Boat Across the River
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Question
My boss (and friend) recently survived a massive heart attack where the artery that was blocked is commonly called the “widowmaker” because 10-20% of people survive it’s being blocked. I’m so grateful that he is still alive, even though he might never come back to work. Now he feels certain that he was spared by God for some specific reason, and that when he has fulfilled that purpose, he will be taken for good. He’s freaking out a little because he doesn’t know what that purpose is.
I’m not sure what to make of this…
Home — Part 2
One of my students brought her small dog to school today. That’s the kind of alternative school where I teach. The kind that is not like military school, but is like…lawless. I overheard her saying that she is getting rid of the dog.
Her mother is a mail carrier and she had promised an older couple that she would take their pit bull if anything should happen to them. Apparently, the man died; ten days later, his wife followed him. Their daughter flagged down the mail carrier and gave her the dog. That dog then proceeded to attack this little guy that my student brought to school, so she is now going to pass it on to someone else. I asked where she got the dog in the first place and she said Craig’s List.
It makes me sad that animals are passed so quickly from family to family — or left at the pound – with little regard to the animal’s feelings. In fact, they are treated as if they have no feelings at all. It’s one of my biggest “pet” peeves; the casual abandonment of domestic animals. I can tend toward preachiness, as I’m sure you’ve discovered if you have read anything else on this blog (sorry!), so I couldn’t resist saying something like, “It’s sad that animals are passed around so much; I’m sure they wonder where home really is…” She ignored me and continued with her other stories. It’s discouraging, but even moreso when I consider that many of my students have been treated the same way. And are treating their own babies this way as well. They are passed around from aunt to grandma to friend…and that’s if they are “lucky” enough to be raised by family at all. I overheard another girl today recounting how she had “beat down” her baby’s daddy’s new girlfriend. She supposedly had the girl on the ground and was beating her head against the ground when the police arrived. I asked her if all that was worth the risk of being separated from her child; that is, being arrested, having assault charges against her, and possibly doing some time somewhere. She responded that it was no big deal because her grandmother has legal rights as well so the baby would not go to his father. Oh, what a relief.
I suppose that feeling wanted is one of our deepest needs.
That, and feeling that we really belong somewhere — that we have someplace we are able, with confidence, to call home.
Pieces of the Puzzle
It’s been an adjustment having my daughter going to pre-school every day now for the last couple months…it used to be that we were in charge of almost everything she learned, and we knew everything she did. Now that she is away from us, it’s been hard to let go! After all, she’s only three…
Now there is a lot that she does that we only learn about through her stories, if she will consent to share them, which she often will not. I guess that’s her exerting her independence — her power over her own life. At her age, she doesn’t control very much around her, and now she can control the information she shares with us, and she does!
It has been fun, though, learning to piece together the puzzle of her day when I unpack her backpack. Mulch covering her hat and scarf means she spent time playing in the outdoor classroom…the new bead nacklace on a piece of yarn every day means the necklace job is currently her favorite…blue paint on her shirt means she painted a picture that I will probably never get to see as so many of them get lost in the shuffle of children’s things at school. I hate missing out on these details of her life, but she is a different person than I am, and she will have her own life. I guess I better get used to this!
Stuck on an Escalator
Here’s one more video that they showed at my work conference! It’s pretty funny. When they showed it, it didn’t have the ad part at the end — just the escalator part. The speaker said the funny thing is that he has seen this type of thing actually happen. People are pretty out there sometimes.
Dancing Guy Video
I went to a three day work seminar recently, where we were shown this video. I really liked it and wanted to share it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fW8amMCVAJQ
Music to My Ears
Last night before bed, as my daughter ate her snack, she was trying to rhyme words together. I had been trying to teach her what rhyming words are a few days ago. In between bites of cottage cheese, she would run over to a chair she had pulled out and would pretend to write down her “poetry” with a pen. I love that when she writes now, the scribbles actually look like words and sentences. She does a good job at imitating what a written sentence looks like in English. These are two of the poems that she dictated (as she scribbled on her notepad) and that I wrote down (in English!):
Walking and playing
after I eat,
You play with that horsey
then you
go to sleep.
And…
After you eat,
you brush your teeth;
you put on your sunglasses
and hat
and go to sleep.
These are her very first poems and she came up with them all on her own! I love it.
Fields of Gold
I continue to have to share the instruction of English credits with another, much younger, teacher. And she continues to slowly drive me crazy. She will be gone by the end of the year, having essentially been fired, but she seems determined to take the rest of us down with her. Really, it’s sad, and I do have compassion for her and her situation. She never had a role model growing up and so she had to parent herself, etc., etc., resulting in one of the most arrogant people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and working with.
