Like A River

When I traveled to West Virginia in August, I took two books with me. One I never opened. The other was Mark Nepo's The Book of Awakening,  a year of meditations that I have opened countless times over the course of many years. As fate would have it, the entry for August 7 was exactly what I needed to read:

What We Bring Along

A river doesn't hold all the water that passes through it.

In our journey through time, we all struggle constantly with what to bring along and what to leave behind. It feels so hard to throw anything away, but if we don't, we will drown underneath a weight of our own making.

The river is a good model. It doesn't own the water that rushes by, yet it couldn't be in more intimate relationship to it, as the force of what moves through shapes it. It is the same with everything we love. In truth, there is no point to holding on to the deepest things that matter, for they have already shaped us.

The purpose of sentiment, then, is to release the powerful feelings that sleep in us. Sometimes books and cards and shells and dried flowers do this. But often we carry more than we need, seldom trusting that what these small treasures represent is already living within us. Often the most useful gift we can give ourselves is to lay our lives open like a river. 

My perspective has shifted. I see everything differently. I am not dragging possessions or ideas or relationships along with me just because I am used to them being in my life. It is not only a useful gift, but it is essential at this point. 

I imagine my life as a river, letting myself go with the flow, holding onto only what serves me well.

As I went to bed the night before last I realized that I was feeling happy. I don't remember the last time I felt that content and at ease. 

Flowing like a river is working for me. 

As The Year Ends

It seems fitting that I put my back out today. It happened innocently enough - I leaned over to make the bed and felt the spasm. It will work itself out, but it has been a nuisance all day. I can walk slowly and a hot bath helped. Now I'm watching the clock so I can see with my own eyes the start of a new year.

I am ready. The last four months have been beyond stressful. I want to make a conscious decision to start fresh the minute a new year arrives.

At the start of the school year I was working as a special education teacher. I was in over my head but did the best I could for students and teachers. When I learned about an opening for a classroom teacher I asked to be considered for the position. Two days later I heard that I had the job, and I started in the classroom the Monday after Thanksgiving.

I have been a second grade teacher for 17 days. After the first week someone asked me how I was doing. I replied that I am still drowning, but I know this pool. 

I am the third teacher in the room since the start of school, and my task has been to begin at the beginning. Classroom management is my first priority. Getting a handle on curriculum is the second.

Taking care of myself is my third priority. To that end I have seen my osteopath regularly. She told me this week I need time to rest and to heal. There is a lot going on and my body is processing all of it. We talk about how to not take things personally, how to let emotions move through me, how to protect myself with love and compassion for myself and others, how to stay soft when the instinct is to turn hard, and how to accept what happens.

Support and encouragement show up at exactly the right moments ~ a friend calls to check in, another invites us to dinner, and a snow day is a welcome reprieve.

This week another sign came in the form of the daily meditation in Mark Nepo's The Book of Awakening for December 27: 

     Without hope for the future, without hope that things will change, with no hope of finding what's been lost, and no hope of restoring the past, with only the risk to crack open all that has hardened about me, what will I do with what I have? 
     At first, this might seem scary or sad, but as a tired swimmer comes ashore surprised to find pearls washing through his legs, I lift my tired head again and again to find all I need is right where I am.
     But being human, I stray and dream of lives other than my own, and soon I am busy wanting something else, somewhere else, someone else; busy imagining something just out of reach to strive for.
     It leads me to say if you are unhappy or in pain, nothing will remove these surfaces. But acceptance and a strong heart will crack them like a shell, exposing a softness that has always been, exposing a soft thing waiting to take form. It glows. I think it is the one spirit we all share.

Happy New Year everyone. The journey continues.... 

February Treats

I wrote the last post while I was watching The Oscars, one of the treats of February.  I had seen more of the movies up for awards than I realized.  I saw Birdman and The Judge by myself and want to see them again with Ken; I particularly enjoyed the performances of Robert Downey Jr. and Robert Duvall in the latter; I thought Birdman was over the top, which might have been why it was so popular, and while it wasn't one of my favorites last year I wouldn't mind seeing it again to see what I might have missed. 

Ken and I both liked Wild; I got so absorbed in the movie I forgot Reese Witherspoon was acting, and in a different year I think she could have won the Oscar.  Ken and I thought Grand Budapest Hotel was weird, but that kind of movie often does well with voters of The Academy; I don't want to see that one again.  We did like The Imitation Game, but instead of seeing it again I want to learn more about the mathematician Alan Turing and how his mind worked.  We saw Begin Again on DVD, and that is the sort of movie I will watch again because I like the story and the actors and the music is good.  I saw Into the Woods with my daughter and it was good fun; Anna Kendrick has an amazing voice, and Meryl Streep certainly held her own.

