Wondering

A Matter of a Few Degrees: A Meteor’s Close Call

Posted on January 2, 2013 by Kami

I am not a resolution maker, partly because I’m not a follower. I’ve also never been much of a goal setter.  I don’t like being dictated to by a calendar, or by tradition, or peer pressure, or even by a meteor aimed at the Earth.  Every January arrives and I ignore, resist and, yes, even look disdainfully on resolutions.

Here are three things that I do instead.

Small Moves

“Small moves, Ellie, small moves.”

That’s what Ted Arroway says to his daughter, in the movie “Contact,” as she’s searching on her ham radio for an open airway, an opportunity to make a connection.  If you’ve ever tried to tune in to a station by hand on a radio, then that concept of “small moves” makes sense to you.

Radio

Radio (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s easy to get impatient while fine-tuning. Trying to zoom in on a specific point feels like it should be easy, should be done in one quick movement.  What’s required is a delicate hand, a gentle touch, a tiny shift.

That’s how I see changes taking place in my life. Sure, I can try to make big sweeping renovations, but they aren’t going to last.  The details of the change will get lost, the balancing mechanisms that allow permanence in the change won’t be in place.

I’ve found that it really is in the details, the minutia, the tiniest of adjustments, that big changes take place.

I don’t “resolve” to make changes.  I simply make a small move in the direction I want go with an idea, a change, a to-do list item or a habit.  It’s more like an experiment.  What happens if I do this one thing this way, instead of that way?  Then I observe the result.  Sounds simplistic?  Good.  It should.  It’s a simple thing.  A small thing.  A small move.

Taking Aim Again

There’s another concept I’ve had bouncing around in my head for a few years since I first heard of it.  May be it isn’t that different from “small moves” but it explains it best.

The idea finds its roots in two Hebrew words “chait” and “t’shuvah.”   Here’s a better explanation than I can write for those two concepts.

“The word for sin in Hebrew, chait, means “miss,” as in “miss the target.”  You have unlimited chances to take aim again, again, and again to hit a bull’s eye.  You have unlimited chances for atonement… unified with your own highest and best self.”

“t’shuvah… is much more than just repentance.  T’shuvah is a return to our essential being, a re-alignment… a reorientation to our best selves.  In what ways are we off-center, out of touch with our own best selves?  How can we acknowledge responsibility, make amends, seek forgiveness… and return to the good? “ –Shofar Sermon – 2009 – Stewart Edelstein (http://congregationbnaiisrael.org/hihopage.html)

How often do I feel like I’ve missed the mark, been off target, failed in my aim?  All the time!!  Do I berate myself for being a failure? Not any more.

Archery Practice

Archery Practice (Photo credit: imarcc)

Now I simply employ the concept inherent in the word t’shuvah and reorient my aim, get back on center, pull back my arrow and try again.

The human experience is all about trying again and again and again.  Slowly working at getting it right.  Realignment and improvement.  Small moves.

Falling Down, Getting Up

Watching a toddler navigate and move is a fascinating practice.  Every time a fall happens, which is often, the adult wants to rush in and dust the kid off and reassure them.  Often the child will look to the adult to gauge how they should react to the fall.  If Mom or Dad’s face is full of worry, or sadness, then the crying and wailing will commence.  Baring any real injury, if the parent’s face is neutral or smiling, the kid will jump up and get back to what they were doing, or get on with something else all together.

An assortment of Guatemalan worry dolls made f...

Guatemalan worry dolls. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There isn’t any angst or drama or self-evaluation going on in that tiny toddler head. Bent on exploration and learning and moving forward, the kid just goes!

I try for  child-like in that way. Forward motion, learning, going and doing. Toddlers don’t seem to do much worrying.

They just fall and then get up and go.

 “Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, but only saps today of its strength.” ― A.J. Cronin.

That quote is famous because it’s accurate and true. It plays a note that resonates in our brains.    Sing along. Hum that tune. Worry less.

So there’s a comet aimed at the earth?

Worry less, fall down then get up.

Realignment and improvement.

Small moves.

Let the stars fall from the sky.  I’m making progress a bit at a time.

*********

Today’s Post was prompted by this Daily Post Challenge: “Tell us about the three things you’d most like to change about your life, and make a bold, I-don’t-care-who-knows-it-because-there’s-a-meteor-a-comin’ assertion to the world that you are going to get these changes made. And that you’ll have at least started making them happen by March. When, erm, you’re probably going to wind up as dust.”

