SILENCE

Silence
Works all kinds of magic
Brings us to truth
Automatically heals
Restores hope
Brings peace
Protects our interior world
Feels sweet— eventually
And yet we blather on

That said, I will be quiet.

NOTES FROM A SUGAR COMA

Is it Monday? 
Was it Christmas?
I confess. As official Christmas celebrations came to an end last night, I settled into my chair to enjoy the lights and tree AND two of each kind of cookie I didn't eat while being busy and thinking myself prudent to avoid them. We had lots of cookies so maybe my total consumption was 18 cookies. Oh come on. You've never done this??? They were fabulous and I nibbled and tasted each one dipping into just right black coffee. Who needs alcohol. I am truly sugar hungover.

My best moments:
--decorating the house. I never know what I will do, but pull out odds and ends from Christmas' past and begin to create until I know its right. It's organic and not at all formulized like many of our holiday rituals are.

--my 82 hear old husband being pulled on a sled by my daughter's boyfriend  on the ice in our front yard and being catapulted to the finish. His laughter was better than the three kids waiting for him and caring for him and assuring him h he was all right. He was very all right.

--making green posole for a Mexican tree decorating fiesta. I was in the kitchen, alone, with Christmas music on, creating. (recipe from Epicurious is a good one)

--being just fine with a holiday that broke many rituals and traditions because flexibility was needed.  Made me think of the world in this way. Truly it did.
Old forms are falling away. New ones not created yet. And so our time is one of 
chaos and new ways are only beginning to form. What's needed? Flexibility, love, connection with people as we muddle through,more love, beauty, and hanging  on to what matters most from the past--the ornaments of our life and time. New forms will come.

I'M IN------THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT AT LAST

A good Winter snow storm did the trick
And below ten degree weather.
Created excitement, surprise cancellations
Rocked the daily rhythms
Spontaneity began to rule

Went to a Christmas concert where my daughter sang as lead vocalist and also wrote the script for the story line of the music. It was an homage (hate that word but that's what it was) to fifties like Christmas songs. My daughter sang a version of Silent Night that brought the raucous thousand or more person audience to silence. It stunned. Didn't quite fit the rest of the music but so stood out and offered a moment of a holy night and the crowd cheered.


How else do I know I'm in the spirit?
—I've lost presents I bought in the Summer
—I have no idea of what I've spent and don't care
—I am cringing about some presents already sent that I know are wrong
   (Never order after midnight)
—I am thinking of the best ever presents to compensate for the wrong ones I sent  
   and will probably order them today
—Christmas tree is up. Tree panic is over. (I always think there will be no trees 
   left and that mine is flawed. And then i think it is the best I've ever had. This
   rhythm is predictable and made fun of by everyone)
—I am perusing cookbooks to add something new to traditional food
—I am tender remembering my childhood Christmases and missing and loving
   my mom and dad and brother. 
—I have hung my childhood stocking on the fireplace mantle and those of my
    grown kids and grand kids. Seventeen in all. And worry about whether it is a
    fire hazard and shrug.
—I am happy. Excited. Doing unexpected giving is the best joy maker of all

I will not decry Christmas and the frenzy and the commercialism. There is a bubbling up of the energy of giving and abundance and pleasure and joy
and the sacred holds it own. One doesn't have to cancel out the other. Holiday rituals hold us together when the world is tugging us toward separateness. Tug back

(I share a very different Christmas Eve experience at http:\\iprayanyway.blogspot.com)

SLOW AND STEADY ACTUALLY DOES WIN THE RACE!

I am determined to savor this holiday season.  I used to savor it—back when time still existed!!   And I have vivid sense memories from that era. I remember painting wooden ornaments as if it were a Zen meditation. I wrapped gifts with care and joy. I decorated with serious creative energy and delight. There was no sense of tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. No crushing deadline. (And yes, this was when I worked and had two kids and was a single parent.) 

It's not me. It's not you. We've gone hyper if not hysterical as a culture. And it is contagious. We catch it from one another. "More, better, faster" is a horrible mantra and it hangs over our heads at work and at home.

 I come from a family of women (five sisters) that took pride in being efficient and productive. They could clean a kitchen after a large gathering quickly while talking and managing kids. I remember it well. It was not frantic or hurried. It was like a dance.
They laughed about how easily they worked in a small space without bumping into one another.

All this to say, I experimented this past week-end with slowness. I laugh as I share it because it sounds too simple and a little odd. Here's what I did; I moved more slowly.
That's it. I walked twice as slow (for those of us who are busters). No matter what I was doing, I slowed it down. Taking laundry out of the dryer. Slow. Going through holiday lights.
Slow. Reading a book. Slower. (I gobble my books)

I did add two other things. I carried my iPad with me and listened to classical and Christmas music almost continuously. If I parked myself for awhile, I lit a candle.
I was stunned at the difference slow made. And I got more done than I had planned.

