEN if I don't think they're wonderful at that moment, if I don't feel like hugs and kisses or nice touches and EVEN if I think they need to be criticized and EVEN if I feel totally justified in doing so.
After all, when did negative criticism from a parent or spouse ever lead to positive change? What do you do when your husband criticizes you? Or when your child says something hurtful?
I think that when a warm and close relationship is perpetuated, with plenty of service and laughter and time together, then children and husbands are more likely to look for ways to please you. I think that if that emotional history of safety and security is built, then the relationship can survive the ups and downs of life-in-general. I think it's my job as wife and mother to be the ultimate cheerleader. It is my job to spy out every good trait and behavior and point them out. It's my job to praise them to others, to defend them from criticism, and to avoid criticizing them behind their back (although I am not as good at that last one when I am frustrated with the kids, I'm afraid. I tell myself that I need to "vent" to a girlfriend or to my husband, but talking about what irritates me never makes it better. In fact, it tends to exacerbate my irritation, feeding that fire somehow--but that's a different blog topic, I think).
I haven't talked about how discipline fits in here. (I haven't talked about very many specifics at all.) That's cuz I'm fuzzy on points of discipline in general. I expect my kids to obey me because they love me and want to make me happy. When they won't fall in line with that, I am often unsure of what to do. Fortunately for me (thus far), my kids mostly want to keep the peace. So most of the time I'm not stumped. However, I'm just not good at discipline. I can tell you a hundred ways to make my kids feel loved, but I can't tell you more than one method of consequence enforcement. Yup. My dark secret.
So. What do you think?
Monday, May 5, 2008
The ends do not justify the means
English language and literature is my thing. It was my best and most enjoyed subject in all of school and then it was my major in college. Over the years since college I have tutored many students in English and I have edited many papers--and I even edited a business plan (the business failed--not my fault :D). I've also taught my own children through many years of homeschool. English is, obviously, the subject I teach best, and my love of it has influenced every one of my kids to one extent or another. We all love reading, although some of us are more into it than others are. I still read between 5 and 25 books a week (depending on the length and depth of the books) because reading is a passion with me.
With this volume of reading for so many years I have developed some strong opinions about the kind of literature I like (naturally) and also some strong opinions about what good literature is.
So that brings me to what I'm thinking about today. My daughter at college is reading Catcher in the Rye (JD Sallinger). She's at a church college and they've assigned her this book with swearing, sex, drinking, etc in it. Setting that little inconsistency aside (English departments in every college, be it ever so religious, are notoriously liberal), this book also has a rather negative message and it's not exactly uplifting. But somehow, over the years, it has become labeled a classic. A lot of people like it, a lot of people hate it (guess what category I am in?). BUT it is an example of what bothers me about this ends-justify-the-means approach to literature.
This approach says that if the book has a "valuable" message (and value is, of course, in the eye of the beholder--but we'll set that aside for now also), then it is worth reading. For this reason generations of students have read garbage like Lord of the Flies and depressing books like Tess of the Durbervilles and alcohol soaked books like The Great Gatsby and dark books like Heart of Darkness. And perhaps there are plenty of people who aren't bothered by books like this. I'm not crusading for my personal philosophies to be adopted by education in general. I'm just blogging.
But for my part, I HATE wading through the depressing or the profane or the ugly or the horrifying in the name of art or experience or education or even "edification". I am aware that art (be it written or visual) is too often all of these things (i.e. depressing, profane, horrifying, etc) and I am aware that all that nasty stuff is often called educational too. But it is NOT edifying. Or uplifting. And therefore cannot be truly educational.
And I'll tell you why. (Of course you knew I was getting to this).
All true learning comes from the source of total knowledge, right? Which is God. This doesn't mean that all learning happens from good and heavenly things. People can and do learn from awful experiences. But many people have awful experiences that they don't learn from. This is because some choose to seek peace and learning from bad experiences and some get bogged down in anger and bitterness. God makes the difference here. With a divine influence, bad experiences can be learned from. If no divine influence is sought, no learning takes place. There are plenty of examples of this.
