Kicking up dirt and dust from decades past
what used to be stuck on my old sneakers has come loose
to swirl around and stick in my eyes
eyes that can't help but see
what lies in front, sprawled out, howling
howling lowly lowly and picking up speed
and picking up leaves
and picking up things
that should have been left behind
behind on that dirt road that I left on
I left and said I'd never come back
but the wind brought me back
the wind whispered in a sweet soft child's voice
come back
the wind carried me back
it pushed me from behind until I was lifted
off my feet and flying back
back to the place I should leave and never come back
but here I am
back
walking on the dirt path
up to the house that I left
up to the children I left
up to the dirt I left
still the wind does not stop
still I am frightened
still I go back
to find what I left.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Keeping Hope Alive
Lately I've noticed what a lack of hope there is in most people's every day life. How do I know this? Because of their reaction to me. I have been told more times than I even care to recall lately that I'll "harden up" eventually or that someone is worried that I will be pained by the harshness of reality. It's got me feeling misunderstood and thinking--- I can handle it! I may be sensitive, but I'm not afraid. It takes trust and hope to advocate for myself and others, but I'm up for the challenge. I started to take it personally, but now I'm widening the lens and realizing that some people are responding to my hopefulness, a quality that is sadly lacking in this mixed up world. I notice people sometimes raising an eyebrow at my smiles and offers to help. Isn't that what we're here for- to help? It's so easy to join the ranks of the apathetic Debbie Downers who can't let themselves be hopeful and trust that there is a better way. Why do I hope? Because I don't feel like there is another option. Something deep down inside my soul says "sing, help, dance, heal, and be free-- because we ARE!" We are so lucky to live our lives the way we choose- why wouldn't we choose to be kind and helpful to one another and believe in the goodness we all have in our hearts. Ok, this may sound super sappy, but I believe it!
Last weekend I engaged in a conversation about race with people at my job. It was a structured, intended dialogue about how race affects our lives personally. As you can imagine there were some major issues that came up, between participants and the facilitators. It was easier to disengage than actively participate because this stuff is hard- harder to talk and think about than almost anything. But the reward of sticking with it was so great-- just that feeling of knowing you're doing the right thing. When I returned from the weekend and faced that coworker who was fearing for my sensitive nature, I looked at her square in the face and said "I'm resilient." She cringed when I told her I cried during one man's story of having to clean racial epithets off a bathroom stall daily, but I told her I'm not ashamed or afraid to cry. Crying lets us know we are affected by the pain in the world. How can that be a bad thing?
We all decide where we want to put our energy. I'm choosing to direct mine in hope and trust that we can do better for ourselves and each other. No one can take that sense of hope and trust away from me.
Mandela said it best:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Last weekend I engaged in a conversation about race with people at my job. It was a structured, intended dialogue about how race affects our lives personally. As you can imagine there were some major issues that came up, between participants and the facilitators. It was easier to disengage than actively participate because this stuff is hard- harder to talk and think about than almost anything. But the reward of sticking with it was so great-- just that feeling of knowing you're doing the right thing. When I returned from the weekend and faced that coworker who was fearing for my sensitive nature, I looked at her square in the face and said "I'm resilient." She cringed when I told her I cried during one man's story of having to clean racial epithets off a bathroom stall daily, but I told her I'm not ashamed or afraid to cry. Crying lets us know we are affected by the pain in the world. How can that be a bad thing?
We all decide where we want to put our energy. I'm choosing to direct mine in hope and trust that we can do better for ourselves and each other. No one can take that sense of hope and trust away from me.
Mandela said it best:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Friday, August 17, 2007
There's a town in southern Minnesota...
where the air is sticky and the mosquitos thick. A steep cobbled road leads to the Root river, shallow in the summer but still running strong. Looking out over it are limestone bluffs. They look as if they were placed just so, piece by piece with small openings for the critters to peek out from. Driving through the trails on the 6 wheeler, holding on to the roll bar, a blue monarch butterfly floats by, dragonflies whiz, even a wild turkey. A lonesome cabin sits in a clearing, a family of pines nearby. We could sit for hours listening to the woodpecker's song. Then, a loud screech. A family of eagles is nesting in a tall pine tree overlooking the river. A mature bald one takes to the sky in a wide circumambular motion. Is it watching us? We trail down to the river bank, cast out and catch a few bass, throw them back, then join the fish for a swim. Backstroke, dog paddle, summersault. Nowhere to be but here.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Weather Report
For the past week, I've been awakened by rain pounding on the rooftop, fresh cool air drifting in from the open windows. It is July, right? Feels more like May. I've been spending my mornings sipping tea and reading, my evenings watching movies and slugging around like it's fall or winter-minus the dark afternoons and chilliness. It's surreal, even in this rainy state. I kind of like it. I complain like it's the end of the world, "Raining again?" But I must admit it's somehow comforting. Perhaps it's nostalgia of so many childhood days spent playing inside. Maybe it's just a welcome reprieve from the sun, which, btw, my skin has yet to be tanned by so far this summer. Or is it that the rain welcomes introspection, meditation? Something I need right now...
I've just finished my first counseling class and am only now starting to process what I've learned. In a nutshell, I guess the most important thing has been reaffirming my belief that we all have stuff to deal with but we can, if we want, get better. Wow, that's pretty simple. But true. Sometimes I get really sad when I think of all the pain and suffering every human being has to endure just being on this earth, just living and growing. I still feel for me, for them, for all of us. But I am more hopeful now. It's crazy how a little bit of awareness can change so much. The other day I caught myself telling my nephew I was "decatastrophizing" -- talking myself out of overreacting to a situation. I think the capacity we have to train ourselves to change unhealthy behaviors is inspiring! Of course, no one is perfect and we will all slip back into old patterns and scold ourselves for them, but we can also make decisions in the moment to create new reactions, outlooks, behaviors. This is what I hope to practice and impart to clients someday: that we can choose to change. Sounds like a mantra.
Last year a colleague asked me abrubtly, "What is your life's work?" I answered, without thinking, "It's about healing and transformation." I had no idea what I was talking about then but it felt right. Now it seems like this notion of healing and transformation is at the center of all the disparate pieces of my life. It's the glue that holds me together.
I've just finished my first counseling class and am only now starting to process what I've learned. In a nutshell, I guess the most important thing has been reaffirming my belief that we all have stuff to deal with but we can, if we want, get better. Wow, that's pretty simple. But true. Sometimes I get really sad when I think of all the pain and suffering every human being has to endure just being on this earth, just living and growing. I still feel for me, for them, for all of us. But I am more hopeful now. It's crazy how a little bit of awareness can change so much. The other day I caught myself telling my nephew I was "decatastrophizing" -- talking myself out of overreacting to a situation. I think the capacity we have to train ourselves to change unhealthy behaviors is inspiring! Of course, no one is perfect and we will all slip back into old patterns and scold ourselves for them, but we can also make decisions in the moment to create new reactions, outlooks, behaviors. This is what I hope to practice and impart to clients someday: that we can choose to change. Sounds like a mantra.
Last year a colleague asked me abrubtly, "What is your life's work?" I answered, without thinking, "It's about healing and transformation." I had no idea what I was talking about then but it felt right. Now it seems like this notion of healing and transformation is at the center of all the disparate pieces of my life. It's the glue that holds me together.
They say the clouds will clear up in a day or so.
The rain will stop and sun will pull me outside.
What good is a life without change?
Monday, July 9, 2007
Summertime... and the livin is
easy? Well, not for me so far. I'm working hard, which explains why I haven't blogged in quite a while. Remember when summer meant months of laying around, waiting to hear the out of tune melody of the ice cream truck growing closer and closer? Ah, those were the days. Going to sleep while the sun was still up and not having to worry about any responsibilities until September. How times have changed. I find myself still, after all these years, looking forward to those childhood summers, but they never seem to come. Even when vacation arrives - which is luckily an entire month - there are projects around the house, books to read, plans to make, art to create.
I guess play is something different than it used to be, involves less spontaneity. It's hard to remember to get on my bike, without a plan and just ride, helmetless, wind blowing in my face and just delight in the ride.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Jacob's Update
The Olympian put together a mock blog to keep us in touch with Jacob. Check it out- it will probably be updated more than his blog:
http://www.theolympian.com/539/index.html
http://www.theolympian.com/539/index.html
Friday, June 8, 2007
All Things Really Are Possible
By the grace of god and hope, we raised the money for Jacob Dau to go back to Sudan. By "we" I mean this community. People gave a total of $4500 to help Jacob get back to his homeland. I am grateful for their generosity and so is Jacob. But even more, I am amazed at the curiosity and willingness to learn about his story and his culture I witnessed at the fundraiser we held this week at Traditions.
We screened the documentary Lost Boys of Sudan (www.lostboysfilm.com) . The place was packed with grandmas, children, and people from across the community who came to show their support and learn something about Sudan, a place that most of us have only heard about in news reports. After the film, Jacob and his two Sudanese friends spoke about their experiences. One told how it "changes" him to think about the past. They talked about the history and politics of Sudan, but in an intimate way because these politics continue to directly affect them. They know that Sept. 11th was the cut-off for Lost Boys entering into the US, not because they read it in the paper, but because their refugee community has not grown at the same rate since. They feel history and politics in a personal way and the audience responded to this. I'll never forget the image of three little boys in the audience, just about the age of Jacob and his friends when they got to the US, leaning forward in their seats to read the subtitled film text, really wanting to know these boys' stories.
It has me thinking about the power of stories, hope- the will to help and act to make a difference. When I found out two short months ago how much we needed to raise to get Jacob back home, my logical mind said, "There is no way we can raise that much." But hope has a way of overriding logic. What is it exactly that I was hoping for? What is it about Jacob's story that compells us to help? I think part of it is a need we have to go home again. Jacob's sense of home is real; there is a geographical place that he is going home to. There is also a sense of community, family, and culture he is going back to. Isn't that the kind of home we would all like to go back to? A place where we would feel known, loved, and accepted. Maybe we are helping Jacob in hopes that he can go back to this place for us. Maybe we need to know, through Jacob's journey that this place exists.