Right before I headed (slowly) to bed I read an article from The Harvard Medical School on happiness; "Current research is confirming what many of us have heard from our elders and spiritual leaders: satisfaction comes with being engaged, doing good, and focusing on the present."  And literally slowing down is the medium for all of it.

YAWN-----

Get out the candles
Build a stack of books
Add some junk magazines
Through in some catalogues
Find everything flannel
Dig out the popcorn
Buy a barrel of butter
Fluff the pillows
Have slippers in every room
Yawn big
Let the darkness tell you when to sleep
Let every waistband be elastic
Doze sitting up
Gather the kindling
Make a daily soup
Listen to Vivaldi
Turn inward
Be an introvert
IT'S HIBERNATION TIME!!!
z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z

PLAGUED BY A WORD THAT SUPRISES ME

Decorum.  Yep, 'decorum".
Maybe I've watched too much Downton Abbey and The Crown.
And even those took place as decorum crumbled.

I am a rule breaker, an informalizer, a chaotic creator.
And a balancer.
I tend to lean the other way when there is too much of something.
Too much sad, I'll bring in joy.
Too much craziness, I'll emphasize sanity.

And I am wanting decorum.
No more nightgowns for dresses. Quit cutting out pieces of your clothing.
No more f bombs on TV or as the most commonly used expletive
No more bluster.
No more hysteria
No more puerile hauntings of people's private sex lives

We are a fevered people across the globe
We need world wide acupuncture to cool all of us down.
I might even begin to tolerate Robert's Rules of Order

We do need action--cool and calculated
We do need commitment--the boring diligent kind
We do need calm skills to listen across differences to build collaboration where none seems possible
We need new processes for civil discourse and expert facilitation of them
We need impulse control
We need the discipline of a unifying vision that is worth the irritation and long term effort to bring to fruition
We need to quit making one another wrong while in strong strong disagreement.

For those of us in the US how about The Constitution and the Declaration of Independence as a starting point? There's a worthy experiment.

PONDERING OUR COMMON PLIGHT

My time in Rangeley was hushed.
Removed. No phone calls. No Internet signal.
Books and naps.
The recent US election receded with all of its profound negativity and anxiety.
I was in a healing mode, literally, for my body and spirit.
I was sleep walking.

Coming back my experience was tender.
I didn't come shockingly awake.
But I saw with less filtering and the world was different.

I saw:
--hysterics coming from all sides. 
--a gag rule in effect where people were afraid to speak their truth to one another if they weren't already in agreement
--a new seriousness in young adults about how the world works and that they actually do have to be active in its creation of a different way
--many people talking about compassion and empathy as desperately needed
--serious fright about being safe
--polarization as the the dominant dynamic at work in most situations
--sorrow
--a turning in to take care on one's own because that external world is nuts


I stay slightly subdued. Why? Because old forms are falling away. (Some sage said that.) New forms have not emerged. We need what is called the third way.
Opposites are not attracting. We need a new path to emerge in government, schools. religion, health care to name a few. We are without a common vision.
I trust it will emerge. In the meantime, we swim in the chaos  searching for 
that new way. All of us. We are in this together even if it doesn't seem so.

OFF THE GRID IN RANGELEY MAINE

This is a good time for reflection.
Doing that.
Back next week.

FOR MY NORTH AMERICAN READERS

Vote Please

Democracy is a relatively new bold and brave social experiment.
It was designed on the principles of tolerance and balance of power.
We forget that it is fragile
Support it. 

Please Vote

CHEERY AND BLEARY (THANKS TO THE CUBS!!)

I had a very good day yesterday. 
Very normal events.
Here's what made the difference:
(So easy-peasy it's kind of embarrassing)

I was clear about my priorities
I set and met my goals.
Simple. I wish.

And that, dear readers, is what it takes to make me happy.
I have an inordinate sensitivity to time passing based on the close-up seat I had to a shocking tragic death of a family when I was 12 years old. I learned to savor life very early and to not 'waste' time with mindlessness. I kept mementos 
and journals with a vengeance and still do.

 (I put a bite of hamburger in a scrap book because a boy I liked had left it on his plate! Hey, I wrapped it in wax paper!!) And I still have the handkerchief of a boyfriend who first kissed me at a dance and then gave me his handkerchief to wipe off lipstick. Such wonderful innocence)

I'm not talking about grand choices. I'm talking about the relief of using time
exactly at you want.

