December (not so) randomness

After a long autumn, the snow has fallen and stayed on  the ground and the mercury is dropping (not that reading the temperature has anything to do with mercury anymore, in my case. I look at my smart phone.)

Today, I was supposed to take part in my stepdance group’s first (small) performance since January of 2020. But I am coming down with my youngest daughter’s cold, so I bowed out. Disappointing, but it was fun to anticipate and to practice for and there will be other opportunities (I hope).

There is one friend on Facebook, Diana, whom I still regularly interact with. Basically she is the only one. She is an unusually kind, humble, approachable, and intellectual person who holds her page, and herself, to very high standards. It’s like a Socratic classroom (with funny memes).

One of the recent memes was “Mankind wasn’t meant to work in December. We were meant to hide from wolves, drink, and pray our autumn harvest will last us through the Dark Months.”

I couldn’t agree more. I am very grateful for my job, and for the fact I have this opportunity to do something positive in the world. But at the same time, I would like nothing better than to sit on the couch and crochet for the rest of the month, and possibly well into January. Based on observations of the people around me, it’s not just me with these feelings.

I have started crocheting again, almost obsessively, after not having interest in yarn crafts for months….years? My co-teacher started a community knitting / crochet meet up group (almost by accident), and so I became involved. Then I bought a book of Harry Potter crochet patterns with the intent to inspire my eldest daughter. They are rather too complex for an absolute beginner, however, so I decided to make one, then two, from the book before giving it to her for Christmas. And so it goes. Now making deals for bootleg bargain yarn, seeing patterns in my mind…..all of it.

My co-teacher’s success with the meet-up group inspired me to try again to reach out to a church. I had tried previously but not gotten a response to my email. Maybe I used the wrong address, who knows. But since she used Facebook to start her group, I decided impulsively to try using the church’s  FB page. It had not occurred to me to even try FB because I have been avoiding it mostly due to last year’s very negative experiences, discussed elsewhere. But I actually did get a response this time, and at 10pm, two minutes after I messaged (which slightly freaked me out). Apparently social media reaches everywhere.

The message was what I had been looking for, which was “you would be very welcome.” And “please ask if you have any questions!”

Do I have questions about going to a church? I mean…probably. Obviously, yes.  But the only one that really matters right now is: how do I start? And this is the question I haven’t been able to answer in two years, so I keep hesitating, even though at this point there is no going back, either. Maybe it’s cliche, but I’m not totally in control of this process anymore. Something is trying to speak through me, and it’s going to keep trying, I know it is.

But the negotiations (with family) and logistical calculations to actually attend a service in person  haven’t happened. (I did mention it as an intent/wish, so that’s something.) Finally, because the church I contacted does also have an online option, I tried watching parts of a prerecorded service. Again, not really what I want or imagined doing but it’s something to start with. I sort of listened to the words, but it will take a while to get used to the Orthodox chant: it sounds weird to my ear, which expects either spoken word or singing, not some hybrid of the two. But I enjoyed watching the worshippers approaching the icons, crossing themselves, each doing their thing. It looked very relaxed. And then another thought popped into my head, another “answer” to the questions I can’t even fully articulate.

I would like, one day, to be as relaxed and unself-conscious as those people when it comes to Christianity/God/the sacred. I would like it to just be a part of my verbal and non verbal language in that way. That’s what this is really about. Sure, it would be nice to have all sorts of intellectual and metaphysical insights. But I don’t have a ton of expectations there. Mostly, I want my everyday moments and experiences to be part of a system of meaning. I need the language to understand them that way. I mean, I kind of already have the understanding, or the beginnings of it; but I lack the words. And without the words, the language, I can’t take it any further.

Diana, my gifted friend, posted a very profound question the other day: “What should I give myself for Christmas?”

She went on to specify that she didn’t mean things that could be bought, but something like a commitment to adopt a habit that may be a chore day to day, but that would make her happier and more fulfilled in the long run. A permanent change in diet, to read a real book an hour every day, that sort of thing. “If you were going to give yourself such a Christmas present—assuming you regard yourself as someone you love enough to make the commitment to—what would yours be?”

Someone did point out that that it seems to be another way of asking for a New Year’s resolution, but I like this frame so much better. There is a sort of shaming involved in the New Year’s resolution, an implication that you are not currently doing enough. Which may be true, but it misses the love that Diana’s question makes explicit. Personally, I find the winter months (January/February)  so challenging that I have zero motivation to push myself beyond the basics of trying to survive. Don’t even talk to me about resolutions or goals till March or April! But this idea of giving yourself a present….yes. This is a perfect question.

And I immediately knew my answers. One was yes, to try attending a church. To start. The other was to get winter tires. Which is a thing, so not exactly fulfilling the requirements of the question, but I thought of it as giving myself the gift of less stress every day.

So there you have it. Winter. Gifts. Christmas. Still working on the best Christmas gift of all, the one that will keep giving.

You are the entertainment

I don’t usually read too much into my dreams. But this one seemed rather apropos of….life in general?

