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    • Apr

    10

    The Family I’ve Always Had

    Filed Under being creative, from the heart, happiness, life changes, love, people, spiritual practice | Leave a Comment

    Nanny as a Young TeenAfter my grandmother was pulled over by the police for driving “one mile an hour” down a hill after dark, she decided to stop driving. The rest of our little family agreed this was for the best. Over the last two years, Nanny’s health had sharply declined, and she was becoming less independent.

    During a family meeting of my parents, my oldest brother, his wife, me, and my husband, we all agreed that Nanny was very probably lonely, and needed help managing her health, nutritional intake, and finances. It also concerned us that her short term memory was less reliable; her paranoid statements were becoming more alarming than amusing; and she seemed depressed and easily agitated. 

    In my family, we tend to always look at two things first as the source of any problems: physical health and personal relationships. Nanny was sitting at home most of the day, eating frozen food, and not being nearly as social as she used to. Not to mention, my brother and I weren’t spending much time with her.

    My brother and his wife - who have four kids - volunteered to have Nanny move in with them. They both work and the kids are all in school, so Nanny would have some privacy and quiet during the day, as well as some energy and life in the house on the weekends. They needed a larger place, and within a week, we’d found a five bedroom house across the street from my house! They moved in two weeks later. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad put Nanny’s house up for rent. 

    A year ago this time, I probably talked to my grandmother once every two weeks on the phone, and saw her about once a month. Now, I talk to my grandmother almost every day, and see her four or five days a week, if not more. I can pop over to visit with her as easily as checking the mail. She is always happy to see me. Sometimes I make her a sandwich, or help her with something, or we just chat while she goes about her business. 

    Even though this has been an adjustment for everyone, I feel a tremendous amount of relief:  I’d had no idea how lonely my grandmother was. I used to hear about old people in nursing homes whose families would visit them once a month or only on the holidays, and think, “That’s really sad; that’s your mom/dad/grandma/granddad!” And yet gradually, I’d become more and more distant from my own grandmother, just taking for granted that I’d spend more time with her “later.” Looking back, I see how easily that happened.

    Last spring, my decision to move back to the suburbs of my adolescence - the suburbs I’d hated and sworn never to return to - seemed like a weird faux pas. I had to keep explaining it to my friends, and started questioning my progressive identity. But something compelled me; I don’t know what. That line from The Sunscreen Song kept playing in my head,

    The older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

    Maybe it was my grandfather dying last fall that helped me get real about my relationship with Nanny. I didn’t know him well, and we weren’t close, but we loved each other. When he died, it felt like a sudden zip! Everything he’d thought and felt, remembered, desired, hated - it just evaporated with him.  I can recall looking at the dark hole of his open mouth, the large head, and the massive eye sockets. And it occurred to me: I would never know the half of it. 

    Unlike her ex-husband, Nanny has never pushed me away. All I have to do is be there. I’ll drag my feet to pick her up from here and there; huff silently to myself as she slowly puts on her coat, but it’s always worth it. Last night, after we picked Nanny up from choir practice, she told me and Michael the story of her first visit to the community pool. Neither she nor her little sister could swim, so her father instructed them to sit on the bench after they changed, and he’d take them to the wading end. But Nanny wanted to take a closer look, so she’d stood at the edge of the pool, and noticed its beautiful white marble walls, and how the light hit them,  and … she just jumped in. She went straight to the bottom, and looked at the walls all the while. Eventually, she floated back to the top. And her little sister was screaming “in awe,” she said, and her father was so distraught he returned to the men’s dressing room to sneak a drink.

    He looked at himself in the mirror, but found no new line or wrinkle on his face, It’s probably somewhere inside me, he thought, then he ran the tap, washed his hands, and went out.           ~The Cave, Jose Saramago

     

     

    Popularity: 49% [?]

    Apr

    9

    A Crock Pot Life

    Filed Under friends, from the heart, inspiration, life changes, quotes, spiritual practice | 4 Comments

    Last week I met Kendall, a UU whose blog I’ve been reading for a year or more. Kendall moved to Portland several months ago, and it was such a privilege to speak with her in person. That she took time out of her life to have tea with me is a little mind-boggling. In a nutshell, she is as interesting and sincere as her blog posts would suggest, and I hope we see more of each other over the coming years. 

    In one of her most recent posts, The Life Not Taken, she writes about a visit to Ashland, Oregon (home of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival), and the life she could have led: 

    Wild as my fantasies have been, rich though my imagination is, I’d have never cooked up the extremely unlikely and utterly eccentric life I have had–and am still having–if I’d been running it.

    Kendall is not exaggerating - the book she’s writing based on her life’s experiences won’t be boring.  A year or two ago I think I’d have thought of this and felt regret about my life - why wasn’t I more exciting? Why hadn’t I taken more chances? Could I ever be a “great” person if nothing tragic, traumatic, or soul-searing has happened to me? I would have felt panic about the whole thing. I would have felt less valuable than people with more interesting lives. 