I woke up and read New York Times Book Review in bed with coffee
I had time and silence alone in the house with no phones on.
I did my kind of prayer and wrote a few reflections.
I grocery shopped with a menu in mind with family for dinner
I cooked a great lamb and lentil stew--first Fall soup!!
Family came over and I played with a nine year old, a four year old and a three year old. My peers! We smeared the yard with spider web globs.
Pumpkins were carved.
Kids gone. Husband writing on third floor. I watched the Cubs game and did clean-up during the ads. They hung on to a win around midnight. 
Took the roasted pumpkin seeds out of the oven, munched a few and went to bed.


I knew my priority for the day (which involved saying a clear'no' to many other things.) My idea of hell is doing one thing while wanting to do something else or having a vague nag sitting on my shoulder.
 So---
I knew my priorities
I set my goals. 
I lived them.
Day by day that makes a very good life.

A SMATTERING OF GOOD STUFF!

The Cubs are going to the World Series!! Makes me believe good things can happen even after a long time of not happening. Go Cubbies.

My granddaughter is still curious and puzzled by how a toilet manages to flush.
May she keep that kind of mini-wonder.

There is a tree by the ocean that looks like a giant head of broccoli on its stem but it is an improbable color of deep blood burgundy and pink!! 

I did a reading of my book I PRAY ANYWAY: Devotions for the Ambivalent  and I turned it into a discussion. A random group of people talking about prayer, religion, belief or none, that became sacred because we listened deeply and without judgment to very different strong thoughts and experiences. 

I am taking a class on DREAMS. It is deep, as in Jungian, and satisfying as we share dreams and interpret them for one another knowing it is all  projection but that there are nuggets of wisdom and insight for the dreamer to choose from. The assumption is that dreams are your unconscious knocking at your door to move you to wholeness. How about that?? 

Read about a book I hope to love because it already makes me laugh. Rules for Others to Live By  by Richard Greenberg.
 — Sick of 'living in the moment' talk, he says, "I am always in the moment. The moment that I'm in happens to have taken place 50 years ago!"
—  "Mediocrity is, at its best, competent and a little shy. Aren't these the qualities we look for in a neighbor?"
— Talking about a woman who withdraws from the world. Greenberg writes, " As her tether loosened her updo rose. Her hair had passed beehive and attained silo." 

The big world and mine (and yours too is my assumption) are often hard to 
manage, to live in, to maintain hope in. Never underestimate a smattering of good stuff. It keeps the engine going and primes the pump for more.

JUST FOR FUN!

I subscribe to the New York Times Book Review and it is my Sunday afternoon pleasure. I am such a book worm that I am actually relieved when I don't end up with a list of books to read. In the Book Review there is always an interview with an author who usually has a new book out. I offer my answers JUST FOR FUN and want to hear yours JUST FOR FUN. I'm just curious. Let me know.
OK let's play!

NYT--What books are currently on your nightstand?
     "My books are on my nightstand, under the bed, in the bathroom and on the kitchen table. They are: Commonwealth  by Ann Patchett, The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead, Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton. Messy:The Power of Disorder to Transform Our Lives by Tim Harford (a book I should have written, being an expert on 'messy' and Eleanor and Hick: The Love Affair That Shaped a First Lady by Susan Quinn

NYT--What's the last great book you read?
     A GENTLEMAN IN MOSCOW by Armor Towle. I loved it. I even said I was enchanted by it. How's that for hyperbole. It was charming, civil, captured a historical era easily, had wonderful characters full of heart and a lovely almost fairy tale tone. Storytelling at its best! 

NYT--Do you have an all-time favorite author?
     Nope.

NYT--What moves you most in a work of literature?
     This is not so easy. Hmm. Depth. Writing that makes me smile when it is so fresh and so right. At least one character that wants to do some good. An author voice that comes through that is thoughtful about the big picture of life.
Characters that I like and can imagine when the book ends. And I love stories that take place in a strong culture and context.

NYT--What book would people be surprised to find on your book shelf?
     THE ORIGINS OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN THE BICAMERAL BRAIN.Yep.
I love books about the biology of the brain and of new physics. I remember none of it after I read it but I keep at it.

NYT--You are having a dinner party. What three writers would you invite.
     Ann Patchett, Anne Tyler and Kate Atkinson. I think we would laugh our heads of and be BFF's.

There are other questions but, hey, I'm doing this for fun on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Try a few and send your answers to me.  I won't share unless you say OK.  