In my dream I was organizing an elaborate house party. I don’t recall what the occasion was, but whatever it was, I was all in! I had hired a bunch of artists to transform the house into a theatre. There were people building a stage, setting up lights and sound, and planning make up. They were a wild and creative bunch, and I was excited by the unconventional energy.

 I had also invited a lot of people who had agreed to come, but what didn’t seem to be clear to them (despite repeated explanations) was the role they were to play in this production. It wasn’t so much a sit down event: everybody had a part to play. I was excited, but as the preparations went ahead, the excitement in general seemed to be lacking and tension was growing.

At one point I was trying again to explain things to my brother. (Poor guy, it’s not his fault he was featured in my crazy dream!) All he would say to me was: “I like to sit in the front, on the left hand side.” He even showed me a diagram showing his preferred seat.

“No!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “Did nobody tell you?  You are the entertainment!!”

That landed like a lead balloon.

The next thing I knew, the stage crew was taking down the stage, the costume and make up people were leaving….someone had called everything off. “But….couldn’t we do something small….an open mic event?!” No….no takers. The artists, I was told, had figured out that no one really wanted to be there, and decided to cut their losses and leave. “But of course I would have paid you, no matter what happened!” I said to them, crushed. It made no difference.

I then woke up, relived that my disappointing dream hadn’t happened, but also vaguely uneasy. It’s true, after all, or I believe it is: we are the entertainment. It feels like, with Covid etc., that there is supposed to be an possibility to…..opt out of life? But there really isn’t, ever. There is no substitute for showing up,  acting out a story with other people.

Anyway. I am lucky, I suppose, that my life doesn’t actually lack drama, the good kind I mean. I don’t care for artificial drama. But there’s always a challenge, something to match my wits against, a mix of personalities to deal with, and yes…..costumes (no boring or ugly clothes for me!)

Dang it though, it could have been a very good dream party….

Paradise

This is so beautiful.  25 minutes of poetry and peace with my laundry and 3 year old on a Saturday morning.

Jonathon Pageau: How I interpret scripture

Sometimes I write about “political” things here but the truth is, such considerations are never ever sufficient on their own. Simply put, if a way of thinking ONLY leads you into conflict and anxiety, it’s insufficient. The way we see and interact with the world should elevate us, in the midst of the big crises and in the mundane moments. Call that the insight of midlife for me, at least the part where I can put it into words.

To be involved and exposed

“Courage… is the sine qua non of any attempt to deal with the threat of senility – courage to face the truth, and to live fully in the face of it. With courage a person can go about living in another way – a way that will give maximum chance of dying with his faculties intact. This other way is not the way of the welfare culture in which we are all immersed. It does not involve the constant search for comforts or the obsessive pursuit of health. On the contrary, it is a way of benign shabbiness and self-neglect, of risky enjoyments and bold adventures. 

“It involves constant exercise – but not of the body. Rather, exercise of the person, through relationships with others, through sacrifice, through the search for opportunities to be involved and exposed. Such, at least, is my intuition. The life of benign shabbiness is not a life of excess. Of course you should drink, smoke, eat fatty foods – but not to the point of gluttony. The purpose is to weaken the body while strengthening the mind. 

“The risks you take should not damage your will or your relationships, but only your chances of survival. Officious doctors and health fascists will assail you, telling you to correct your diet, to take better forms of exercise, to drink more water and less wine. If you pursue a life of risk-taking and defiance the thought-police will track you down, and your lifestyle will be held up to ridicule and contempt.

 “It is not that anyone intends you to live beyond your time. Rather, to use Adam Smith’s famous image, the old people’s gulag arises by an invisible hand from a false conception of human life – a conception that does not see death as a part of life, and timely death as the fruit of it.

“Each of us must decide for himself what the life of benign shabbiness requires of him. Obviously dangerous pursuits like hunting and mountaineering have a part to play. Equally important is the forthright expression of opinion, so as to win grateful friends and implacable enemies, a process that enhances both the consolations of social life, and the tensions of day-to- day living.

“ I am not sure that I could live like my friend the writer and campaigner Ayaan Hirsi Ali; but there is an adorable recklessness in her truth-directed way of life that makes each moment of it worthwhile. Going out to help others, in ways that involve danger and the threat of disease, is also a useful form of exposure. The main point, it seems to me, is to maintain a life of active risk and affection, while helping the body along the path of decay, remembering always that the value of life does not consist in its length but in its depth.”

—Roger Scruton, Dying in Time

Part 3 (Rules 7, 8, 9) : Dr Jordan Peterson’s Beyond Order with personal commentary

Preamble: see Part 1 for my explanation of what I’m doing.

About the book: Beyond Order follows JBP’s 2018 book, 12 Rules For Life: An Antidote to Chaos (for a total of 24 rules between both books). Each chapter is devoted to one rule. The chapters may include discussion of self-help ideas, psychological and other scientific research, analysis of literature, popular culture, mythology and/or religion, political and social commentary and anecdotes to build on the theme. This is much like JBP’s speaking style which many know from his popular online lectures and podcasts. Part of the delight and enjoyment is watching thinking and sense making in action. 