So tell me, do you make resolutions?  What would yours be if the world really were going to be hit by a meteor in a couple of months? Or are you like me, a non-resolutioner?

Categories: Mental Health, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Beauty of Frost, The Power of Sunlight

Posted on December 21, 2012 by Kami

Happy Winter Solstice!! Enjoy the sun while its up for its shortest amount of time all year.

Frost

Frost (Photo credit: ahisgett)

Been looking out across the park this morning at a layer of frost.  If I didn’t live in the desert I might have thought it was a smattering of snow.  We get frost here about a dozen times over the winter months. Fortunately I can usually just throw some sheets over my potted flowers, my veggie garden and a couple of frost sensitive plants.  They stay just cosy enough under that thin layer of fabric to keep from freezing. That just about defines our winter.

If only it were so easy to keep my flowers flourishing in the summertime here.  The price we pay for the extremely mild winter is an inversely proportionate brutal summer.  But that is a distance memory as well as a future I’m going to pretend away for now.

Here’s  a quote by Albert Camus that seems fitting, in a way:

“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”            

Some days, this quote seems more true than others. On good days, it feels very true.  On days with too much weight in them, too many obstacles piled up, I’m not so sure I believe it.

Frost Ferns

Frost Ferns (Photo credit: CaptPiper)

Maybe that’s the problem right there. My lack of belief in myself.  I doubt my strengths, my ability to cope.  Which is silly.  Why doubt when I have evidence mounted to the ceiling that says otherwise?

Is it human nature to doubt ourselves?  Some people seem so sure of themselves, so sure of their invincibility, so confident.  Or is that a front, an act, a fakery?

I once had an impromptu discussion with a group of women about how we’re taught to see ourselves.  I still have the napkin that someone wrote on while we were talking. (thanks, Christine)  What we see in television and movies, in advertisements, in books, what we observe in human relationships, all tell us what the world expects us to be. Which is silly, mindless, inconsequential and powerless.  Think about it, look at the television shows you watch and tell me that isn’t what’s portrayed.

We decided that who and what we really are is more along these lines:

wise, sober, fun, intelligent, creative, focused, insightful, important, beloved, valuable, respected, powerful, influential, dependable, impactful, independent, stalwart, self-sufficient.

When was the last time you saw a person portrayed this way?  Do you believe those things about yourself?  Do I believe those things about myself.

Can I be fun without being mindless and silly? Do I really believe that I am respected, valuable and loved? Do I realize that I can have an impact, that I am powerful and influential? Do I feel, am I, independent and self-sufficient? Do I have insight, am I focused, am I creative and wise?

Maybe I need to remind myself every single day that I am all of those strong, good things.

Maybe the warmth and sunlight within me, needs to shine stronger to burn off the frost that the world would cover me with.

English: Winter Sunlight in Commonty Wood.

English: Winter Sunlight in Commonty Wood. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

*******

Here’s a fun, revival version of a song that might add a kick to your step today while it reminds you of your own sunlight and power.

This Little Light of Mine 

Categories: Joy, Outdoors, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Can We Just Call It a Forfeit?

Posted on December 17, 2012 by Kami

I stopped looking at my to-do list last week.

It wasn’t really a cognitive decision.  It was more like throwing my hands in the air and surrendering.

White flag waving.

I give up, you win.  I lose.  Whatever.

College football's 2007 Holiday Bowl: This pla...

College football’s 2007 Holiday Bowl: (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My days are like an American football game, where the team with the highest score has the ball and there’s only a minute left on the clock.  They go through the motions.  Put the ball into play, pretend to shove and jostle each other, let the clock run.  They do it again, pretending at playing the rest of the game, but really only letting the clock run out until the game is officially over.

Clearly, obviously, the game was really over when the score was so out of balance it was pointless to keep playing.  No way the other team could catch up, even with a miracle pass or two. The fans in the stands have been leaving since that last big score, maybe sooner than that.  Kind of pointless.

That’s how it seems.

Unfortunately, I’m not one of the fans, I can’t simply leave the stadium and go home.  I’m one of the players.  Pretending at the game, but my heart isn’t in it. And, guess what? I’m not on the winning team, either.

My to-do list is the opponent in the football game.  No matter how hard I try, how many hours I work at it, I will never catch up to the other team.  They have the ball.

I’m not normally winning this to-do list game, but this one, the Women’s Holiday Bowl is always a blowout. The clock runs out on December 25.