PS--I love Gronk. (I am a Patriot fan.)
      I love the Cubs
      I hate the crazy nasty clown trend
      Pop corn makes my day right
      My granddaughter and I shout "Hooray for Red" everytime we see it. 
      I'm always a little blue on Sunday night
     

I am living in 'theatre of the absurd' or you could call it my life.
Get up early today for time alone to think and write
Fire alarm goes off. No fire, no cooking, no smoke. Adrenaline high. Try saying 'om' in a state of high alarm. Just not the same.
Forgot Columbus Day totally--and that I was going to babysit for my granddaughter because daycare was closed for the holiday (granddaughter that daycare said had lice, I mean nits. (Doesn't 'nit' sound better---less bad reputation for g'ma!!) Oh and for two other kids as well. OK.I like kids. Then again, they tend to hug and touch hair!! Still no problem. I like kids. 
Go to write this blog and no Internet. No reason. Fire alarm burps. I squelch it.
THAT KIND OF MORNING.

So I write now and realize that the theatre of the absurd today is a hangover from last night and the Clinton/Trump debate. 'Theatre of the Absurd' as in the portrayal of the human struggle in a senseless world!!  I never can just sit and watch. I either want to be the candidate or the moderator. Some kind of hubris there but true. 

So I decided to Tweet during the debate. Whooooooa. There is an alternative universe. It showed itself to be so diverse as to be truly crazy.
It went something like this:
--Clinton just lied
--Trump just lied
--Want to find the purpose of your life? Sign up for Shifting and Sighing online course
--Private parts are more important than poverty- Big Mouth
--Want to be rich? -Sign up now for marketing your wonderful self 
--Trump's prowling
--Clinton's smugging her contempt
--Recipe for Syrian stuffed grape leaves
--Taxes--up no down no up no down  Middle class still screwed
--Optimism has no cost--Buddha Boy
--We are watching a funeral for the United States
--Together we will do it
--Make America great again
--Clinton just lied
--Trump just lied
--Can't Clinton wear a skirt?
--Is Trump's hair made of cotton candy?
--She's interrupting
--He's interrupting
--Oh yeah, he's a bad person
--Oh yeah, she's a worse person
--But his kids are OK
--And she's so strong for a woman
--Rev up your metabolism with magic powder

No wonder my head spins, the fire alarm goes off and I have no Internet connection.
I have shorted out.
Pzzzzzzzzt!

DAYS OF AWE

I am not Jewish but I have always been attracted to and by the High Holy days of Rosh Hashanah followed ten days later by Yom Kippur. I first learned about them when visiting a Synagogue on an ecumenical field trip of some sort from my Methodist Church when I was in sixth grade. I was more interested in holding hands with my boy crush of the week but I impressed and intrigued by the rituals and preparation for The Days of Awe.

Let's talk 'awe' for a minute. We've forgotten what awe is, as we call everything 'awesome' from food to a movie. Awe is a very big deal--a kind of reverence and profundity mixed with a dash of fear leading to repentence. Methodists didn't do much awe when I was twelve but I knew it when I saw it.

Rosh Hashanah is what New Year's ought to be. You are held accountable.
The Book of Life is opened for the ten Days of Awe. And probably you've messed up quite a bit. So you have this protected and protracted time to sit yourself down and think about it. (Synagogue services are long and often during this time.) And here is the hard part and good part and the healing part; you are expected to ask people directly for forgiveness for any wrong you have done. (Maybe ten days is not enough!) Then your name goes back in or stays in the Book of Life for another year. You stand in good stead. 

I like everything about The Days of Awe.
--enough time to be profound and not perfunctory
--communal remembering of history and lessons learned
--fasting to remind us of the ability to reject  temptation
--everyone in a community cleansing and healing at the same time
--individual and group accountability
--a sigh of relief and a renewed commitment to do and be better.

I always ask forgiveness for any wrong I may have done during the past year  of my Jewish friend Eileen during The Days of Awe. It feels great good to do it. Out loud.
Think if we took time for awe and accountability and forgiveness in a systematic way with our families. 'Awesome' would be the right word.

SOUP SAVES THE DAY

I'm so glad it's Monday!
AND a new day and it's looking like another Fall beauty.

I need a new day. Yesterday was one of those dark days of the soul.
Mad at the world without reason.
Nothing worked.
I fussed. I fumed. Nothing satisfied. All this, while knowing it was too perfect a day to ruin.
I ruminated in past regret. (What? You don't have any?)
I decided to work. Couldn't focus because I wanted to "enjoy" the day.
I got existential—"What's it all about?"
I forced myself to lunch with a friend for respite but the respite didn't last longer than the lunch.
I took a walk. Still a cat on a hot tin roof.

