I am reading Aristotle. Well, I'm trying to. Philosophy is like another language. I read a paragraph and then I read it again. And maybe still again. I'm a total ignoramus when it comes to philosophy.
Here's one of the ideas I've gleaned so far:
According to Aristotle, politics is the "highest" art because: "it is this that ordains which of the sciences should be studied in a state, and which each class of citizens should learn and up to what point they should learn them . . . Since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from..." therefore, politics "is most truly the master art." (Aristotle "Nicomachean Ethics" Book 1, chapter 2). Whew!
He goes on to clinch this argument by pointing out that since politics has the power to do the greatest good to the most people ("it is finer and more godlike to attain [good] for a nation or for city-states" than "merely for one man"), it is really the most authoritative art.
It seems that he's invested politics with far more power than I somehow imagine it having. It's so easy to scoff at the politicians, to be angry and disdainful at their posturing and their pontificating. But I think I have gotten into the habit of underestimating their effect on my day-to-day life. Science, literature, medicine, art... these all contribute greatly to my comfort and even to my survival. But Aristotle is correct--all of these are subject to legislation. What is available to me is available because the law allows it to be so. What is studied for my sake (and for the sake of all consumers) is studied because it was legislated or permitted to be taught. I really never thought about it this way. I get used to the idea that we are "free" and we are indeed free--to a wonderful and great extent. But.... consider how much of our freedoms have been legislated away and are now being legislated away in the name of "fairness" or "safety", etc. Very interesting.
Interesting too, because of his reference to the state dictating what their citizens should learn. This has been happening since compulsory public school first began, less than a century ago. And when compulsory public education began, it was with the idea of suiting the worker to the industry--therefore, policy really did dictate class education. And really, nothing has changed. Politics dictate curriculum. Every public school student studies what the state says he/she should study. Every person who opens a textbook or some other compilation of information is reading pre-digested material, chosen for him/her by someone else, some remote "expert". Is this bad? Probably not. But it's good to be aware of.
I hope we never lose the ability to access and understand original source writing. I am reading Aristotle (slowly and painfully) after reading a pre-digested summary of his philosophies. I find it hard work. This is because I am used to reading things that are simply written, with sound bite ideas and quotable thesis statements. I read things that are written for my rapid consumption, glittering with entertainment and leaving me wanting more. I do like this kind of reading material. There's definitely a place for it in my life (just check out my goodreads library). But Aristotle is reminding me that there should be a place for the real stuff too. I need to want substance as well as air.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Just Another Brick in the Wall
On tests to measure education: "If we stick only with the national exams as a means of [measuring children] . . . it is transparent and simple, but it will tend to narrow our definition of talent, and it will tend to narrow our definition of success." --Tharman Shanmugaratnam, Singapore's minister of education
On ADHD and drugs: "...there is a consensus that many children are being diagnosed with ADHD for the wrong reasons. This is part of a broader cultural shift. These days, rather than change the environment we live in, we prefer to rewire our brains to fit the environment. Shyness, anger, sadness and other "undesirable" emotions or traits are increasingly seen not as a natural part of the human condition but as diseases, symptoms of an imbalance in the chemistry of the brain, problems to be fixed with drugs . . . 'We are not prepared to live with variation as we did in the past,' says Professor David Healy, director of North Wales Department of Psychological Medicine. 'We want kids to conform to ideals based often on parental insecurities and ambitions.'" --from the book Under Pressure by Carl Honore
I believe there is too much pressure towards homogeneity and that our kids feel it the most. We school them to state and federal sameness. We test them by the same yardsticks. We push them into the same education and career paths. We expect them to conform to the societal mainstream that is dictated by the media--dress the same, act the same, have the same interests and likes. We want them to all behave the same: sit down, be quiet, get good grades, be cute, be polite. We want them all to have the same strengths: math, English, writing, sports..... etc etc.
We say we encourage individuality, but we don't really mean it.