Links to other posts in this series (I will make links live as I write and post each blog):

Part 1 (Rules 1, 2, 3)

Part 2 (Rules 2, 3, 4)

Part 3 (Rules 7, 8, 9) you are reading it

Part 4 (Rules 10, 11, 12)

Rule 7: Work as hard as you possibly can on at least one thing and see what happens

This is a rule I have been applying more or less since early adulthood. Sometimes Dr. Peterson is able to put into words ideas that I have intuited or discovered on my own but not made explicit.

In my adolescence, and to some degree in adult life, I experienced the feeling of being "unmoored and adrift." I was/am lucky to have a stable and supportive family, so I was never adrift in all the ways it is possible to be adrift. But there was certainly loneliness, and isolation, and a degree of misery and cynicism. I first experienced it as an isolated teenager trying to complete school by correspondence. I was homeschooled as a child and there were some advantages to that when I was very young, but the advantages had run out by the time I was 12, 13, 14, 15. Out of habit, and fear, I stayed at home....and it was definitely not the right thing to do. My days became increasingly unstructured; I couldn't focus on anything except novels; I procrastinated constantly; I avoided trying anything new or taking any risks. When it became obvious that I might never finish high school with this attitude, my parents made me go back to school. I knew it was necessary at that point too, though I didn't exactly look forward to it and was lacking in many skills. However, in the space of a couple of years I had learned the necessary skills to get by, and within 5 more (university) I had built on them to where I was successful and confident in many ways, though I still had a lot to learn about life.

In university particularly, and since then in what has become my career, I can honestly say I have tried my best and that it has paid off fairly consistently. The good thing about making your best effort, is that regardless whether or not there are financial or social rewards (i.e. external rewards) you are guaranteed to at least learn something from the endeavour, and that usually has long term benefits. It's certainly better than not learning something. There is plenty to critique about my university education for example, but whatever courses I took, I can honestly say I worked very hard on all of them, and didn't make any excuses for myself. This effort mostly insulated me from the cynicism that nearly all my peers had developed by their final year, including (perhaps especially) my top-achieving, elite peers. The intrinsic rewards of hard work that I experienced made the silly games my professors and many fellow students engaged in unappealing. These silly games would re-emerge, a few decades later, as identity politics and critical theory and they are still unappealing.  However, hard work also almost always makes it easier to form happy and productive relationships with other people, regardless of differences.

Rule 8: Try to make one room in your house as beautiful as possible.

"If you learn to make something in your life truly beautiful--even one thing--then you have established a relationship with beauty." What a true and wonderful observation: well worth repeating! And the key word is "relationship." Like any relationship, a one with beauty evolves and needs to be constantly maintained: it is not like you create or find something beautiful and boom, you are set for life.

As a mother of young children, this is particularly (sometimes painfully) true. My children are naturally drawn to beauty, but of course they haven't exactly discovered how to maintain or create it. This means that (adult) decorating is usually a low priority in our house. Beauty is mostly functional right now: it means having an underlying system of order that helps prevent life from exploding around me. It means seeking out novelty in ways other than consumerism, which leads to more stuff to organize and take care of (this is an ongoing challenge for me/us). It means having patience with my daughter's attempts to decorate the house, which don't always line up with my priorities, but which are developmentally appropriate and well-intentioned.

But I still do need to make my spaces beautiful, and the reason is that it is good for my morale (and my family's). Constant tidying and cleaning and maintenance is worthwhile, but also dreary and not very emotionally satisfying. On the other hand, I undertook this summer to beautify our garden in the backyard (with my daughter's help). It is wonderful to now have a space that is actually pretty and fun and a little bit decadent. I wrote about the experience here on my other blog.

Rule 9: If old memories still upset you, write them down carefully and completely 

I chose two texts here because they show the clarity and delightfulness of Dr. Peterson's thinking so well. He connects everyday experience (“plagued by reminisces”) with action (“gather everything from the past that has been avoided”) with morality (the impossibility of avoiding your conscience) with the role of shared stories in culture (“These ideas are encapsulated and represented in the narratives, the fundamental narratives that sit at the base of our culture.”) He engages  the reader at the personal level, acknowledging their daily challenges, puts them in a moral framework, and encourages curiosity about how all of this plays out at the cultural and social level. As a reader struggling with whatever, you are immediately put at the centre of an interesting story, but also challenges to look beyond yourself and whatever dust is collecting in your navel.

I have invested quite a bit of my time and life in reading and writing stories. I’ve studied them formally. However, Jordan Peterson was the first person (other than perhaps Clarissa Estes) to state what seems like it should be obvious: we read other people’s stories, including ancient, shared stories without individual attribution, because life is complicated and it takes too long to figure everything out on your own. We have the resource of our own memories, and the resource of our ancestors’ memories, to the extent that we bother to find them out. There are other reasons to study literature, mythology, religion and other subjects, but that is the central one.

Learning from history

I have started a new book, the first book I have read of recent contemporary fiction in….uh….not sure how long. Five years maybe? It is Laurus by Eugene Vodolazkin (translated from the Russian). It is an eccentric book but appealing, for reasons I don’t totally understand yet….perhaps I am curious about the logic by which it is structured? It’s also full of rich, humourous language and references which I always enjoy in a book.