Finally relief came. My husband was sick with a cold. I decided to make soup for him. Couldn't bear the thought of going to the store. I grabbed bit and pieces of worn out veggies and began to create. Onions, celery, carrots--big chunky pieces. Chop with a vengeance. Throw them in olive oil to saute. Add cumin,
tumeric. Smells great. What else. Green beans. Made the soup happy. Poured in chicken stock, (homemade on some way better day) and tasted. Something missing. Looked around. Threw in sweet potatoe in big chunks and some ginger. Looked good. One more refrigerator scrounge for cilantro!!!! As my granddaugter would say, "SUPER tasty".

Doing something for someone else saved the day.
Creating saved the day.
Soup saved my darn day, I tell you.

HERE'S AN ODD ONE

I have truth burped this odd topic several times to a puzzled and repulsed response. That's good enough for me to know I'm hitting on somethng.

Here it is:
Death will become a big commodity in the next 25 years.

Death is already a big industry but we are heading out of the church based or funeral home based service for our loved ones when they die.
I'll pretend I'm talking The United States right now but death is world wide, right? 

My assumptions:
—People die 
—We have to get rid of or make room for bodies
—Church for many doesn't work for honoring our dead. Too rote or flaccid. Beliefs shifting
—Funeral homes are icky, like motel lobbies.
—Baby Boomers are starting to die and Boomers set the tone and products of many markets
—We are starting to embrace death as a part of life as mysterious as birth is.
—We want to celebrate this passage with joy.
—New rituals are needed. Old ones are not working so well.
—There will be competing centers to celebrate the life passage of loved ones.
They will compete on ambiance, service and accommodation of people who come from far away. Service will include chosen death arrangements.
—There will be ceremonialists who will design the life celebration/ritual of the person who passed in a very tailored deliberate way----often before the death of the individual.
—There will be more cremations due to far flung families (and space). The vessels for ashes will become more individualized and expensive. (I intend to be put into sugar bowls for each kid to have in their kitchen. Truly, I do)
—The digital market will have a ball. Messages from 10 years after the passing will appear in Facebook or its morphing equivalent. Virtual participation in dying moments will be common. 
—A new sense of wonder and curiosity will emerge as we get more comfortable with  life passing, morphing, ending, enduring after the body, as we become more comfortable with moving in closer to this grand moment of mystery.

And we do need a new word for 'death' and it isn't 'passing'.  
Transform? Transformation Centers?  
Now I have become uncomfortable with this Truth Burp and want to slip back into denial. La,la,la,la,la.

Too weird?  Check out myl advice for this election year at
www.iprayanyway.blogspot.com

OUR BODIES ABSORB TRAUMA

I write on 9/11 (an iconic number now). I think about the beauty of the Fall day fifteen years ago when I went to work before leaving for vacation. I went to the Board room to find the CEO to touch bases before I left and was curious about the TV being on. I entered and for a moment thought my colleagues were watching a spoof of a King Kong movie. Then I heard the tone of the announcer's voice and sat down next to my boss. We waited to understand the tragedy and then the second tower fell. I grabbed the hand of the CEO and we sat silently as we watched the world tilt and our American innocence slide away. 

After waiting three days to be sure about what I might need to do at work given the heinous tragedy that had occurred, I left for vacation. My husband and I drove through Maine meandering along rivers and stopping in small towns. The weather was exquisite. Painfully perfect. The world was hushed. American flags popped out on every porch and building.
I wept occasionally knowing that the world had changed. Everything was suddenly so precious and so precarious at the same time.

We, you and I, have become somewhat inured to the new 'normal', the new, 'now'.
We still agonize and remember but the freshness of the rupturing moment is gone.
And yet, I absorbed the trauma and it emerges on every perfect Fall day. An ache of realization of the possibility of destruction while in the midst of just rightness doesn't go completely away. 

LET'S TRY NEW WAYS TO TALK TOGETHER

Last week, I wrote about anger and sloppy undisciplined talk.
I mentioned Governor LePage of Maine and Trump as particularly low on the self monitoring scale. (I got quite a few raw responses to this blog.) I understand the attraction of ugly authentic blurts over  managed, marketed, oh so careful remarks of other politicians, and yet, we need to agree to a new standard of conversation and discourse.

And we need methods to ensure that. We need to design a different process for 
different types of discussion. The ones we have don't work. Blaring out a strong opinion with a smart ass tone will get you one back.  The perennial panel discussion with Q & A at the end might get some information into the air but it won't be resolved or turned into action. The Presidential debates (we need a new name AND format) were nuts. I have five kids and the debates reminded me of some of our worst family moments!! And Robert's Rules of Order (remember them) squash good decisions.