When society pushes sameness, it invites dissatisfaction in everyone. We AREN'T all the same, of course, and pushing us all into the same mold makes everyone uncomfortable, and some of us desperately unhappy. Is this push for sameness what is causing our epidemic of depression?
When society pushes sameness, it punishes brilliance.
When society enforces homgeneity, it destroys genius.
When society punishes differences it feeds our fear of those who are different from us. We become bullies when we won't let others be who they are but instead push them into the boxes that are not made to fit them.
I don't know what I'm preaching here. It's not anarchy or rebellion or any kind of certain doom. But I really hope that I can be one of those people who is not afraid of differences and can look for and find the particular bent of genius in each individual and point it out and celebrate it. I'm not sure I am one of those visionary folks, but I'd certainly like to give it my best effort. No one should be "just another brick in the wall."
On ADHD and drugs: "...there is a consensus that many children are being diagnosed with ADHD for the wrong reasons. This is part of a broader cultural shift. These days, rather than change the environment we live in, we prefer to rewire our brains to fit the environment. Shyness, anger, sadness and other "undesirable" emotions or traits are increasingly seen not as a natural part of the human condition but as diseases, symptoms of an imbalance in the chemistry of the brain, problems to be fixed with drugs . . . 'We are not prepared to live with variation as we did in the past,' says Professor David Healy, director of North Wales Department of Psychological Medicine. 'We want kids to conform to ideals based often on parental insecurities and ambitions.'" --from the book Under Pressure by Carl Honore
I believe there is too much pressure towards homogeneity and that our kids feel it the most. We school them to state and federal sameness. We test them by the same yardsticks. We push them into the same education and career paths. We expect them to conform to the societal mainstream that is dictated by the media--dress the same, act the same, have the same interests and likes. We want them to all behave the same: sit down, be quiet, get good grades, be cute, be polite. We want them all to have the same strengths: math, English, writing, sports..... etc etc.
We say we encourage individuality, but we don't really mean it.
When society pushes sameness, it invites dissatisfaction in everyone. We AREN'T all the same, of course, and pushing us all into the same mold makes everyone uncomfortable, and some of us desperately unhappy. Is this push for sameness what is causing our epidemic of depression?
When society pushes sameness, it punishes brilliance.
When society enforces homgeneity, it destroys genius.
When society punishes differences it feeds our fear of those who are different from us. We become bullies when we won't let others be who they are but instead push them into the boxes that are not made to fit them.
I don't know what I'm preaching here. It's not anarchy or rebellion or any kind of certain doom. But I really hope that I can be one of those people who is not afraid of differences and can look for and find the particular bent of genius in each individual and point it out and celebrate it. I'm not sure I am one of those visionary folks, but I'd certainly like to give it my best effort. No one should be "just another brick in the wall."
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Time
Time is my enemy.
It pushes me into doing things I don't want to. When I have to meet a deadline, time brings it closer and closer, pressuring me into doing what I have to do to meet that deadline. I can't choose when I will do something--time forces me to do it arbitrarily. When I am eager to do something, time brings it to me slowly and then rushes me through it before I am ready to be done with it.
Time keeps me from doing all the things I do want to do. Time limits my reading, my piano playing, my shopping, my visiting. When I want to go on and on doing the things that make me happy, time runs out and I must stop and move on to what time next requires I do.
Time limits my contact with the people I love. Time keeps track of my phone calls and cuts them off before I am ready. Time sweeps away my vacations and holidays before I am ready for them to be gone. Time makes my husband go to sleep early when I want to talk, and it wakes him up early too. Then it dictates when he leaves the house and when he is able to return.
Time makes me tired because it goes so quickly when I read in bed and it causes my alarm to wake me before I have gotten enough sleep. I never get enough time to sleep because time is greedy and keeps itself all to itself. It rations my sleep and I'm always hungry for more.
Time takes my children from me. It passes without stopping and they grow and then they leave to spend their time in other pursuits. Time makes them forget many of the precious memories that we have forged together. Time separates us inexorably, taking them to other places and among other people. As time passes, these things must happen. If time were to stand still, could I freeze the best moments to hold forever?