I once traveled across the sea to the same continent as Jacob to find that sense of home. I knew that genetically, Africa was at least partially my homeland. I knew that my people had been taken from there. I thought I would feel I was finally home when I arrived. When I got there, I experienced no such feeling. I felt more a stranger in that land than I did in my own. Was it silly for me to think I could find a sense of home in such a foreign land? I used to think it was...
What will Jacob find in his true homeland? He says he wants to make new memories of the place he remembers as war torn and ravaged. My own wishes for him are perhaps motivated by my own desires to feel understood and whole. For Jacob, the simple making of new memories is enough. That seems like a perfect hope to me.
Jacob will be updating his new blog from Africa (he leaves on June 13th and returns in mid August) whenever he gets a chance:
www.jacobhomeland.blogspot.com
We screened the documentary Lost Boys of Sudan (www.lostboysfilm.com) . The place was packed with grandmas, children, and people from across the community who came to show their support and learn something about Sudan, a place that most of us have only heard about in news reports. After the film, Jacob and his two Sudanese friends spoke about their experiences. One told how it "changes" him to think about the past. They talked about the history and politics of Sudan, but in an intimate way because these politics continue to directly affect them. They know that Sept. 11th was the cut-off for Lost Boys entering into the US, not because they read it in the paper, but because their refugee community has not grown at the same rate since. They feel history and politics in a personal way and the audience responded to this. I'll never forget the image of three little boys in the audience, just about the age of Jacob and his friends when they got to the US, leaning forward in their seats to read the subtitled film text, really wanting to know these boys' stories.
It has me thinking about the power of stories, hope- the will to help and act to make a difference. When I found out two short months ago how much we needed to raise to get Jacob back home, my logical mind said, "There is no way we can raise that much." But hope has a way of overriding logic. What is it exactly that I was hoping for? What is it about Jacob's story that compells us to help? I think part of it is a need we have to go home again. Jacob's sense of home is real; there is a geographical place that he is going home to. There is also a sense of community, family, and culture he is going back to. Isn't that the kind of home we would all like to go back to? A place where we would feel known, loved, and accepted. Maybe we are helping Jacob in hopes that he can go back to this place for us. Maybe we need to know, through Jacob's journey that this place exists.
I once traveled across the sea to the same continent as Jacob to find that sense of home. I knew that genetically, Africa was at least partially my homeland. I knew that my people had been taken from there. I thought I would feel I was finally home when I arrived. When I got there, I experienced no such feeling. I felt more a stranger in that land than I did in my own. Was it silly for me to think I could find a sense of home in such a foreign land? I used to think it was...
What will Jacob find in his true homeland? He says he wants to make new memories of the place he remembers as war torn and ravaged. My own wishes for him are perhaps motivated by my own desires to feel understood and whole. For Jacob, the simple making of new memories is enough. That seems like a perfect hope to me.
Jacob will be updating his new blog from Africa (he leaves on June 13th and returns in mid August) whenever he gets a chance:
www.jacobhomeland.blogspot.com
Monday, June 4, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Fight Gas Prices, Ride Your Bike
We watched the documentary film Who Killed the Electric Car? a few nights ago and I was (once again) outraged by the mentality we have in this country that even when human and environmental health is at stake, "the Man" (in this case car companies, oil companies, and politicians) decides that electric cars aren't profitable enough. Even when consumers wanted the alternative cars, the EV (electric vehicle) was squelched. And I'm not saying just the program was squelched, the cars- every one of them was literally compacted and recycled, effectively killing the electric car. You have to see this film. It pissed me off enough to take action- in my own miniscule way.
Folks, I'm going to do something I should've done a long time ago. Actually, I did do a long time ago out of simple economics rather than principle. I'm buying a bus pass and parking my car (my new car, mind you) for as long as I possibly can. I'm going to walk, bike, ride my way to wherever I need to go. Yes, there is freedom in getting in the car and driving wherever one pleases, but that freedom has a cost (freedom isn't free.....) Not just monetary (though the price per gallon is getting ridiculous) but what about the air we breathe? Are we that much of an instantly gratified society that we don't care how much our decisions affect the health of humans and other creatures?
The sucky part about all this is that we have the technology to use cars that don't pollute so much. Unfortunately, these new techonologies are not profitable enough for "the Man." So, the projects (like fully electric, practical cars) that could help us be energy independent and less polluting get sabotaged. It's enough to make you feel powerless. But, alas, there is always something little old me and you can do. Drive less, be informed, support new cleaner technologies. Can we resolve to change the world, one decision at a time? I think so. I know I sound like a commercial, but at least what I'm trying to sell might actually help us.
Folks, I'm going to do something I should've done a long time ago. Actually, I did do a long time ago out of simple economics rather than principle. I'm buying a bus pass and parking my car (my new car, mind you) for as long as I possibly can. I'm going to walk, bike, ride my way to wherever I need to go. Yes, there is freedom in getting in the car and driving wherever one pleases, but that freedom has a cost (freedom isn't free.....) Not just monetary (though the price per gallon is getting ridiculous) but what about the air we breathe? Are we that much of an instantly gratified society that we don't care how much our decisions affect the health of humans and other creatures?
The sucky part about all this is that we have the technology to use cars that don't pollute so much. Unfortunately, these new techonologies are not profitable enough for "the Man." So, the projects (like fully electric, practical cars) that could help us be energy independent and less polluting get sabotaged. It's enough to make you feel powerless. But, alas, there is always something little old me and you can do. Drive less, be informed, support new cleaner technologies. Can we resolve to change the world, one decision at a time? I think so. I know I sound like a commercial, but at least what I'm trying to sell might actually help us.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Just call me "Counselor Cholee"
Well, not quite yet. Perhaps "counselor in training" will do for now. I have finally taken the next step in my education and will be starting graduate school this summer at St. Martin's Masters in Counseling Psychology program. I have been pinching myself for the last week since I found out I've been accepted into the program. Me, high school drop-out who almost didn't even make it to college to get a bachelor's. I am one of the first in my family to go for an advanced degree. Can't wait to get back in the classroom. I'm, clearly, pretty geeked up about the whole thing!
I know that I am on the cusp of something big here - of satisfying my curiosity about human behavior and human nature, relationships, my own identity, and being able to commit myself fully to making this world a better place, one soul at a time. I also know that I have no real concept of what I will discover about myself- that this kind of willingness to explore the depths of humanity will inevitably lead me to some aspects about myself that will be distressing, albeit illuminating.
If you know me, you know I am all about change, evolution, growth. This will be the ultimate challenge, to prove that I am truly open to learning and growing. I have no doubt that what I learn will make me a better person and hope that I can extend some of that learning to help others along the way. This summer I'll be learning about individual counseling theories and techniques along with family therapy.
While I was giving a student a lift to the bus stop the other day and mentioned I was taking MAC classes, he asked, "You're not analyzing me right now are you?" What could I say? I've been analyzing people since before I even knew what it meant to "analyze." The analysis is more related to curiosity than judgement, though. This inclination to "figure people out" is part of what compells me to learn more about psychology. Stay tuned for all my foibles, realizations, and frustrations................
I know that I am on the cusp of something big here - of satisfying my curiosity about human behavior and human nature, relationships, my own identity, and being able to commit myself fully to making this world a better place, one soul at a time. I also know that I have no real concept of what I will discover about myself- that this kind of willingness to explore the depths of humanity will inevitably lead me to some aspects about myself that will be distressing, albeit illuminating.
If you know me, you know I am all about change, evolution, growth. This will be the ultimate challenge, to prove that I am truly open to learning and growing. I have no doubt that what I learn will make me a better person and hope that I can extend some of that learning to help others along the way. This summer I'll be learning about individual counseling theories and techniques along with family therapy.
While I was giving a student a lift to the bus stop the other day and mentioned I was taking MAC classes, he asked, "You're not analyzing me right now are you?" What could I say? I've been analyzing people since before I even knew what it meant to "analyze." The analysis is more related to curiosity than judgement, though. This inclination to "figure people out" is part of what compells me to learn more about psychology. Stay tuned for all my foibles, realizations, and frustrations................
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
All Things Are Possible...
This mantra has been swimming around in my head for the last few weeks. I think I heard it during a playback theatre performance a while back. It's true. How do I know this? Because in the past few weeks a group of my colleagues achieved the impossible- raised enough money to send one of our students back to Sudan to see his mother for the first time in 17 years. It's an amazing story- which started when he came to the U.S. as a refugee- one of many "Lost Boys." He has seen such death and devastation, such hopelessness, yet his life has taught him that all things are possible. He not only survived the brutal civil war in Sudan that is STILL GOING ON. He entered college, is learning about community service, and as part of an internship is going to travel home to apply what he has learned here to help his people. Gives me chills just thinking about the journey he is about to travel.
Also has me thinking about what we can accomplish when we join together and act for a cause we believe in. Even if our lives have somehow taught us that a pre-determined destiny is greater than our own intentions, the power of hope cannot be underestimated. Somehow, the pieces fall into place and all we can do is give thanks. Stay tuned for updates from Sudan this summer- there will be a blogging component to my student's internship.
Also has me thinking about what we can accomplish when we join together and act for a cause we believe in. Even if our lives have somehow taught us that a pre-determined destiny is greater than our own intentions, the power of hope cannot be underestimated. Somehow, the pieces fall into place and all we can do is give thanks. Stay tuned for updates from Sudan this summer- there will be a blogging component to my student's internship.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Making Meaning From Madness
Yes, there was a raging madman on the U.V.T. campus who killed many people.
Yes, it says a lot about fear, violence, and safety.
