In a synchronistic way I found in an earlier journal some insights that are like precursors to the themes occupying me lately. I thought I'd include them here.
The book I'm referring to is called Bush On the Couch, by Justin Franks.
1/02/07 Tues, 11:38
I’ve been really indulging my thirst for information, reading for hours. Got stoned a little while ago. What I’m really indulging is my reveling in the silence of the kids’ absence. The first day back at school for them, and the return of reliable hours to myself. Only 4 7-hour stretches this week, but it feels like a lot in comparison to what I’ve had since December 13. They had nearly 3 weeks off. I’m mostly glad to be looking ahead at a prolonged stretch of time offs-from-parenting, and behind at the long stretch I knew was coming.
Helena made an interesting remark that I actually misunderstood, but still felt as an insight. I can’t even think right now of the context of that—the greater conversation. Well, the overall conversational topic was our difficulties with the men we’ve married. But more than a bitch-fest; genuinely using each other to help us work out just what our experiences are, and our responses to them. Trying to make sense.
Anyway, it was in that context, but not the closer context, that Helena made the remark. I’d said something about Gary’s relationship with his mother and she made the analogy to roles that people often play in alcoholic families: “He was being ‘the good son’. And now he’s expecting you to be ‘the perfect mother.’” That’s where the noise in the room had risen a second and obliterated the word “mother” and I thought she’d said, ‘son’. Which filled me with an understanding that maybe as Gary had been ‘the good son’ to his mother, he expected me to “be a ‘good son’ to him.” I think I remember the overall context a little better: the notion that …I keep remembering back further. I think we may have been talking about Melanie Klein’s theory that at the base of all of us; within our core, there is a basic anxiety over our birth…that is, our ‘expulsion’. And that perhaps this ‘birth’, and the anxiety that accompanies it, is what has become in judeo-christian collective narrative: ‘original sin’. And that, the infant, in his primitive consciousness, delegates the information coming in to two basic categories: things that give warm and fuzzy feelings/things that feel yucky. The anxiety of having to wait for the caregiver and feeling great anger, and the anxiety that comes from feeling destructive emotions toward someone that is so depended upon would also be great, and considered as ‘bad’. I can see this as the very mechanism by which humans developed religion, and the whole good/evil dichotomy. So as humans when we pass laws it’s to protect us from the consequences of our own destructive impulse, and that of others. When we do something out of fear for being wrong, we are motivated by that fear of the destructive impulse. Same as when we are motivated by guilt. Perhaps I was saying something like that—having made a parallel with Gary’s kind of being bound up in some sort of compact to not hurt his mother’s feelings by setting limits with her. Or something about his seeming to expect that he act in disturbing ways and I say nothing. That the offence isn’t in what he has done, but in that I named it. Or the expectation that I somehow know and anticipate his needs without him having to say, and Helena pointing out that this is part of infantile rage against expectations not being met.
(I’m diverging from that idea for a moment to write down a more coherent understanding of the Human Condition—at least western-style. Given this deep anxiety over our own destructive impulses as an assumption, even when perfectly parented, it’s probably not perfect enough. As infants, nothing can insulate us from ‘feeling yucky’ experiences. However, if, as Justin Franks says, the infant has repeatedly the experience of its anxiety being absorbed by Another, and then given back in a transformed state, the infant can grow to be a person with a deep integration within—that is, all his parts, shadow and otherwise. When that process is interrupted, or just not done, the infant has to develop all sorts of defenses to protect itself from the deep feelings of destruction it harbors. We live in a culture that has fostered exactly that. People have been warped in their development by the defenses they’ve adopted. Consequences are people who are unable to connect intimately, or feel empathy, or face reality. Or be authentic, or keep agreements. Some of us become needy and emotionally dependent. And then these disfunctions cause more friction, more wear in unnatural ways, more deformation. Our souls as human beings are so deformed. It is deeply shocking to me how humans have given their assent to horrible ways of killing each other. Ignoring the fact that there are innocent people beneath the bombs. Ignoring the fact of mass killings. The strange idea of sending our soldiers out into the world to do what we don’t want done here, in the U.S: wholesale violence and terrible suffering.)
(I’m also wanting to write about something else that seems odd. Reading this stuff in Franks’ book feels like a revelation to me. It seems to make the pieces fall into place to form a story that’s more coherent about human beings and the way we operate. I felt very excited at this deeper understanding, and this lens of viewing it through: I felt held inside. Yet, I don’t think I thought of anything in terms of this yesterday, even as Connor was giving some destructive element inside himself full rein. So it seems weird that something that seemed so significant days ago I’d nearly forgotten yesterday and today.)
Another couple thoughts about ‘belief’.
It seems that belief might have the same function as a mask. That it’s the face presented to the world, and that face obscures the one beneath. (I suppose it’s no accident that human cultures often have masks, some highly ceremonial and elaborate).
My father’s questioning of Connor the other day when Connor was complaining about having not gotten what they wanted was not meant to help him appreciate what he had. I felt that so clearly. It was meant to express disapproval, and to say that Connor was being wrong. It expressed a belief that’people should be grateful for what they’re given’. Or, by extension, to Connor: “*You* should be grateful for what you are given and your feelings run counter to this and you are so wrong.” It was aggression, really. It was meant to make Connor feel bad, not to help him through his feelings. The basic message was: “Your feelings are wrong and you are wrong for having them and wrong for not controlling them.” It was meant to punish him for expressing his feelings and for having them at all. They also judged him for not having an adult standard of conduct in dealing with some disappointed feelings and wanted him to “shut up about it”. I think it was also based on taking those remarks from a child personally. Feeling personally stung by a child who can’t possibly have an adult perspective. And all that driven by a belief, and by the mistaken belief that a child has the same level of perspective as an adult and should be held to the same standard of conduct.
I guess I’m trying to show Connor how to manage strong destructive feelings by transforming them, and the first step is to name and understand feelings. And understand feelings without the filter of a belief that feelings are right or wrong. And I saw it happen. I saw his feelings get transformed. I saw him at peace with himself again, and at ease, and happy. And he didn’t have to disown his feelings to do that.
We see evidence every day that people live through their beliefs, and not reality: “children should wear their coats”, “children should eat their food”, “people shouldn’t name what another person has done to hurt them” …And a strange loyalty to these beliefs—and a strong indoctrination into them. About a “right” way to be.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Loser Talk
Behind the 'person I'm not supposed to be' is an even more formidable Guardian to the gate of True Self: Shame.
At the Healthline website is a description of "the Self-conscious emotions". Among them is Shame, described here:
Merriam Webster's definition:
Healthline goes on to discuss some of the dysfunctional things people will do to rid themselves of such an excruciating feeling.
Ultimately, I suppose this is the power that any given culture can wield: the collective blunt instrument of Shame.
Behind Shame is the specter of 'Loser'. Which has Shame at its core, in a tightening spiral. To be a Loser is to live in a permanent state of shame worthy only of the contempt of others and trapped inside one's own skin with it. Forever.
The tight bond between Shame and sexuality has always perplexed me. In some cultures, the entire worth and character of a man's life was judged by whether or not his daughter was 'virtuous'. Why? Why does the crime of rape have a charged connotation to it in comparison with a mugging? Why, in some cultures, are women who have been raped deemed ineligible for marriage, so that rape becomes an instrument of war, of ethnic cleansing (because she is eliminated from the gene pool)? Why did I hear a mother say, during the Kosovo War, that she'd rather her daughter be killed, then raped? And why, in Iraq, do we hear of families who refuse the return of their kidnapped daughters because "we don't know what 'they' might have done to them.?"
Somewhere along the line a collective agreement has been made that rape is in a special category which carries such unique and potent shame that the survivor must be relegated to a continuous state of humiliation. She may as well have died, because living in a continuous state of shame is worse than dying.
What's unspoken here is the role of the survivor's very people. If rape is the nail, cultural agreement that the victim is permanently shamed is the sledgehammer. Their agreement to assigning rape this value is what gives it its power: If there was no shame in being raped, a weapon of ethnic cleansing would be neutered. And a gesture of contempt rendered toothless (not that it would be any less undesirable to be raped, but the pain would be confined to the crime itself and not infected, exacerbated and extended by cultural environment).
I digress.
I think well-meaning adults, rather than viewing True Self as a diamond in the rough to be shaped and polished over time, saw True Self as an animal to be caged, and broken. Shame and humiliation seemed like logical tools to use. The people we are 'not supposed to be' wear the garments of 'Loser'. The ultimate threat is being the archetypal Loser, a soul worthy only of a life of perpetual shame, cast out, beneath contempt.
Of course, we can withdraw our own consent to this agreement. What's hidden is that it's our own agreement that gives these Guardians their potency. Once neutralized, perhaps the pathway to True Self is open...
At the Healthline website is a description of "the Self-conscious emotions". Among them is Shame, described here:
"It is a highly negative and painful state that also disrupts ongoing behavior and causes confusion in thought and an inability to speak. The body of the shamed person seems to shrink, as if to disappear from the eye of the self or others. Because of the intensity of this emotional state, and the global attack on the self system, all that individuals can do when presented with such a state is to attempt to rid themselves of it. Its global nature, however, makes it very difficult to dissipate."
Merriam Webster's definition:
1. a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or improriety
2. the susceptibility to such emotion
3. a condition of humiliating disgrace or disrepute: ignominy
4. something that brings censure or reproach
Healthline goes on to discuss some of the dysfunctional things people will do to rid themselves of such an excruciating feeling.
Ultimately, I suppose this is the power that any given culture can wield: the collective blunt instrument of Shame.
Behind Shame is the specter of 'Loser'. Which has Shame at its core, in a tightening spiral. To be a Loser is to live in a permanent state of shame worthy only of the contempt of others and trapped inside one's own skin with it. Forever.