Time hurts my body. It takes away my youth and brings me ever closer to my death. Its passing steals my flexibility, my energy, my hair color, my smooth skin, my clear eyes, my strong body.
Time takes away my grandparents and it will take away my parents too. It passes unstopping, leading them all to their old age, taking away their good health, their dignity, their independence and freedom, and enforcing their eventual death.
Time, this week, has run out for my young niece. Like a thief it has stolen her future. Like a dictator it has trampled over her wish to live. Time is my enemy because it keeps me from seeing her again for so very, very long. Time stands between me and togetherness with her and all the family I have lost to death. Time takes away my clear memories. Time will throw a blanket over the hole she has left in our lives. I don't want this hole to be disguised. I don't want to forget anything. I know I will see her again, but time makes me wait. Time will force me to be old and slow and diminished and dead before I can see again Carmen and all those others whom I love and who will have passed, or who have already passed.
So today I am not afraid of poverty or loneliness or even death or pain. Because I could stand all of these if time were not involved. But time sticks its pushy head in my business and makes all of the bad things last for an unspecified duration that I cannot control or stop. It makes the good things speed away. I want to grab those and keep them in the now. But it whisks them away farther out of my reach as every minute, hour, day, month and year passes. Unkindly, it slows down for that which is undesirable or painful. No one can stop it. No one can hold it fast. It just goes on and on, with its own will never challenged, always getting its way. This is why time is my enemy.
It pushes me into doing things I don't want to. When I have to meet a deadline, time brings it closer and closer, pressuring me into doing what I have to do to meet that deadline. I can't choose when I will do something--time forces me to do it arbitrarily. When I am eager to do something, time brings it to me slowly and then rushes me through it before I am ready to be done with it.
Time keeps me from doing all the things I do want to do. Time limits my reading, my piano playing, my shopping, my visiting. When I want to go on and on doing the things that make me happy, time runs out and I must stop and move on to what time next requires I do.
Time limits my contact with the people I love. Time keeps track of my phone calls and cuts them off before I am ready. Time sweeps away my vacations and holidays before I am ready for them to be gone. Time makes my husband go to sleep early when I want to talk, and it wakes him up early too. Then it dictates when he leaves the house and when he is able to return.
Time makes me tired because it goes so quickly when I read in bed and it causes my alarm to wake me before I have gotten enough sleep. I never get enough time to sleep because time is greedy and keeps itself all to itself. It rations my sleep and I'm always hungry for more.
Time takes my children from me. It passes without stopping and they grow and then they leave to spend their time in other pursuits. Time makes them forget many of the precious memories that we have forged together. Time separates us inexorably, taking them to other places and among other people. As time passes, these things must happen. If time were to stand still, could I freeze the best moments to hold forever?
Time hurts my body. It takes away my youth and brings me ever closer to my death. Its passing steals my flexibility, my energy, my hair color, my smooth skin, my clear eyes, my strong body.
Time takes away my grandparents and it will take away my parents too. It passes unstopping, leading them all to their old age, taking away their good health, their dignity, their independence and freedom, and enforcing their eventual death.
Time, this week, has run out for my young niece. Like a thief it has stolen her future. Like a dictator it has trampled over her wish to live. Time is my enemy because it keeps me from seeing her again for so very, very long. Time stands between me and togetherness with her and all the family I have lost to death. Time takes away my clear memories. Time will throw a blanket over the hole she has left in our lives. I don't want this hole to be disguised. I don't want to forget anything. I know I will see her again, but time makes me wait. Time will force me to be old and slow and diminished and dead before I can see again Carmen and all those others whom I love and who will have passed, or who have already passed.