I have to wonder, though. Was I so arrogant in my youth? I know that in some ways I was. I remember how self-assured I was, and how I trusted no one better than I trusted myself. Would I have listened to more experienced teachers? Or did I six years ago? I know in some ways I was not so different from her. I would like to think that I had a willingness to learn from others…I must have because I am not at all the same person or teacher that I was. I hold teaching veterans in a different and more respectful light now. I’ve only been doing this for six years, and some of these people are in their third decade. I remember my principal telling me in my second year of teaching, no doubt after some cocky remark from me, “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.” True enough. I can’t imagine being stable enough, committed enough, content enough, to stick with one job for thirty years.
So what I’m saying is I should not judge her so harshly. Yesterday, though, a counselor/trusted friend reported to me that my fellow English teacher had been complaining about the way I do things to a group of other teachers. Her choice of words and complaints and unwillingness to speak with me about her issues bother me a lot. Last week she bought me a nice piece of jewelry as a thank you gift for mentoring her this year. Why bother with this if you are just going to turn around and openly trash me to other teachers? Should I confront her about this and explain to her why I do things the way I do? Or should I just let it, and her, go with the fast approaching last day of school?
A few weeks ago, these things were bothering me even more than they are now. I sat down to meditate. I had just seen some nice art earlier that day; one painting was of a farm field, golden stalks shining in the sun. I had been sitting for forty-five minutes, focusing on feeling love, and coming from a place of love in my approach with my co-worker. In the last ten minutes of sitting, everything seemed to get lighter and brighter and the back of my eyelids looked just like a huge golden field to me. I definitely felt a lightening of my strong emotions, and felt more loving towards people. I think the problem is that I rarely have the energy these days to sit and not think, as funny as that sounds! I’ve got to get back into my practice of sitting every day if I want to really feel consistently better about these things that are so difficult for me. I think for me, it really takes a daily re-focus for me to keep my balance. So that’s the goal.
More or Less (of Ourselves)…or Neither
I keep remembering a dream I had a few months ago where my grandmother came to me and was telling me about the afterlife. She looked the same, but different. Where the details of most dreams fade quickly, I can still remember just how she looked in this one. The main thing that was different was her smile. It was no longer pained or fragile — it was huge and confident.
In life, my grandma was not perfect (just like none of us are!) Grandma could be hurtful. A strong memory that I have of her from my youth was when my mother and I were visiting her in her and my grandfather’s home. Two of our state universities have always had a strong rivalry. My grandma and grandpa went to one, and my dad the other. My dad’s team had won the game, it came up in conversation, and I said something like, “Yay!” I went to kiss my grandma goodbye and she dodged my kiss and kind of ducked away from me. I remember feeling stunned. Like, “What did I do?” I also remember my mom’s reaction — pure fury. She told me to wait out at the car and only recently have I come to know what she said to Grandma. This was by far the most hurtful experience I had with her and I’m sure she regretted it. But she never apologized and I wish she had. Forgiving someone is much easier if they apologize. I know she loved me, but sometimes our relationship was confusing to me.
I recently read a book called Here if You Need Me by Kate Braestrup. I really enjoyed it, but there was one section that bothered me, and continued to over time, like a seed stuck in my teeth. The author was presenting her thoughts on the afterlife and one option she mentioned was that we might become perfect versions of ourselves. She then dismissed that possibility, stating that then we would no longer even be ourselves. She concluded that she thinks we “just die”. I guess she meant that…well I don’t know what she meant. Maybe it was her way of saying she doesn’t really know what she believes, which makes the most sense to me anyway.
A few weeks later, I had the dream where my grandma came to me and was explaining all about the afterlife. I remember bits and pieces, but mostly I remember the feeling that I should not worry. I remember her fabulous peaceful smile and that she seemed herself, but not herself. Or maybe she seemed more of herself, not less. Maybe on Earth we are actually less of ourselves. And then I vividly remember her saying, “Here, we are perfect versions of ourselves.”
The whole thing could be my wishful thinking, all my own creation, the phrase Grandma used supplied merely from Braestrup’s book and my mind. I’m one who believes that those who have passed on can visit us in our dreams. And maybe Grandma came in a form that I would recognize and used words that I’d connect with. I don’t know, but I believe it’s possible; such are all matters of belief.
I am fascinated by (and love) the fact that I keep having these conversations with her now, when in life our relationship was not perfect. Maybe it’s her way of saying that things are fine between us. In one dream, she came to me to mediate an argument that my mom and I were having in “real” life. Mom and I hadn’t argued like that in years. In the dream, Grandma was now the peacemaker, level-headed, even-keel, and very happy.
Sons and Daughters
Being involved in the creation of two children is the most religious experience that I personally have ever had. (Not that it’s a club or must be experienced!) Maybe that’s why Christians put such a focus on the baby Jesus. It seems like every birth is a miracle…And one of the reasons that Jesus always referred to himself as the “Son of Man”. He spoke often of the little children and how we, as adults, should be more like them.
I do think we should allow children to guide us in our “religions”. Not that they don’t need guidance as well. If anyone hurts a child, it’s like they are stabbing God and all of religion directly in the heart. They are denying all of life. Having a child forces you to confront the absolute Mystery and Love that is our human experience of the Divine.