    If I were to paint a picture of my life right now, it would be of a pot left to simmer on the stovetop for days in an empty house. That’s how my life feels most of the time, and I’ve accepted it. I don’t see it as deficient. We are all capable of different things. I’m learning more about my limitations, and as I stop berating myself for not being other than my own nature, I loosen up. In response to Kendall’s blog, I commented, in part: 

    Me and my pathetic (if that can be meant non-negatively) little life. I’ve never been one to take chances …. And I’m afraid to fail. So things haven’t been exciting or very tumultuous for me. Unless something traumatic happens, or I decide for some inexplicable reason to throw everything away and overhaul my personality, I don’t see that changing. So I’m trying to settle into myself and break things down into many, tiny, wonderful parts. Because that’s all I seem to be able to process anyway. I can’t cope with too much.

    I’ve had to accept a lot of things that I’d earmarked as “bad.” Messiness. Moodiness. Shyness. Low energy. Depression. Short attention span. Physical ailments. Large teeth. A big booty. The list could go on …. Not too long ago I was reading a book about writing, written by a woman who had been diagnosed with something like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Initially, she tried to persist in her busy life, and “beat” her CFS. She tried to cure herself so that she could keep on doing what she’d always done. Eventually, she realized that she needed to accept her changed capacity for work and travel.  She began to shape her life activities around who she was, instead of distressing herself by trying to be someone who could live the life she’d fashioned for herself when her health was different.

    What an A-ha! moment for me, so bent on self improvement, and so sad about my chronic status as underachiever. Of course, I have to admit that I’m still learning the lesson every day.  

    Popularity: 41% [?]

    Mar

    16

    The Myth of Progress

    Filed Under anecdotes, capitalism, from the heart, life changes, politics, spiritual practice, uuism | 4 Comments

    This began as a political thought that became religious, then social. I’m too sick to go to church today, so I’m doing my spiritual work online.

    About two months ago, while comparing viable options for Presidential candidates, I was struck by a feeling I’d never had before: maybe it was time to accept a candidate who could represent all Americans - including the ones who believed the opposite of what I believed.

    This is a no brainer, right? Taking into consideration other people’s needs and values, and allowing them a voice and access to the political process - isn’t this what we are taught by our teachers and parents? I don’t remember. I feel like it was, but why did it take 31 years for it to sink in?

    Since then, this has been percolating in the back of my mind. This weekend, I’ve been reading lots about Islam and current Islamic thinking among young people. I started to recall many things about the Muslim mindset. I guess the pot started boiling over, because last night at dinner with Michael, I had another epiphany.

    “Maybe America is never going to be the America I think it should be.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well, when I was Muslim, everyone was so sure what America needed was Islam - that Islam was going to illuminate the society, transform people’s lives - slowly, but surely. That we were on that road of progression towards the Truth. And even then, I’d meet other people who felt the same way: Christians, conservatives - not to mention the various subsets of Muslims: the Salaafi, the Qur’an-Only folks, the Black Muslims. And now as a UU, I see it, too. Everyone thinks we are heading towards their vision of their world, but the visions are all different. It can’t be true.”

    Michael thought about this for a moment, then said, “Well, that’s the myth of progress, isn’t it? That’s a criticism I have of Marx, for example. His notion that capitalism would inevitably lead to communism, socialism. The world is a complex system; you can’t make predictions like that. Civilizations aren’t always moving forward. We know this from history. [UU historian James] Loewen talks about this in his tapes [Everything You've Been Taught is Wrong]. Sometimes things get ‘better’ and sometimes they get ‘worse’. It doesn’t matter how great an idea is - what matters is what it’s up against. It has to interact with other ideas.”

    “And this is why you were asking those questions about The Great Turning group, and the concept of an earth community versus an empire?”

    He smacked the steering wheel. “Yes! And it goes back to that conversation we had about pacifism, and you were saying it doesn’t always seem appropriate. And I agree. Gandhi used pacifism to overthrow the rule of the British. But I don’t think it would have worked against, say … Russia.”

    I nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think so, either. I think Gandhi would have been ganked. Plenty of movements have been completely crushed. I don’t even know if Gandhi’s approach would have worked had there not been mass media. The Civil Rights movement in the US would have looked very, very different were it not for television.”

    We sat in the car in our driveway for a few minutes more talking about this. Ultimately, I came away with a much more shifting sense of the world. Like people, strategies need to adapt and evolve. There is no pre-destined outcome that we are working our way towards. This thinking differs from that of people who believe in Armaggedon - but also some of my friends who believe we are “cycling” towards a particular kind of world community.

    I do believe social “progress” is possible. But as Loewen alludes to in his lecture series - particularly the segment titled the Nadir of Race Relations in which he describes how conditions for Blacks improved dramatically for 25 years after the Civil War, and then became horrendous again up until the Civil Rights Movement - we are not pushing forward in some inevitable way. It is through things like human effort, ingenuity, circumstance, and trial and error that positive change happens.