So today I am not afraid of poverty or loneliness or even death or pain. Because I could stand all of these if time were not involved. But time sticks its pushy head in my business and makes all of the bad things last for an unspecified duration that I cannot control or stop. It makes the good things speed away. I want to grab those and keep them in the now. But it whisks them away farther out of my reach as every minute, hour, day, month and year passes. Unkindly, it slows down for that which is undesirable or painful. No one can stop it. No one can hold it fast. It just goes on and on, with its own will never challenged, always getting its way. This is why time is my enemy.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Silken Tent
So, here's my favorite poem. It's by Robert Frost
The Silken Tent
She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
I love this poem because I feel my own internal life is a balance between staying where I need to be, where I love to be... and wanting to run away, to escape. And this poem paints this special kind of bondage--the mom/wife/daughter/woman bondage--in such a beautiful way.
I must be a coward at some essential level of my soul because my first impulse in the face of any kind of stress or trouble is "RUN AWAY"! But when I most want to run away I look at what I would be running away from: everything that I love and all that brings me joy. And I know I couldn't be happier living any other life. This poem covers it all and I see myself: the silken tent with the heavenward sure core, standing free until the wind blows and then the guy ropes pull and I feel it. And sometimes it feels really windy and I feel all tied down. But like the poem says, my life is summertime and the tent is beautiful, and the central pole is solid and sure, and pointed towards Heaven.
Anyway, I love this poem. And there must be thousands, millions of women like me who wish to run away sometimes, but stay in their lives where there is beauty as well as there are burdens.
Carmen is sicker. She's grown a new tumor and this one has spread all down her spine. They go to the doctor tomorrow to discuss options. Carmen is in good spirits, her mom says. I am afraid to lose her.
And I do have my versions of running away. When I'm most worried I read almost non-stop. I can read 5 (or sometimes more) books in a day when I'm "running away". And I play the piano, especially when I am angry or frustrated. It's like, having the playing to concentrate on takes just enough brain power to slow everything in my head and heart down so I can cool down and consider things.
Life is good. I feel my ties tonight but I am happy to be "strictly held by none," but "loosely bound by countless silken ties of love and thought". I embrace the ties tonight and... I'm gonna read myself to sleep and read some more tomorrow. :)
The Silken Tent
She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
I love this poem because I feel my own internal life is a balance between staying where I need to be, where I love to be... and wanting to run away, to escape. And this poem paints this special kind of bondage--the mom/wife/daughter/woman bondage--in such a beautiful way.
I must be a coward at some essential level of my soul because my first impulse in the face of any kind of stress or trouble is "RUN AWAY"! But when I most want to run away I look at what I would be running away from: everything that I love and all that brings me joy. And I know I couldn't be happier living any other life. This poem covers it all and I see myself: the silken tent with the heavenward sure core, standing free until the wind blows and then the guy ropes pull and I feel it. And sometimes it feels really windy and I feel all tied down. But like the poem says, my life is summertime and the tent is beautiful, and the central pole is solid and sure, and pointed towards Heaven.
Anyway, I love this poem. And there must be thousands, millions of women like me who wish to run away sometimes, but stay in their lives where there is beauty as well as there are burdens.
Carmen is sicker. She's grown a new tumor and this one has spread all down her spine. They go to the doctor tomorrow to discuss options. Carmen is in good spirits, her mom says. I am afraid to lose her.
And I do have my versions of running away. When I'm most worried I read almost non-stop. I can read 5 (or sometimes more) books in a day when I'm "running away". And I play the piano, especially when I am angry or frustrated. It's like, having the playing to concentrate on takes just enough brain power to slow everything in my head and heart down so I can cool down and consider things.
Life is good. I feel my ties tonight but I am happy to be "strictly held by none," but "loosely bound by countless silken ties of love and thought". I embrace the ties tonight and... I'm gonna read myself to sleep and read some more tomorrow. :)
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Gimme gimme gimme
So, my life has been um.... challenging... lately in several categories. And I have for many many months now been praying for several specific outcomes. And, contrary to my expectations, my requests have not been granted by God.