And it is worth learning from people who have learned from their horrible experiences and seek to inspire and edify others from what they have learned. That's why we read Victor Frankl and other books of that kind (I just read one about the Rwandan holocaust called Left To Tell). These are uplifting accounts of a person's spiritual survival and growth during times of great and terrible duress. These are awful accounts shared in an uplifting way. They note the horror but concentrate on the beauty that followed. We have the priviledge of sharing the education without soaking ourselves in the horror and ugliness that these people survived.
But we don't seek awful experiences just for the sake of learning (or we shouldn't anyway). So why would we want to seek explicit, unhappy, disturbing, profane (etc) written accounts of things for the sake of education? Immersing oneself in the fictional account of a horrifying experience is FAR different from learning from the account of one who has truly experienced the horrifying and learned to rise above it. One is meant to titillate and the other is meant to inspire. BIG difference. A reader can feel the difference too, between an author who is angry and wants to spread their outrage and bitterness and an author who has found his/her peace and wants to share this.
To go further, CAN we truly learn when the spirit of God is not present? I say no. And can this spirit be present when we are reading profanity or ugliness or evil? I don't think so. Therefore I say that reading this kind of thing in the name of education is futile. You may come away having digested the author's message, but what will stay longer in your emotional memory? The message or the horror you felt on your way to getting the message?
And if, perchance, one is the kind of person who no longer feels horror or shock at the horrifying and shocking parts... that's called being desensitized. Not such a good thing for the spirit.
I know there are plenty of arguments against this opinion of mine. But my bottom line is to be found in my own feelings. I simply don't want ugly, horrifying, profane, shocking, awful things floating around in my memory. They make their marks in my emotional book of life that are difficult to erase. I don't want that. I want to fill my mind with ideas and stories that are edifying, uplifting, joyful, beautiful and full of good things. I suppose this could be called an emotional rather than a logical argument, but it is none the less valid for that. As a matter of fact, show me an argument that is all logic and no emotion and I'll be looking at something that's empty of real worth. Because the day my head rules my heart is the day I've left charity and compassion--those truly essential qualities--behind and that's something I hope never to do.
[And don't talk to me about "reality" being ugly. I have something to say about that too. Another day....]
I think that in books, the end does not justify the means. I don't want to wade through an ugly story just for an educational ending. It's like smacking your kid when he's sassy. It's got shock value and maybe he'll be quiet. But it leaves a nasty feeling and you have to ask the question: Will the child will really learn not to be sassy or will he just learn to keep his mouth shut around you, the person who smacks when displeased? One is learning to be polite and the other is learning WHEN to be polite--or else! The ends not only do not justify the means, but do the means even bring us the ends we seek? I'm thinking NOT. I'm thinking that this approach may be a total loss.
And. Finally. This is why I won't be reading The Kite Runner with my book club this month. :) It figures that I have to spend an hour or so working out my feelings about this. I can't just DO stuff, you know, I have to figure out all the reasons behind it. And it takes me a lot of words to do this. So this is why I blog. To save my loved ones from death-by-talking-it-out. I may be wordy and opinionated, but I am compassionate. Mostly.
With this volume of reading for so many years I have developed some strong opinions about the kind of literature I like (naturally) and also some strong opinions about what good literature is.
So that brings me to what I'm thinking about today. My daughter at college is reading Catcher in the Rye (JD Sallinger). She's at a church college and they've assigned her this book with swearing, sex, drinking, etc in it. Setting that little inconsistency aside (English departments in every college, be it ever so religious, are notoriously liberal), this book also has a rather negative message and it's not exactly uplifting. But somehow, over the years, it has become labeled a classic. A lot of people like it, a lot of people hate it (guess what category I am in?). BUT it is an example of what bothers me about this ends-justify-the-means approach to literature.
This approach says that if the book has a "valuable" message (and value is, of course, in the eye of the beholder--but we'll set that aside for now also), then it is worth reading. For this reason generations of students have read garbage like Lord of the Flies and depressing books like Tess of the Durbervilles and alcohol soaked books like The Great Gatsby and dark books like Heart of Darkness. And perhaps there are plenty of people who aren't bothered by books like this. I'm not crusading for my personal philosophies to be adopted by education in general. I'm just blogging.