Anyway, I took a break from reading and found this interview with Vodolazkin and his translator, which I want to bookmark here. There is lots in it to think about.  Here is some of the text as to give a flavour:

Eugene Vodolazkin: Memory … What do we have except memory? Nothing. Memory is the consciousness of a person, whereas history is the consciousness of the people. And that is why the book of books, the Bible, is a historical text. It ismemory. As it happens, I am a historian — formerly a philologist, but my whole life I’ve studied the Middle Ages, and my academic writing is more about history and the philosophy of history than about linguistic problems. But history as such is not as important as we sometimes think. There’s Cicero’s famous aphorism: “History is the teacher of life.” But we shouldn’t take these words too seriously. History doesn’t actually repeat. I mean, it does in some sense, but if you want to build a modern democracy, you quickly understand that ancient Greek democracy has nothing to do with what you want, except in name. Because every historical event is a great complex of different circumstances, intentions, and so on and so forth. And to bring all of these together for a second time is impossible. And that’s why knowledge of history will not save us, cannot teach us what to do in the future. You can’t draw political conclusions from history, except in some extremely limited sense.

Interviewer: So it’s not the case that those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it?

EV: Well, it’s not that history doesn’t teach us anything at all. But you have to identify the specific sphere of its influence. And for me, that would be the personal sphere. If we want to draw historical lessons, we must understand that they are moral rather than political. For society as a whole, it doesn’t make sense to study examples, because each person has his or her own agenda, in the same way that every battle has its own general. There are so many directions, so many vectors, that it is impossible to regulate this process. Which brings me back to our previous topic: if you want to help your society, develop yourself. Don’t develop the Volk, the people in general. Don’t deal in thousands and millions; deal with your own self. This point is crucial for The Aviator. One of the book’s main ideas is that personal history is much more important than general history, than world history — that world history is actually only a small piece of individual history. Whereas all these utopian ideas, like communism, all these ideas that put pressure on individuality — they are not organic, not vital. They have no right to exist. And The Aviator is precisely a text about an attempt at emancipation of personal history from world history. (full interview)

Part 1 (Rules 1, 2 and 3): Dr Jordan Peterson’s Beyond Order with personal commentary

Preamble: I finished reading Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life in July. I tried to think of how best to respond to the book. I could write a “review,” but I don’t see how that would be of much use to me, or others (the one or two people who read my blog, on a good day? Hahahaha.) Also, total honesty, I started the book in March, and took plenty of breaks, so my memory is not great of all the chapters. I would have to reread the whole thing to do a proper synthesis, and I was kind of hoping to start a new book.

So, I went back through the chapters, and from each I picked one or sometimes two quotes that particularly jumped out at me, and that I can relate to or actively apply in my life. It is certainly reductionist of the ideas, but will perhaps be an intriguing “teaser” for those who have not read the book, and for those who have read, a demonstration of how I actually apply Dr Peterson’s ideas. After all, I am not a full time book reviewer, or public intellectual, and have no plans to become one. I’m also in my 40s now with a busy life and have little time or patience for useless ideas. If I can’t use it, I won’t waste my time or yours. If I can, I’ll show you how.

About the book: Beyond Order follows JBP’s 2018 book, 12 Rules For Life: An Antidote to Chaos (for a total of 24 rules between both books). Each chapter is devoted to one rule. The chapters may include discussion of self-help ideas, psychological and other scientific research, analysis of literature, popular culture, mythology and/or religion, political and social commentary and anecdotes to build on the theme. This is much like JBP’s speaking style which many know from his popular online lectures and podcasts. Part of the delight and enjoyment is watching thinking and sense making in action. 

Links to other posts in this series (I will make links live as I write and post each blog):

Part 1 (Rules 1, 2, 3) You are reading it

Part 2 (Rules 4, 5, 6)

Part 3 (Rules 7, 8, 9)

Part 4 (Rules 10, 11, 12)

Rule 1: Do not carelessly denigrate social institutions or creative achievement

Chapter 1 focuses on why people, as social beings, need each other and how we organize those relationships. “People depend on on constant communication with others to keep their minds organized…..we think by talking” (p.3) Our mental health is not solely dependent on our interior state, but on relationships. Relationships take many forms, depending on what you are doing. You might be a beginner at something, and need to approach others with humility and some vulnerability.  Next you might relate as an equal, actively taking on responsibility and contributing. As an authority, you may have power over others but if wise you do not use that in a wilful or arbitrary manner.

In the past two years I have had two different jobs, in two different locations, both in a somewhat novel teaching area. So I was learning about the student profile and my responsibilities as well as new schools at the same time, while adjusting to life as the mother of two kids. (Then there was Covid of course, but even without that there were many challenges, and in fact my biggest struggles came before Covid.)

Something I very consciously tried to do at both jobs, but especially the current one, is actively form solid trusting work relationships. A few years ago I worked at a school where my relationships with colleagues were rather chilly and awkward, and it was nagging problem and a stressor. I think I was focusing too much on what I was doing, versus how I was relating, and it wasn’t a great strategy.  In my current job, which I’m very happy with, I try to always show up with the attitude that I am there to contribute and support others and that I have a lot to offer. It also helps that my co-teacher is appreciative and has always been vocal about that appreciation. I was constantly starved for acknowledgment at my previous job: it felt like the more I needed it and the harder I tried, the less response I had.  Trusting relationships make it much easier to share ideas, take creative risks, give honest feedback, cope with stress, and face adversity.