When I first began my desperate prayerful requests I asked for immediate assistance. I had deadlines in my mind: if You, God, do not send this by this date, then life as I know it will end. Those sorts of things. And God missed every deadline. I thought my life could not continue in the comfortable fashion I have become addicted to without those requirements met....and they were not met.
[The aside here is how my life is still just as comfortable and happy and how my shoulders have broadened to carry my burdens, how my mind has expanded to imagine solutions that seemed impossible, how events align so that the eventualities I fear, the disasters that I imagine could send me over the edge--these never happen and life goes on in safe and comforting patterns. And how what I was sure could not be endured actually CAN be endured and even learned from. But this is an aside--too important not to mention, but not directly pertinent to what I'm talking about here]
So when first my requests were unfulfilled I observed my behavior: I was angry at God. I didn't want to talk to Him any more. I pouted. My observing self noticed that I was indulging in the same behavior that my own children exhibit when their wishes are denied. No matter if the refusing parent has a logical and sound reason for those denials, the childish reaction is the same: petulant, sulking, resentful. I saw these feelings and behaviors in myself. Like God was my sugar daddy who had unexpectedly denied my latest whim. Like He exists to give me what I ask for. As if He were falling down on the job.
However, childish reactions aside, not receiving Divine assistance in the ways that I requested really bothered me. My desires were righteous. They were unselfish. And they feel quite desperate. I feel that I deserve to get what I'm so fervently asking for. So I began to wonder: what is prayer for?
When you take away getting what you ask for, then what's left? When people bear testimony of prayer, inevitably it's because they got what they asked for. I can't even count the number of times I've heard something that began like this: "I'd like to bear my testimony of prayer because God answered my prayer for....."
There are little shadows of other sides to prayer. There are stories in the scriptures of prayers for relief being answered with strength to continue suffering. We've all heard stories of prayers not being answered for years. One lady I admired greatly said that God has 3 basic answers to prayer: "yes", "no" and "not right now". And of course there has been lots said about building a relationship with God through prayer. I am not forgetting these things about prayer.
But somehow the biggest impression I have had in my mind is that when you have a need, a righteous desire, pray to God and He will give it to you. There are actually scriptures that say this kind of thing quite explicitly. But I have experienced more than once having a need that was desperate, a need that I took to God, a need that He chose not to fulfill. And I have realized that I have an incomplete understanding of what prayer is. Somehow I have imagined it as being mainly a tool to get what I want. And not getting what I want has brought me smack into my shallow perceptions. Can I really be this superficial in my approach to God? So I've been working to expand my understanding.
And I don't know that I understand any better, but my heart has changed its feelings about prayer. It started when I was talking to my brother Reed about this (I asked how he bears having his prayers for Carmen's healing not answered in the way that he wishes) and one of the things he said was something he'd read in the Bible dictionary: that prayer was work. I don't know why this rang bells in my mind, but it started me off on a whole new track of thought about prayer. The first and most obvious thought I had was that I had overlooked the idea that prayer is my duty as well as my privilege. That it is a commandment for me to be on my knees at least twice a day and to pray in my heart many many more times. Just those thoughts were enough to soften my heart and change my feelings about prayer.
So currently I have no hard definition of what prayer is about. I know for certain that it's not a means to an end. It's not what I do to get what I need or want (although prayer does serve this end sometimes). But it's far more than that and I'm finding out what it really is for me. I am starting with the idea that I will work to be on my knees as often as I can with no expectations of reward from God. I will pray with no agenda. I will continue to make my requests, of course, and continue to hope for fulfillment of all of them, but somehow it seems so obvious to me that it is His will that will be served and not mine and that is so obviously correct and safe that I cannot be dissatisfied.
Well, that's where I am for now on this. I've obviously got a lot more to figure out. Just like all of my thoughts and impressions--there are no permanent conclusions. Every new experience (mine and those of others) lead to a reevaluation of my previous ideas. It's all a journey and I am one of those who just has to talk it all out all along the way. You know.