Recently I keep thinking about an experiment I created that worked  surprisingly well. I developed it as a way to survive in a very high conflict situation.

I worked as an English teacher for 7th graders in an inner-city school.
I was putting a husband through law school and would not become tenured, SO I was given five class of 30 kids that no other teacher wanted. Town kids versus university kids. Black versus white. ADHD, sex addiction, and drugs added to the complexity. Kids who were beaten and kids who were pampered.

 I created classroom control with a crazy parody in a moment of sweaty fear. I told the kids I was an 1890's teacher and they had to be in their seats with hands folded when the bell rang---or detention. I added that it would make the other teachers jealous and the other kids wonder what was the heck was going on. It became a joke as my students did it very exaggeratedly as people looked in. We strove to be prissy!! I liked these kids. But they had very little ability to  self-control so I decided to have them learn--by running their own classroom.

 I created Town Hall Day for each Friday, I would ask what was working and what wasn't and what needed to be changed for us to learn together. I had to go along with their ideas no matter what was decided. And they tested that for the first two months. (I had freedom because no one cared what went on with these particular students.)  We brought in rugs.They got dirty. Custodians wouldn't vacuum. We cleaned our own class room. We tried radios (before headphones) They got voted out. We allowed gum. We disallowed gum. We created homework groups. We tried three days of learning with no grades. We created a program where students gave one another homework assignments (very tough ones too). Each week's decisions were upheld and evaluated.
   Now to the point of this story. To become self-managed learners was very sophisticated. The Friday Town Hall needed its own special process. A ball (huge--as in 'the ball is in your court') was put in the middle of the circle of desks. Whoever wanted to bring something up went and got the ball. When done, the person put the ball back in the middle. There was no timing. The length of time for talking became better and better. BUT when the ball was put into the middle of the room there had to be a two minute pause--silence between speakers. To get the ball after the pause, people wanting the ball stood and the 'caller' of the day chose who would go next. I provided the timing of the pause and I carried the authority (hard won) of containing the space for this experiment.

If this sounds oh so progressive and childish. It was not.We dealt with racial slurs, we dealt with physical fights, we dealt with washroom gangs, we dealt with sex abuse and physical abuse and hunger. The only thing I said at the beginning of each Town Hall was "What do we need to do as a class to help learning?" Things started out shockingly raw but as the freedom to talk was trusted (and protected some by me but most by the process) the Town Hall became thoughtful, kind, creative and,( always shocking to me) insightful about what supported learning.

Understanding and the momentum for collaborative change needs new designs that create conversation among people who don't like one another, have strong opposing positions and who are terrible threatened by 'the other'.  Our methods support conflict, not the kind of discussion needed to self govern. 

THERE IS ANGER AND,THEN,THERE IS ANGER!

We live in a time of anger. I sit with that a moment as I write it. We live in a time of anger. Listen to the Merriam-Webster definition:
   —a strong feeling of being upset because of something wrong or bad: the feeling that makes someone want to hurt other people, to shout—

There are gradations of anger. For instance rage indicates a loss of control and physicality. Wrath wants to punish. Indignation is usually righteous about unfairness or something shameful.

We live in a time of cafeteria offerings of anger. The most common is--well--common meaning coarse, crude, rude, lowest common denominator of human interaction. This kind of anger is sloppy, self-indulgent, incendiary, and mean. 
Add belligerent, shocking and shameful. It is uncivilized. Common in its occurrence and common in its spontaneous vulgarity.

It's a real double bind to be angry about anger. But there is another kind of anger. It doesn't explode. It doesn't lower the level of civilized behavior. It raises it. This anger has discipline and a memory. It maintains an angry reaction to injustice and wrong and lowness and transforms it into a public stance and to action that raises the common good.  

We, in The United States have a Presidential candidate that spreads social anger and teaches it's vocabulary. Low level anger is contagious. I live in Maine that has a Governor who needs a governor (a device for self control in machines).
Actually I prefer to know his full unedited thinking. He demeans people of color, he slights women's issues, he abuses power with threats, he threatens violence to legislators with differing opinions. This makes a government of cruelty and  bullying. 

Today I join others in asking that the Legislature of Maine censure Governor Paul    LePage and call him to account. I am the kind of angry that gets determined and acts for the betterment of our community and country.















Anger is easy. Action is tough.

FEMINIST GLEANINGS

"Feminism--the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social and economic equality to men"--Merriam- Webster Dictionary

I'm thinking about Feminism. Not sure what I want to say so I'll say it and then I'll know.