I’ve put up and decorated a tree.  There are bright shiny lights outside on the house.  I’ve bought a few gifts.

Three points for me. Yay!

Now the winning team’s score: They are ahead by an obscene amount of points. Add to the other team’s score everyone else’s expectations and my own expectations. The cluttered house is points against me.  The piled up mountain of clean, but wrinkling, unfolded laundry puts me further behind the game.  The neglected plants, the science experiments in the refrigerator, the overflowing garbage, the avalanching desk are more points for the other team. Add in the points of undone Holiday tasks, errands, baking, mailing, wrapping, shopping, decorating and the game is a rout.

White Flag on top of a snowy mountain and in f...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

White flag, I surrender.  I won’t play the game anymore. The to-do list team has won.

So I stopped looking at the to-do list.

Instead, I listen to relaxing, no lyrics, seasonal music.  I smile at the pretty glowing lights on the tree.  I anticipate seeing my daughter who is flying in from out-of-state for a week-long visit.  My heart warms to the thought of my sister who’s planning a trip here.

I put away the boxes of decorations that won’t go up this year. I go to bed at a reasonable hour, no late nights for me.   I read a book, a tangible, in the hands hard copy, turning pages slowly, savoring the words, rereading sentences that resonate.

I wake up without feeling panicked.  I stick to my usual routine.

The to-do list team builds, grows, looms, plays the game, racking up points, while I go about my life humming and attempting an aura of obliviousness.  I want to feel happy about things, not let it bother me. I want to emit a sense of carefree abandon.

I don’t think anyone is buying it.

The severely out of balance game is humiliating to watch and even worse to participate in.

I’m ready for the locker room.

Or the padded room.

Categories: Humor, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Childhood Revisited: Swinging In From a Star

Posted on December 8, 2012 by Kami

Today’s post  is a response to this WordPress Daily Post writing prompt.: “What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail, and tell us why you think that experience was the one to stick with you.”

 

Pressing my face into the mesh of memory, I’ve searched and searched for details from my earliest childhood.  My attempts to peel back the layers, clarify the view and remove the dust and cobwebs find little substance. 

The few memories that surface are vague at best.  I couldn’t tell you how old I was, only where I was, but not when.  It’s as if I’m waiting for movie clips about myself from the outside like an independent observer.  But in reality the only point of view is from the inside looking out.  There aren’t any movie trailers.

Well, there are those 8mm films my parents took.  But that’s a memory of a memory.

There is this one clear, unchanging mental image, my first memory, my first awareness of being. My first experience with me-ness. 

I am walking between my dad and my mom, going up the street towards our little white clapboard house.  Each of them has taken hold of one of my hands. Whether I could walk on my own, I have no idea.  Maybe I was young enough that they were encouraging walking, or I could have been older and needing to be kept in check by the two of them. The world is vague and blotchy, all color and wash. The features of most things have no distinct form or shape. Our house is the only clear landmark.

The sensation of a hand in each of theirs is vivid; warmth and energy pulse into me.  And then, suddenly, I am soaring up and out, secured between them like a swing.  Then I am walking on the ground again.  I hear, “One, two, three!” and I sail out into the air again, safely tethered to them both.

Multiple times they count and launch me heavenward.  Each “three” creates the sensation of my body feeling free and ephemeral, accompanied by gravity’s pull back between them. Whether I spoke the words or merely thought them, my mind says, “again,” after each swing out and back. 

night sky

night sky (Photo credit: dcysurfer / Dave Young)

I remember laughter, mine or theirs.  Both, I’m sure.

I could easily believe a tale of my birth as a launching from heaven, lofted into the cosmos, riding a wave of star dust and gently landing between my father and mother. Caught between the two of them, I scatter dust from my journey as I swing back and forth, back and forth.  It’s a fairy tale worth holding on to. 

My earliest memory of childhood makes it feel as if I came swinging into this world suspended between them, held fast by love and joy.

 

 

 

 

Categories: Love, Memory Lane, parenting, Wondering | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

Connect The Light Bulbs

Posted on November 25, 2012 by Kami

Lately, I’m only partially aware, only half-awake, my eyes shaded to most of what’s going on around me. It’s like part of me in is the room and the other part of me got left somewhere else.