When I first began my desperate prayerful requests I asked for immediate assistance. I had deadlines in my mind: if You, God, do not send this by this date, then life as I know it will end. Those sorts of things. And God missed every deadline. I thought my life could not continue in the comfortable fashion I have become addicted to without those requirements met....and they were not met.
[The aside here is how my life is still just as comfortable and happy and how my shoulders have broadened to carry my burdens, how my mind has expanded to imagine solutions that seemed impossible, how events align so that the eventualities I fear, the disasters that I imagine could send me over the edge--these never happen and life goes on in safe and comforting patterns. And how what I was sure could not be endured actually CAN be endured and even learned from. But this is an aside--too important not to mention, but not directly pertinent to what I'm talking about here]
So when first my requests were unfulfilled I observed my behavior: I was angry at God. I didn't want to talk to Him any more. I pouted. My observing self noticed that I was indulging in the same behavior that my own children exhibit when their wishes are denied. No matter if the refusing parent has a logical and sound reason for those denials, the childish reaction is the same: petulant, sulking, resentful. I saw these feelings and behaviors in myself. Like God was my sugar daddy who had unexpectedly denied my latest whim. Like He exists to give me what I ask for. As if He were falling down on the job.
However, childish reactions aside, not receiving Divine assistance in the ways that I requested really bothered me. My desires were righteous. They were unselfish. And they feel quite desperate. I feel that I deserve to get what I'm so fervently asking for. So I began to wonder: what is prayer for?
When you take away getting what you ask for, then what's left? When people bear testimony of prayer, inevitably it's because they got what they asked for. I can't even count the number of times I've heard something that began like this: "I'd like to bear my testimony of prayer because God answered my prayer for....."
There are little shadows of other sides to prayer. There are stories in the scriptures of prayers for relief being answered with strength to continue suffering. We've all heard stories of prayers not being answered for years. One lady I admired greatly said that God has 3 basic answers to prayer: "yes", "no" and "not right now". And of course there has been lots said about building a relationship with God through prayer. I am not forgetting these things about prayer.
But somehow the biggest impression I have had in my mind is that when you have a need, a righteous desire, pray to God and He will give it to you. There are actually scriptures that say this kind of thing quite explicitly. But I have experienced more than once having a need that was desperate, a need that I took to God, a need that He chose not to fulfill. And I have realized that I have an incomplete understanding of what prayer is. Somehow I have imagined it as being mainly a tool to get what I want. And not getting what I want has brought me smack into my shallow perceptions. Can I really be this superficial in my approach to God? So I've been working to expand my understanding.
And I don't know that I understand any better, but my heart has changed its feelings about prayer. It started when I was talking to my brother Reed about this (I asked how he bears having his prayers for Carmen's healing not answered in the way that he wishes) and one of the things he said was something he'd read in the Bible dictionary: that prayer was work. I don't know why this rang bells in my mind, but it started me off on a whole new track of thought about prayer. The first and most obvious thought I had was that I had overlooked the idea that prayer is my duty as well as my privilege. That it is a commandment for me to be on my knees at least twice a day and to pray in my heart many many more times. Just those thoughts were enough to soften my heart and change my feelings about prayer.
So currently I have no hard definition of what prayer is about. I know for certain that it's not a means to an end. It's not what I do to get what I need or want (although prayer does serve this end sometimes). But it's far more than that and I'm finding out what it really is for me. I am starting with the idea that I will work to be on my knees as often as I can with no expectations of reward from God. I will pray with no agenda. I will continue to make my requests, of course, and continue to hope for fulfillment of all of them, but somehow it seems so obvious to me that it is His will that will be served and not mine and that is so obviously correct and safe that I cannot be dissatisfied.
Well, that's where I am for now on this. I've obviously got a lot more to figure out. Just like all of my thoughts and impressions--there are no permanent conclusions. Every new experience (mine and those of others) lead to a reevaluation of my previous ideas. It's all a journey and I am one of those who just has to talk it all out all along the way. You know.
Friday, October 3, 2008
My niece Carmen
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.
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.
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. :)
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