I am, I was and I will be a Feminist. I was a first subscriber to Ms Magazine and read all the Feminist literature. Susan Brownmiller and I stuffed flowers in the National Guard rifles as William Kunstler spoke on campus when I was in grad school. We were strident and strong and serious---and sort of dedicated to looking ugly. I studied other governments and was passionate about family friendly workplaces.

Our men washed dishes and did laundry and changed diapers with revolutionary pride.
I was told to stay out of law school in order to save a place for the men who would have to support their families. GE wanted to hire me in Marketing and asked in the interview if I used birth conrol and/or intended to have children in the next three years when I would have to travel a lot. I once silenced a group of all male executives when they began to get too close to the line of not OK sexual innuendo by simply saying "uterus, vagina, uterus, vagina". They were appalled and I said, "Right." I was not held back from achievement in any workplace but did wonder about equal pay and checked it out periodically. I learned to maneuver well in a male dominated environment but never had a truly 'evil' male moment. Lucky, maybe.

Still there lurked and lurks the shadow, the memory yarn, the DNA of a supposed natural order of white male one upness. We feminists of the 70's were grim and serious but so was the threat. The next  generation of women leaned the hell in and made it look way easier than it was. They are today's CEO's and top leaders in government and academia. Not enough of them now, but they soothe the anger of  inequality and show "it can be done."

This present  Feminist generation puzzles me some. It is highly individual and the protest is that "we are all beautiful and we can all realize our dreams". Mmmm. Maybe I am old. 
Do they protest too much because they have been told they are ugly and can't amount to anything? Is the rigid standard of beauty a substitute for all oppression? Is there a political orientation or has all political action become null and void? Is it "in" to be a Feminist now?
Girls or women? Ready for boring action to change things or only Facebook ready to cleverly complain? Regardless, hooray for new energy and voice. And hooray for celebrities demanding equal pay when what they are paid is plenty. It is about equality, people.

My Feminism:
My feminism lives slightly angry all of the time. My feminism realizes the movement is a first world luxury that gets trumped by starvation and poverty.  My feminism is radical in its vision. My feminism is savvy and pragmatic and produces results. My feminism can't bear injustice or inequality of any human being. My Feminism hurts because we can't seem to give up superior/ inferior as a way of being. My Feminism sighs because we still are the same topics of pay inequality and sexual harassment of the most serious nature, and getting our voices in the vanguard. I am eager for what the next wave of women bringing the feminine into prominence. The world needs it.

As Gloria Steinem said, "This is no simple reform. It really is a revolution. Sex and race because they are easy and visible differences have been the primary ways of organizing human beings into superior and inferior groups and into the cheap labor on which this system still depends. We are talking about a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen or those earned. We are really talking about humanism."

VACATION TRUTHS

First truth? I published this under CEO note to self. What if all those CEO's found it useful?? Lovely vacation brain haze in effect.


Eight year old boys wiggle.
Girl cousins do giggle.
These things are just experientially true.
iPads are the guilty sedative for eight year old boy wiggles.
Logistics rule--What food,when? What activity,how? Squabbles,who? 
Ice cream solves most problems.
Most lovely moments arrive on their own; planning is a wet blanket
Sitting at one table to eat matters
Separateness has to happen once a day for two hours
Sun matters. Rain is ok for one day.
When things fall apart there is always a bounce back moment

POP CORN IS THE ANSWER

If popcorn is the answer, what is the question??

--What makes a house smell happy?

--What makes you feel the least bad about indulging?

--What makes the best sound for cheering up a lousy moment?

--What bumps up the cozy quotient of a gathering?

--What is always best shared from one bowl?

--What produces a visceral memory of good times?

--What makes you leave a  screen to play Rummy, Scrabble, Quirkle?

--What is the best thing to eat in bed while reading a good book?

-- What do I turn to when I am too sick to eat anything else?

-- What is butter's best friend?

--What would I want served at my funeral ( celebration of life dance, my kaput
   festival) with a dash of red licorice and maybe a few cinnamon balls? 

MAYBE IT'S JUST THE GRAY DAY

I am often my own best entertainment. I get myself into crazy situations.
And so does my husband who recently drove down the street to the supermarket dragging our granddaughter's pop-up tent playhouse behind his car, happily waving to everyone who was madly waving at him! Yep. Bright red,yellow and blue five feet by five feet playhouse. It didn't tumble so we just lost the floor!!! 

But I have temporarily lost my sense of humor. It happens. I know it will come back. I just hate this darn election season. I was going to say I feel grim or sober or something worse. But that's not it.