Is it intentional?  No.  It’s probably lack of quality sleep and being off my routine. Or, maybe it’s hormonal. Or not. Maybe I need more chocolate. Or less.  It could be I’m dehydrated most of the time, since I don’t think diet Pepsi and hot chocolate count towards daily water intact.  Or could they?  Maybe I’m lacking a specific mineral in my diet, so I’m taking a vitamin supplement.  Perhaps I need more exercise. (My daughter doesn’t need exercise. She chases an 18 month old energizer-bunny toddler around all day while her med school husband is off slaying dragons.)

I digress.  I digress a lot lately.  That thing you do when you go to get something but can’t remember why you are in the room you’re in, so you walk back to the spot where you had the thought that you needed something in order to help you remember what you were doing?  I do that far too often lately.  Like, hourly. Like, way too much.  Slows me down, ruins my groove.

I sit down with paper and pen in hand to create a menu for the week and from there a grocery list. I come up blank. The connection from point A in my brain to point B in my brain has a short.

English: Closeup of a string of decorative Chr...

Closeup of a string of decorative Christmas lights (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Actually it’s probably more like those strings of Christmas lights my son helped me hang on the house yesterday.  One bulb missing or broken is okay.  The string still manages to stay lit.  Two bulbs out, half the lights won’t come on. Replace the missing or broken bulb and voilà a whole string is working again. It’s a little miracle to me, since I don’t understand electricity.

Now the house looks great and thanks to the stellar design of outside plugs under the eaves and indoor switches, all I need to do is flip a switch and the house is lit up all red and green and cheerful.

I need a “brain on” switch. My brain probably needs a loose bulb snugged into its socket a little tighter.  Or maybe one of my neurons cracked and needs replacing. Maybe a few mental bulbs are out along several different strings.

If only a brain fix were as easy as those lights from yesterday’s stringing exercise.

The energy required to make my brain work more effectively isn’t, unfortunately, something I can plug into with a wire and socket.  It’s something much more elusive than that.

When I let myself be in nature, breathing fresh air, that’s one of my electrical cords connecting me to the energy of the earth, to beauty, to life.  I try to plug into that often, but that’s slipped lately. I’ve been busy!

Magic in a Bookstore

Another power source for my brain is reading, usually.  Although lately, reading has been of the audio type and requires less brain power and perhaps less of the written word is absorbed. But  I don’t know.  I’m rambling now.  Rambling happens often lately too.

Maria

This is someone named Maria.  I don’t look this good in a fedora, or anything else for that matter. (Photo credit: tamara.craiu)

Recently I was in a bookstore as part of a treasure hunt.  Dressed in a fedora, sunglasses and a trench coat, I was to wait until being located by a gaggle of girls, then hand over a clue to each group that found me.  Very few people looked at me oddly, which I found strange, since I’m certain I looked questionable.  The best part of this was having an entire hour to peruse bookshelves filled with newly minted books. It was nirvana, bliss, heaven and grace all packed into one hour.

When my assignment was over, I ended up buying a book.

It was a real book, not an audio one. Hard cover, with a dust jacket.  I took it home and read it that night.  Yes, I concentrated long enough to read it in one sitting.  Short book. But packed to the brim with wisdom and insight that I’ve needed to learn.

It’s a keeper. It’s one of those books I’ll end up writing in, with exclamation points, underlining, commenting, question marks, maybe even cross-referencing. No, I won’t be lending out my copy.  Well, maybe, but you’d have to promise not to read all the margins or make any of your own notes.

The book is Anne Lamott’s “Help. Thanks. Wow.  The Three Essential Survival Prayers.”   This one sentence speaks to my current need for brain-power and clarity.

“In paintings, music, poetry, architecture, we feel the elusive energy that moves through us and the air and the ground all the time, that usually disperses and turns chaotic in our busy-ness and distractedness and moodiness.”

Some of the energy I need is in the created world, not just the natural world.  And the energy in that is readily dispersed by my overly scheduled, multi-tasking, transmission-challenged but driven life.

Perhaps if I slow down, notice the beauty around me in the architecture of a wall, the care in the moulding of a door frame, or in the design of a freeway bridge,  I might touch some of that energy.  If I take time to hear the poetry in a song, or the music itself, or actually read a poem, I might connect a loose bulb in my head.  The lights may reignite mentally if I allow myself time to experience art in diverse places and ways.

String Light

String Light (Photo credit: felixtsao)

Energy is captured in the beauty and art in my life, just waiting for me to plug in to that brain enlightening power.

What better time of year than now to look for the light and energy that surrounds us, to gather it in instead of pushing it away. Maybe I can do that.  Maybe I’ll get all my mental light strings lined up and glowing again. I can try.