Rule 2: Imagine who you could be, and then aim single-mindedly at that

I see the importance of a story structure in my daily life as well as in the overall arc of my life. I am often very busy, and wish that I had more leisure, or could take leisure without the guilt of leaving things undone. On the other hand, when I have more flexible time and less to do, for example during the summer or on weekends, I’m not necessarily happier.  The reason seems to be that I need a structure to my day. There has to be something I’m trying to accomplish by the end of it. The pattern is something like preparation, anticipation, action, reflection and rest. The simple challenge of planning a picnic and going to a park to eat it with my kids can help me engage with life and enjoy the moment, whereas I might just spend hours in a daze otherwise.

On a bigger scale, I like to look back on my life and notice events that have inspired me to take a certain direction, or to deepen my perceptions and understanding. Keeping a journal or more recently a blog is helpful because the important events (I don’t always know in advance what will prove important) are recorded and considered, and can be revisited later for further reflection.  Consciously living in my story and valuing it also helps me deal with difficulty. As the quote says, instead of seeing the chaos and tragedy of life as a random disaster, it is a challenge to keep progressing. Forward motion matters, even when the destination is unseen or uncertain.

Rule 3: Do not hide unwanted things in the fog

I’ll come back to marriage more later, but chapter 3 is a hard look at why avoidance is a very bad idea. If/when something is bothering you, it is important to address it and have tough conversations if necessary. This is definitely something I’m still working on as I tend to default to “just focus on the positive!” However, this quote reminds me to look carefully at everyday routines and interactions and ask if they are actually working in the way they should or could be.  Small omissions and irritations add up over time. 

This reminds me I really should change the battery on my car door remote. When the battery starts to die, it is at first a small irritation, then a larger one, then a possible safety hazard when I can’t get the door open (especially in the dead of winter).  But it’s also a task that I forget to do over and over and think I can get away with forgetting.

Leaving Neverland

I recently read this excellent article looking at a topic many wonder about: Why are so many people reading and/or listening to Canadian professor Jordan Peterson?

Jordan Peterson is telling young white men what many of us already know: Neverland is a lie.

 I have been listening to and reading a lot of Prof. Peterson’s content since 2017, and have benefited from it greatly. (I am a woman in my early 40s with a family). I’ve also read a lot of “why do people listen to Jordan Peterson!” articles and often “why is it mostly men!” articles, many of which drip jealousy and resentment, and thus explain their own existence if nothing else. I don’t even read those kind of articles anymore, BUT this article by Ms Natthew is very different and makes many excellent points. 

I particularly appreciated the point about how current generations need to make choices about social arrangements and responsibilities  that previous generations could take for granted. This is absolutely a stressor on people and an extremely important issue. And people of my generation and younger (also thinking of myself when younger) likely never articulated to ourselves or had it clearly explained just how big a challenge it is to shoulder responsibility while isolated.

“Moreover, even as we have sought to centralize, routinize and institutionalize many of our familial relationships and friendships, we recognize that our interactions with others are nearly always conscious choices rather than ever-present unconscious realities. For this reason, our responsibilities—professional, marital and parental—are ours alone in a way that was not true for either my Italian-American grandparents or his Liberian ones. Hence no amount of self-awareness or hard work can render us truly fit for the sheer amount of personal responsibility required of anyone trying to be a decent citizen, worker or parent in today’s newly individuated world.

“Enter Jordan Peterson with his now 24 rules, making what was communal, implicit and abstract for my grandparents individual, explicit and specific for me.
“Thus, it is Peterson himself who has noticed that opportunity lurks where responsibility has been abdicated. His resonance with younger people reflects the extreme demands of modern life and the new isolation in which we are expected to meet those demands. It also reflects the failure of our parents and grandparents to prepare many of us for the logistical, psychological and emotional reality that they unwittingly created.”

Matthew also makes the point that JBP resonates more with young (white) men than women because women and some racial minorities already understand his message, but young men are more likely to actually believe they can evade responsibility without consequence.  I tend not to agree with the author that there are more “lost boys” than “lost girls”. There are no shortage of women living alone, struggling with responsibility (and/or avoiding it), seeking relief through medication or retail therapy or whatever. But if our modern world doesn’t necessarily nurture young women, perhaps it caters more to us in the sense that it can repackage and sell our desires back to us.  I would say that if you really want to generalize, it’s not that JBP’s message is not relevant to women, it’s that we are lagging a bit behind in our awareness of its relevance.

Highly recommended read.

Mary Harrington: reactionary feminism

This was a very interesting podcast, although a more abstract line of thought than I usually listen to.