The tight bond between Shame and sexuality has always perplexed me. In some cultures, the entire worth and character of a man's life was judged by whether or not his daughter was 'virtuous'. Why? Why does the crime of rape have a charged connotation to it in comparison with a mugging? Why, in some cultures, are women who have been raped deemed ineligible for marriage, so that rape becomes an instrument of war, of ethnic cleansing (because she is eliminated from the gene pool)? Why did I hear a mother say, during the Kosovo War, that she'd rather her daughter be killed, then raped? And why, in Iraq, do we hear of families who refuse the return of their kidnapped daughters because "we don't know what 'they' might have done to them.?"
Somewhere along the line a collective agreement has been made that rape is in a special category which carries such unique and potent shame that the survivor must be relegated to a continuous state of humiliation. She may as well have died, because living in a continuous state of shame is worse than dying.
What's unspoken here is the role of the survivor's very people. If rape is the nail, cultural agreement that the victim is permanently shamed is the sledgehammer. Their agreement to assigning rape this value is what gives it its power: If there was no shame in being raped, a weapon of ethnic cleansing would be neutered. And a gesture of contempt rendered toothless (not that it would be any less undesirable to be raped, but the pain would be confined to the crime itself and not infected, exacerbated and extended by cultural environment).
I digress.
I think well-meaning adults, rather than viewing True Self as a diamond in the rough to be shaped and polished over time, saw True Self as an animal to be caged, and broken. Shame and humiliation seemed like logical tools to use. The people we are 'not supposed to be' wear the garments of 'Loser'. The ultimate threat is being the archetypal Loser, a soul worthy only of a life of perpetual shame, cast out, beneath contempt.
Of course, we can withdraw our own consent to this agreement. What's hidden is that it's our own agreement that gives these Guardians their potency. Once neutralized, perhaps the pathway to True Self is open...
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Relentless
After a few weeks of uncharacteristically accurate weather forecasts, the northwest meteorologists have returned to usual form. We returned home from California on December 31. The temperatures were predicted to warm, bringing rain. We woke on January 2 to 5 inches of new snow on the ground. This was completely unforeseen. But since that was Friday and forecasts persisted in their warming and rain predictions (complete with flood alerts) I didn't worry...
It's snowing right now.
Tomorrow was to be the kids' first day back at school after their 2 week break was extended to 3 by the snowstorm in the middle of December.
I didn't realize how much I was counting on tomorrow until the prospect that the schools might close started to look serious. I realize now that what equanimity I've had through this period was based on them returning to school, and the return of my quiet time.
If they close the schools tomorrow I may do as David Sedaris's mother did in his childhood: throw the kids out in the snow and lock the doors and sit drinking, stonily oblivious to their cries.
My guys are nearly hysterical at the prospect of another day (or two, three, woo hoo) off. Eternal vacation.
Me, I'm pretty bummed out.
It's snowing right now.
Tomorrow was to be the kids' first day back at school after their 2 week break was extended to 3 by the snowstorm in the middle of December.
I didn't realize how much I was counting on tomorrow until the prospect that the schools might close started to look serious. I realize now that what equanimity I've had through this period was based on them returning to school, and the return of my quiet time.
If they close the schools tomorrow I may do as David Sedaris's mother did in his childhood: throw the kids out in the snow and lock the doors and sit drinking, stonily oblivious to their cries.
My guys are nearly hysterical at the prospect of another day (or two, three, woo hoo) off. Eternal vacation.
Me, I'm pretty bummed out.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Poignant (children ment.)
We did make it out of town through a window in the weather. We left early (at my urging) on Tuesday Dec. 23rd. Drove on packed snow on the windy road down our hill to access a state highway south to Interstate 5. From Portland to Salem took 2 hours; normally it's about a 45 min drive. It was white-knuckles the whole way to Salem on solid ice, broken and rutted. We have the 'studless' snow tires and didn't put on chains. The Fear was that traffic, which was extremely heavy, would come to a complete stop on an incline and we might not be able to get moving again. To our good fortune though, south of Salem the ice turned to slush turned to wet pavement and even became dry. Our speed returned to normal highway speed and the climb over Siskiyou Pass was uneventful. It would have been unbearable to be in icy conditions all the way to California when the elevation would drop.
Turns out we left at just the right time. Had we delayed any longer we'd have been caught stuck for several hours on the stretch of highway and I-5 that the Dept of Transportation closed to scrape the surface clean.
After Christmas at my parents' we drove to San Francisco to stay in the heart of Chinatown. Monday morning we went to a dim sum restaurant, the kind where they push around the carts. We'd had a successful experience the day before at a little dim sum stand, so I thought the boys would enjoy this. However Scott's food sat nearly untouched on his plate.
It had been cold, and both boys were wearing their new hats. Scott's was a beenie he had pulled down on his head nearly to his eyebrows. Just below the margin of royal blue was the edge of his bangs that had also been pressed down. So he was looking up at me from below the hair and hat rim, and the blue made his eyes look very vivid. Of course, at seven, he has that beautiful nearly waxen skin and he looked particularly luminous that morning in the bustling restaurant. As I ate he began asking questions, looking deeply into my eyes as I answered. At one point I caught my breath as I marveled that this beautiful child was mine.
"Mom?"
"Yes, Scott."
"You'll always be my mother." Part statement, part question. It was clear he needed a response, a corroboration. He does this quite a lot ("Mom, a cat is a mammal", "Yes, Scott, a cat is a mammal." Sometimes it drives me nuts.) So I said, "Yes, Scott, I'll always be your mother." He kind of nodded to himself as if this confirmed a hypothesis.
"And you'll always be my mother, even if you die."
"Yes, even if I die, I'll always be your mother." This time a little smile with the nod as if he was not only affirmed, but also reassured. His face was so open, so innocent and earnest that I nearly started crying there in the restaurant. It makes me tear up even as I write.
Boy they slay me sometimes. I think I'm walking along with the same-old usual, and then I fall right into a hole I hadn't seen.
Turns out we left at just the right time. Had we delayed any longer we'd have been caught stuck for several hours on the stretch of highway and I-5 that the Dept of Transportation closed to scrape the surface clean.
After Christmas at my parents' we drove to San Francisco to stay in the heart of Chinatown. Monday morning we went to a dim sum restaurant, the kind where they push around the carts. We'd had a successful experience the day before at a little dim sum stand, so I thought the boys would enjoy this. However Scott's food sat nearly untouched on his plate.
It had been cold, and both boys were wearing their new hats. Scott's was a beenie he had pulled down on his head nearly to his eyebrows. Just below the margin of royal blue was the edge of his bangs that had also been pressed down. So he was looking up at me from below the hair and hat rim, and the blue made his eyes look very vivid. Of course, at seven, he has that beautiful nearly waxen skin and he looked particularly luminous that morning in the bustling restaurant. As I ate he began asking questions, looking deeply into my eyes as I answered. At one point I caught my breath as I marveled that this beautiful child was mine.
"Mom?"
"Yes, Scott."
"You'll always be my mother." Part statement, part question. It was clear he needed a response, a corroboration. He does this quite a lot ("Mom, a cat is a mammal", "Yes, Scott, a cat is a mammal." Sometimes it drives me nuts.) So I said, "Yes, Scott, I'll always be your mother." He kind of nodded to himself as if this confirmed a hypothesis.
"And you'll always be my mother, even if you die."
"Yes, even if I die, I'll always be your mother." This time a little smile with the nod as if he was not only affirmed, but also reassured. His face was so open, so innocent and earnest that I nearly started crying there in the restaurant. It makes me tear up even as I write.
Boy they slay me sometimes. I think I'm walking along with the same-old usual, and then I fall right into a hole I hadn't seen.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Shame
It seems that whether by design, or accident, an important part of being socialized has to do with denying the Truth of oneself.
The socialization process starts from birth, if not before, and the pliable clay that is infancy is molded into the image the adult sees fit. In exceptional cases, the person may be able to consider and question what is being taught; for most of us, it is the water we swim in. It isn't until we are older, and perhaps our lives aren't working well for us, that we reconsider some basic assumptions.
Very early, before we knew we were agreeing to something, we were agreeing to an abstract model of "the people we should be" and "the people we shouldn't". People we should be were selfless, generous, helpful, and generally didn't trigger negative emotions in important adults (namely parents and teachers). People we should not be were selfish, unwilling, stingy, unkind and generally anything else that triggered irritation or anger in important adults.
Manifestations of feelings that went counter to the first group, and were umbrella'd under the category of the second, were BAD, and by extension the feelings themselves were deemed BAD.
I suppose this makes sense in a belief system where human beings are born BAD, and that we will always be at war with our BAD nature until we die.
The covert message, intended or not, is that not only certain actions are wrong: our very feelings need governing too. If we want to be "good", then we can't even allow feelings that are associated with the second group to rise to our level of consciousness. Self censorship is born. And therefore the truth of our Selves, the Selves that are experiencing these feelings, are submerged.
We may feel called to by this submerged Self, all our lives. A feeling of a lack, which the Christians say Jesus is supposed to fill. Buddhists attribute it to the suffering that is caused by "attachment" to things, people, outcomes. Some people drink, others do drugs, others take risks.
For those who wish to journey back to this place of authenticity of Self, there are successive guardians at the gate. I met one Guardian last week, in the tacit agreement that choosing something for your self, without a "good reason" is selfish, mean, grasping. That was the scarecrow flapping in the breeze, this sense of agreement with what my feelings "meant" (something awful about me). If I acknowledge that the feeling inside from which springs the reluctance is a core "No", then I realize that an agreement I made before I knew I was making an agreement--is irrelevant.