While still watching The Oscars I added movies we haven't seen yet to our Netflix queue:  Boyhood, Selma, The Theory of Everything, and Big Hero 6.  The winning song from Selma gave me goose bumps.

There are some movies from last year that I don't care to see at all.  I read the book Still Alice and thought it was well written, but now that I know the story I don't want to see the movie, though I'm sure Julianne Moore did a terrific job and deserves the Oscar.  I am just as sure J. K. Simmons earned his Oscar, but I don't want to see Whiplash because I don't enjoy movies about one person intentionally abusing another.  American Sniper and Foxcatcher are based on true stories, and I don't want to see them because I know enough about those tragedies already.  After last year's Academy Awards we gave in and rented Gravity, which was as bad as I thought it would be; I will not be suckered in this year to watch Interstellar.

That Sunday evening awards show was the perfect way to end February vacation.  I was relaxed and well rested.

Then I went back to work.  I have been tired every night, so tired that I have climbed into bed early the last two nights.  The frustration of the job is tiring, as is the frigid cold weather and the mountains of snow.  Sometimes the best thing is to climb into a warm bed with a good book ~ I'm on my third re-read of favorite Elizabeth Berg novels.

Another treat of February is that it is the shortest month, so no matter how cold or snowy it is we know it will be over soon.  It's also the last full month of winter.  We have no illusions that spring is anywhere close, but it feels good to say "the last month of winter."

We get accustomed to the snow as it piles up.  I took photos after the January 27 blizzard and again on February 22 after the storm the day before.  Yes, we had a lot of snow in January, and photos show how much more we have now.  Ken does a terrific job of keeping us cleared out ~

Results of the Blizzard of January 2015 ~

After the February 21 Snowstorm ~

He gets those nice clean edges and keeps the driveway wide by blowing snow right up against each side.  It's a lot of work but it sure makes it easier to come and go.

Seeking Peace

Let me start this post with a few words about my favorite find among the used books I bought in California.  The book is Seeking Peace by Mary Pipher.  The subtitle is Chronicles of the Worst Buddhist in the World.  I hadn't heard of the book before that day in March.  In my mind Mary Pipher was an insightful, talented, successful psychologist, researcher, teacher, and writer.  She had it all.  I thought this book must be about how she achieved that success, and the subtitle was probably written in jest.

Then I read the inside flap.  "In 2002, Pipher experienced a meltdown."  Well, that was a surprise.  Flipping through the chapters it became obvious that this woman, whose work I have revered since my first reading of Reviving Ophelia in 1995, faced the same challenges that so many of us do.  By all appearances she had it all, but inside she was hurting to the point where she could barely function.  It wasn't until she stopped being what everyone else expected and asked herself who she was and what she wanted that she began to heal.  Pipher shares honestly and openly the challenges she faced and the lessons she learned.  I don't think she knows any other way, which is one of the things I like so much about her writing.

More than once this book had me in tears.  So many feelings and experiences felt familiar to me.  I was reading her words while I was letting go of things I have too tightly held onto for too long.  Like so many women our age we had to learn how to take care of ourselves as grown-ups.  I, too, have mentally gone back to the little girl I was and said, "You are not alone.  You will be okay."  I am continually amazed and grateful when I hear someone else's story and realize I am not the only one who has had this experience.  It is a gift when the story is as sincerely written as Seeking Peace.

It is against the backdrop of reading this book that life began to shift in a big way for me.  I stopped trying to make things right.  It finally sank in that I am not responsible for anyone else's happiness.  I don't cause others to be angry, unhappy, or depressed, and it's not up to me to figure out what I need to do or be to make them feel better.  I can be myself, and if someone doesn't like that, oh well.

I didn't understand how important this realization was until I noticed I had periods of time when my chest didn't hurt.  When was that and what was happening?  It was when I felt comfortable with myself.  The more I say how I really feel and do what works for me, the less I feel stymied and stuck.  Not everyone appreciates my new found state of being.  Oh well.  It is too late to go back now.  I am feeling better, and I like who I am becoming.

Then one evening I got a call from a friend.  She'd heard from a mutual friend about a job opening.  They both encouraged me to apply.  The position was an Ed Tech, an assistant teacher of sorts in this part of the country.  It would be a good way to get back into teaching.

After all that has gone wrong in my job search over the last seven years [peruse the "Job Search" category if you are curious...or don't...it's depressing] I take nothing for granted and do not assume I have a chance of being hired until I hear the words "You have the job" which has only happened once for a short-term period.  I stopped writing here about the jobs I have applied and interviewed for because the repeated rejection was humiliating.

My first reaction to hearing about this job was "Why would they hire me?"  Then I thought about what I have to offer and how I had nothing to lose.  I would apply and see what happened.  I could only put myself out there and wait.