Yes, there is little we can do to protect ourselves from a similar catastrophe.
Yes, we will try to take this opportunity to learn- about ourselves and our fellow human beings.
No, we will not allow this single act to affect the way we perceive Asian people- the way that some used 9/11 as a lens to judge those of Middle Eastern descent.
I thought I'd share a glimpse into the world of the International students on our campus when they were asked to respond to the recent violence.
Comments from International Students
Meeting held on April 17, 2007
I have a recommendation: This group meeting with Asian students will help for sure. But, I think you should also conduct a group meeting with American student as well so that there’s no anger among them.
I was shocked because this terrible event was carried out by someone the same age as me; I understand if others think bad of me.
I don’t think we, Japanese students, need special treatment about this issue, even though the suspect is Asian. Please take care of our Korean friends.
This morning I was very upset because I heard the bad news. Will your feelings toward Korean students change now?
Guns are dangerous. What do Americans think about the common people having guns?
I have no problems. If Americans look down on Asians, I will increase my efforts to get their trust. I think this crime is terrible. I want to pray for the victims.
When 9/11 happened there were a few Islam students attending SMU. Recently, I’ve noticed there aren’t any Islam students here. Why?
To tell the truth, I’ve never thought about the danger of having guns in society. Your announcement and encouragement help me realize there is a sense of danger. Also, it helps to know the faculty is on our side. Thank you so much.
What will we do? How do we influence the human mind?
When I found out he was Korean, I was ashamed. And, I was worried that Americans would think less of all Koreans.
I recognize that the shooter who is Korean is an individual. As a human being, I want to pray for the victims.
I realize calling my parents is important. I’m going to call them.
I don’t care so much who the criminals are or will be, but I felt scared and will be if another incident occurs.
Even though Lacey is a safe area, I still feel insecure. It is hard for me to trust my friends or anyone. What has happened to UW and VT only reinforces that insecurity since it could happen anywhere.
If the shooting happened in our classroom during class, what should we do?
If you don’t know Asian people, how does this event make you feel about them? Why do American people need a gun?
I’d like to pose a question to Americans: Do any of you feel bad for Asians, especially Koreans?
If American students react on this tragedy and try to retaliate with the international students here on campus, how do we deal with that?
How are American students at SMU reacting to the tragedy? Is there any SMU students who are directly or indirectly influenced by this tragedy (as in family members, friends, etc.)?
Yes, it says a lot about fear, violence, and safety.
Yes, there is little we can do to protect ourselves from a similar catastrophe.
Yes, we will try to take this opportunity to learn- about ourselves and our fellow human beings.
No, we will not allow this single act to affect the way we perceive Asian people- the way that some used 9/11 as a lens to judge those of Middle Eastern descent.
I thought I'd share a glimpse into the world of the International students on our campus when they were asked to respond to the recent violence.
Comments from International Students
Meeting held on April 17, 2007
I have a recommendation: This group meeting with Asian students will help for sure. But, I think you should also conduct a group meeting with American student as well so that there’s no anger among them.
I was shocked because this terrible event was carried out by someone the same age as me; I understand if others think bad of me.
I don’t think we, Japanese students, need special treatment about this issue, even though the suspect is Asian. Please take care of our Korean friends.
This morning I was very upset because I heard the bad news. Will your feelings toward Korean students change now?
Guns are dangerous. What do Americans think about the common people having guns?
I have no problems. If Americans look down on Asians, I will increase my efforts to get their trust. I think this crime is terrible. I want to pray for the victims.
When 9/11 happened there were a few Islam students attending SMU. Recently, I’ve noticed there aren’t any Islam students here. Why?
To tell the truth, I’ve never thought about the danger of having guns in society. Your announcement and encouragement help me realize there is a sense of danger. Also, it helps to know the faculty is on our side. Thank you so much.
What will we do? How do we influence the human mind?
When I found out he was Korean, I was ashamed. And, I was worried that Americans would think less of all Koreans.
I recognize that the shooter who is Korean is an individual. As a human being, I want to pray for the victims.
I realize calling my parents is important. I’m going to call them.
I don’t care so much who the criminals are or will be, but I felt scared and will be if another incident occurs.
Even though Lacey is a safe area, I still feel insecure. It is hard for me to trust my friends or anyone. What has happened to UW and VT only reinforces that insecurity since it could happen anywhere.
If the shooting happened in our classroom during class, what should we do?
If you don’t know Asian people, how does this event make you feel about them? Why do American people need a gun?
I’d like to pose a question to Americans: Do any of you feel bad for Asians, especially Koreans?
If American students react on this tragedy and try to retaliate with the international students here on campus, how do we deal with that?
How are American students at SMU reacting to the tragedy? Is there any SMU students who are directly or indirectly influenced by this tragedy (as in family members, friends, etc.)?
Monday, April 23, 2007
HOPE
Hope Is the Thing With Feathers
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
TOP TEN REASONS IT'S TIME TO GET IN SHAPE
10.Extra junk in the trunk is weighing your "vehicle" down, decreasing mobility, so to speak.
9.You've noticed, when flying coach, that the seats are shrinking.
8.The term back fat used to make you laugh, now it makes you cringe.
7.Gravity's effect on the body is proportionally equivalent to age. In other words, older=saggy.
6.It's not socially acceptable to go swimming in your jeans and a t-shirt.
5.Your dog is frequently described as "overweight" by others and "big-boned" by you.
4.Gardening, your idea of exercise, can only be done three months out of the year.
3.There's nothing "lite" about your cellulite.
2.Couch and bed yoga aren't producing the results you had hoped.
..................................and the number one reason it's time to get in shape NOW:
1.You're wearing mom jeans and you haven't had children.
Yes, dear readers, you have witnessed the impetus of my next challenge. The biggest (no pun intended) one yet. I vow not to become another pawn in the diet game, but to be sensible and mindful about food choices and physical activity. Holler at me with any do's and don'ts you know of. This challenge is ongoing, I realize. It'll take at least a decade to undo my body image issues/eating habits. Stay tuned for my inevitable foibles and accomplishments.
9.You've noticed, when flying coach, that the seats are shrinking.
8.The term back fat used to make you laugh, now it makes you cringe.
7.Gravity's effect on the body is proportionally equivalent to age. In other words, older=saggy.
6.It's not socially acceptable to go swimming in your jeans and a t-shirt.
5.Your dog is frequently described as "overweight" by others and "big-boned" by you.
4.Gardening, your idea of exercise, can only be done three months out of the year.
3.There's nothing "lite" about your cellulite.
2.Couch and bed yoga aren't producing the results you had hoped.
..................................and the number one reason it's time to get in shape NOW:
1.You're wearing mom jeans and you haven't had children.
Yes, dear readers, you have witnessed the impetus of my next challenge. The biggest (no pun intended) one yet. I vow not to become another pawn in the diet game, but to be sensible and mindful about food choices and physical activity. Holler at me with any do's and don'ts you know of. This challenge is ongoing, I realize. It'll take at least a decade to undo my body image issues/eating habits. Stay tuned for my inevitable foibles and accomplishments.
On the road again.....
Back from our 2000 mile journey from chilly (single digits!) Minnesota to pick up our new ride. Felt more safe, comfy, and gas guzzling than the last 4 times we drove the route, even though this time it was a one way....thankful to have made it home safely. Some highlights:Wyoming- this state is so incredibly beautiful it's a shame only 500,000 peeps live there. Maybe that's the key to its beauty. Wyoming is the REAL west, folks. With REAL cowboys and REAL antelope and REAL falling down barns. The rockies are majestic, (sorry I have no pictures to prove it-we decided to capture them only in our mind's eye this time) craggy, and a bit humbling.
Took exit 101 off I-90 and ate Easter dinner at the Montana Club in Missoula. Down home eats, nice people and the "microclimate" (as one Albertan we met put it) which provided us with the best weather of the whole trip- 65 degrees.
Snow over Snoqualmie pass- thought the cold weather would taper off the closer we got to home, but the elevation whipped up a batch of thick flakes that had me remembering Prince's song "Sometimes it snows in April..."
Now we're home, and I'm wondering why I didn't go as stir crazy as I usually do. Crossing six states in three days usually does that to me, but I felt pretty sane. Maybe it's the new wheels- a proper gift for such a long trek. Maybe it's just feeling grateful for the opportunity to road trip, see the country, play silly car games, sing together, and have some distance from home. Sure makes you want to come back...
Friday, March 30, 2007
Acting For Change
Last night I watched my amazingly beautiful almost grown neice in her first play. I was mesmerized by her and the rest of the cast- so young, inexperienced yet full of the fire that creative expression requires.
Today, I performed in my own "play" of sorts- in an acting troupe called "Acting for Change." It's basically Playback Theatre- a dramatic medium that takes stories from the audience and acts them out, improvisationally, for the tellers. As a child I never even thought of acting. My stage fright was pretty inhibiting back then. Of course I was a drama queen like most little girls and grew up watching narratives on TV and in film and reading stories. Now I realize how much I missed by not getting involved in stage performances. Just like when I'm singing, I find myself being carried to another realm- time stands still and the connection between actors, audience, and facilitator is visceral.
The most incredible thing about this particular form is how it uses counseling creatively. The audience members watch as their stories are acted out which often leads them to connect to the story in a way they hadn't before. I appreciate the permission to be silly, distort my body, interact with others and just play. When I see that look of recognition on the teller's face - it's like they feel accepted and understood in a way they never have.
Of course, since it is improv, things usually don't go as planned- especially since there really isn't a plan at all. Long story short (pun intended), some stories are better than others and cooperation is absolutely essential for a successful skit. I have never been required to listen more closely, been asked to connect more fully, or been inspired to use my gifts more selflessly.