I think I found a new Guardian yesterday when Gary took the boys on an all-day errand trip. Funny what I can think up when I have some uninterrupted time.
This Guardian is more potent. It's called Shame.
I think I will leave it at that, for now.
The socialization process starts from birth, if not before, and the pliable clay that is infancy is molded into the image the adult sees fit. In exceptional cases, the person may be able to consider and question what is being taught; for most of us, it is the water we swim in. It isn't until we are older, and perhaps our lives aren't working well for us, that we reconsider some basic assumptions.
Very early, before we knew we were agreeing to something, we were agreeing to an abstract model of "the people we should be" and "the people we shouldn't". People we should be were selfless, generous, helpful, and generally didn't trigger negative emotions in important adults (namely parents and teachers). People we should not be were selfish, unwilling, stingy, unkind and generally anything else that triggered irritation or anger in important adults.
Manifestations of feelings that went counter to the first group, and were umbrella'd under the category of the second, were BAD, and by extension the feelings themselves were deemed BAD.
I suppose this makes sense in a belief system where human beings are born BAD, and that we will always be at war with our BAD nature until we die.
The covert message, intended or not, is that not only certain actions are wrong: our very feelings need governing too. If we want to be "good", then we can't even allow feelings that are associated with the second group to rise to our level of consciousness. Self censorship is born. And therefore the truth of our Selves, the Selves that are experiencing these feelings, are submerged.
We may feel called to by this submerged Self, all our lives. A feeling of a lack, which the Christians say Jesus is supposed to fill. Buddhists attribute it to the suffering that is caused by "attachment" to things, people, outcomes. Some people drink, others do drugs, others take risks.
For those who wish to journey back to this place of authenticity of Self, there are successive guardians at the gate. I met one Guardian last week, in the tacit agreement that choosing something for your self, without a "good reason" is selfish, mean, grasping. That was the scarecrow flapping in the breeze, this sense of agreement with what my feelings "meant" (something awful about me). If I acknowledge that the feeling inside from which springs the reluctance is a core "No", then I realize that an agreement I made before I knew I was making an agreement--is irrelevant.
I think I found a new Guardian yesterday when Gary took the boys on an all-day errand trip. Funny what I can think up when I have some uninterrupted time.
This Guardian is more potent. It's called Shame.
I think I will leave it at that, for now.
Friday, December 19, 2008
My brain, she is turning to mush
I've mentioned my strategy when the boys are home? It's kind of like rest-stepping in hiking, or conserving oxygen the way an amphibian does underwater. If they find something that occupies them I do no chores. I drop everything so I can look at the book or article I was trying to read, or do a little journaling in the bit of time that I'll be undisturbed. I reserve the stuff I 'must' do for when I'm 'disturbed'.
They've been home a lot:
Thanksgiving; kids off for a week from school.
Gary in Asia first 2 full weeks in December.
Snowfall starts on Gary's first day home; suspense each day as I wait to see what the school district will do. The boys cheer on the snow and I pray it doesn't shut down the schools.
Monday, schools closed.
Tues, west-side schools closed, Scott's open.
Wed, all district schools closed.
Thurs, west-side schools closed, Scott's open. Hard freeze forecast.
This morning:
Woke today to news all public schools were closed.
8:00 Boys rise, overjoyed. (any school morning they would want to sleep far longer).
8:30 Phone call from MIL to say she wasn't feeling well and could we postpone dinner at her house on Saturday? If only the message had been so succinct. It took a ten minute story about a week of diarrhea and featured every single protracted discussion with the advice nurse. (I'm imagining the call center when her number comes up on caller ID: "It's Her again..." "oh no, it's your turn now.") She filled me in on all the details including descriptions of 'consistencies'. I kept my tone respectfully sympathetic as I reassured her that we can postpone our get-together until our return from Calif. I tell her I hope she feels better.
9:00 Demon drumming from below
9:01 Scott wants to know when we're leaving to get his Lego (reward for staying focused and behaved at school). I explain to him that we may not be able to go today because Gary took the AWD Subaru and left us with the front-wheel-drive van. Immediate heartbreak. Demands that I "jack up the tires". Patient monologues about icy roads and cars in ditches do not penetrate his disappointment. Call Gary to see what roads were like on his way down to work this morning. Says driving down the hill is do-able, even without 4wd: "Just keep it in second gear and slow down through the s-curves by the creek". No one is on the road, he says.
Unsure whether I will work up the motivation to try, I decline to make promises, infuriating Scott further. Finally I send him downstairs to be with Connor because I can't endure his whining any longer. Fortunately he goes.
The ensuing quiet is now available to be exploited, but for an indeterminate amount of time. I find my deep thoughts have gone into hiding the way a cat will dive under a bed when it hears children at the door. So I sweep a living room floor which is littered with Christmas tree needles instead. Mull options:
Which is worse? A dicey drive on questionable roads (at least the chains for the van have instructions!), or the unrelieved company of two restless and fractious boys? I decide to chance it with the car. There are two birthday parties tomorrow that need gifts anyway, and the cat's low on food.
There's also no gas in the van. Thanks Gary. There's no gas on this hill either, for about 10 miles.
As we drive down the hill the road goes from slushy to wet. We're heading to a perfect 90 degree T intersection where we will turn south to go to shopping center city where all the big chain stores live. Narrow country road, and I'm just about to turn left onto 185th when I hear sirens and see the big engine coming straight up the hill toward us. As I was already in the intersection and there are ditches on each side of the road--no shoulder to pull onto--I decide to jettison the turn and move across the intersection instead and squeeze over as far as I can on the right without sliding into that culvert. Once the firetruck passes I'm left with some awkward maneuvers on a road that suddenly has traffic in order to resume our route.
Once we're down in big-box city we wait for 3 light changes to get in to the complex of stores. I park and then go on hyper-alert to prevent Scott's accidental suicide. He has no concept of self-preservation, even at 7, and so I have to be vigilant for us both. He is given to stopping in unfortunate places to contemplate something on his shirt and I am continually moving him along: "Keep walking, Scott; we need to walk, Scott; let's head for the store, Scott..."
So I'm exhausted when we reach the automatic doors of the store and Connor asks if it's "always like this every Friday". I explain it is "like this" because this is the last Friday before Christmas. ( I'd hoped the snow would keep everyone home.) "Like this" means further vigilance on my part because Scott is oblivious to the trajectories of others and has an uncanny knack for getting in people's way and then stopping. "Like this" is sidestepping shopping carts and looking around people who are standing in front of the display that holds the items we're considering. "Like this" is saying "excuse me" over and over and dodging people. As we walk to the cashiers I tell Connor that of all places to be at this moment in time, this is the place I least want to be. He asks me where I'd rather be and I say, "Just about anywhere." He said, "Like where?" and I respond, "Walking barefoot across a bed of hot coals." He smiles and says, "That's funny. ...Do you know the meditation they do to walk across?" I say no, and he says, "Then you'd rather have 4 degree burns on your feet? You're exaggerating!" I explain hyperbole as the device for conveying strong feelings.
Connor will have some money left over after he buys his cd and he says he wants to get himself and Scott a soda and some candy. I think he means at the little restaurant in the store after we've checked out; just then I see the express line is open. I dive for it. We pay for our things and we're through the line when Connor says, "Now we have to go back and get the candy and soda!" I realize he hadn't meant going to the cafeteria. "Oh, no. We're not going back in there." Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place and it's just not going to happen that we go through another check stand unimpeded. For two sodas and candies I'm totally unwilling to risk it. Grumbling as we walk out to the car; calmed when I tell him he can get the junk food when we buy gas.
Once home I go out to get the mail. While removing my boots and getting into slippers Scott apologizes to me for having thrown my Christmas stocking behind the Christmas tree in a fit of pique when he'd thought I wasn't going to take him to the store. He tells me he went back and got it and rehung it. I tell him I accept his apology (I hadn't noticed it was missing).
A few moments later I notice a lot of dirt and tree needles on the floor where I'd swept earlier. Realize he probably drug all that out when he went retrieved the stocking.
So right now he's happily assembling his Lego and downstairs the demon drums have begun to sound. Connor bought himself an AC/DC cd so he could learn the drum parts. He's already been up here as I write wanting me to come and see. So it looks like a good time to get up and do laundry, and sweep up the dirt from under the tree.
Damn, he's actually playing those drums pretty well!
They've been home a lot:
Thanksgiving; kids off for a week from school.
Gary in Asia first 2 full weeks in December.
Snowfall starts on Gary's first day home; suspense each day as I wait to see what the school district will do. The boys cheer on the snow and I pray it doesn't shut down the schools.
Monday, schools closed.
Tues, west-side schools closed, Scott's open.
Wed, all district schools closed.
Thurs, west-side schools closed, Scott's open. Hard freeze forecast.
This morning:
Woke today to news all public schools were closed.
8:00 Boys rise, overjoyed. (any school morning they would want to sleep far longer).
8:30 Phone call from MIL to say she wasn't feeling well and could we postpone dinner at her house on Saturday? If only the message had been so succinct. It took a ten minute story about a week of diarrhea and featured every single protracted discussion with the advice nurse. (I'm imagining the call center when her number comes up on caller ID: "It's Her again..." "oh no, it's your turn now.") She filled me in on all the details including descriptions of 'consistencies'. I kept my tone respectfully sympathetic as I reassured her that we can postpone our get-together until our return from Calif. I tell her I hope she feels better.
9:00 Demon drumming from below
9:01 Scott wants to know when we're leaving to get his Lego (reward for staying focused and behaved at school). I explain to him that we may not be able to go today because Gary took the AWD Subaru and left us with the front-wheel-drive van. Immediate heartbreak. Demands that I "jack up the tires". Patient monologues about icy roads and cars in ditches do not penetrate his disappointment. Call Gary to see what roads were like on his way down to work this morning. Says driving down the hill is do-able, even without 4wd: "Just keep it in second gear and slow down through the s-curves by the creek". No one is on the road, he says.