I was called for an interview.  Okay.  I got my hair cut and wore a favorite purple blouse.  Afterward I felt good about the meeting, and for the first time in seven years I did not second-guess anything I said.

Yesterday morning I was offered the position.  I said yes!  I will be teaching reading to third, fourth, and fifth graders in a school a half hour from where I live.  I will learn all I need to know about current reading curriculum and standards, which is necessary to teach in elementary grades.  The Title 1 teacher I will be working with has invited me to visit on Friday to get the lay of the land, and she has secured time for me to be trained this summer.  This fall my day will have a start time and an end time, with no work to carry home.  There's a stipend for one three-credit course, which will also help me with recertification hours.  Since I will be working in a school system I will have access to people who know what I need to do to meet current qualifications to return to classroom teaching.

I am so excited!

A Thousand Mornings

I took myself to the movies tonight.  It was a day among days when life keeps happening, in a good way but busy.  I wanted a quiet couple of hours to be someplace away without the hassle of packing and traveling.  The movie provided an elegant escape.  I recommend Belle, a perfectly paced story of true events in England more than two hundred years ago.  The lead actress Gugu Mbatha-Raw is a pleasure to watch.

* * * * * * * * * *
There are two books from California still to write about.  For today I picked the one that slows my heartbeat and gives me a moment to pause with each reading.  I've never met a book of poems by Mary Oliver that I didn't like, and this book is no exception.  A Thousand Mornings (2012) was a delightful find; every time I pick it up I see something new, sometimes in a poem I've already read. 

I thought this evening about why Oliver's poems strike such a chord with me.  She doesn't gloss over the hard stuff.  She writes about all of it, the real parts of life that bring us joy and sadness and all the feelings in between.

Because the beating of my heart is ever present these days, I selected this poem to share~

A Thousand Mornings
 by Mary Oliver

All night my heart makes its way
however it can over the rough ground
of uncertainties, but only until night
meets and then is overwhelmed by
morning, the light deepening, the
wind easing and just waiting, as I
too wait (and when have I ever been
disappointed?) for redbird to sing.  

The Beginner's Goodbye

There was one novel among the used books I purchased in March.  It's fitting that it was written by Anne Tyler because I often find her books by accident.  I don't absolutely love everything I've read by Tyler, but her Back When We Were Grownups is an all-time favorite of mine and a book I return to again and again, which I wrote about here.

Tyler's book I found for $3 in California is titled The Beginner's Goodbye.  The book is a hard cover, published in 2012.  Did the reader not like the book enough to keep it?  Was it a gift, or did they just run out of room on the shelf?  By the time I've made the decision to buy a book, especially a hard cover, I am fairly certain that it's one I will keep for a good long while.

The Beginner's Goodbye is a keeper.  The book jacket gives away more of the story than I think necessary.  The opening line of the book is really all you need to know:  "The strangest thing about my wife's return from the dead was how other people reacted."  That line tells you that the story is about a man whose wife dies and then comes back to visit.  And the strangest thing about that is other people's reactions?  I either want to read that story or I don't.  I did and I'm glad that's the way I decided to go.

Last fall I became increasingly uncomfortable with the topic of death.  Within a short time span three women I know lost their husbands.  Too close for comfort.  Too hard to think about, yet too real to be ignored.  I needed to find a way to think about the topic without dissolving into a mass of panic.

This book is fiction, and maybe that's why it helped.  Tyler created characters that are quirky and feel real to me.  If I met any one of them in real life, I'd like to get to know them.  They don't say everything the right way, and sometimes feelings are hurt.  They do things that others may not understand, and they may not be able to explain themselves.  Life is messy.  It follows that death is, too.

I like the idea of making a mistake and getting a second chance.  I'd like to think of myself as a  beginner, knowing I have time to learn how to do it better. 

A Year By The Sea

In March, in the used bookstore in California, the first book I picked up was A Year by the Sea by Joan Anderson.  This was not the first time I had considered buying this book.  I almost bought it new several times when it was published in 1999.  The last time I saw it for sale in our local used bookstore I left it sitting on the shelf.

I was reticent to read the story of a woman I had watched travel the talk-show circuit.  I didn't trust the sincerity of a woman who could afford to escape for a year to her cottage on Cape Cod.  I figured if she owned a home on Cape Cod she was in pretty good shape and there wouldn't be much I could relate to in what she had to say.

The used paperback was only a dollar, so I figured why not buy it.  When a book repeatedly presents itself to me I eventually give in.  Most times I am glad I did.