Today, I performed in my own "play" of sorts- in an acting troupe called "Acting for Change." It's basically Playback Theatre- a dramatic medium that takes stories from the audience and acts them out, improvisationally, for the tellers. As a child I never even thought of acting. My stage fright was pretty inhibiting back then. Of course I was a drama queen like most little girls and grew up watching narratives on TV and in film and reading stories. Now I realize how much I missed by not getting involved in stage performances. Just like when I'm singing, I find myself being carried to another realm- time stands still and the connection between actors, audience, and facilitator is visceral.
The most incredible thing about this particular form is how it uses counseling creatively. The audience members watch as their stories are acted out which often leads them to connect to the story in a way they hadn't before. I appreciate the permission to be silly, distort my body, interact with others and just play. When I see that look of recognition on the teller's face - it's like they feel accepted and understood in a way they never have.
Of course, since it is improv, things usually don't go as planned- especially since there really isn't a plan at all. Long story short (pun intended), some stories are better than others and cooperation is absolutely essential for a successful skit. I have never been required to listen more closely, been asked to connect more fully, or been inspired to use my gifts more selflessly.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
SPRING HAS ARRIVED!
Only five days since the vernal equinox and the NW landscape is alive with the colors, shapes, smells, warmth of spring. I do not care that it hasn't stopped raining more than a day since September. I don't mind that I am still wearing sweaters to work. I am thankful for the change. On my walk today I couldn't help stare into the tall doug firs to look for the red winged blackbird. I could hear him calling out, hey, everone- spring is here-ya heard?! I stopped to pick a piece of tall grass and right beside my foot, just off the trail was a tiny black, red, and green snake. It saw me and froze. I moved just to see it move.
It occurs to me that spring is about contrasts- visually anyhow. The way the tender leaves of the huckleberry grow out from stiff brown branches, how star magnolia's droopy white petals peek out from fuzzy buds. Yes, it's obvious, I have spring fever. Makes me wonder what it would be like to live in a place with year round spring/summer- the tropics? or somewhere too cold for plants to bloom- the arctic? Last year around this time I was in Arizona soaking up the 70-80 degree warmth. It was nice- and everything was more alive than I had imagined. It was a mix of green-cacti, brown-earth, and blue-sky.
Next week we're taking off for Minnesota and driving back with my brand new (used) car. Thanks to the Feb. challenge, I've saved enough to buy it. So, I'm looking forward to seeing what spring looks like from MN to here. Stay tuned for my cross-country update.
Here's another little Haiku from my daily walk. P.S. It really is illegal to pick trilliums in WA (and Oregon) because they have a hard time regenerating. They don't do well in water anyway- not that I would know from personal experience....
It occurs to me that spring is about contrasts- visually anyhow. The way the tender leaves of the huckleberry grow out from stiff brown branches, how star magnolia's droopy white petals peek out from fuzzy buds. Yes, it's obvious, I have spring fever. Makes me wonder what it would be like to live in a place with year round spring/summer- the tropics? or somewhere too cold for plants to bloom- the arctic? Last year around this time I was in Arizona soaking up the 70-80 degree warmth. It was nice- and everything was more alive than I had imagined. It was a mix of green-cacti, brown-earth, and blue-sky.
Next week we're taking off for Minnesota and driving back with my brand new (used) car. Thanks to the Feb. challenge, I've saved enough to buy it. So, I'm looking forward to seeing what spring looks like from MN to here. Stay tuned for my cross-country update.
Here's another little Haiku from my daily walk. P.S. It really is illegal to pick trilliums in WA (and Oregon) because they have a hard time regenerating. They don't do well in water anyway- not that I would know from personal experience....
Trillium Temptation
Standing on a moist carpet
A lone flower tempts
Picking is against the law
Standing on a moist carpet
A lone flower tempts
Picking is against the law
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Friday, March 9, 2007
Daily Haiku
On the way down
Thirty-two stone stairs
Rain pings on my umbrella
Shelter from the storm
Planning
Scanning the ground for shade plants
Salal and the like
One patch of glowing clover
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Stream runs under bridgeTuesday, March 6, 2007
March = Walk
I've said it before and I'll say it again: walking is therapy. More than just exercise for the body it is exercise for the mind. Walking clears my mind and helps me think, work things out. I remember a long time ago in a land far, far away (Seattle 1995) I began to think of walking as a healing movement. I was just starting to read the Buddhist philosophers and came across Thich Nhat Hanh (peace activist, author, and Vietnamese Buddhist monk) and his concept of walking meditation. I practiced it whenever I could: on the way to the bus stop, on my walk through a tiny parcel of wetland to school. It looks a bit zombie-ish to the observer- such intention in the slow steps. It appealed to that side of me that finds it hard to keep still but still wants to be in touch with deliberate movement and breath.
Nowadays, I walk often- at work when I have a break from teaching, with the dog, or I try to find clarity in the moments when I am walking to the car, through the grocery store.....
It's so therapeutic for me that I want it to be a part of my every day. So, the March challenge is to walk every day. And as residue from the walk- I'm posting haikus based on that day's walk.
From yesterday:
Sounds of Spring
Stopping me as I walk by
One thousand frogs croak
No chirping bird to be heard
From today:
Recognition
With fanny pack and white shoes
Tall black woman smiles
when we pass each other twice
Nowadays, I walk often- at work when I have a break from teaching, with the dog, or I try to find clarity in the moments when I am walking to the car, through the grocery store.....
It's so therapeutic for me that I want it to be a part of my every day. So, the March challenge is to walk every day. And as residue from the walk- I'm posting haikus based on that day's walk.
From yesterday:
Sounds of Spring
Stopping me as I walk by
One thousand frogs croak
No chirping bird to be heard
From today:
Recognition
With fanny pack and white shoes
Tall black woman smiles
when we pass each other twice
Friday, March 2, 2007
Taking a chance, sharing a story
The following story, Pick It Up, is just the beginning of a collection of creative non-fiction pieces I'm writing about my childhood. I read it today as part of Saint Martin's Friday Faculty lunch presentation of Women's History Month where faculty and staff members read their writings- some read stories, poems, articles.
My knees were shaking when I got up there and stood in front of my (supposed) colleagues, all older than I and each critical in the way that professors should be critical- for the sake of their students. It surprised me how terrified I was to read this story to them- to do what I encourage my students to do: share a piece of themselves, their perspective through writing.
I got through the short story, somehow, and actually kind of enjoyed reading it toward the end- enjoyed the rhythm of the words and the way I could accent certain words to convey my meaning. Feedback was good, but I'm new at this and being my own worst critic I'm still a little tender from the experience. Wondering if they know what the story is really about. Wondering what they read into it.
The process of writing these stories has been amazing for me. It's like reclaiming my childhood- I wasn't the happiest, most understood kid. It's like a little investigation of what really happened, according to my adult understanding anyways. And it has me thinking about the malleability of memory. How, I'm not even sure sometimes what really happened or what I imagined. All I remember are bits and pieces, snapshots of my experiences. I am really constructing my memories through this process of recalling them. That said, I am not intentionally making up lies, but I'm using images like popcorn bag, the Sweet Stop, and voices in my head to talk about conscience, poverty, fear.
I was reminded today of the possibilities...... that if we take a chance and try to do something we think we might fail at, we've already won.
My knees were shaking when I got up there and stood in front of my (supposed) colleagues, all older than I and each critical in the way that professors should be critical- for the sake of their students. It surprised me how terrified I was to read this story to them- to do what I encourage my students to do: share a piece of themselves, their perspective through writing.
I got through the short story, somehow, and actually kind of enjoyed reading it toward the end- enjoyed the rhythm of the words and the way I could accent certain words to convey my meaning. Feedback was good, but I'm new at this and being my own worst critic I'm still a little tender from the experience. Wondering if they know what the story is really about. Wondering what they read into it.
The process of writing these stories has been amazing for me. It's like reclaiming my childhood- I wasn't the happiest, most understood kid. It's like a little investigation of what really happened, according to my adult understanding anyways. And it has me thinking about the malleability of memory. How, I'm not even sure sometimes what really happened or what I imagined. All I remember are bits and pieces, snapshots of my experiences. I am really constructing my memories through this process of recalling them. That said, I am not intentionally making up lies, but I'm using images like popcorn bag, the Sweet Stop, and voices in my head to talk about conscience, poverty, fear.
I was reminded today of the possibilities...... that if we take a chance and try to do something we think we might fail at, we've already won.
Pick It Up
Same woodchips I dragged my stuffed panda Ming Ming through for show and tell, same field I beat up a boy two years younger on for not picking me to play on his soccer team, same playground where I smoked my mom’s menthol cigarettes after school. White Center Heights was hardly white at all. An elementary school sitting in the center of two housing projects, its students were from all over the world, some refugees from third world countries. Back then, we knew poor folks came in every color. The projects were clean and simple. The scent of pork fried rice mingling with chicken enchiladas and kimchee was the only distinction in the rows of army green housing. I imagined bright colors on the inside walls. I imagined large families, brothers, sisters, cousins, fathers, mothers waiting for my classmates as I waved goodbye to them after our walks home.
Today, I walked alone. I had stayed after class to get my teacher’s help with my times tables and when I finished, all my friends had already gone home. I felt hungry, and then remembered the leftover popcorn in my book bag. I opened the crumpled popcorn bag and peered into it to find only a few half popped kernels left. I lifted the bag and poured them into my mouth, then let it float out of my hand to the grass, watched it travel from grass to gravel to sand and get stuck on a tetherball pole. I turned and headed across the playground, starting my five block walk home.
I made a detour to the Sweet Stop to spend my twenty five cents on candy.