Mary Harrington on Rebel Wisdom: reactionary feminism

I related to Mary and Raven’s discussion of creating “friction” within the information system that constantly motivates you to share, share, share yourself with networks. This same information system  analyzes your desires, repackages them, and then sells them back to you. I like the term “friction:” I have used the term “slowing down” with regards to being more mindful about life online, but friction describes what precedes the slowing down. Friction is questioning, stopping of automatic reactions and processes, thinking slow and imperfect thoughts that can nevertheless at least begin to be individual.

I definitely agree with Mary about keeping smartphones away from my daughters as long as possible (as I type this on my phone) but also about how you have to let go a little bit as a parent and trust yourself to model good relationships and thinking.

Mary also talks about a backlash coming against liberal feminism, from a variety of directions. I do not know how to analyze this, as I’m very pragmatic. I focus on what works for me and my family and I suppose I’m lucky enough to have been able to find a way to think about that throughout my life, even when I was young and naive. I would say as a young woman I was very ignorant but had good instincts. I paid more attention to my own experiences and sensations versus what people or media were telling me I should think and feel. Once I became aware of the difference between the two it was impossible to ignore that the differences were there. Is that reactionary, or did it take me in a reactionary direction? Perhaps.

I know that I turned against things like porn and promiscuity very young. The culture around me was saying I should act on every fantasy I had (or that others had) and this never seemed like a great idea to me. I did not want to have sex with a lot of silly or damaged men (or even a few, or one). I am sure that everyone in my friend group questioned their sexual orientation at one point or other, including me. But on second thought it didn’t seem like a great idea to spend a lot of time pursuing same sex relationships, when such things weren’t really compatible with what I wanted from life. It is inevitable that as a flawed human you will make mistakes and do stupid things. That is not at all the same as doing stupid things on purpose, or telling yourself there is nothing better out there to do in the world.

Anyway, I would like to continue to learn about Mary’s ideas though I will have to do so when I’m awake and fairly aware.

Mere mortals dancing

I found this recent post on Fr. Stephen Freeman’s blog quite gripping:

“Make it so!” vs “Let it be!”

The themes are ones I’ve discussed before, in my own mind and with others. What is truth; to what extent do we control reality; should we be fixated on who does  and who doesn’t have power. More importantly, what sort of power is really worth having and is that the right word for it.

“The truth” is that which is real, that which truly exists. It is the case that some things have more existence than others. Our own existence is tenuous and ephemeral. We seek that which truly exists that we might, through it, have true existence ourselves. We cannot grant existence to ourselves – it comes as a gift from the only truly Existing One.

Recognizing our existence as tenuous and ephemeral is one thing that might lead us to see the value of tradition. Tradition has, from one perspective, attracted me for a long time. The earliest I can remember being consciously aware of this was in my late teens/early 20s, when I participated on a listserv discussion about Cape Breton Celtic music. (Ah, the good old days of the frontier internet.)

Celtic music was enjoying a bit of a popular revival at the time, with appealing, youthful musicians blending traditional instruments, melodies and themes with contemporary ones. All of it was wholesome, truly: you’d have to stretch to find anything subversive or disturbing in it. Nevertheless, on this listserv I first encountered openly the tension between innovation and tradition. It was the first time I met people who unapologetically argued that traditional forms have more value in the long term than popular innovations. This was quite shocking to me, at first. Somehow, all my education, if not my own experience, had reinforced the message that tradition was something you break away from. It had not occurred to me that there was another side to the story, and that kind and intelligent people might believe in it.

The conversation on that listserv was mostly convivial however, and everyone that I recall was friendly and more than willing to talk with willing listeners. Starting with these discussions, I discovered a way to resolve the tension, at least in the realm of the arts. Tradition is a way of preserving something valuable through community. It allows creative people to encounter something meaningful, giving them a direction and a discipline. Truly innovative people should not be discouraged from experimenting (though it doesn’t hurt them to be challenged, either.). But neither is it possible for everyone, or even most, to be innovative geniuses. A healthy tradition will create a few, but they will never be the majority. However, anybody can participate in the tradition: learning it, supporting it,  passing it on to the best of their ability. This participation is just as meaningful in real life as innovation, most of the time. It’s much more meaningful than being part of nothing, that’s for sure.

Once I had articulated this insight, I found a lot of my anxiety about (not) being special, or noticed, or uniquely talented or (yikes!) famous melting away. I could actually enjoy my own creativity more because I wasn’t over-analyzing it. The realization that I could be part, even in a small way, of a tradition that embraced multiple generations, geographies, countries and cultures was amazing. I could be fully myself and more than myself at the same time.

An experience in Scotland when I was 26 catalyzed this idea for me. I was attending a week long music festival, learning step dancing. From my account of that time:

Toward the end of the week, our dance teacher, Frank, went over all the [dance] steps we had learned. Then he solemnly told us to "stop thinking." We aren't just dancing to the music. We aren't just responding to it. We must get right inside it. And to do that, he said, we can't be worrying about what we are doing. Otherwise we are focused on ourselves, and not on the music.

High on endorphins, I wished he would stop making pretty speeches and let us start dancing. But he continued:

"If you relax and let the dance into you, it will teach you. Because I believe music and dancing are much more powerful than mere mortals.