This time was no exception.  It was the first book I started reading during my trip.  I intended just to read the first bit and set it aside for later.  The first paragraph grabbed my interest:  "The decision to separate seemed to happen overnight.  My husband came home from work one day and announced that he was taking a job hundreds of miles away.  As he yammered on about the details, I sat blank-faced, hard-pressed for an excuse not to accompany him.  After all, our two sons were grown, the big old family house in which we had resided for seventeen years had long since outlived its usefulness, and my job was portable.  So where was my resistance coming from?  Why was I frozen, frightened, and full of anger?" (p. 2)

It dawned on me why this book did not appeal to me fifteen years ago.  At that time I shared no point of reference with this woman.  I couldn't imagine a time when the house where I started my family would no longer suit me.  Fifteen years ago my children were growing up, but I couldn't envision a time when they would be completely grown and no longer need my presence on a regular basis.  I didn't think my husband would ever take a job hundreds of miles away without talking to me first, but if that was his choice would I refuse to go if I couldn't identify a solid reason?

However, fifteen years after she wrote the words, I could identify with what Joan Anderson was feeling.  I have moved from the house where I started my family and watched my children grow, children who now live lives totally separate from mine.  My husband has not taken another job, and he still travels often for work; what has changed is that I am now quite content with my time alone.

Once I started reading, I was hooked.  The cottage Joan escaped to was a run-down summer place that wasn't prepared for the stress of year-round occupancy.  She took full responsibility for her own expenses, which meant she soon needed to find work in a fishing village.  Joan opens herself to new experiences and new people.  She strikes up a conversation with a fascinating woman who becomes a mentor and confidante.  The wisdom her new friend imparts in itself makes the book worth reading.  I will not divulge her name here because that discovery is part of the fun....

This book is about one woman's journey of self-discovery.  I finished the book in California and have since read most of it again.  I recommend it if you are someone searching for what you cannot name, or if you are interested in reading about a woman who was willing to start the journey and share what she learned along the way.  

Second Sowing

The books I bought in March at a used book store have provided hours of reading and reflection.   I was going to write one post about my finds, but each book is special in its own way.  Starting today, and for the next few Tuesdays, I will post a bit about each book.

* * * * * * * * * * * *
Twenty-five years ago a friend loaned me a book that her sister had loaned her.  She said I had to read it because it was about all the things we talked about as women, wives, and mothers.  That was surprising because the book was written in 1955.  I read the book in a weekend, then bought my own copy which I have read again and again because it still speaks to my life experience.  That book was Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.  I never thought to ask if she'd written anything else.

Then in March I came across a book of poems that Lindbergh wrote between 1935 and 1955 titled The Unicorn and Other Poems.  I haven't read the book from beginning to end; I open the book to any page and read the poem that appears.  Page 32 was my first and remains my favorite.  I read it while I was holding my grandson ~

Second Sowing
by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
       
For whom
The milk ungiven in the breast
When the child is gone?

For whom
The love locked up in the heart
That is left alone?

That golden yield
Split sod once, overflowed an August field,
Threshed out in pain upon September's floor,
Now hoarded high in barns, a sterile store.

Break down the bolted door;
Rip open, spread and pour
The grain upon the barren ground
Wherever crack in clod is found.

There is no harvest for the heart alone;
The seed of love must be
Eternally
Resown.

Antique Yarn

In yesterday's post I meant to include a link to the site that includes a video on the Continental Cast-On.  This method allows some "give" in the stitches and leaves a really nice edge.  Here's the link: http://www.knittinghelp.com/video/play/long-tail-cast-on

My grandmother on my father's side taught me to knit.  My mother gave it a go but she was left-handed which made all explanations very complicated.  When I was 13 I spent a week in Peoria, Illinois with my grandparents and learned the knitting basics.  Last night I looked through a notebook of old patterns I've held onto and found the drawings my grandmother made to show me how to hold the yarn when casting on.  There is an accompanying typed page of simple directions on how to knit, purl, and cast on using the Continental Method.  My grandmother was a very good knitter and typist.  She liked things to be done precisely.

I have one piece of advice:  If you are refreshing your knitting skills or just starting out, stay with casting on until you have all the stitches you need on your needle.  I am embarrassed to tell you how many times I had to start over because I kept getting lost in the process.  Last night I realized that casting on the first two stitches sets the yarn and your fingers in position for the remaining work to be done.  When I stopped mid-stream and picked up the work later to finish I positioned everything as I did in the very beginning, which is different from the position used once those stitches are cast on.

My brain is certainly getting a workout.

The yarn for my current project is antique yarn.  [I was going to say "old yarn" but that may draw searchers who are looking for stories no one would believe.]  When Ken and I were married my grandmother knit us a beautiful afghan that still rests on the back of our couch.  She included an extra skein of the yarn should repairs ever be needed.  Thirty-six years later the afghan is as soft and warm as the day she made it, so I have decided to use the yarn.  As things progress I will take photos - I need natural sunlight to get good pictures.