I could have whatever I wanted on the bottom shelf: Now or Laters, Bit O’ Honeys, Jolly Ranchers, Tootsie Rolls. What I really wanted was a KitKat, but they cost fifty cents, so I picked up a handful of Lemondrops and went to the counter to pay. After shoving four pieces in my mouth, I left the Sweet Stop and a sound began to ring in my ear. It was a faint voice, just a whisper in my ear. I kept looking back to see if someone was talking to me, but the street was empty. I passed the old black lady’s house, hoping to find her sweeping her front porch like always, but she wasn’t there. Her windows were closed, strange for such a hot day. A breeze began to pick up, lifting dirt and trash into a tiny tornado in the middle of the street. I covered my face from the dust and walked on, hoping the voice would stop when I got home. I tried to quicken my pace, but my sneakers felt stuck to the pavement, making me stagger toward my street.
I could have whatever I wanted on the bottom shelf: Now or Laters, Bit O’ Honeys, Jolly Ranchers, Tootsie Rolls. What I really wanted was a KitKat, but they cost fifty cents, so I picked up a handful of Lemondrops and went to the counter to pay. After shoving four pieces in my mouth, I left the Sweet Stop and a sound began to ring in my ear. It was a faint voice, just a whisper in my ear. I kept looking back to see if someone was talking to me, but the street was empty. I passed the old black lady’s house, hoping to find her sweeping her front porch like always, but she wasn’t there. Her windows were closed, strange for such a hot day. A breeze began to pick up, lifting dirt and trash into a tiny tornado in the middle of the street. I covered my face from the dust and walked on, hoping the voice would stop when I got home. I tried to quicken my pace, but my sneakers felt stuck to the pavement, making me stagger toward my street.
Finally, I turned the corner and saw my house in the distance. The voice began to shout at me from all directions, and I grasped my book bag for support. Had I slipped into a horror movie narrated by this disembodied voice? My neighbor, waving from her doorway snapped me back to the moment, but the voice lurked close by. I could almost make out the words…… As soon as I reached my house, I turned the key and pushed the door open, praying it would subside, but instead, the voice got clearer. It said, “Pick it up”- not just once but over and over:
Pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup
Pick what up, I thought and who’s speaking? God? My mother? And then I remembered the popcorn bag. The crumpled up empty popcorn bag. I had dropped it on the playground without thinking twice, but the voice wouldn’t let me leave it there.
Sweaty from the walk home, I left my coat at the door and went running the five blocks back to school. How would I find the bag? What if it blew across the street? All the while the voice nagged, “Pick it up.” When would it stop? Would I have to live with this voice inside my head for the rest of my life? My only chance at peace was to find the bag.
I crossed the soccer field, and the woodchips, passed the big toy and ended up at the tetherball pole. The bag was no longer stuck on the pole. My heart pounded in time with the rhythm of the voice:
Pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup
Then, from the corner of my eye I saw the bag, its red and white stripes nearly hidden by sandy gravel, the exposed paper fluttering. A large black garbage can stood nearby. I tiptoed up to the bag, afraid it might get up and run away. Then, with the quickness, I pulled it from the gravel, crumpled it up, and threw it away.
Pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup
Pick what up, I thought and who’s speaking? God? My mother? And then I remembered the popcorn bag. The crumpled up empty popcorn bag. I had dropped it on the playground without thinking twice, but the voice wouldn’t let me leave it there.
Sweaty from the walk home, I left my coat at the door and went running the five blocks back to school. How would I find the bag? What if it blew across the street? All the while the voice nagged, “Pick it up.” When would it stop? Would I have to live with this voice inside my head for the rest of my life? My only chance at peace was to find the bag.
I crossed the soccer field, and the woodchips, passed the big toy and ended up at the tetherball pole. The bag was no longer stuck on the pole. My heart pounded in time with the rhythm of the voice:
Pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup pickitup
Then, from the corner of my eye I saw the bag, its red and white stripes nearly hidden by sandy gravel, the exposed paper fluttering. A large black garbage can stood nearby. I tiptoed up to the bag, afraid it might get up and run away. Then, with the quickness, I pulled it from the gravel, crumpled it up, and threw it away.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
One month after my quest to cut spending
Yes, folks, my challenge to drastically cut spending has turned me into a conservative (fiscal conservative, that is) consumer. I did pretty well. A reminder of my challenge:
The rules (set forth by me)
1. No buying of any clothing of any kind
2. No frivolous buying of food stuffs.
3. No dining out unless absolutely necessary- if say, the power goes out or I find myself dangerously low on blood sugar.
4. No buying of books or magazines.
5. No paying for entertainment
4 out of 5 isn't bad. 3 proved more difficult than I had thought.
Some highlights:
I realized that window shopping is less stressful than actual shopping. It's kind of like the more money you have, the more broke you are. I also see how numb I can get to all the mindless spending when I'm an active participant. Suddenly, buying 3 magazines a week seems frivolous (now I just read them in the magazine aisle). Most importantly, I felt like a bit of an addict and that scared me. I had to wonder, what need is it satisfying for me? Some sort of sense of security and belonging. Also, some sort of child-who-grew-up-in-poverty backlash. But, against who? Myself? It's just silly and I'm glad I got some clarity. In fact, I feel centered now when I shop in a way I didn't before. I feel a sense of control and calm whereas before I greeted the mall and even the grocery store with a mixture of excitement and despair.
And through this whole process of giving something up (the proximity to Lent is just a coincidence, really) I realized that this one month goal setting is a good idea. So, look out for my next monthly action--- it's not necessarily going to be something I have to give up.
The rules (set forth by me)
1. No buying of any clothing of any kind
2. No frivolous buying of food stuffs.
3. No dining out unless absolutely necessary- if say, the power goes out or I find myself dangerously low on blood sugar.
4. No buying of books or magazines.
5. No paying for entertainment
4 out of 5 isn't bad. 3 proved more difficult than I had thought.
Some highlights:
I realized that window shopping is less stressful than actual shopping. It's kind of like the more money you have, the more broke you are. I also see how numb I can get to all the mindless spending when I'm an active participant. Suddenly, buying 3 magazines a week seems frivolous (now I just read them in the magazine aisle). Most importantly, I felt like a bit of an addict and that scared me. I had to wonder, what need is it satisfying for me? Some sort of sense of security and belonging. Also, some sort of child-who-grew-up-in-poverty backlash. But, against who? Myself? It's just silly and I'm glad I got some clarity. In fact, I feel centered now when I shop in a way I didn't before. I feel a sense of control and calm whereas before I greeted the mall and even the grocery store with a mixture of excitement and despair.
And through this whole process of giving something up (the proximity to Lent is just a coincidence, really) I realized that this one month goal setting is a good idea. So, look out for my next monthly action--- it's not necessarily going to be something I have to give up.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
To all my rainbows.....
Packed into the Evergreen gym sitting beside thankful strangers, I waited for Maya Angelou to emerge. She walked slowly toward the stage supported by a cane and a younger black man (her son?) As soon as she opened her mouth and sang the words that I'd been waiting to hear she had me, had all of us opening our hearts, minds, and eyes to her truths. She spoke of rainbows, she wove them in and out and then back in again through her stories of uncle Willie and Bailey and her "strange bird" mom. These, she said, were her rainbows- giving her light in the shadow of clouds.
I began to think about my own rainbows. All the people who have helped me become the person I am thankful to be, and some who have just passed through my life like shooting stars and left traces of light in their wake. I am compelled to thank them- like I am receiving some award (life?) or publishing my first book or composing liner notes. I think it's best not to wait....
First,
my mom - for taking care of me
my dad and family - for accepting me
my sisters - for sharing their incredible struggles and insights with me and looking out for me
my grandmother - for loving me unconditionally
my cousins - for playing and laughing with me
my aunts - for showing me what strong, beautiful women look like
my nieces and nephews - for teaching me to care and be silly
my Brad - for trusting me with his heart
my pal Abigail - for showing me what friendship is and introducing me to art
my teachers - for taking time and patience to share their gifts
I know this list is nowhere near complete, but it's a start. I also know that I haven't reached my full rainbow potential. Maya inspired me to ask how I can be a rainbow to others. It sounds sappy now, but she gave the metaphor life and substance.
I wonder how some (like Maya) travel through this life with more hardships than I can image yet persevere and succeed despite those troubles. The word resilient comes to mind, but even more than the ability to recover from difficulties, it is transcending those experiences. Perhaps it is because of (rather than in spite of) those struggles that some of us become fully actualized. She had me looking at my path and toward the future, trying to find ways to apply my own struggles toward achieving my dreams..... just grinning at the possibilities.
I began to think about my own rainbows. All the people who have helped me become the person I am thankful to be, and some who have just passed through my life like shooting stars and left traces of light in their wake. I am compelled to thank them- like I am receiving some award (life?) or publishing my first book or composing liner notes. I think it's best not to wait....
First,
my mom - for taking care of me
my dad and family - for accepting me
my sisters - for sharing their incredible struggles and insights with me and looking out for me
my grandmother - for loving me unconditionally
my cousins - for playing and laughing with me
my aunts - for showing me what strong, beautiful women look like
my nieces and nephews - for teaching me to care and be silly
my Brad - for trusting me with his heart
my pal Abigail - for showing me what friendship is and introducing me to art
my teachers - for taking time and patience to share their gifts
I know this list is nowhere near complete, but it's a start. I also know that I haven't reached my full rainbow potential. Maya inspired me to ask how I can be a rainbow to others. It sounds sappy now, but she gave the metaphor life and substance.