Unsure whether I will work up the motivation to try, I decline to make promises, infuriating Scott further. Finally I send him downstairs to be with Connor because I can't endure his whining any longer. Fortunately he goes.
The ensuing quiet is now available to be exploited, but for an indeterminate amount of time. I find my deep thoughts have gone into hiding the way a cat will dive under a bed when it hears children at the door. So I sweep a living room floor which is littered with Christmas tree needles instead. Mull options:
Which is worse? A dicey drive on questionable roads (at least the chains for the van have instructions!), or the unrelieved company of two restless and fractious boys? I decide to chance it with the car. There are two birthday parties tomorrow that need gifts anyway, and the cat's low on food.
There's also no gas in the van. Thanks Gary. There's no gas on this hill either, for about 10 miles.
As we drive down the hill the road goes from slushy to wet. We're heading to a perfect 90 degree T intersection where we will turn south to go to shopping center city where all the big chain stores live. Narrow country road, and I'm just about to turn left onto 185th when I hear sirens and see the big engine coming straight up the hill toward us. As I was already in the intersection and there are ditches on each side of the road--no shoulder to pull onto--I decide to jettison the turn and move across the intersection instead and squeeze over as far as I can on the right without sliding into that culvert. Once the firetruck passes I'm left with some awkward maneuvers on a road that suddenly has traffic in order to resume our route.
Once we're down in big-box city we wait for 3 light changes to get in to the complex of stores. I park and then go on hyper-alert to prevent Scott's accidental suicide. He has no concept of self-preservation, even at 7, and so I have to be vigilant for us both. He is given to stopping in unfortunate places to contemplate something on his shirt and I am continually moving him along: "Keep walking, Scott; we need to walk, Scott; let's head for the store, Scott..."
So I'm exhausted when we reach the automatic doors of the store and Connor asks if it's "always like this every Friday". I explain it is "like this" because this is the last Friday before Christmas. ( I'd hoped the snow would keep everyone home.) "Like this" means further vigilance on my part because Scott is oblivious to the trajectories of others and has an uncanny knack for getting in people's way and then stopping. "Like this" is sidestepping shopping carts and looking around people who are standing in front of the display that holds the items we're considering. "Like this" is saying "excuse me" over and over and dodging people. As we walk to the cashiers I tell Connor that of all places to be at this moment in time, this is the place I least want to be. He asks me where I'd rather be and I say, "Just about anywhere." He said, "Like where?" and I respond, "Walking barefoot across a bed of hot coals." He smiles and says, "That's funny. ...Do you know the meditation they do to walk across?" I say no, and he says, "Then you'd rather have 4 degree burns on your feet? You're exaggerating!" I explain hyperbole as the device for conveying strong feelings.
Connor will have some money left over after he buys his cd and he says he wants to get himself and Scott a soda and some candy. I think he means at the little restaurant in the store after we've checked out; just then I see the express line is open. I dive for it. We pay for our things and we're through the line when Connor says, "Now we have to go back and get the candy and soda!" I realize he hadn't meant going to the cafeteria. "Oh, no. We're not going back in there." Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place and it's just not going to happen that we go through another check stand unimpeded. For two sodas and candies I'm totally unwilling to risk it. Grumbling as we walk out to the car; calmed when I tell him he can get the junk food when we buy gas.
Once home I go out to get the mail. While removing my boots and getting into slippers Scott apologizes to me for having thrown my Christmas stocking behind the Christmas tree in a fit of pique when he'd thought I wasn't going to take him to the store. He tells me he went back and got it and rehung it. I tell him I accept his apology (I hadn't noticed it was missing).
A few moments later I notice a lot of dirt and tree needles on the floor where I'd swept earlier. Realize he probably drug all that out when he went retrieved the stocking.
So right now he's happily assembling his Lego and downstairs the demon drums have begun to sound. Connor bought himself an AC/DC cd so he could learn the drum parts. He's already been up here as I write wanting me to come and see. So it looks like a good time to get up and do laundry, and sweep up the dirt from under the tree.
Damn, he's actually playing those drums pretty well!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Demon drums pounding below
And it's only 11:00. Next, the younger will be wailing, "Shut u-u-u-u-u-up!!!!!!!!!! It hurts my earrrrrrrrrs!"
This is probably as close to alone as I'm going to get, other than stealing a little time at the beginning of the day by getting up early.
Wondering if therapy is cancelled tonight too. Really, it doesn't look that bad out there. I've been watching cars drive by just fine!
I'd lay odds on them being home tomorrow too. Friday it doesn't matter since Scott's got a half-day anyway.
Drat. I'd counted on this week as time alone to store up, much as the squirrels store their nuts and seeds for privation times ahead. Tuesday we leave for California, with 2 kids who hate long drives. To spend 5 days with my parents. Then drive back. So this mother bear is entering the cold season without a lot of underlying fat for self sustenance.
And I ran out of tequila for margaritas last week. Now that's something I should have stocked up on.
This is probably as close to alone as I'm going to get, other than stealing a little time at the beginning of the day by getting up early.
Wondering if therapy is cancelled tonight too. Really, it doesn't look that bad out there. I've been watching cars drive by just fine!
I'd lay odds on them being home tomorrow too. Friday it doesn't matter since Scott's got a half-day anyway.
Drat. I'd counted on this week as time alone to store up, much as the squirrels store their nuts and seeds for privation times ahead. Tuesday we leave for California, with 2 kids who hate long drives. To spend 5 days with my parents. Then drive back. So this mother bear is entering the cold season without a lot of underlying fat for self sustenance.
And I ran out of tequila for margaritas last week. Now that's something I should have stocked up on.
Not home alone
On the strength of a forecast, not even on-the-ground weather conditions, they've closed the schools.
Nuff said.
Nuff said.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Half a Loaf
I bought about 3 and a half hours of silence by taking Scott to school (and saying "no" to a request to be a driver for morning 'intensives') and taking Connor to his friend's for sledding. The two together was about 3 hours total driving. I'll leave at 2:30 to pick up Scott. Connor will catch a ride home with his buddy's dad.
So, time to go make The Most of this since I've heard rumor that more snow is supposed to begin falling tomorrow.
Ho ho ho.
So, time to go make The Most of this since I've heard rumor that more snow is supposed to begin falling tomorrow.
Ho ho ho.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Smartened up my attitude a bit
Joined the boys outside in the afternoon. Sledded with them down the little hill that drops to our neighbor's yard. Ours slopes down and then drops fairly steeply to the headwaters of a little creek so I'm more comfortable with the guys on a property with a level run-out. In a fit of enthusiasm I strapped on some skis and turned a few times down our driveway. Then we took a little tour of our wooded acre. Very pretty covered with several inches of white in the afternoon sunlight. Some animal tracks, though surprisingly no deer. We even get a herd of elk that wanders through sometimes, but no sign of them.
Got a visit from a hummingbird this afternoon. I hadn't thought ahead so the poor thing was greeted with a frozen feeder. I'll do better tomorrow. The woodpeckers have been hard at the suet feeders and I spread some seed. Tomorrow I'll get some lard to spread on the pine cone hangings and press some seed into them too.
So, let's see if tomorrow is a Better Day.
Westside (west of the Willamette River) schools are closed tomorrow. Connor is rejoicing. I've forbidden him to tell Scott, who goes to an eastside school. If I play my cards right tomorrow I can still get a little time alone tomorrow. Connor wants to go over to a buddy's house. They live on 20 acres with a good sledding hill.
Now, if only they don't close the eastside schools tomorrow.
Got a visit from a hummingbird this afternoon. I hadn't thought ahead so the poor thing was greeted with a frozen feeder. I'll do better tomorrow. The woodpeckers have been hard at the suet feeders and I spread some seed. Tomorrow I'll get some lard to spread on the pine cone hangings and press some seed into them too.
So, let's see if tomorrow is a Better Day.
Westside (west of the Willamette River) schools are closed tomorrow. Connor is rejoicing. I've forbidden him to tell Scott, who goes to an eastside school. If I play my cards right tomorrow I can still get a little time alone tomorrow. Connor wants to go over to a buddy's house. They live on 20 acres with a good sledding hill.
Now, if only they don't close the eastside schools tomorrow.
Yeah. They're home.
Watching cars go by on our road. Cold stiff wind out there.
Already they're occupied with insults and counter-insults.
Worst-case scenario? A tree coming down or some idiot plowing into a utility pole and bringing down the whole power grid.
Sorry 'bout the sucky attitude.
Already they're occupied with insults and counter-insults.
Worst-case scenario? A tree coming down or some idiot plowing into a utility pole and bringing down the whole power grid.
Sorry 'bout the sucky attitude.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Pacific Northwest S "no" w weenies
The boys have been bouncing off the walls just on the forecast of snow. Now that it's actually doing it they're fevered.
My ever-strategic mind started grinding when the forecasts started last week. Snow starting Friday? Clear and cold by Monday? Maybe the bulk of it will fall Fri-night, Sat morning, and they'll have the roads clear enough that they don't miss any school.
In the meantime the local television stations have been nearly hysterical talking about how all the snow-plows and sanding crews are "standing by"; giving tips on "staying warm" which includes, "Dress warmly."
It didn't start seriously until early this morning.
The boys are so joyful they can barely contain themselves, jumping around, grabbing me from behind for hugs, plowing into me, hanging on my shoulders. "Aren't you glad it's snowing!!!"
Fortunately they're so happy they don't notice my tepid response. Weak smile and nod. Trying to prepare myself for the worst--school closure. Which they're fervently hoping for.