Each night I read a few pages in Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's book Free-Range Knitter.  Two nights ago I was lying in bed reading and laughing out loud.  She makes no pretense of knowing more than anyone else or of having it all together, as a mother or a knitter.  Stephanie gives me hope that one way or the other the strands of life will come together and that whatever happens I am not in this alone, as a mother or a knitter.

Song For Autumn

Song for Autumn
by Mary Oliver

In the deep fall
don't you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind?  And don't you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think

of the birds that will come - six, a dozen - to sleep
inside their bodies?  And don't you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first 
tuffets of snow?  The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows.  And the wind pumps its
bellows.  And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way. 

(from New and Selected Poems Volume Two, Beacon Press, 2005.)

Life On The Edge

Two years ago I started reading Mark Nepo's The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have (2000).  There is an entry for each day of the year that includes a title, quote, essay, and meditations.  This year, with a few exceptions, I've pretty much kept up with reading each day's entry before I turn out the light at night.  It's interesting to note how the day's entry relates to what I'm feeling and thinking at the time.  This is the reading for November 10 ~

Life on the Edge
You are that which you are seeking.  - Saint Francis

When I feel lonely, my first thought is that you hold the key to my loneliness.  When I feel confused, my first thought is that you (or someone neither of us knows) is more clear, if I can only find them and get them to speak.  When wanting respect, my first thought is that it is waiting on the other side of some mammoth achievement I must devote myself to.  I try so hard to find what I need or want outside of myself, certain it is waiting for me somewhere just over there.

In the end, seeking only brings us to the edge of knowing ourselves.  If we never look inward, we tend to become experts at life on the edge, while seldom unlocking what all our seeking means.  We can become masters at climbing the mountains of the world instead of breaking trail to the center of our woundedness.  We can become masters at driving fast cars through the night instead of moving through the dark corners of our mind.  We can become masters at seducing strangers in the name of love instead of embracing the softer, less perfect aspects of who we are.

Seeking in the world has always been a way to mirror to us where we need to work inwardly, but seeking danger outside has always been a way to divert the soul's cry for us to take a genuine risk inside.

Meditate on something you are seeking.  It may be love, power, wealth, or the thrill of jumping out of a plane, or the recognition of being famous.

Now imagine that what you seek already lives within you, and as you breathe, hold what you seek before your mind's eye like a door you must enter if you are ever to be whole.

Inhale deeply, and feel what you seek as a part of your spirit that needs attention.

Exhale deeply, and though you may not know how, give yourself this attention. 

Life Update

I am currently reading a novel by Heidi Jon Schmidt, The House on Oyster Creek.  The setting is the coast of Cape Cod where the main character, Charlotte, has moved with her husband and young daughter.  She has befriended an oyster farmer and is working to save the tidal flats where he "farms" oysters and clams.  In her quest she has a conversation with Ada, a woman who has lived in the town of Wellfleet her entire life and pays Charlotte a compliment:

"Charlotte glanced away - the flash of Ada's loneliness was too painful, and the praise made her shy - but she felt the truth of it:  She was uncertain partly because of her openness.  Henry [Charlotte's husband] could press ahead and crush his opposition because he didn't stop to ask himself whether he might be wrong.  Charlotte let life flow through and change her; and if this would have made her a very bad critic and a dreadful real estate developer, it had helped her become a good mother; the most ordinary, most important thing on earth."

I read that last night and has an aha moment.  Life has been swirling with the accomplishments of my family ~ my children's careers are flourishing, and my husband passed an important exam necessary to renew his New Hampshire credentials.  Throughout conversations and updates I listen and encourage.  When goals are reached I celebrate.  I take in stride whatever happens, find the positive points, and work hard to keep whatever I might think to myself.  Their lives impact mine.  I adapt and change.   I like Charlotte's idea that this is important.

I have been feeling that I am the most ordinary person I know, with little to share and not much to offer, hence the lack of posts from this corner.  Nothing new to see here, while my online friends are moving and shaking the world around them.  I am grateful for the photos and stories that people share.  I have not been holding up my end in the blogging world because the stories around here lately are not my stories to tell.  My vow to keep the focus on my life leads to b-o-r-i-n-g when all the goings on are internal as things shift and I search for balance.  I am still waiting for what's next for me...

In the meantime I have a new cat in my life.  Meet Millie ~

She's an eleven year-old cat who has some treatable health issues and needed a new foster home.  My daughter forwarded the information to me on Mother's Day.  I thought for sure someone would take her in, but this weekend the situation became urgent.  I called Sunday, my application was approved Monday, and Millie came to live with us Tuesday.  She made herself right at home on my quilt squares ~

She needs fattening up, along with medication to kick a urinary tract infection.  So I'm feeding her as much as she'll eat, giving her pills and fluids, and petting her as much as she'll allow.  She likes looking out the kitchen door just like Leo did ~

I can help her, and I think she's good for me.  I will let you know how it goes ~

Rules Of Improvisation

My sister gave me the audiobook of Tina Fey's Bossypants.  I loved it and shared it with my daughter and a friend, who enjoyed it as well.  Before I listened to Tina Fey's story I couldn't get into her most recent TV show 30 Rock, but afterward I watched all the seasons that are on Netflix.  It all made much more sense once I knew her background.