But for my part, I HATE wading through the depressing or the profane or the ugly or the horrifying in the name of art or experience or education or even "edification". I am aware that art (be it written or visual) is too often all of these things (i.e. depressing, profane, horrifying, etc) and I am aware that all that nasty stuff is often called educational too. But it is NOT edifying. Or uplifting. And therefore cannot be truly educational.
And I'll tell you why. (Of course you knew I was getting to this).
All true learning comes from the source of total knowledge, right? Which is God. This doesn't mean that all learning happens from good and heavenly things. People can and do learn from awful experiences. But many people have awful experiences that they don't learn from. This is because some choose to seek peace and learning from bad experiences and some get bogged down in anger and bitterness. God makes the difference here. With a divine influence, bad experiences can be learned from. If no divine influence is sought, no learning takes place. There are plenty of examples of this.
And it is worth learning from people who have learned from their horrible experiences and seek to inspire and edify others from what they have learned. That's why we read Victor Frankl and other books of that kind (I just read one about the Rwandan holocaust called Left To Tell). These are uplifting accounts of a person's spiritual survival and growth during times of great and terrible duress. These are awful accounts shared in an uplifting way. They note the horror but concentrate on the beauty that followed. We have the priviledge of sharing the education without soaking ourselves in the horror and ugliness that these people survived.
But we don't seek awful experiences just for the sake of learning (or we shouldn't anyway). So why would we want to seek explicit, unhappy, disturbing, profane (etc) written accounts of things for the sake of education? Immersing oneself in the fictional account of a horrifying experience is FAR different from learning from the account of one who has truly experienced the horrifying and learned to rise above it. One is meant to titillate and the other is meant to inspire. BIG difference. A reader can feel the difference too, between an author who is angry and wants to spread their outrage and bitterness and an author who has found his/her peace and wants to share this.
To go further, CAN we truly learn when the spirit of God is not present? I say no. And can this spirit be present when we are reading profanity or ugliness or evil? I don't think so. Therefore I say that reading this kind of thing in the name of education is futile. You may come away having digested the author's message, but what will stay longer in your emotional memory? The message or the horror you felt on your way to getting the message?
And if, perchance, one is the kind of person who no longer feels horror or shock at the horrifying and shocking parts... that's called being desensitized. Not such a good thing for the spirit.
I know there are plenty of arguments against this opinion of mine. But my bottom line is to be found in my own feelings. I simply don't want ugly, horrifying, profane, shocking, awful things floating around in my memory. They make their marks in my emotional book of life that are difficult to erase. I don't want that. I want to fill my mind with ideas and stories that are edifying, uplifting, joyful, beautiful and full of good things. I suppose this could be called an emotional rather than a logical argument, but it is none the less valid for that. As a matter of fact, show me an argument that is all logic and no emotion and I'll be looking at something that's empty of real worth. Because the day my head rules my heart is the day I've left charity and compassion--those truly essential qualities--behind and that's something I hope never to do.
[And don't talk to me about "reality" being ugly. I have something to say about that too. Another day....]
I think that in books, the end does not justify the means. I don't want to wade through an ugly story just for an educational ending. It's like smacking your kid when he's sassy. It's got shock value and maybe he'll be quiet. But it leaves a nasty feeling and you have to ask the question: Will the child will really learn not to be sassy or will he just learn to keep his mouth shut around you, the person who smacks when displeased? One is learning to be polite and the other is learning WHEN to be polite--or else! The ends not only do not justify the means, but do the means even bring us the ends we seek? I'm thinking NOT. I'm thinking that this approach may be a total loss.
And. Finally. This is why I won't be reading The Kite Runner with my book club this month. :) It figures that I have to spend an hour or so working out my feelings about this. I can't just DO stuff, you know, I have to figure out all the reasons behind it. And it takes me a lot of words to do this. So this is why I blog. To save my loved ones from death-by-talking-it-out. I may be wordy and opinionated, but I am compassionate. Mostly.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
The Piano
The sun is setting over the hills and I am in my bare feet, sitting on the couch with a warm computer on my lap and a cool breeze moving all the long grass outside. The house is quiet because the younger children went to the Pinewood Derby with their dad and my older son is playing games in "the dungeon" (or, the "gungeounary", as they call it--part game room (all the video and board games), part dungeon (windowless, and cement walls and floor), and part library (all the books that wouldn't fit inside--books books books, I am constantly seeking more storage for books).