For one thing, I am bored even with the extraordinary weirdness of election 2016. It's not the personalities or character of the candidates. It's that is all feels so stale. Even Bernie. Even with a woman candidate. We need a new process for election. We may need a constitutional redesign (it was meant to be an ongoing evolving document and experiment). Left/Right, Conservative/Liberal, Trust/Control Naivete/Skepticism, True/False, Evil/Good. We are polar thinkers locked into a polar system that thinks only in 'yes' or 'no'.

 A friend told me of her neighbor who had printed out copies of the Republican and Democratic platforms and intends to give them to people--and--who thinks they won't be read because people don't want to think. They want relief from fear (which never produces thinking) or to enjoy a vile celebrity kind of competition of personality that satisfies the need for entertainment and excitement. Boring, boring boring, stultifying,and soporific. You know it's bad when danger and extreme behavior become numbing.

We need a new governing system that has a global strategy with global goals and principles and accountability's. More than NATO, more than the UN, more than treaties. 

We need a world wide group of thinkers willing to address dilemmas and then the ability to go out and get support for the ideas. We either have a good revolutionary transition or an unimaginable messy chaotic revolution of the disenfranchised everywhere.

How do we allow for cultural differences of each country and still have a unifying global point of view?

How do we avoid being paranoid but still be vigilant about sick people doing damage to us all?

How do we unite and strengthen the energetics among people with a new vision so that it begins to permeate at the DNA level and through day to day decisions

How do we begin to shed the divisions among religions and within so that the essence of compassion and tolerance is fierce and compelling with no violence needed.

How do we create equitable economic systems that give good abundance to all or most and limits the too much extra that is global waste?

How does each country and culture be proud without being more proud than others? Better than. 

What if every jerk (and you know what I want to say) that exhibits too much jerkiness is sent to a jerkdom on a newly discovered planet? Maybe my humor is coming back.

But I want to be in a room with people who now how to wrestle with these kind of dilemmas. So not boring. So not defeated at the get go. So idealistic.
So what!!!

REMEMBER THE QUESTION: WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH 24 HOURS FREE TIME?

That question used to be asked in workshops and interviews all the time.
Not the most innovative question, but revealing.
I just had the gift of 24 hours to myself. I'm not surprised at what I chose to do but it was telling.

First I reveled in the open space I had. I was carbonated and kind of giddy with well being. Sounds sort of 7th grade doesn't it, but I was beyond pleased with the prospect. The day was more perfect Summer on a plate. I decided to follow my own nose for the day. No plans. Just the question, "Are you happy now?"

The upshot is that I read and read and read changing where I sat periodically so that I had a new view of Summer. I had two moments that always pop up when I have extended solitude. In early afternoon I began to feel like I 'should' go to the beach or walk to the nearest lighthouse and kind of wanted to do both. 
In late afternoon I began to feel just a little lonely. I vaguely thought about calling someone to go to dinner. No,no,no,no. My show stopper question (for life actually)is, "Is this the best way to use time?" My heart beats are limited. (So are yours.) 

And so I sat and and read with tiny breaks to feed my work horse/nag by watering a few plants and putting in laundry. I followed no clock but my internal impulse. Carrying my red cup of coffee with me. 

I kept a diary for the day. One line says, "Indulgence is so good for the soul.
Maybe not the body, but what a happy soul I have today!

For my crazy details of the day; see diary at www.iprayanyway.blogspot.com

BEING LAZY MAKES LIFE WORTHWHILE

I was visiting my Portland Oregon

daughter a couple of weeks ago and I had a ‘truth burp’. (My adult kids are used to it and either moan or write them down.) Kayla said,

“Stop. I want to write this one down. I need it as a mantra.” 

I often don’t remember a ‘truth burp’. Here is what she said I said-- “Laziness makes life worth living”. It came out when she was bemoaning having a huge garden, fun to create and horrible to maintain and beating herself up for being lazy. The timing was just right and we a good spurty laugh together.

So BEING LAZY MAKES LIFE WORTH LIVING and I mean it.

Lazy=”lack of effort, lack of activity, unwillingness to use energy”.

There is no creativity or production without an equal and opposite amount of inactivity. 

Yesterday I had a lazy Sunday morning.

I read a book about Mexico for no good reason.

I Played a game of Farm Heroes

I read the New York Times Book Review

I wrote a reflection/poem for new book.

I wasn’t pushed to do any of that.  Four hours of meandering.

Lots of staring into space.

It fueled me for now where I am now, meeting a writing deadline while babysitting for my granddaughter who I stashed into a water-filled storage bin so I could write out under a tree. I got three new ideas and made one important decision. AFTER some lazy time.

It’s Summer for Pete’s sake. Hurry up and get lazy. (There’s an oxymoron.) So, try a little lethargy.