There was one particular part of her book that has stayed with me.  I listened to it several times and took notes.  Tina shares her Rules of Improvisation, which also work for life in general.

1)  Agree and say "yes."  Respect what your partner has created and stay open minded.
[When you are working with someone, agree with their premise.]

2)  Say "yes AND."  Don't be afraid to contribute; your contributions are worthwhile.  Add something of your own to the discussion.
[The AND is when you say something that moves the interaction forward.]

3)  Make statements with your actions and voice.  Be part of the solution.
[Be confident.  Do not use an apologetic tone.]

4)  There are no mistakes, only opportunities, aka beautiful happy accidents.
[This is true when you take advantage of whatever happens.]

These are good, common sense guidelines.  Long ago I learned to say "yes" if given a choice, and I have never been sorry. There is a way to answer most questions with "yes," as long as the conversation continues to allow for clarification and flexibility.  I can talk to just about anyone because I can always find a way to extend the conversation; I am sincerely interested in what other people have to say.  I make a point to not raise my voice at the end of a statement because then it sounds like a question, and that defeats the point of making a statement.

If I look at life as an improvisation, the one rule I have trouble with is to see "mistakes" as opportunities.  I would expand that to decisions that made sense at the time they were made but have not panned out.  Maybe there are no clear answers.  Maybe one thing leads to another and it's hard to know what's connected, where the "mistake" ends and opportunity begins. 

This week I have to remind myself to keep breathing.  It's hard to see how anything fits together or where my place is in the scheme of things.

Just breathe.... 

Course Correction

I keep a stack of books by my bed and usually have three or four books going at any one time.  If I really get into a book I will read some each night until it's finished.  Other books can take weeks or months to read, a little bit at a time.

One such book is Rachel Naomi Remen's My Grandfather's Blessings (2000).  I liked it when I read it several years ago, so when I saw a copy at a used bookstore I picked it up.  Rachel is a doctor.  The subtitle of the book accurately reads "Stories of Strength, Refuge, and Belonging."  I will often read just a few pages at a time and take a day or two to think about the story she tells.

The chapter I read last night is titled "Friction In The System."  Rachel relays a story she heard about how computers on the Concorde were programmed to keep the plane on course, constantly making corrections so the plane arrived at the right destination at exactly the time it was expected.  Rachel wonders what might happen if humans stopped wanting to be right all the time.  She writes, "Might it be possible to focus ourselves on the purpose we wish to serve....Once we stopped demanding of ourselves that we be on course all the time, we might begin to look at our mistakes differently, giving them an impeccable attention and a frictionless response.  They will not prevent us from reaching our dreams nearly so much as wanting to be right will" (p.366).

If I had read this story two weeks ago I might have missed the message.  Last night this story felt like an affirmation.  I have been very quiet, alone for days at a time while Ken works out of town, and feeling at ease with myself and what I've chosen to do around the house.  I think now that I have been coming to terms with a major course correction.  I really just want to be comfortable in my skin, content with wherever I am and whatever I am doing.

Rachel concludes that, "Serving anything worthwhile is a commitment to a direction over time and may require us to relinquish many moment-to-moment attachments, to let go of pride, approval, recognition, or even success.  This is true whether we be parents, researchers, educators, artists, or heads of state.  Serving life may require faithfulness to purpose that lasts over a lifetime.  It is less a work of the ego than a choice of the soul" (p.367).

The journey continues....     

What I Have Learned So Far

I have put Christmas away.  I have cleaned the house from top to bottom.  For the first time in almost a year I feel that I have a handle on the clutter.  On Tuesday I cleared the desk completely and set about polishing the wood to a rich luster.  I put back only what absolutely has to live on the surface and have promised myself that I will stay on top of the papers and miscellaneous items that seem to collect with no effort at all on my part.

I have made the commitment to walk a mile on the treadmill every day that I am home.  Some days this means I climb on for ten minutes, stop to put in a load of laundry, climb back on for ten minutes, stop to hang up laundry, and so on until I have walked a mile.  I haven't put a time limit on how long it takes me, just that I will walk the distance.

I have been busy taking care of business.