    This does help me. It helps me to expect less from the top. I’m less inclined to trust “movements” in the sense that I know a wave doesn’t always reach the shore. And I know I don’t stand at the center of righteousness - not unless the center can hold everyone, in which case it would no longer be “the center.” I feel less overwhelmed by the world, because I don’t think anyone has all the solutions. I’m not looking for the eternal panacea, or the way.

    Popularity: 41% [?]

    Jan

    30

    Is My Life Too Good?

    Filed Under class, from the heart, life changes, questions | 1 Comment

    The other day I was thinking about UUs, class and race, and all of the sudden I felt so trapped. Helplessly, hopelessly stuck in this world I’ve constructed for myself (or fallen into?) of people who are so. much. like. me. People I love, yes, people who teach me things, share my values, provide emotional support, challenge (some of) my assumptions, and make me feel grateful for humanity. But still, they are people very much like me.

    On the one hand I think of myself as one of “the people” (the masses, the hoi polloi, the common folk), and yet when I talk about politics, race, gender, or economics, it doesn’t feel as though I’m talking about myself or my friends half the time. There seems to be a growing distance between me and “the people,”which doesn’t seem sensible because I am still them - life is just really good for me right now.

    I feel more and more as though I’m being drawn away by some line of success - not personal, but circumstantial. I went from being a single, working woman living alone to being in a two income household; now I’m a student at a private university ($1000 per class!) and we can afford for me to not work at all. It’s very possible that I won’t have to get a “real job” for the next several years, even if we have children. That’s not normal, is it?

    How do I become less distanced from financial struggle? Do I have an obligation to do so? Because I co-lead anti oppression workshops, I need to be mindful of how I relate to the material I’m introducing people to. A lot of the folks who do workshops with me are organizers, and are involved in a lot of grassroots work. I’m not so much; the only thing I’m doing to that end right now is The Real Wealth of Portland stuff, and we are still figuring out what we want to do - we’ve been focusing for the last six months on understanding economics and alternative systems, and looking at the work others are doing in Portland.

    When I was working, I knew people who were single moms, heads of families struggling with four kids to make ends meet, people of diverse racial backgrounds. But now I’m at home, interacting mostly with the self-employed and active retirees. I’m turning into one of those people you see at church during coffee hour who amazingly has time to be on a crapload of committees! When I turn on the tv, I’m the target audience now for all of those HGTV, Travel channel, and Food Network shows. I have to veer away from displays of the Real Simple magazine - which once struck me as RIDICULOUS and indulgent, but now seems reasonable and even a tad helpful.

    I like who I am, but should I be different? Is it possible for me to be anything other than who I am, given my current situation? What kind of connections will I need to build in order to feel more grounded -  more invested - in the well-being of all? How do I make my way back to the margins? I’ve got to do some deep thinking about this.

    Popularity: 24% [?]

    Dec

    5

    Distant Ring of a Shrinking Company

    Filed Under life changes, new things, questions, spiritual practice | 2 Comments

    Increasingly it feels I’m en route to becoming a bright eyed old man. Muttering factoids under my breath, bewildered by my scratchy chin.  I’m sure it has to do with who I listen to these days - elderly male atheists and existentialists who seem as delighted with the world as they are annoyed by people (or is it the other way around?).

    Several months ago, as I tussled with the notion of being an atheist, all my Muslim upbringing fought against it -  because to be an unbeliever is to be so many hideous things, namely Arrogant; was I Full of Pride? And if so, what had changed in my life to make me so? And my anti-oppression training disapprovingly wagged its finger at the image of atheism, asking: do you have any understanding of why you identify with these people? is there maybe a reason you don’t see too many black latinas at the forefront of this so-called movement?

    Oh boy, and how much of who I am has been shaped by the LH, who, in his unassuming way is one of the most persuasive people I know - not because he wants to convince anyone, but because he wants to talk about it.  It’s never been clearer why they killed Socrates.

    The irony is that when I was a Muslim, I felt like such a minority.  Everyone else in society seemed to be Not Muslim, and when I left Islam, there was at one point a sense of relief: I could blend in. Anywhere. And it was true - I walk into a store and I’m just like everyone else. I go anywhere, and no one thinks twice about me. I even see other Muslims on the street, and they look around me, likely interpreting my gaze as that of an unfamiliar.

    So I became a UU - there are more Muslims in Manhattan than there are UUs the world over, and now I carve another little niche for myself. An atheist. The interesting thing is I don’t feel the need for an atheist community, although I did, upon invitation, sign up to become A Bright recently. For now, the buck stops there. No more memberships, I don’t think.

    Not sure what it means to be an atheist except to not believe in any deities, or even supernaturalism. It’s been a greater challenge, actually - I’ve had to be critical about things that I didn’t have to question as a softly agnostic humanist UU: do I really believe all that stuff about Virgos, for example? And astrology in general. And ghosts?

    The whole experience is sort of like clearing out the basement. One small corner is wiped clean and empty- it’s the spot where I’m standing right now; as for the rest of it, it’s so dim and cluttered I can’t even make out how much work is left to do.

    Sometimes I hear Michael’s voice upstairs. But mostly I’m on my own.

    Popularity: 38% [?]

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