So we're at cross purposes, my boys and I. And every moment they're broadcasting: "Look at that snow!" "Mom! Look! Snow!" (there's half an inch accumulation but it's coming down)
"There's enough to sled on!" "Let's scrape it up and pour maple syrup on it (like no leaves or mud are stuck to the bottom). "Mom! Mom! Mom!" Each "Mom" jolts me like electricity. And it's over and over and over. "Look at the grass! It doesn't look like much but it's an optical illusion because the hill slopes. There's really lots. Let's have a family snow fight!"
It's the hypocrisy wearing me out. The weak smiles. The trying to not look too dismayed when they say, "Maybe they'll close school!" The trying to hide the computer screen as I write this and he leans over me. "Come on, Mom! Go outside!"
Gary's back now from Asia. Came in yesterday morning. He's cheering on the snow: "We have three quarters of an inch already!" With him gone I've not had to indulge Christmas hypocrisy. He left on the first so we didn't get a tree or put up lights. So here at home I've been able to almost-forget about it, other than the countdown calendar that Scott religiously changes each morning. Gary didn't even take a nap when he got home; put up Christmas lights on our back porch which kept us awake long into the night. The timer was set to go off at 11 and I finally went and unplugged it at 11:10. Today we go and get the Christmas tree.
I just overheard on the radio that chains are required on all highways going through Portland. Hwy 26 is closed while emergency vehicles go to tow out the vehicles obstructing traffic for not being able to make it up the hill.
That's it. I'm sure school's closed tomorrow. Last year they closed it after I'd already seen the middle school bus go by. All day we were bathed in sunlight and watched the cars whiz by on the dry road.
I can't write a coherent thought because every couple minutes the boys have been interrupting me. Now they're outside and Gary's talking to me about airports, going through customs. This is why the notion of school closure tomorrow fills me with such horror. They're going to be off for 2 weeks the week after this next one, for crying out loud. Isn't that enough of a solitude drought?
Oh no, here they come! Sporting wounds from saucering into the blackberry vines. I guess they really could sled on that half-inch of snow, though if I'd been a good mother and monitored what they were up to, I wouldn't have allowed it.
CLOSE THE DOOR! (dammit)
My ever-strategic mind started grinding when the forecasts started last week. Snow starting Friday? Clear and cold by Monday? Maybe the bulk of it will fall Fri-night, Sat morning, and they'll have the roads clear enough that they don't miss any school.
In the meantime the local television stations have been nearly hysterical talking about how all the snow-plows and sanding crews are "standing by"; giving tips on "staying warm" which includes, "Dress warmly."
It didn't start seriously until early this morning.
The boys are so joyful they can barely contain themselves, jumping around, grabbing me from behind for hugs, plowing into me, hanging on my shoulders. "Aren't you glad it's snowing!!!"
Fortunately they're so happy they don't notice my tepid response. Weak smile and nod. Trying to prepare myself for the worst--school closure. Which they're fervently hoping for.
So we're at cross purposes, my boys and I. And every moment they're broadcasting: "Look at that snow!" "Mom! Look! Snow!" (there's half an inch accumulation but it's coming down)
"There's enough to sled on!" "Let's scrape it up and pour maple syrup on it (like no leaves or mud are stuck to the bottom). "Mom! Mom! Mom!" Each "Mom" jolts me like electricity. And it's over and over and over. "Look at the grass! It doesn't look like much but it's an optical illusion because the hill slopes. There's really lots. Let's have a family snow fight!"
It's the hypocrisy wearing me out. The weak smiles. The trying to not look too dismayed when they say, "Maybe they'll close school!" The trying to hide the computer screen as I write this and he leans over me. "Come on, Mom! Go outside!"
Gary's back now from Asia. Came in yesterday morning. He's cheering on the snow: "We have three quarters of an inch already!" With him gone I've not had to indulge Christmas hypocrisy. He left on the first so we didn't get a tree or put up lights. So here at home I've been able to almost-forget about it, other than the countdown calendar that Scott religiously changes each morning. Gary didn't even take a nap when he got home; put up Christmas lights on our back porch which kept us awake long into the night. The timer was set to go off at 11 and I finally went and unplugged it at 11:10. Today we go and get the Christmas tree.
I just overheard on the radio that chains are required on all highways going through Portland. Hwy 26 is closed while emergency vehicles go to tow out the vehicles obstructing traffic for not being able to make it up the hill.
That's it. I'm sure school's closed tomorrow. Last year they closed it after I'd already seen the middle school bus go by. All day we were bathed in sunlight and watched the cars whiz by on the dry road.
I can't write a coherent thought because every couple minutes the boys have been interrupting me. Now they're outside and Gary's talking to me about airports, going through customs. This is why the notion of school closure tomorrow fills me with such horror. They're going to be off for 2 weeks the week after this next one, for crying out loud. Isn't that enough of a solitude drought?
Oh no, here they come! Sporting wounds from saucering into the blackberry vines. I guess they really could sled on that half-inch of snow, though if I'd been a good mother and monitored what they were up to, I wouldn't have allowed it.
CLOSE THE DOOR! (dammit)
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
"No"
This is my first blogoversary. Actually, I missed it; my first post ever was on November 26, 2007.
This blog is one manifestation of a need for introspection that actually started long before there was even blogging. But about a year before I started it and continuing to this day there has been a need that has been so intense I've found it nearly painful to be doing anything else.
Mrs. Spit talked about the 'binary nature' of suffering. This reminds me of something I heard on the radio as I was driving somewhere. The speaker said that basically humans are binary creatures; at the very core of our being and interactions with others is a 'yes', or 'no' decision.
For several years I've had few whole-hearted 'YES"s. Among the few is writing in my journal, writing here, reading the reflections of other bloggers, solitude. Most of my 'yes's have been in the "if I have to" category. Dutifully cheerfully if cheer is part of the "have to". Yes, I'll drive some kids on a field trip. Yes, I'll read with a child at school on a regular basis. Yes, I'll volunteer in Scott's classrooms on Wednesdays. Yes, I'll meet a friend for coffee.
And YES I'll feed this place inside that needs silence, and solitude, and reflection.
But I just realized that there's a deeper application of yes/no.
I guess it started a couple summers ago when my mother in law hurt her back and wasn't going to be able to go to Alaska to see her granddaughter get married. She'd given Gary the money to buy her ticket and asked me if I'd take it. The seats were not transferable, and the price was non-refundable. When I called to inform her of this she was crushed to learn that go or not, she was forfeiting the $600 or so that was the price of the ticket.
I was crushed too, because Gary was planning to take the boys, and I was going to be home alone for 5 days. This was to be my island of sanity in the shipwreck of summer vacation. Gary had booked flights on 2 planes, one for her and Scott, one for himself and Connor. If she didn't go, neither would Scott. And of the two, he needed the most from me; and I most needed the break from being needed. She realized this, and asked if it was my "depression" that made me want to have time away from the kids. "Wouldn't most mothers, if plans changed and they had to be with their children, be glad to be with their children and not be disappointed?" She actually did say that, and beneath the words was the undercurrent that told me she was spoiling for a fight. What enabled me to sidestep the bait was a realization: a Feeling is a Feeling. It's not subject to 'shoulds'. Someone could just as easily be telling her that her back "shouldn't" be hurting. So I was able to tell her the Truth, without rancor: "Well, no one can tell another person how they 'should' feel in their body. And if someone is looking forward to something, it's normal to feel disappointed if plans change."
It laid the groundwork for me, to realize that the bald message behind the question is: "You should feel something different from what you are feeling. A normal mother would not feel disappointed. You should be a different mother."
It's sort of an obvious lesson, that a feeling is a feeling and not subject to the same rules as those for behavior. But I think that's the first time I understood this on a visceral level.
So fast forward a few years later when I've got Scott enrolled in a school that involves a commute. I try to set up a carpool, and some families express interest. As we start going through the process of mulling over schedules and looking for the shape of things, one family has a need to step up the pace of the decision-making process. In essence, they're asking that their urgency become our urgency, that the timing to get it set up be adjusted upward to fit their need for speed. They need a ride two days a week to an afterschool care for their 3 kids.
In the meantime, I'm intensely involved in Scott's special education process, and when I start to prepare him for the idea of riding with someone else some days, he adamantly balks. As we've been having some quality time in the car together riding to school, I decide to just go with that and withdraw from carpool participation. I offered to take this one family's 3 kids, though, one day a week, to the after care. It seemed like a nice thing to do, and not difficult, since they're not terribly far out of the way of my route home. I did reflect a bit on a sort of imbalance in the system, since I wouldn't be participating in the benefits of carpooling, and set my mind to do it anyway.
I don't know what they worked out for the other days of the week with the other families. I just get the kids to daycare on Wednesdays, as I've been doing throughout the month of November.
Yesterday I found an email from this family. It was to the general carpool group but essentially asking me if I'd take the kids on Mondays too.
This is an opportunity to reflect on a Bigger Picture of when people want something different. At the very basis of this is the question of whose will shall prevail? On a macro scale it looks like, "Who gets the bigger piece of cake?" Do I deny myself, or you? What it comes down to is whether my priorities and self-interest is going to be subordinate to yours, or yours to mine. A choice.
If we don't have a 'good reason' to deny the Other their will, there seems to be a strong pressure to acquiesce. If my reason would not hold up in a court of law, then I am obliged to comply.
When I examine this further, I see the components of this dynamic are thus: "Because I don't want to" is not a good reason. "Because I don't want to and-nothing-else" implies selfishness. An unadorned (with 'good reasons') "because-I-don't-want-to" is flying in the face of what 'should' be. I should be an open-hearted person. I should be a person who is generous. I should be a person who gives and expects nothing in return. And I should not feel reluctant. If I am reluctant that's being a person I should not be. I will override my reluctance, since it is preventing me from attaining the state of being this generous person.