I wonder how some (like Maya) travel through this life with more hardships than I can image yet persevere and succeed despite those troubles. The word resilient comes to mind, but even more than the ability to recover from difficulties, it is transcending those experiences. Perhaps it is because of (rather than in spite of) those struggles that some of us become fully actualized. She had me looking at my path and toward the future, trying to find ways to apply my own struggles toward achieving my dreams..... just grinning at the possibilities.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Morning Meditation
Hit snooze five times
finally pry myself out of warm bed
groggily dress, brush, sip Morning Thunder tea
late already again
turn ignition, radio blares
push in daily drive to work soundtrack
"Buddha's dream" with flute and birds in background
Breathe
take turns, slowly
in a hurry but already late so....
accelerate around traffic circle #1
circle #2
chuckle at myself for meditating while driving
hit every stop light
an opportunity to reflect
cars turn across from me
their motion like waves hitting the shore
again and again
turn another circle
get stuck behind an old soul going 10
breathe
break
may you be filled with loving kindness
may you be well
may you learn to drive
oops
may you be peaceful and at ease
may you be happy
find parking spot up close
climb stair after stair
squirrel dashes to my right
sun peeks out from clouds
one more breath
deep
and I am here
finally pry myself out of warm bed
groggily dress, brush, sip Morning Thunder tea
late already again
turn ignition, radio blares
push in daily drive to work soundtrack
"Buddha's dream" with flute and birds in background
Breathe
take turns, slowly
in a hurry but already late so....
accelerate around traffic circle #1
circle #2
chuckle at myself for meditating while driving
hit every stop light
an opportunity to reflect
cars turn across from me
their motion like waves hitting the shore
again and again
turn another circle
get stuck behind an old soul going 10
breathe
break
may you be filled with loving kindness
may you be well
may you learn to drive
oops
may you be peaceful and at ease
may you be happy
find parking spot up close
climb stair after stair
squirrel dashes to my right
sun peeks out from clouds
one more breath
deep
and I am here
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Time is on my side...
Yes it is! I just had the most wonderful weekend. Wonderful not because of something I did, but wonderful because of what I didn't do. I didn't spend hours in a brightly lit store, I didn't drink myself silly, I didn't spend so much time doing that I forgot to just be.
I sipped tea, painted and sketched a little, wrote, read, and relaxed. Not worrying about what happenings I was missing out on or catching up with friends. I stayed in the moment and just chilled. And I caught myself saying on Sunday- it feels like it's been a long weekend. I was actually ready to go back to work.
Got me thinking about how we choose to spend our time. We all know those white rabbit types: "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date." Sometimes I slip into that mode, shoulders tight, mind overoccupied and forget where the hell I am not to mention where I'm going. Why do we do that to ourselves? There's lots to do- beautiful, wonderful things, but in our relentless search aren't we less likely to enjoy those things? I once went to three parties in one evening. Didn't really enjoy myself at any one of them- so preoccupied with the next and/or previous good time.
Sometimes I feel like someone born in the wrong era. I can see myself as one of those dreamy characters in an early nineteenth century novel who spends days lying by a creek somewhere counting dragon flies and sketching architecture in the distance. I'm sure this is just my romantic notion of those "olden times." People were probably just as busy- just with other forms of entertainment than we find ourselves engaged with. Maybe they were so busy trying to make a living, farming say, that they actually had less time to spare than we do.
Perhaps it's what you spend your time doing that makes you more or less overwhelmed. And back to my original point- time really is on our side. If the white rabbits in my life want to be white rabbits because they just enjoy that busy life I won't argue with them. All I know is when I slow down enough to enjoy the moment, I feel content. It's like my old pal Henry David Thoreau once said,
"When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of reality."
I sipped tea, painted and sketched a little, wrote, read, and relaxed. Not worrying about what happenings I was missing out on or catching up with friends. I stayed in the moment and just chilled. And I caught myself saying on Sunday- it feels like it's been a long weekend. I was actually ready to go back to work.
Got me thinking about how we choose to spend our time. We all know those white rabbit types: "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date." Sometimes I slip into that mode, shoulders tight, mind overoccupied and forget where the hell I am not to mention where I'm going. Why do we do that to ourselves? There's lots to do- beautiful, wonderful things, but in our relentless search aren't we less likely to enjoy those things? I once went to three parties in one evening. Didn't really enjoy myself at any one of them- so preoccupied with the next and/or previous good time.
Sometimes I feel like someone born in the wrong era. I can see myself as one of those dreamy characters in an early nineteenth century novel who spends days lying by a creek somewhere counting dragon flies and sketching architecture in the distance. I'm sure this is just my romantic notion of those "olden times." People were probably just as busy- just with other forms of entertainment than we find ourselves engaged with. Maybe they were so busy trying to make a living, farming say, that they actually had less time to spare than we do.
Perhaps it's what you spend your time doing that makes you more or less overwhelmed. And back to my original point- time really is on our side. If the white rabbits in my life want to be white rabbits because they just enjoy that busy life I won't argue with them. All I know is when I slow down enough to enjoy the moment, I feel content. It's like my old pal Henry David Thoreau once said,
"When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of reality."
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Grover Phone Home
Went to check on Grover (the lizard) a few nights ago and found him stuck to the cage door, not responding to movement. So, I wheeled his cage out of the garage and into the cold night, eventually transporting him into the warm house. Must have been quite a shock to his system because he started twitching, fell on his back (which is something lizards, like cats, just don't do) and looked like he was starting to "phone home."[Remember that scene from ET when all the guys in the white suits are checking him out and his skin is grayish, and he looks incredibly dehydrated? That was Grover]
Thoughts like, I can't believe I killed my lizard and where the hell do you bury a 4 ft iguana? raced through my head. We threw a towel over his cage so that he could die in peace and so that I could stop the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. A few moments passed without a sound so I peeked behind the towel and watched the last breath go out of him- black spots began to form on his grayed skin. I almost gave up on him, but then I remembered the mister- Grover loves to be misted. Maybe it would bring him back. I misted harder than I've ever misted before, each pump of the miniature spray bottle was like a gust of life blown into his face. I imagined having to give mouth to nose (without getting salmonilla) or CPR (where is that tiny Grinch heart?) Finally, Grover came back. Slowly, groggily, he awakened. I wondered where he had been. So, asked.
ME: So, you were out for about 3 minutes, where did you go?
GROVER: I was lounging in the tropics, where do you think I was?
ME: Well, I was just wondering what it was like to go to the "other side." What did you see?
GROVER: There was a dark tunnel, and then I saw this bright light. I was running, but I couldn't get to the bright light fast enough because I was in slow motion.
ME: So, the dark tunnel was purgatory and the bright light was heaven?
GROVER: I was kind of thinking the dark tunnel was this freezing cold cage and the bright light was the sun.
ME: So, then what happened?
GROVER: Just when I began to pick up speed, I felt cold rain and something grabbing my tail, pulling me back away from the warmth.
ME: and then?
GROVER: Then I woke up to your big head peering in at me and knew I was back in hell or purgatory, as you call it.
ME: It could be worse
GROVER: Yeah? How?
ME: You could be out in the cold garage.
GROVER: Just do me a favor and keep me in the house in the winter, huh?
ME: From now on, I will- you have my word.
GROVER: If you don't, I might have to phone home again.
There you have it- once again Groverino narrowly escaped death. My seven year old lizard seems destined to survive in a climate that clearly was not intended to be his home. His idea of heaven is not unlike my own- escaping the dank, dark cold to live in the warmth of the big bright orb in the sky. We'll both get there, eventually....
Thursday, February 1, 2007
My February Challenge
is to be frugal. I'm not talking about buying the $30 jeans over the $50 jeans. I'm talkin bout buying neither. I'm talkin bout really limiting my spending habits this month. Why? Because I realized I spend way too much money on crap. I buy stuff I like, but what's up with that empty feeling after a shopping spree, that constant quest for more?
A few months ago I heard a story on NPR about this group of friends who made a pact not to spend money on anything but necessities for a year. They ended up doing quite a lot of bartering and begging and found out that people are more generous than they thought. So, they spent all year just buying food and essentials and at the end of the year they decided to renew their pact and keep living simply.
The funny thing is- why is that so remarkable and difficult? It struck me as an incredible feat, but what were they really doing but being smart, frugal consumers? Why is it so hard to spend one week- let alone a weekend- without dipping into that already meager checking account for- you name it- DVD's, clothes, books? If you're like me, sometimes you get home from a shopping excursion with a bag full of things you really don't need. I joke with myself that one day I'll come home with something I donated to the Goodwill two weeks before!
What is it that "retail therapy" does for us? It fills a void like any other mindless addiction. The trouble is that our society is set up to accept this addiction unlike any other. Our economy depends on it. But, no I will not blame society or the media for this- instead, I'm going to see how difficult it is to refrain from giving in to my inner shopper. Me, who spent half of my adolescent life inside a mall. I'm going to abstain from further damaging my alleged savings account and see what happens.
The rules (set forth by me)
1. No buying of any clothing of any kind
2. No frivolous buying of food stuffs.
3. No dining out unless absolutely necessary- if say, the power goes out or I find myself dangerously low on blood sugar.
4. No buying of books or magazines.
5. No paying for entertainment
A few months ago I heard a story on NPR about this group of friends who made a pact not to spend money on anything but necessities for a year. They ended up doing quite a lot of bartering and begging and found out that people are more generous than they thought. So, they spent all year just buying food and essentials and at the end of the year they decided to renew their pact and keep living simply.
The funny thing is- why is that so remarkable and difficult? It struck me as an incredible feat, but what were they really doing but being smart, frugal consumers? Why is it so hard to spend one week- let alone a weekend- without dipping into that already meager checking account for- you name it- DVD's, clothes, books? If you're like me, sometimes you get home from a shopping excursion with a bag full of things you really don't need. I joke with myself that one day I'll come home with something I donated to the Goodwill two weeks before!
What is it that "retail therapy" does for us? It fills a void like any other mindless addiction. The trouble is that our society is set up to accept this addiction unlike any other. Our economy depends on it. But, no I will not blame society or the media for this- instead, I'm going to see how difficult it is to refrain from giving in to my inner shopper. Me, who spent half of my adolescent life inside a mall. I'm going to abstain from further damaging my alleged savings account and see what happens.
The rules (set forth by me)
1. No buying of any clothing of any kind
2. No frivolous buying of food stuffs.
3. No dining out unless absolutely necessary- if say, the power goes out or I find myself dangerously low on blood sugar.