This week our water was tested for the third time in as many months.  There is a blue-green residue that collects in the sinks and tub/shower in two of our bathrooms.  Two years ago I mentioned it to the technician who came to check our system, the one we put in because of the iron content and issues with sediment when the house was new.  The numbers all checked out in the lab so we were told all was well.  The issue has persisted, so when the numbers came back "okay" in October I set about doing my own research.  I found articles that talked about "low pH" and "stripping copper from pipes" and "plumbing that fails."  I called to talk about the research I'd done and learned that they hadn't tested the pH in October, so someone came to do that.  I had to call again when I got the report, without the pH numbers listed, to learn that the numbers were on the low end of acceptable.  I grilled the person on the other end of the phone about what that meant and what the problem could be and what could be done to correct the problem once they identified it.  He volunteered to come himself to test for copper, which would be coming from the pipes and fittings because water with a low pH interacts with copper.  And yes, there are traces of copper in our water, not in alarming amounts but enough that over time our pipes will be affected.  So our system needs to be adapted to raise the pH level.

The days fill up with multiple-step chores and errands like that.  Gifts returned and packages sent via FedEx, UPS, and the postal service.  The DVD player that Ken bought needs to be seen to because it whirs and makes noises that a new DVD player should not make.  Last May we were sold a bed that has a factory flaw that I didn't find until I was polishing furniture this week, so I have contacted the store and hope that the company will resolve the problem with a new footboard.

I stay in bed in the mornings until I absolutely have to get up because once my feet hit the floor there are endless things to attend to, some of my own making and some the daily business of living and some that just cannot be ignored.

All the while time is passing and the possibility of finding my dream job is slipping away.  Just before the holidays I got another rejection email.  So I think that that's okay because family is coming and there are things that need my attention.  There is always something that needs to be done or some project to finish or some problem to solve.  There always will be.

So I keep moving, even if it feels like I'm going in circles or merely stepping in place.

Nothing will change until I take action.  The first days of this new year I have taken a long hard look at where I am and what my options are.  I want to work.  I can't get a job.  My options are few.

Today I called the district where I worked as a long-term sub last spring to see if my paperwork is still on file; it is and with one phone call it can be activated so I can be called on an as-needed basis.  I think I have figured out how to file paperwork online for another district that also needs substitute teachers.

This is the very last thing I want to do.  The hardest job in any school is that of a substitute teacher, but this is work that is available.  I cannot go into this thinking it might lead to something more because chances are just  as good that it won't.  It is what it is.  Nothing else has panned out.  No other opportunity has presented itself in five years.  That's long enough.

If the lesson was humility, I have learned it.

It occurred to me this week that I need to do what I can do.  If no one wants what I have to offer, I can go where they will take whoever shows up.  I can show up.  I can do a good job wherever I am and under whatever circumstances.  If this is all there is, then this is it.  If every door has closed but this one, then this is the door I will walk through.  I needed time to come around to this, and now that I have I can make it work.

This evening I pulled Mary Oliver's New and Selected Poems, Volume Two (2005) off the shelf.  Occasionally I crack open one of her books to a random page, and the perfect poem is there.  Tonight was no exception ~

What I Have Learned So Far 

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I
not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,
looking into the shining world?  Because, properly
attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion.
Can one be passionate about the just, the ideal,
the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit to no
labor in its cause?  I don't think so.

All summations have a beginning, all effect has a
story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.
Thought buds toward radiance.  The gospel of
light is the crossroads of - indolence, or action.

Be ignited, or be gone.     

It's Not Personal

I was dubious about writing a book review, something I have not done before, but I wanted to help my online friend Cindy Hampel. When she asked me to write a review for her book I told her I would, while I knew if I didn’t want to recommend the book I would gracefully bow out.

Cindy sent me a copy of her book titled It’s Not Personal: Lessons I’ve Learned from Dealing with Difficult Behavior.* I opened the envelope and set the book aside, not sure how to begin. Then I decided I should begin reading at the beginning. That was a good idea because in the preface Cindy explains the basis for the book and how it came to be written. The book is a compilation of stories based on her personal experience and what she learned about how to deal with difficult people.

The book reads like a journal. Each chapter is a few pages long with a concise piece of advice at the end, such as this gem at the end of Chapter 1, “Difficult behavior is a window, not a mirror…so don’t take it personally.” I found myself nodding as I read. Many of the situations were familiar to ones I had experienced and the advice made sense to me.

Yet I wasn’t sure how to write a review. What could I say about someone’s writing where she shares stories and what she learned from each situation? How could I have an opinion about a body of work that is so personal?

Then my life got busy, and when I was about halfway through the book I set it aside for a few days. I had the opportunity to see friends, and I had conversations with different family members.

I was particularly frustrated after one conversation. I had tried to share an idea with someone who couldn’t see my point of view; I couldn’t make myself understood. Then I had the thought, it’s not personal. And that was exactly what it was: the person could only see what was in their interest and could not hear what I was trying to say. It was the first time I had been able to reflect on a conversation with this person and not wonder what I could have done differently. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t personal.