Frank was saying something very similar, if not the same, as Fr. Freeman above. Reality is not something you create. It is discovered, encountered, as a gift.

Frank’s words have stuck with me, as I have continued to dance, write, play music and eventually to teach. I am lucky to sometimes have chances to perform for an audience. Of course this always causes some nervousness. It’s also easy (sadly) to become hyper critical of yourself. After many performances, dancers often start talking obsessively about all the mistakes we made, although these are rarely obvious to those watching and nobody will remember them anyway. It is all self consciousness. But I have found that I can ease the anxiety by remembering Frank’s words. I frame the performance in my mind as an opportunity to share something beautiful I have been given. Dancing with me are unseen generations of people who have transcended time, space and mortality to give me this gift and opportunity. The nerves are there, but I am filled with joy and excitement and I do not have to force a smile for the audience. And if I have practiced and I stay in the moment, I also make fewer mistakes (but regardless, I am part of a long line of people who have made mistakes and danced on).

So that is one side of the story: the attraction to tradition. There is another one too. But this entry has become longer than I expected, so I think I will engage that topic separately. (I do not necessarily know what direction these blog entries will take and often end up writing about something quite different than I originally intended.)

Rainbows

I have journaled or blogged for most of my life, but the motivations for doing so have varied over the years. My current blogging space/identity was created in 2013 when my husband and I had been trying (and failing) to have children for about a year and a half. I recognized this as a major life crisis and took steps to deal with it, one of which was connecting with the infertility blogging community via my other blog (now restricted to private readership). It was a significant part of my life until the past two or three years. 

I interacted with a variety of people in this community over the 5 to 7 years I was most active, and they resolved in one way or another, most by having a baby (-ies) but sometimes without doing so. I don’t follow many people anymore, but there’s a few I read, including one who who was not able to have children despite years of trying multiple strategies.  Recently she wrote a blog about reframing the concept of a “rainbow baby”. A rainbow baby is a baby who is born after pregnancy loss or the death of an infant (sadly both of these things often happen to mothers who have difficulty conceiving, though they can happen to those who don’t as well.)  However, Finding a Different Path discusses what a rainbow looks like for those who did not have any children in the end. She quotes a recent book:

Sometimes a rainbow is a child, and sometimes it's the renewal of vows, a career milestone, a new sense of self, the ability to self-love.

I started thinking about this with relation to my own story. I never lost a pregnancy to my knowledge (if I ever did it was very early, before I even knew). And I did in the end have two children, though not without many years of anxiety and uncertainty. 

My “rainbow”, as my friend defines it, would be living my life without the relentless focus on my body and biology. During the years we were trying to conceive, I was so focused on the physical possibility of having a baby that it became very difficult to envision any kind of life outside of that, even the life with children that I was trying to achieve!

I see in hindsight that this was a very materialist focus. My body and what it could and couldn’t do was the most important influence on how I saw myself in relation to the world. One of the few ways I pushed back against this was by refusing to unequivocally label myself “infertile.” My blog name, for example, is an Irish word that means “fertile”. But overall I would say I was the most cynical, atheistic, and materialistic in this phase of my life that I have ever been. Never completely so, but tending toward that way more so than not.

 Particularly before the conception of my eldest daughter, I was very focused on “means to an end.” I did not want to do anything unethical, but neither did I want to think too deeply about any issue beyond the fulfillment of my desires. If other people that appeared decent were doing something to conceive, whether that was IVF or egg/sperm donation or IUI, then that was reason enough for me to consider it.  Did I know there were aspects of all these actions that were complicated? Yes. Did I want to look too closely at any of those issues? No. 

But my point is not really about specific assisted reproductive techniques. It is more about my overall focus. Even when we were not using ART (and ultimately no form of ART got me pregnant) I defined success in terms of processes in my body and the degree to which I could submit them to my will. The fact that most of the time I couldn’t get my body to do what I wanted didn’t stop me from trying or from seeing it as a somewhat faulty machine, for the most part. Where there was disappointment or sadness, it was also not too difficult to find ways to blame others: infertile/sub fertile people and our challenges are often misunderstood or overlooked by the people around us. This is true, but fixating on this also blurred out the ways that I myself was adding to my own unhappiness. 

What shocked me out of this mindset? Honestly, it was the conception and birth of my children, especially my eldest daughter. AJ was conceived, bizarrely and unexpectedly, following our one and only IVF cycle, which was canceled midway because my body did not respond to the powerful drugs that were pumped into it. A emotional rollercoaster followed, where I had bleeding and believed I was losing the pregnancy, but ultimately didn’t. My world shattered. One message emerged starkly from the chaos:

YOU. ARE. NOT. IN. CONTROL.

Although a baby is a joyful event, this is not an uncomplicated joyful message to receive. Other than my two amazing small humans, my life is now about learning to live with this knowledge. If I’m not in control, what is? How do I negotiate with it? How do I steer over choppy waters in strong winds? What would life be like if I stopped mainly viewing my children as results of a biological process and more as gifts of grace? Obviously they are both, but which story is closest to the truth of who and what they are? I would have to say “grace,” especially as I move away from the obsessive process of trying to conceive and towards a desire to understand life as a meaningful whole.