OK, so there is this 'person' I'm 'supposed to be' and a person I am not (supposed to be). If I see the situation from the perspective of the other party involved, I see me as someone who is driving in a certain direction anyway, who has plenty of room in her rig. I see that I have a need, and there seems to be no reason to deny it.
Back to my own perspective where I realize what a reflexive thing it's been to see the world through other perspectives besides my own. I see in some ways it's a gift, yet it's two-edged. Because while I've been willing to see a situation from another's perspective, no one has been willing to see situations from mine. Or, I've been surrounded by people who simply didn't have the ability to take anOther's perspective. So this hasn't really been a level playing field.
Yes, and No.
When I look further beneath the Guardian at the Gate of thinking of myself as 'Selfish", when I see that there's a sort of general human consensus of this person we should not be, I find a calm place. There is a place deeper than this person I should not be. Instantly it's calmer. All the turbulence is caused by the anxiety of trying to avoid this specter. I see a place where there is Yes, or No.
Another component of the turbulence is the need to 'defend' myself from the specter, prevent it from being attached to me. This defense can take the form of denying it, overriding it, making excuses, or making the other person wrong for asking for something. Or defending myself in advance from their disappointment and possible anger. In the Deeper Place all that falls away. There is Yes, or No. And, No, all by itself is enough. It's its own reason. If pressed to answer, "Why not?" I can say, because at the heart of my being, that's What Is.
So the reply I sent to Holli and the message group was that for now I'm going to stick with the schedule I've got, and maybe increase participation later when Scott is more able to participate.
________________________________________________________________
Updated:
P.S.
My cuz planted her foot in my nether parts in my comments several months ago. Just wanted to give credit to the inspiration and thought that's gone into this post. I've been thinking about it for months, Lori!
This blog is one manifestation of a need for introspection that actually started long before there was even blogging. But about a year before I started it and continuing to this day there has been a need that has been so intense I've found it nearly painful to be doing anything else.
Mrs. Spit talked about the 'binary nature' of suffering. This reminds me of something I heard on the radio as I was driving somewhere. The speaker said that basically humans are binary creatures; at the very core of our being and interactions with others is a 'yes', or 'no' decision.
For several years I've had few whole-hearted 'YES"s. Among the few is writing in my journal, writing here, reading the reflections of other bloggers, solitude. Most of my 'yes's have been in the "if I have to" category. Dutifully cheerfully if cheer is part of the "have to". Yes, I'll drive some kids on a field trip. Yes, I'll read with a child at school on a regular basis. Yes, I'll volunteer in Scott's classrooms on Wednesdays. Yes, I'll meet a friend for coffee.
And YES I'll feed this place inside that needs silence, and solitude, and reflection.
But I just realized that there's a deeper application of yes/no.
I guess it started a couple summers ago when my mother in law hurt her back and wasn't going to be able to go to Alaska to see her granddaughter get married. She'd given Gary the money to buy her ticket and asked me if I'd take it. The seats were not transferable, and the price was non-refundable. When I called to inform her of this she was crushed to learn that go or not, she was forfeiting the $600 or so that was the price of the ticket.
I was crushed too, because Gary was planning to take the boys, and I was going to be home alone for 5 days. This was to be my island of sanity in the shipwreck of summer vacation. Gary had booked flights on 2 planes, one for her and Scott, one for himself and Connor. If she didn't go, neither would Scott. And of the two, he needed the most from me; and I most needed the break from being needed. She realized this, and asked if it was my "depression" that made me want to have time away from the kids. "Wouldn't most mothers, if plans changed and they had to be with their children, be glad to be with their children and not be disappointed?" She actually did say that, and beneath the words was the undercurrent that told me she was spoiling for a fight. What enabled me to sidestep the bait was a realization: a Feeling is a Feeling. It's not subject to 'shoulds'. Someone could just as easily be telling her that her back "shouldn't" be hurting. So I was able to tell her the Truth, without rancor: "Well, no one can tell another person how they 'should' feel in their body. And if someone is looking forward to something, it's normal to feel disappointed if plans change."
It laid the groundwork for me, to realize that the bald message behind the question is: "You should feel something different from what you are feeling. A normal mother would not feel disappointed. You should be a different mother."
It's sort of an obvious lesson, that a feeling is a feeling and not subject to the same rules as those for behavior. But I think that's the first time I understood this on a visceral level.
So fast forward a few years later when I've got Scott enrolled in a school that involves a commute. I try to set up a carpool, and some families express interest. As we start going through the process of mulling over schedules and looking for the shape of things, one family has a need to step up the pace of the decision-making process. In essence, they're asking that their urgency become our urgency, that the timing to get it set up be adjusted upward to fit their need for speed. They need a ride two days a week to an afterschool care for their 3 kids.
In the meantime, I'm intensely involved in Scott's special education process, and when I start to prepare him for the idea of riding with someone else some days, he adamantly balks. As we've been having some quality time in the car together riding to school, I decide to just go with that and withdraw from carpool participation. I offered to take this one family's 3 kids, though, one day a week, to the after care. It seemed like a nice thing to do, and not difficult, since they're not terribly far out of the way of my route home. I did reflect a bit on a sort of imbalance in the system, since I wouldn't be participating in the benefits of carpooling, and set my mind to do it anyway.
I don't know what they worked out for the other days of the week with the other families. I just get the kids to daycare on Wednesdays, as I've been doing throughout the month of November.
Yesterday I found an email from this family. It was to the general carpool group but essentially asking me if I'd take the kids on Mondays too.
This is an opportunity to reflect on a Bigger Picture of when people want something different. At the very basis of this is the question of whose will shall prevail? On a macro scale it looks like, "Who gets the bigger piece of cake?" Do I deny myself, or you? What it comes down to is whether my priorities and self-interest is going to be subordinate to yours, or yours to mine. A choice.
If we don't have a 'good reason' to deny the Other their will, there seems to be a strong pressure to acquiesce. If my reason would not hold up in a court of law, then I am obliged to comply.
When I examine this further, I see the components of this dynamic are thus: "Because I don't want to" is not a good reason. "Because I don't want to and-nothing-else" implies selfishness. An unadorned (with 'good reasons') "because-I-don't-want-to" is flying in the face of what 'should' be. I should be an open-hearted person. I should be a person who is generous. I should be a person who gives and expects nothing in return. And I should not feel reluctant. If I am reluctant that's being a person I should not be. I will override my reluctance, since it is preventing me from attaining the state of being this generous person.
OK, so there is this 'person' I'm 'supposed to be' and a person I am not (supposed to be). If I see the situation from the perspective of the other party involved, I see me as someone who is driving in a certain direction anyway, who has plenty of room in her rig. I see that I have a need, and there seems to be no reason to deny it.
Back to my own perspective where I realize what a reflexive thing it's been to see the world through other perspectives besides my own. I see in some ways it's a gift, yet it's two-edged. Because while I've been willing to see a situation from another's perspective, no one has been willing to see situations from mine. Or, I've been surrounded by people who simply didn't have the ability to take anOther's perspective. So this hasn't really been a level playing field.
Yes, and No.
When I look further beneath the Guardian at the Gate of thinking of myself as 'Selfish", when I see that there's a sort of general human consensus of this person we should not be, I find a calm place. There is a place deeper than this person I should not be. Instantly it's calmer. All the turbulence is caused by the anxiety of trying to avoid this specter. I see a place where there is Yes, or No.
Another component of the turbulence is the need to 'defend' myself from the specter, prevent it from being attached to me. This defense can take the form of denying it, overriding it, making excuses, or making the other person wrong for asking for something. Or defending myself in advance from their disappointment and possible anger. In the Deeper Place all that falls away. There is Yes, or No. And, No, all by itself is enough. It's its own reason. If pressed to answer, "Why not?" I can say, because at the heart of my being, that's What Is.
So the reply I sent to Holli and the message group was that for now I'm going to stick with the schedule I've got, and maybe increase participation later when Scott is more able to participate.
________________________________________________________________
Updated:
P.S.
My cuz planted her foot in my nether parts in my comments several months ago. Just wanted to give credit to the inspiration and thought that's gone into this post. I've been thinking about it for months, Lori!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Just to make it complete, or shoveling sh*+
This is not how I wanted to spend my last full day with kids in school.
So, in my remaining time I thought I'd at least go over to Pam's blog and see if I could remember how to collect her award.
Pam said such nice things that warmed my heart. They've been a steadying influence today as I negotiate my technological travails.
But as if to prove that life can be a Trickster Coyote, I can't 'pick up' my award to display here! It's been a while since I've done it, so it's like I always have to learn how to do it all over again. This must be the case today.
So, it appears the only digging I've been doing lately is just trying to get out from under some pretty mundane details. Anyone who's interested in anything of any depth will just have to "dig deeper".
Thank you, Pam!
So, in my remaining time I thought I'd at least go over to Pam's blog and see if I could remember how to collect her award.
Pam said such nice things that warmed my heart. They've been a steadying influence today as I negotiate my technological travails.
But as if to prove that life can be a Trickster Coyote, I can't 'pick up' my award to display here! It's been a while since I've done it, so it's like I always have to learn how to do it all over again. This must be the case today.
So, it appears the only digging I've been doing lately is just trying to get out from under some pretty mundane details. Anyone who's interested in anything of any depth will just have to "dig deeper".
Thank you, Pam!
Update, or Obstacle Day, or Computer Follies
Well, I'm partially relieved. I googled the "symptoms" and found a tech-assist site (thank you to those of you who post information for free. I kiss you.). In it I learned that I could use a file opener that's intrinsic to Word. So even though nothing happens when I try to open a document through my finder (not any document. Any document I've ever filed does not open in Find. Any document I file currently will not open in Find.) However, Word's opener will open my documents. Testing this by randomly selecting documents and opening in Word will open them.