4. No buying of books or magazines.
5. No paying for entertainment
We'll see what happens- maybe I'll live the way I've always wanted- for (nearly) free. Probably, I won't decide to keep this up all year, but you never know. Baby steps...
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Weather Report
Last night the sun set at approximately 5:15. After explaining to a coworker my need for the sun, I scrambled to get out of work before the last sliver of light disappeared behind pink puffy clouds. As much as it is my mantra to live in the present, to not want what I do not have, I must admit my longing (especially in the dead of these northwest winters) for the sun. For warmth, light, clarity.
Once upon a time I spent many summers in Santa Rosa, California. I thought I had found heaven. It wasn't so much the liberal, progressive, laid back folks I came into contact with; we have plenty of them in Washington. It was the actual sun. It was waking up EVERY morning to either the sun or clouds you knew would burn off by noon. It was the smell of redwoods that only grow mind you in the perfectly ideal conditions that exist in northern california- the exact mix of ocean mist and sunlight. yum!
I recently met a man from Arizona who moved to Washinton to escape the sun. He complains profusely on any day the clouds don't come out. Maybe it's that whole grass is greener thing, but maybe some of us are just made for the sun while others are made for the rain. Perhaps ethnicity has something to do with it. My skin LOVES the sun- I feel better when I'm warm and browned from its rays. The Arizona guy, on the other hand, is pretty pasty white- not exactly the kind of skin that enjoys sun.
I suppose you could spend your entire life looking for the perfect climate. Mine would probably be somewhere in the tropics (although I've never been). Somewhere you could walk barefoot most of the year and fruit would be in season all year around. I watched one of those house hunter shows the other day and was inpired by (jealous of) a woman who had had enough of big city living in New York and decided to run her business from the Dominican Republic. So, she bought a condo (for $60,000!!!!!!!!) and settled into her new laid back lifestyle, hanging out at the beach which was only a few blocks from her front door, content to live, she said, the rest of her days in her new home.
So, I guess what I'm getting at here is this restlessness again, to live my life true to my being. Just the other day my sister and I made a pact to some day escape the gloomy northwest. Someday... Funny that this grasping was brought on by a simple sunny day- which are too far between for me here. When the sun shines, I wonder how I ever functioned in the dank cold days of winter. How did I ever live without the promise of spring, the light, the clarity of the sun's illumination? And why, on another beautiful bright day am I inside lamenting about the weather?
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Goin to the chapel
Well, not the chapel exactly but "gonna get ma-a-a-ried!" Yes, it's true, it's official, I'm getting hitched. As Brad's and my family so eloquently put it- "Finally!" It's been 8 yrs since we met. Here's the story:
I was in my first year at Evergreen and Brad had moved to Olympia a few years before from Winona, MN to pursue music. I was doing a little music myself, writing folky tunes and singing wherever I could. A new friend told me I should hook up with a guy who was putting together a project for Bob Marley's birthday show at the 4th ave Tavern. I gave the guy, Remis a call and to my amazement (before hearing me sing) he invited me to practice with the band. So, I showed up at a strange basement studio. It was me and about five other guys, including a good looking saxophone player. I did my best to get his attention, but he was FOCUSED on the music. He seemed to really know what was going on- unlike I who fumbled around with the microphone and attempted to sing made-up words to unfamiliar tunes. Before practice ended, I got up the courage to ask the sax player if we could get together and practice again. He said yes and ultimately I survived my first real gig, pit in stomach, crush on sax player, blissed from the incredible crowd that gathered in Bob Marley's name.
Fast forward to a year or so later and Brad and I were in a band of our own, the Sideshow playing funk cover tunes, eventually cohabitating and teaching one another how to be more relaxed (me to him) and more on top of things (him to me). It's been an amazing journey. Filled with as much challenge as success, more growth than anything else. I can truly say I've never given so much of myself and gotten so much in return. So, is it really such a surprise that we've decided to marry? Well, sort of. I come from a family that believes marriage is the exception, not the rule. Really, 5 women (mom and her sisters) who were all divorced, never married, or remarried by the time their children were teens. This is not a criticism, it's just reality- my reality. I just sort of never saw myself married because I thought having a committed relationship was just the same. True? We'll see, but already I'm noticing changes. When you announce to your community you want to spend the rest of your life with your partner (this is what a marriage proposal means) it changes your relationship somehow. Now, this person you have been living with becomes the future father of your unborn children, the son-in law of your parents, the man you'll grow old and fall asleep with forever. Although these things might have happened without getting married, somehow it all seems more possible, now that you are engaged. And the best part? Brad is no longer my boyfriend- a term that lost its attraction for me back in high school. He's my fiance, soon to become (August of 08-what, what?) my hub.
I was in my first year at Evergreen and Brad had moved to Olympia a few years before from Winona, MN to pursue music. I was doing a little music myself, writing folky tunes and singing wherever I could. A new friend told me I should hook up with a guy who was putting together a project for Bob Marley's birthday show at the 4th ave Tavern. I gave the guy, Remis a call and to my amazement (before hearing me sing) he invited me to practice with the band. So, I showed up at a strange basement studio. It was me and about five other guys, including a good looking saxophone player. I did my best to get his attention, but he was FOCUSED on the music. He seemed to really know what was going on- unlike I who fumbled around with the microphone and attempted to sing made-up words to unfamiliar tunes. Before practice ended, I got up the courage to ask the sax player if we could get together and practice again. He said yes and ultimately I survived my first real gig, pit in stomach, crush on sax player, blissed from the incredible crowd that gathered in Bob Marley's name.
Fast forward to a year or so later and Brad and I were in a band of our own, the Sideshow playing funk cover tunes, eventually cohabitating and teaching one another how to be more relaxed (me to him) and more on top of things (him to me). It's been an amazing journey. Filled with as much challenge as success, more growth than anything else. I can truly say I've never given so much of myself and gotten so much in return. So, is it really such a surprise that we've decided to marry? Well, sort of. I come from a family that believes marriage is the exception, not the rule. Really, 5 women (mom and her sisters) who were all divorced, never married, or remarried by the time their children were teens. This is not a criticism, it's just reality- my reality. I just sort of never saw myself married because I thought having a committed relationship was just the same. True? We'll see, but already I'm noticing changes. When you announce to your community you want to spend the rest of your life with your partner (this is what a marriage proposal means) it changes your relationship somehow. Now, this person you have been living with becomes the future father of your unborn children, the son-in law of your parents, the man you'll grow old and fall asleep with forever. Although these things might have happened without getting married, somehow it all seems more possible, now that you are engaged. And the best part? Brad is no longer my boyfriend- a term that lost its attraction for me back in high school. He's my fiance, soon to become (August of 08-what, what?) my hub.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Background blog
In case some new readers are unfamiliar with my previous writings and want to understand what got me here, my old blog is still online (but I won't be adding to it). To check out the archives visit:
http://choleesworld.blogspot.com
http://choleesworld.blogspot.com
Monday, January 22, 2007
Eight steps...
to happiness! You've heard of the 12 step program. Well, I'm on the 8 step program. I've been reading a book called Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness: Walking the Buddha's Path written in an easy way for westerners to understand by a Sri Lankan Buddhist monk. Reminds me of the first Buddhist book I encountered and passed on years ago, A Path With Heart by Jack Kornfield. Both are basically a moral code, and many guidelines we already know are good moral choices/behaviors, but who doesn't need a reminder now and then?
The 8 Steps:
Skillful Understanding
Skillful Thinking
Skillful Speech
Skillful Action
Skillful Livelihood
Skillful Effort
Skillful Mindfulness
Skillful Concentration
I've read up to action. Allow me to summarize:
First, on happiness- Don't we all deserve to be happy? Doesn't this word mean different things to different people? I used to think happiness meant no bad energy and constant smiles. Then, I realized that if those actions are untrue to my heart, that is not true happiness. My definition is expanding (and shrinking) all the time, but I think happiness is a balance of accepting things as they are and improving myself. May sound contradictory, but I think when we accept people the way they are we redirect our energy inward and allow ourselves to evolve. Happiness is also integrity in decisions- it is feeling confident that you are making the best choices in the midst of not so ideal circumstances. Happiness is no regret because things unfold as they should, often without your consent. But it's not passive. It's softly active. Like a weed growing through cracks in the concrete- it is opportunistic and resilient. I also think of happiness as those moments of incredible, unexplainable clarity. That moment when I'm walking in the woods and I just feel everything will be alright. Even with global warming and the wars in Iraq, Sudan, and elsewhere, with child abuse and racism, somehow in an unexpected moment of grace, everything is alright. I want more of those moments. Which is why I've decided to walk this Eightfold Path.
Some highlights of the four steps I've taken:
Step One
Skillful Understanding
Cause and Effect- When we understand that our actions have results, we act to reduce our suffering and the suffering of others.
Step Two
Skillful Thinking
Mindfulness Training- We can train the mind to release us from unhealthy thought patterns and create healthy, helpful new ones.
Step Three
Skillful Speech
Thinking Before We Speak- Words have the power to heal or harm. (See my previous blog about talking too much)
Step Four
Skillful Action
Ethical Choices- The Five Precepts
1 not killing (this includes all beings, even insects)
2 not stealing (not even a paper clip)
3 not speaking falsely (yep, even a little white lie is prohibited)
4 not engaging in sexual misconduct (basically cheating on partner, raping, etc...)
5 not misusing intoxicants (of ANY kind)
Ok, so I thought this won't be that hard, especially numbers 1-4. Wrong! We have lots of spiders in our house and an occasional mouse problem in the garage, but I must refrain from killing them even if they are so-called "lower animals." You know, all God's creatures..... Not speaking falsely is surprisingly hard when I pay attention to how much I automatically create false excuses for my behavior. I'm working on #5 and realizing how much social drinking is a part of my life. Each of these precepts is based on the repercussions of such actions which for me is embodied in a pretty guilty conscience, which creates its own negative energy. When I'm aware of the pain these actions cause not just others but myself, it solidifies my belief in this path. The word karma comes to mind. But not just the next life results. Actually, the bad energy created in this life is proof enough that good decisions=happiness. If only I can remember this in the midst of those opportunities for growth.