That’s when I knew I wanted to finish the book and write a post about the helpful, practical advice the book has to offer. Any relationship could be substituted for each situation that is described, and the gem of wisdom at the end of each chapter could relate to a variety of situations. This is a book that I will reference in the future to remind myself that it’s not personal when I find myself dealing with difficult behavior.

I recommend this book for anyone who would like to have a better understanding of difficult behavior and how to be more at ease in relationships with difficult people.


*Copyright 2011 by Cindy Hampel, Orange Sun Press, Royal Oak, MI.

Thank You Dorothy Parker

A commenter on my last post, someone who knows me well, left links for three poems. I want to share one that still has me chuckling. Life does go round and round, and there are ups and downs. Laughter along the way is a good thing ~

Inscription for the Ceiling of a Bedroom
by Dorothy Parker

Daily dawns another day;
I must up, to make my way.
Though I dress and drink and eat,
Move my fingers and my feet,
Learn a little, here and there,
Weep and laugh and sweat and swear,
Hear a song, or watch a stage,
Leave some words upon a page,
Claim a foe, or hail a friend—
Bed awaits me at the end.

Though I go in pride and strength,
I'll come back to bed at length.
Though I walk in blinded woe,
Back to bed I'm bound to go.
High my heart, or bowed my head,
All my days but lead to bed.
Up, and out, and on; and then
Ever back to bed again,
Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall—
I'm a fool to rise at all!

(from The Poetry & Short Stories of Dorothy Parker, 1994, The Modern Library.)

While I Was Sleeping

It is amazing what a difference a good night's sleep makes. Last night I went to bed exhausted and grateful. This morning I woke up glad that I had been asleep and ready to start the day. I love when that happens! Tonight I went looking for words to describe what I am feeling, not sure they existed, and I came upon a poem that suggests so much more ~

Last Night As I Was Sleeping
by Antonio Machado

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

(From ten poems to change your life, 2001, Harmony Books, p. 21)

Presidents' Day

"History repeats itself"is a familiar phrase. In looking for a silver lining for the tumultuous time in which we live, I have had my eyes open for any ray of light. This weekend I was looking through a picture book* I bought before Christmas ~ I have been parceling out a few pages at a time to prolong the enjoyment of reading the book. And there it was...a sign that this time, too, shall pass. It is an excerpt of a piece written by a well-known poet. I will share who wrote it and when at the bottom of the page. If you're game, read through and take a guess. I wouldn't have known before, but I am glad I know now.

It is the fashion among dillettants and fops (perhaps
I myself am not guiltless,) to decry the whole formulation
of the active politics of America, as beyond redemption,
and to be carefully kept away from. See you that you
do not fall into this error. America, it may be, is doing
very well upon the whole, notwithstanding these antics
of the parties and their leaders, these half-brain'd nominees,
the many ignorant ballots, and many elected failures and
blatherers. It is the dillettants, and all who shirk their duty,
who are not doing well. As for you, I advise you to enter
more strongly yet into politics. I advise every young man
to do so. Always inform yourself; always do the best you can;
always vote. Disengage yourself from parties. They have
been useful, and to some extent remain so; but the floating,
uncommitted electors, farmers, clerks, mechanics, the
masters of parties - watching aloof, inclining victory this
side or that side - such are the ones most needed, present
and future. For America, if eligible at all to downfall and
ruin, is eligible within herself, not without; for I see clearly
that the combined foreign world could not beat her down.
But these savage, wolfish parties alarm me. Owning no
law but their own will, more and more combative, less
and less tolerant of the idea of ensemble and of equal
brotherhood, the perfect equality of the States, the ever-
over-arching American ideas, it behooves you to convey
yourself implicitly to no party, nor submit blindly to their
dictators, but steadily hold yourself judge and master
over all of them.

From Democratic Vistas

* * * * * * * * *



written by Walt Whitman in 1871

(*Voices in Poetry: Walt Whitman, 1994, Creative Education, p. 19)

Allow

I have read the poems of Danna Faulds in a variety of places and finally ordered a copy of Go In and In (2002, Morris Publishing). Each poem is a meditation.

Here is the pearl of wisdom that was my introduction to her work:

Allow
by Danna Faulds

There is no controlling life.
Try corralling a lightning bolt,
containing a tornado. Dam a
stream, and it will create a new
channel. Resist, and the tide
will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry
you to higher ground. The only
safety lies in letting it all in -
the wild with the weak; fear,
fantasies, failures and success.
When loss rips off the doors of
the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice
becomes simply bearing the truth.
In the choice to let go of your
known way of being, the whole
world is revealed to your new eyes.