Grateful.
Now, my next headache is the back-up. All I wanted was a thumb drive. But Gary had to buy a Western Designs behemoth with enough capacity for several hard drives. And, it has been a struggle to use it from day one. Which is why to this day I'm not certain if I really have my data backed up on it or not.
I'm still wondering if I restart my Mac if Word might restore itself to its original settings. Now that I know that I can open documents in Word, if not in Finder, has given me some ease. But the part of me that wants to be very very sure wants to see if the external drive really does have my data, and if that is restorable.
There's the rub. I can get as far as the page that shows my files I've backed up. I can select a file, but when I click on Open I get a text message that says:
I see no commands or buttons that will enable me to copy my files to their original location. I see no instructions on how to create such a location, or if I need to. When I go to support I get a website that only tells me to follow the instructions on the text message I get when I open the file I want restored.
Mrs. Spit, can I use 'oy vey'?
Get this:
When Gary went online to access our bank accounts, he was told that he needed to reset his online name code: the bank is no longer using social security #'s as the online code. So he reset that, and the passcode. Left me with those codes and went to Asia. Called from the airport asking me to move some money over from one of the savings account into his checking. He was afraid there might be 'sniffers' at the airport who would access that sensitive information so didn't want to do it there.
So I tried, using his online name and passcodes.
It won't let me in. I can't get in to the savings account to move money around. I can't help him, and I can't help me either: he paid a bunch of bills from the account I normally use and those checks were due to be drawn on. He's no longer available by phone, already in flight.
I figured he could take care of it online from Asia. Emailed him.
Bounce! Boing! Boing! The online alerts for insufficient funds start coming. I thought maybe something was wrong with the codes Gary had given me and asked him to email them. I tried to get in. Couldn't. Called Customer service. Some time ago Gary added some accounts to the basic checking he'd opened up in Missouri (this is the one I primarily use.). The new accounts originate in Oregon. He didn't change the first account to an Oregon one. It wasn't necessary; they were all integrated and we could transfer funds online easily. Now they're no longer integrated and when I demand to know why the voice on the other end of the line (after wading through a number of automated voices) has no clue either: "I have no way of accessing these accounts to get the information unless your husband is there to verify." I said that the bank should waive any overdraft charges because we'd been making good faith efforts to shift funds and could not because of a change the bank had made without notifying us. He said he couldn't help me because he couldn't get in to Gary's accounts to get information about overdraft.
Upshot: I can't do anything about this, either online, over the phone, at the ATM, or in person. I am among the entities that access to his account is protected from. (I asked in an email if he was trying to tell me something.)
I've sent a number of increasingly urgent emails to Gary, then surmise that for some reason he must not be getting them and called. Guess what, for some reason in the hotel he's in he's unable to get online. My messages have been going into a spam box and he's unable to open them.
I'm not as upset as I might be because we get an automatic payday deposit at midnight tonight, and it goes directly into the account I use.
I do hope we can get the overdraft charges waived though. I'm going to think seriously about finding another bank, hopefully one that's solvent, to move our funds to if they don't.
How's Canada's banking system doing?
Grateful.
Now, my next headache is the back-up. All I wanted was a thumb drive. But Gary had to buy a Western Designs behemoth with enough capacity for several hard drives. And, it has been a struggle to use it from day one. Which is why to this day I'm not certain if I really have my data backed up on it or not.
I'm still wondering if I restart my Mac if Word might restore itself to its original settings. Now that I know that I can open documents in Word, if not in Finder, has given me some ease. But the part of me that wants to be very very sure wants to see if the external drive really does have my data, and if that is restorable.
There's the rub. I can get as far as the page that shows my files I've backed up. I can select a file, but when I click on Open I get a text message that says:
Restoring Backups
By restoring a backup, you can recover files that may have been damaged or deleted.
Search for the file types in the "Back up To:" folder or browse and select individual files that you want restored in the "Back up To:" folder.
Then copy the search results or individual files to their original location or another location. We suggest you not copy the folder directly--doing so could result in the loss of other files in the original folder.
I see no commands or buttons that will enable me to copy my files to their original location. I see no instructions on how to create such a location, or if I need to. When I go to support I get a website that only tells me to follow the instructions on the text message I get when I open the file I want restored.
Mrs. Spit, can I use 'oy vey'?
Get this:
When Gary went online to access our bank accounts, he was told that he needed to reset his online name code: the bank is no longer using social security #'s as the online code. So he reset that, and the passcode. Left me with those codes and went to Asia. Called from the airport asking me to move some money over from one of the savings account into his checking. He was afraid there might be 'sniffers' at the airport who would access that sensitive information so didn't want to do it there.
So I tried, using his online name and passcodes.
It won't let me in. I can't get in to the savings account to move money around. I can't help him, and I can't help me either: he paid a bunch of bills from the account I normally use and those checks were due to be drawn on. He's no longer available by phone, already in flight.
I figured he could take care of it online from Asia. Emailed him.
Bounce! Boing! Boing! The online alerts for insufficient funds start coming. I thought maybe something was wrong with the codes Gary had given me and asked him to email them. I tried to get in. Couldn't. Called Customer service. Some time ago Gary added some accounts to the basic checking he'd opened up in Missouri (this is the one I primarily use.). The new accounts originate in Oregon. He didn't change the first account to an Oregon one. It wasn't necessary; they were all integrated and we could transfer funds online easily. Now they're no longer integrated and when I demand to know why the voice on the other end of the line (after wading through a number of automated voices) has no clue either: "I have no way of accessing these accounts to get the information unless your husband is there to verify." I said that the bank should waive any overdraft charges because we'd been making good faith efforts to shift funds and could not because of a change the bank had made without notifying us. He said he couldn't help me because he couldn't get in to Gary's accounts to get information about overdraft.
Upshot: I can't do anything about this, either online, over the phone, at the ATM, or in person. I am among the entities that access to his account is protected from. (I asked in an email if he was trying to tell me something.)
I've sent a number of increasingly urgent emails to Gary, then surmise that for some reason he must not be getting them and called. Guess what, for some reason in the hotel he's in he's unable to get online. My messages have been going into a spam box and he's unable to open them.
I'm not as upset as I might be because we get an automatic payday deposit at midnight tonight, and it goes directly into the account I use.
I do hope we can get the overdraft charges waived though. I'm going to think seriously about finding another bank, hopefully one that's solvent, to move our funds to if they don't.
How's Canada's banking system doing?
Trying to not panic
Last night while I was trying to save a document (Word, on a Mac laptop OSX) word "unexpectedly quit". I opened it back up, and now it's not opening any of my word documents in the finder!
I thought I had a post in me but right now I just feel this buzzing inside at the prospect of having lost ALL my documents; thousands of pages and hundreds of hours of writing.
I do have them backed up on an external hard drive, which I'm running right now in hopes that maybe it can somehow access my most recent writings since I last backed data up. And, I've never used it in field conditions, so I'm not feeling consoled. What if I did something wrong in backing them up and they're not available from there after all?
There's a part of me that wants to quit the word application and then see if it resets itself and I can get my stuff back...but I'm scared I'll lose it alllllllllllll if I do.
Trying to not panic...bring...breathing....under....control.....
I thought I had a post in me but right now I just feel this buzzing inside at the prospect of having lost ALL my documents; thousands of pages and hundreds of hours of writing.
I do have them backed up on an external hard drive, which I'm running right now in hopes that maybe it can somehow access my most recent writings since I last backed data up. And, I've never used it in field conditions, so I'm not feeling consoled. What if I did something wrong in backing them up and they're not available from there after all?
There's a part of me that wants to quit the word application and then see if it resets itself and I can get my stuff back...but I'm scared I'll lose it alllllllllllll if I do.
Trying to not panic...bring...breathing....under....control.....
Monday, November 24, 2008
Held holiday hostage (hell)
Writing will be sparse if at all until after Monday Dec 2. The kids are out of school this entire week, and Connor is off on Monday, too. With kids around I can barely string together two consecutive thoughts. Oh yeah, and to add to the joy Gary is going to Asia on the 1st, to be gone til the 13th.
Coherence won't be my strongest suit.
Witness today, where I've had on the calendar for months Connor's school conference. I signed up for it so long ago that it didn't stand out that I was creating a scheduling conflict when I invited Scott's school friend over to spend the night. I was going to be down at the school for Scott's school conference with Billy anyway, and Levi was going to be in the after-care program, so I offered to bring him home with us. I made the offer in the way that one may consider going to the spouse's high school reunion, Thanksgiving dinner with dubious relatives, or a mammogram. This kid has the most irritating high-pitched voice which grates like fingernails on the black board and if anything is even more hyperactive than Scott. The kids had been begging for a while, so I agreed to it while forgetting about Connor's conference at 7 pm.
Connor has no tolerance for Levi and so I suggested to him that he find himself a place to shelter for the night. I went to Scott's conference and got a call from Connor: his friend couldn't have him for the night, but he could stay at our house. I thought about it and determined that 4 kids might be better than 3 and so agreed to that. Hung up and then remembered Connor's conference.
It's probably a 20 minute conference, but with the 10 minute or so drive to and from the school it would be closer to an hour they'd be without adult supervision.
Connor and Scott I can leave with some peace of mind for an hour or so; Connor, his buddy, Scott and Levi would be foolhardy. I'd probably come home to blood and hair. There's also the element of the friends' parents, especially Levi's, who might be doubtful about their child being left in the 'supervision' of a 10 and 11 year old. And Connor's buddy's parents who may not want their child to be saddled with that responsibility.
It's probably a 20 minute conference, but with the 10 minute or so drive to and from the school it would be closer to an hour they'd be without adult supervision.