After the storm, a rainbow. And a whole new road to take.

Get free. Believe. Go real.

I usually have only one request on weekends. Can we leave the city? Find a mountain? Walk in the woods? See different scenery? Air out my brain? Get out of my head?

Sometimes we actually drive to the mountains (or the foothills); sometimes we only make it to a playground or city park. Whatever the diversion, it’s welcome. Walking helps me relax and think. In my 20s, and single, I would spend hours roaming about on weekends. In Greece, I would catch a bus out of the city and explore beaches, hills, ruins. When we were dating, and in the first years of our marriage, my husband and I would also jump in the car and drive, often without a destination.

Now with kids it’s rather less convenient to go driving to nowhere on impulse, and we rarely walk far and pick up a lot of rocks when we do. But escaping to nature is still where my wandering mind goes. Especially as spring approaches, I think about leaving the city incessantly. Covid and its accompanying restrictions and reductions on life add to the angst. 

On that note this is my favourite song lately. I don’t tend to respond to music as rapturously as I did when younger but sometimes a song hits my mood the right way still and I can’t get enough.

Road Trip

https://youtu.be/TeELx6uwn9k

And what exactly I wonder are “ceilidh boots?” Whatever they are, I want some!

Take heart: cheat the dark
Get driving with the lark
As cities sleep
Steal a march before the sun
It's all philosophy
On an open motorway
Chasing break of day
Somewhere on a border town
I've packed my ceilidh boots
I've got my "once was" looks
I've got my tubes and hooks
Reel, drogue, priest and bung
Throw away your fears
Peel away the years
I've seen too many leaves
Falling down

5 ways to talk about love

This post started because someone in one of my discussion groups asked "Why do people pursue romantic love?" He claimed to have never been in love and to not understand the experience. He asked why people think it worthwhile, if  they do.

After many had weighed in with their ideas, I found myself thinking about songs that best express what is worthwhile about love. Of course there are endless answers to this question and I might answer differently depending on the day, but these are the ones that came to mind at the time.

1) Love found. I think the song "Now I see the Light" from the movie Tangled captures the transformative experience of finding love.  "Now that I see you": the lover sees the divine in his/her beloved. In true love  for another we see what is good and beautiful in the world. The part is the whole, and the whole is the part.

"And at last I see the light
And it's like the fog has lifted
And at last I see the light
And it's like the sky is new
And it's warm and real and bright
And the world has somehow shifted
All at once everything looks different
Now that I see you"





2) Love Lost. Leonard Cohen's "Hallejulah" both shows the pain of losing love and is a refusal to sink into despair.

 "Even though it all went wrong, I'll stand up here before the lord of song, with nothing on my tongue by Hallejulah."






3) Love when it's a struggle: One True Love, by Jill Barber, sung by Jill and Matthew Barber

This song explores why love is worth fighting for.  We do not get the impression that the speaker in the song has had an easy life. He or she has made mistakes, but has found a love worth standing up for. I love the throwaway relativism of "If you believe in that sorta thing" in the chorus contrasted with the speaker's firm belief that there is one true love.

Below is the live acoustic version. Look how cute they are! But I do actually prefer the non-acoustic version because it suits the aggressive nature of the lyrics. This song will get in your personal space and elevate your heart rate, in a good way.

Tooth and nail I would fight for you
Use my heart like a fist till it’s black and blue
Cause when you find your one true love
That is the time to show what you are made of

Sure I’ve loved and lost before
Bitten and bruised and sorry and sore
But this time I am back for more
And to fight

[Chorus]
For your one true love
Your one true love
If you believe in that sorta thing like I do
Your one true love
Your one true love
If you believe in that sorta thing like I do





4) Seeking, but not (yet) finding love: "No One Talks" by Moya Brennan

It is extremely hard to be looking for love and not finding it. If this struggle goes on for any length of time, then often people wonder, is there something wrong with me? is love even real? is looking for it worthwhile? It can be easy to make excuses to give up, to not bother. This song is about questioning those impulses and pushing through. Looking for love can force you to confront what you actually believe about yourself and life and can be an impetus to transform.

Now no one talks, no one to listen
No one to laugh with to share a life
Now no one cries, no one to pray with
Now who will love?
Is this what you believe?
Is this what you believe?
That no one loves, no one to warm to
Does no one care?






5) So finally, how did I come to believe what I believe about love? Well, I could write books about that, as could most people if so inclined. But I will just say here, this next song went though my head over and over when I was living abroad, and when I started to listen to it, I think it taught me something about myself, and maybe life in general.

Youth will in time decay, Eileen Aroon
Beauty must fade away, Eileen Aroon
Castles are sacked in war, chieftains are scattered far
Truth is a fixed star, Eileen Aroon

I need and want my "fixed star." I don't mind the long journey, the doubt, the uncertainty, the complexity of the world. All this I accept, and more than that, I find it fascinating. But I also believe in following the "fixed star." We will make mistakes on the way and get lost, and believe wrong and foolish things. This is inevitable. More important is to know where we are going and what we are aiming at. Love is something worth aiming at, whether or not at the present moment one can grasp it.