I am reminded of an old boyfriend who told me I had no morals. I was outraged! To say that I had no morals was obviously him noticing we had different morals and he would have liked it if we shared the same ones. Still, when I thought about where my morals came from I was at a loss. Certainly family teaches morals and so does society, but if those morals aren't reiterated over and over (like in church) do they stick? Most likely the ex-boyfriend was noticing my ability to morally waiver, to create a hierarchy of morals which were sometimes followed or not, based on the situation.
He grew up Catholic and I don't recall his moral conviction particularly strong, but perhaps I wasn't the best judge.
Of course there are certain morals that are universal- the one about not killing comes to mind, especially as it relates to other humans. But what makes us choose wrongly, or conversely do the right thing?
The 8 Steps:
Skillful Understanding
Skillful Thinking
Skillful Speech
Skillful Action
Skillful Livelihood
Skillful Effort
Skillful Mindfulness
Skillful Concentration
I've read up to action. Allow me to summarize:
First, on happiness- Don't we all deserve to be happy? Doesn't this word mean different things to different people? I used to think happiness meant no bad energy and constant smiles. Then, I realized that if those actions are untrue to my heart, that is not true happiness. My definition is expanding (and shrinking) all the time, but I think happiness is a balance of accepting things as they are and improving myself. May sound contradictory, but I think when we accept people the way they are we redirect our energy inward and allow ourselves to evolve. Happiness is also integrity in decisions- it is feeling confident that you are making the best choices in the midst of not so ideal circumstances. Happiness is no regret because things unfold as they should, often without your consent. But it's not passive. It's softly active. Like a weed growing through cracks in the concrete- it is opportunistic and resilient. I also think of happiness as those moments of incredible, unexplainable clarity. That moment when I'm walking in the woods and I just feel everything will be alright. Even with global warming and the wars in Iraq, Sudan, and elsewhere, with child abuse and racism, somehow in an unexpected moment of grace, everything is alright. I want more of those moments. Which is why I've decided to walk this Eightfold Path.
Some highlights of the four steps I've taken:
Step One
Skillful Understanding
Cause and Effect- When we understand that our actions have results, we act to reduce our suffering and the suffering of others.
Step Two
Skillful Thinking
Mindfulness Training- We can train the mind to release us from unhealthy thought patterns and create healthy, helpful new ones.
Step Three
Skillful Speech
Thinking Before We Speak- Words have the power to heal or harm. (See my previous blog about talking too much)
Step Four
Skillful Action
Ethical Choices- The Five Precepts
1 not killing (this includes all beings, even insects)
2 not stealing (not even a paper clip)
3 not speaking falsely (yep, even a little white lie is prohibited)
4 not engaging in sexual misconduct (basically cheating on partner, raping, etc...)
5 not misusing intoxicants (of ANY kind)
Ok, so I thought this won't be that hard, especially numbers 1-4. Wrong! We have lots of spiders in our house and an occasional mouse problem in the garage, but I must refrain from killing them even if they are so-called "lower animals." You know, all God's creatures..... Not speaking falsely is surprisingly hard when I pay attention to how much I automatically create false excuses for my behavior. I'm working on #5 and realizing how much social drinking is a part of my life. Each of these precepts is based on the repercussions of such actions which for me is embodied in a pretty guilty conscience, which creates its own negative energy. When I'm aware of the pain these actions cause not just others but myself, it solidifies my belief in this path. The word karma comes to mind. But not just the next life results. Actually, the bad energy created in this life is proof enough that good decisions=happiness. If only I can remember this in the midst of those opportunities for growth.
I am reminded of an old boyfriend who told me I had no morals. I was outraged! To say that I had no morals was obviously him noticing we had different morals and he would have liked it if we shared the same ones. Still, when I thought about where my morals came from I was at a loss. Certainly family teaches morals and so does society, but if those morals aren't reiterated over and over (like in church) do they stick? Most likely the ex-boyfriend was noticing my ability to morally waiver, to create a hierarchy of morals which were sometimes followed or not, based on the situation.
He grew up Catholic and I don't recall his moral conviction particularly strong, but perhaps I wasn't the best judge.
Of course there are certain morals that are universal- the one about not killing comes to mind, especially as it relates to other humans. But what makes us choose wrongly, or conversely do the right thing?
Thursday, January 11, 2007
"You talk so much, my dog needs earplugs."
That line is from a song called Talkatiff that is all about someone who just can't stop talking. Every time I hear it I think of that Run DMC song "You Talk Too Much (man, you never SHUT UP!) I realize, of course, they're talking about me. Yes, I talk too much. Many of us do. The last few days, I've been trying to limit my speech- to listen and reflect (silently) more. It's HARD. I grew up around a big family of women. Women who felt free to speak their minds, vent, tell jokes, sing, and just chat. So, I never saw the importance of limiting my speech until I realized I just wasn't hearing others. I realized that other people like to talk too. I had to ask myself, do I talk just to hear my own voice? Sometimes. I also notice that in a learning environment I need to speak to process what I am learning. I think this is cultural- I've noticed the same inclination in my students of color. I wouldn't want to encourage these students to inhibit their learning styles. We've all been silenced at one time or another and I think in general it is a good idea to use our voices and to be assertive. But everyone knows that one person who just won't SHUT UP! I think it is like a nervous tick. Some of us laugh or fall silent when we are nervous. Some talk.
Today one of my coworkers couldn't stop talking about an issue she had with her boss and another coworker couldn't keep from telling her what she should do and then their boss couldn't stop telling everyone else about the drama that ensued and I just wanted to scream STOP! HOLD UP! Perhaps the issue here isn't talking per se but who you talk to..... regardless, it got me thinking about what trouble we can get ourselves into by talking too much.
I've always had this secret envy of the quiet people in class. You know the really smart kids who hardly say a word. I always thought that this must be the key to their intellingence- the less you talk the more you can listen and the more you learn. Perhaps it's not in my true nature (or nurture) to be quiet. Still, I think so much can be gained by being silent and listening. Even if you're listening to someone who talks too much!
Today one of my coworkers couldn't stop talking about an issue she had with her boss and another coworker couldn't keep from telling her what she should do and then their boss couldn't stop telling everyone else about the drama that ensued and I just wanted to scream STOP! HOLD UP! Perhaps the issue here isn't talking per se but who you talk to..... regardless, it got me thinking about what trouble we can get ourselves into by talking too much.
I've always had this secret envy of the quiet people in class. You know the really smart kids who hardly say a word. I always thought that this must be the key to their intellingence- the less you talk the more you can listen and the more you learn. Perhaps it's not in my true nature (or nurture) to be quiet. Still, I think so much can be gained by being silent and listening. Even if you're listening to someone who talks too much!
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
New Year, New Me
Resolutions- I resolve to make changes each year. I have so much fun talking about what I'm going to change I sometimes forget to make any changes at all. Well, this year's different. Why? Because I say it is.
Many (twelve?) years ago I was introduced to Buddhism in a course called "Ways of Knowing." We read Siddartha by Herman Hesse and it had such a powerful impact on me I decided to start meditating and learning more about the path the Buddha chose. I made time in my life to cultivate awareness, be mindful of my behavior, and just sit still. I struggled. I had a difficult time sitting still, let alone getting my mind to sit still. I went on a silent retreat and noticed some profound changes in my behavior when I allowed myself to stop talking so much and listen- to the world around me, to my friends and family, to nature. I felt good- better than I ever had having chosen a path of mindfullness.
Fast forward to last year when I asked my good friend "What happened to that energy we used to have, all that intention and the philosophy of mindfulness? Where did it go?" I was grasping for the good feelings that come from doing what you know is right and not doing what you know is wrong. Sounds easy. But where did it go? I think it got swept up in economic anxiety, in love and worldly worries and just fell away. Always present just beneath the surface, but not enough to make a deep impact.
And now? I am restless again for change. But instead of waiting for my external circumstances to change, I've decided to change my internal world: my mind. I just had to ask myself, "Are you happy?" The answer was no. So, here I am engaging in spiritual life once again, knowing that I can never get that blissful innocence back. What I now realize is that I don't truly want to go back, I want to move forward. Into new possibilities for growth and awareness. So, here goes everything- wish me success...............
Many (twelve?) years ago I was introduced to Buddhism in a course called "Ways of Knowing." We read Siddartha by Herman Hesse and it had such a powerful impact on me I decided to start meditating and learning more about the path the Buddha chose. I made time in my life to cultivate awareness, be mindful of my behavior, and just sit still. I struggled. I had a difficult time sitting still, let alone getting my mind to sit still. I went on a silent retreat and noticed some profound changes in my behavior when I allowed myself to stop talking so much and listen- to the world around me, to my friends and family, to nature. I felt good- better than I ever had having chosen a path of mindfullness.
Fast forward to last year when I asked my good friend "What happened to that energy we used to have, all that intention and the philosophy of mindfulness? Where did it go?" I was grasping for the good feelings that come from doing what you know is right and not doing what you know is wrong. Sounds easy. But where did it go? I think it got swept up in economic anxiety, in love and worldly worries and just fell away. Always present just beneath the surface, but not enough to make a deep impact.
And now? I am restless again for change. But instead of waiting for my external circumstances to change, I've decided to change my internal world: my mind. I just had to ask myself, "Are you happy?" The answer was no. So, here I am engaging in spiritual life once again, knowing that I can never get that blissful innocence back. What I now realize is that I don't truly want to go back, I want to move forward. Into new possibilities for growth and awareness. So, here goes everything- wish me success...............
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