What to do:
(What I could NOT do was ask our neighbors across the street. They've already filled in thrice in babysitting emergencies, so they were off limits. I could not face asking them again.)
1) ask my next door neighbor, who is in the middle of a house renovation, to sit with them for an hour, just as an adult Presence in the house
2) ask the school secretary if I could bring all 4 of them and let them be in the school gym while we conferenced
3) reschedule appointment
The next door neighbor was willing, but she has a dinner commitment with the people who have already watched my kids 3 times. She would need to be there at 7:30.
No, the kids can't be alone in the gym.
No, there are no other evening appointments available on another day. Gary really wants to go.
Gary's unhappy at the boys spending the night because he'll be working late into the night to get ready for his trip to Asia.
So...I arranged for Gary to go by himself tonight and scheduled myself an appointment for tomorrow mid-afternoon. I think it'll work. Turns out Connor's friend can't spend the night after all, and if necessary his mom offered to take Connor for a few hours tonight if things are dicey with all four of them.
So far so good though. It's working the way it's supposed to (shhhh!): each boy occupied with his own friend, in largely separate parts of the house.
It's just the temporary nature of this peace, though, that keeps me from settling fully into a blog post that means more to me--in the words of Gen. David Petraeus, the calm is 'fragile and reversible'.
Lawd have mercy.
Coherence won't be my strongest suit.
Witness today, where I've had on the calendar for months Connor's school conference. I signed up for it so long ago that it didn't stand out that I was creating a scheduling conflict when I invited Scott's school friend over to spend the night. I was going to be down at the school for Scott's school conference with Billy anyway, and Levi was going to be in the after-care program, so I offered to bring him home with us. I made the offer in the way that one may consider going to the spouse's high school reunion, Thanksgiving dinner with dubious relatives, or a mammogram. This kid has the most irritating high-pitched voice which grates like fingernails on the black board and if anything is even more hyperactive than Scott. The kids had been begging for a while, so I agreed to it while forgetting about Connor's conference at 7 pm.
Connor has no tolerance for Levi and so I suggested to him that he find himself a place to shelter for the night. I went to Scott's conference and got a call from Connor: his friend couldn't have him for the night, but he could stay at our house. I thought about it and determined that 4 kids might be better than 3 and so agreed to that. Hung up and then remembered Connor's conference.
It's probably a 20 minute conference, but with the 10 minute or so drive to and from the school it would be closer to an hour they'd be without adult supervision.
Connor and Scott I can leave with some peace of mind for an hour or so; Connor, his buddy, Scott and Levi would be foolhardy. I'd probably come home to blood and hair. There's also the element of the friends' parents, especially Levi's, who might be doubtful about their child being left in the 'supervision' of a 10 and 11 year old. And Connor's buddy's parents who may not want their child to be saddled with that responsibility.
It's probably a 20 minute conference, but with the 10 minute or so drive to and from the school it would be closer to an hour they'd be without adult supervision.
What to do:
(What I could NOT do was ask our neighbors across the street. They've already filled in thrice in babysitting emergencies, so they were off limits. I could not face asking them again.)
1) ask my next door neighbor, who is in the middle of a house renovation, to sit with them for an hour, just as an adult Presence in the house
2) ask the school secretary if I could bring all 4 of them and let them be in the school gym while we conferenced
3) reschedule appointment
The next door neighbor was willing, but she has a dinner commitment with the people who have already watched my kids 3 times. She would need to be there at 7:30.
No, the kids can't be alone in the gym.
No, there are no other evening appointments available on another day. Gary really wants to go.
Gary's unhappy at the boys spending the night because he'll be working late into the night to get ready for his trip to Asia.
So...I arranged for Gary to go by himself tonight and scheduled myself an appointment for tomorrow mid-afternoon. I think it'll work. Turns out Connor's friend can't spend the night after all, and if necessary his mom offered to take Connor for a few hours tonight if things are dicey with all four of them.
So far so good though. It's working the way it's supposed to (shhhh!): each boy occupied with his own friend, in largely separate parts of the house.
It's just the temporary nature of this peace, though, that keeps me from settling fully into a blog post that means more to me--in the words of Gen. David Petraeus, the calm is 'fragile and reversible'.
Lawd have mercy.
Friday, November 14, 2008
When religion becomes cruel
I've thought a lot about the nature of reality and read a bit, to the extent that my uneducated mind can comprehend. One of the nuggets I come away with is a sense of scale. We live at a scale where certain physical laws are obeyed, and humans spent centuries decoding them. With the advent of microscopes humankind discovered that our physical presence isn't solid at all, but a collection of cells. These seem to 'obey' the physical laws that govern the macro scale. Humans searched on, to find the nature of those cells, drilled down to molecules, atoms, and subatomic particles. At these scales the 'laws' of physics appear to not apply. It's not gravity that holds the nucleus of an atom together. We see that an atom is mostly empty space, and the location of the electrons around them is a matter of probability.
How can the solid world we experience have its foundation built upon particles that may or may not be there?
When do the physical laws we know cease to apply? Perhaps physicists have already answered this and I don't understand enough to know it.
As I thought about these things, I thought about religion. I thought about the extent to which it is applied. One of the criticisms that the fundamentalist churches have of more liberal churches is that they don't take the Bible literally enough. I suppose the reasoning goes, if you're going to be a Christian, then you need to live in accordance with God's will. And the Bible is that map of God's will. And if we don't apply it literally, well then our (Originally) sinful nature will make excuses to express itself.
As a former fundamentalist I can testify to how crucial a question this is. We firmly believe in Original Sin, which is the reason Christ came to earth to be crucified in order to redeem us. If you're a fundamentalist you believe that your purpose is to live lives that are pleasing to God. You also believe that you're continually locked in a struggle with your "old sin nature" which is wily, tricky, and will assert itself given half a chance. Adhering to the Bible is the antidote to this problem. And once you get started with literal application, there is no logical place to stop.
Lovingkindness is the way that Christianity is supposed to manifest on earth. However, following a logical progression of what it means to take the Bible literally leads to a paradox--it becomes the antithesis of itself. Today I read in a post of a lesbian couple whose son is enrolled in a Christian school. Noticing that one of the partners is frequently at pick-up a teacher asked if they were 'together'. A few days later the boy's mother is called into the school director's office for a 'word'. The director told her that this school has a birthday party policy--that no child can be invited to a party without everyone being invited. However, they were now changing this policy, because some of the parents may not "feel comfortable" with the boy in their homes. A 5 year old boy. They were changing this policy solely on account of this child.
When Jesus made the allegory of straining the gnat and swallowing the camel, it was precisely situations like this he was referring to. I don't know whether to be more floored at the injustice, or at the blindness of this school to what they are doing: they are changing a school policy which is meant to ensure that everyone is included, in order to EXclude a 5 year old boy. They're doing it unaware that they are swallowing the camel. They are acting as an agent of Satan, yet firmly and fervently believe they are acting according to how God would want them to act. Their hearts are hard, and hardened.
I can understand religion as a force for right-behavior, a vehicle for teaching people the kindest way to treat each other. At what point though do the 'laws' that govern Christian behavior cease to have jurisdiction and and different 'laws' apply?
Sadly, looking over Christianity's often bloody history it appears that literal application of the law results in violent ends. And it appears that lesson hasn't been learned yet.
How can the solid world we experience have its foundation built upon particles that may or may not be there?
When do the physical laws we know cease to apply? Perhaps physicists have already answered this and I don't understand enough to know it.
As I thought about these things, I thought about religion. I thought about the extent to which it is applied. One of the criticisms that the fundamentalist churches have of more liberal churches is that they don't take the Bible literally enough. I suppose the reasoning goes, if you're going to be a Christian, then you need to live in accordance with God's will. And the Bible is that map of God's will. And if we don't apply it literally, well then our (Originally) sinful nature will make excuses to express itself.
As a former fundamentalist I can testify to how crucial a question this is. We firmly believe in Original Sin, which is the reason Christ came to earth to be crucified in order to redeem us. If you're a fundamentalist you believe that your purpose is to live lives that are pleasing to God. You also believe that you're continually locked in a struggle with your "old sin nature" which is wily, tricky, and will assert itself given half a chance. Adhering to the Bible is the antidote to this problem. And once you get started with literal application, there is no logical place to stop.
Lovingkindness is the way that Christianity is supposed to manifest on earth. However, following a logical progression of what it means to take the Bible literally leads to a paradox--it becomes the antithesis of itself. Today I read in a post of a lesbian couple whose son is enrolled in a Christian school. Noticing that one of the partners is frequently at pick-up a teacher asked if they were 'together'. A few days later the boy's mother is called into the school director's office for a 'word'. The director told her that this school has a birthday party policy--that no child can be invited to a party without everyone being invited. However, they were now changing this policy, because some of the parents may not "feel comfortable" with the boy in their homes. A 5 year old boy. They were changing this policy solely on account of this child.
When Jesus made the allegory of straining the gnat and swallowing the camel, it was precisely situations like this he was referring to. I don't know whether to be more floored at the injustice, or at the blindness of this school to what they are doing: they are changing a school policy which is meant to ensure that everyone is included, in order to EXclude a 5 year old boy. They're doing it unaware that they are swallowing the camel. They are acting as an agent of Satan, yet firmly and fervently believe they are acting according to how God would want them to act. Their hearts are hard, and hardened.
I can understand religion as a force for right-behavior, a vehicle for teaching people the kindest way to treat each other. At what point though do the 'laws' that govern Christian behavior cease to have jurisdiction and and different 'laws' apply?
Sadly, looking over Christianity's often bloody history it appears that literal application of the law results in violent ends. And it appears that lesson hasn't been learned yet.
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