Categories: Books, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Give In? Give Out? Give Up?

Posted on November 23, 2012 by Kami

This post is from a fellow writers group member. Please enjoy her talents and check out her other posts as well. You’ll be happy you did!!

Elizabeth Willis Barrett's avatartheotherelizabethbarrett

 

My Journey To “No, No, No, Not I!”

Elizabeth Willis Barrett

I jump on my bike early in the morning to beat the sun and the school kids who pointed at a friend of mine not too long ago with the exclamation, “Look at that old lady on a bike!”  Since I am at least twelve years older than that “old lady,” I am eager to be on my way and back before any school kids point at me.

Old lady.  I genuinely dislike that term.  My son-in-law used it regarding an associate who is at least three years younger than I am.

“She is not an old lady!” I protest. But in his eyes and those of many others, she’s an old lady and so am I.

“I don’t want to be old,” I think as I ride along the canal. Aging has captured my mind excessively lately.

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Categories: Humor, Wondering | 1 Comment

Why Is The Duck Lonely?

Posted on November 16, 2012 by Kami

I had an English teacher in High School, Mr. Beck, bless his ever patient soul, who used to tell us “You’ve got the emphasis on the wrong syllable.”  But he’d pronounce emphasis and syllable with the stress on the middle syllable.  Like so: Em-PHA-sis and sy-LA-ble. Repeat after me, “You’ve got the em-PHA-sis on the wrong sy-LLA-ble.”

I loved how this sentence taught the concept by internal example.  Very clever and memorable.  Can you remember anything at all that YOUR high school English teacher said to you a few decades ago?

Mr. Beck had a few other choice things to share on occasion that I still remember, but I won’t ever repeat them here.  He had a very wry sense of humor.  Last I’d heard he had quit teaching and gone into the corporate world.  What a loss, he was a great teacher.

But I digress.

I mention Mr. Beck’s infamous saying as a preface to a road trip experience I had a few years back.

Two of my daughters were with me at the end of a couple of weeks visiting relatives, attending family reunions, dodging summer construction zones, singing inane songs about the traffic cones and traffic in general.  Seems that particular trip had involved more travel than most.  We were pretty traveled out on our return trip home.

Part of that return trip involved the winding roads south of Hoover Dam.  I think we had hit the twilight zone of road tripping.  Meaning we were bored beyond reason, making up songs that made no sense, and telling jokes with no punch lines and still laughing ourselves silly.

Food was often the answer to boredom in the car, so one of the girls broke out some of the snacks.  One package followed the cereal box mantra of trying to entertain and educate.

It suggested reading a particular sentence out loud with the emphasis on a different word each time you read the sentence.

The sentence was: Why is the duck lonely?

English: Rubber duck, Kimmeridge Bay This larg...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Okay. Boredom won out, we’d give it a try, out loud.

WHY is the duck lonely? – Kind of makes you wonder what’s been going on in its life.

Why IS the duck lonely? – A sort of questioning if the duck is lonely at all, or maybe doubt about the duck’s loneliness.

Why is THE duck lonely? – This particular duck’s loneliness is in question.

Why is the DUCK lonely? – Is the fish lonely too, or just the duck.  Makes you wonder about the rest of the story.

Why is the duck LONELY? – Is there a different emotion the duck could be feeling? Sad?  Melancholy? Why lonely?

Five words and a question mark.  Five different meanings.  Strange and fascinating. And we all thought communication was such a straightforward and direct thing.  Who knew that where the emphasis falls could make such an impact.

This little sentence is often a kind of mantra for me.  If I’m not understanding a situation, particularly a relationship issue, I try to rearrange the emphasis of a sentence, a thought or an emotion.  Sometimes it shines a different color or brightness of light on things that I hadn’t thought of before.  Sometimes I am just as confused, or more so, than before.

If nothing else, it’s a fun exercise to try if you’re stuck driving an endlessly long stretch of highway.

Categories: Relationships, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , | 8 Comments

My All Time Favorite Quote From a Book or Movie

Posted on November 14, 2012 by Kami
English: Ngong Hills, Kenya

Ngong Hills, Kenya (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?”
― Isak Dinesen, Out of Africa

I often wonder in similar tones, if who I am makes any difference in the world.  Is there lastingness to my daily efforts in living, sharing, being?

I’ve always found this quote a haunting query of the value of a life. I think, perhaps, she asks the wrong question, but I’m not certain what the correct question is.

Categories: Uncategorized, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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