I decided yesterday to put off buying my piano. I have been searching for "my" grand piano for over a year now and I found it (or rather, it found me) 4 months ago. The price wasn't very high, but it was high enough for me to have to wait for awhile before I'd have the money to buy it. And the seller--also a friend--is willing to wait for me. And, as the piano found me, the money also seemed to have found me. But doing some number crunching, I'll be a little short at the end of this month. There won't be quite enough to buy the piano AND to move it and tune it after the move. And. My daughter's college tuition needs paying. So. Some of my piano money must go there. But it seems assured that the piano fund will be replenished by mid-June. So, the obvious thing to do is to postpone the piano. And so I have done. I e-mailed my friend Sharon and she was fine with it. I felt like an idiot. In fact I felt like an unreliable, broke idiot. But, it had to be done. So. Now I wait another 6 weeks.
That will be 6 weeks of playing Chopin, Debussy, Gershwin and Marianelli (my current projects) on the old piano, with its out of tune twang (it is untunable, I am told) and its ailing sustaining pedal and its slow rebound time and all its other problems. I feel like such a baby when I complain about the old piano. My great-grandfather bought it and then passed it on down to my grandmother, who passed it to my father, who passed it to me. But I will be the last to use it, since it has become unable to fulfill its piano purposes. And it is so unfulfilling to play it. At last when I have reached a level of playing which allows me to get lost in the music, the music sounds so ill that I have trouble losing myself. But. Only for 6 more weeks. I say that I can't wait, but also I can't believe that I will actually ever really have this new piano that I have hoped to have for these many years.
It's only a Young Chang, but it's been very well taken care of and it feels good and sounds nice. If I ever become expert enough that my ear longs for a still better sound and my hands wish for more quality options of play, then I will consider the bigger investment for the better piano--a Kawai or perhaps a Yamaha. But for now the Young Chang is perfect. And maybe it will be the right piano for the rest of my piano playing years.
So. That's the latest on my piano. No one here plays like I do so no one quite gets how I feel about it. And I hate to babble on about something that they don't really get. They are all nice about listening, but.....
6 weeks!
I decided yesterday to put off buying my piano. I have been searching for "my" grand piano for over a year now and I found it (or rather, it found me) 4 months ago. The price wasn't very high, but it was high enough for me to have to wait for awhile before I'd have the money to buy it. And the seller--also a friend--is willing to wait for me. And, as the piano found me, the money also seemed to have found me. But doing some number crunching, I'll be a little short at the end of this month. There won't be quite enough to buy the piano AND to move it and tune it after the move. And. My daughter's college tuition needs paying. So. Some of my piano money must go there. But it seems assured that the piano fund will be replenished by mid-June. So, the obvious thing to do is to postpone the piano. And so I have done. I e-mailed my friend Sharon and she was fine with it. I felt like an idiot. In fact I felt like an unreliable, broke idiot. But, it had to be done. So. Now I wait another 6 weeks.
That will be 6 weeks of playing Chopin, Debussy, Gershwin and Marianelli (my current projects) on the old piano, with its out of tune twang (it is untunable, I am told) and its ailing sustaining pedal and its slow rebound time and all its other problems. I feel like such a baby when I complain about the old piano. My great-grandfather bought it and then passed it on down to my grandmother, who passed it to my father, who passed it to me. But I will be the last to use it, since it has become unable to fulfill its piano purposes. And it is so unfulfilling to play it. At last when I have reached a level of playing which allows me to get lost in the music, the music sounds so ill that I have trouble losing myself. But. Only for 6 more weeks. I say that I can't wait, but also I can't believe that I will actually ever really have this new piano that I have hoped to have for these many years.
It's only a Young Chang, but it's been very well taken care of and it feels good and sounds nice. If I ever become expert enough that my ear longs for a still better sound and my hands wish for more quality options of play, then I will consider the bigger investment for the better piano--a Kawai or perhaps a Yamaha. But for now the Young Chang is perfect. And maybe it will be the right piano for the rest of my piano playing years.
So. That's the latest on my piano. No one here plays like I do so no one quite gets how I feel about it. And I hate to babble on about something that they don't really get. They are all nice about listening, but.....
6 weeks!
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