If you've been reading my blog through a few season changes, you're probably sick of hearing about what it does to me. Fortunately, I rarely let that stop me from talking.
So here we are, in the middle of a heat wave - relatively speaking. The snow is melting away, leaving puddles and mud everywhere. I bought some rain boots, so now I can fully relish the puddles. I've always wanted rain boots for just such a purpose, and they do not disappoint.
Even while I'm inside, my spirit is outside. My computer is in the sunroom, and this is a problem. Right now, I'm typing while staring out the open window. I have learned to proofread as a result of this situation. Also, I get distracted by the cool breeze, and before I know it, I'm reclined in the office chair and haven't written or entertained a coherent thought in five minutes.
There is no cure for what ails me. I must push through to the other side. When I no longer want to just lie around in the sunshine, talking to strangers and friends, drinking coffee and waxing philosophical about the simplest things. That is the greatest symptom of my disease. Nothing is simple. Everything is a broad, general, debatable idea that I want to talk about and hold up to the light of the sun until I get bored with it. Not until I find an answer, mind you, because what, after all, is an answer? Poor Erick. Things take much longer than they should at this time of the year. The only hope is that this is the last time this happens until the fall. Because once I push through, I am myself again - still doing all the things I just mentioned, but in a less ethereal state.
However, a problem occurs when I get forced back inside by another cold snap, and the process must begin all over when the sun returns to warm the ground. It's a vicious cycle really.
Wish Erick luck.
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
We've got a label for that
Yesterday in the car, Sophia and I were talking - as usual. At one point, the term "Christian" came up. She had asked what kind of school I had gone to when I was little. She was intrigued. Of course I was required to define and offer examples of the use of this word. That is protocol when introducing a new word to Sophia - or any child, I would imagine. It's good for my vocabulary because I don't use words I can't define. Anyhow, I defined "Christian" as a word that we use to describe a person who wants to be like Jesus. "Like me and you!" she responded. Yep. Just like that. She was quiet for a while, and then said, "Why do we have a word for that?" Seriously. That's what she said. I was stumped. For one, she has never asked that question before. For another thing, I didn't know what to tell her. The simple answer is "So we can label ourselves and others."
Now, I'm not saying that we should take this or similar words out of our lexicon. I'm simply suggesting that maybe we use too many labels. It's possible that labels allow us to assume too much about each other. Or not. I don't know. I'm just saying. It was a great question, and I wanted to throw it out there.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Words and Looking for Response
Here's the scene this morning:
Erick had been getting ready for work, and Sophia was very grumpy about the whole idea. When it was time for him to leave, Sophia threw herself on the couch with her face in the pillow. Erick said his goodbyes, gave her a kiss and left for the day.
When he was gone and Sophia was still grumping around, I asked if she was sad. "Yes, I'm sad because Daddy went to work." I told her that it made Daddy sad to go to work too. She said, "No he wasn't." I asked why she thought he wasn't sad. "He didn't look sad."
Now, I know Erick was sad because I saw the tears forming in his eyes this morning. Sophia didn't see because her face was buried in the pillow. At first, I thought this would be a blog about how children still use their entire countenance and body to express emotions, but then I realized that she COULD have seen Erick's sadness if she had been looking. Because he didn't throw himself on the couch and bury his face, she was sure he wasn't sad.
This is a lesson that has always been difficult for me to learn. Just because other people don't express their emotions in the exact same way I do, does not mean they are not experiencing them at the same level.
Erick had been getting ready for work, and Sophia was very grumpy about the whole idea. When it was time for him to leave, Sophia threw herself on the couch with her face in the pillow. Erick said his goodbyes, gave her a kiss and left for the day.
When he was gone and Sophia was still grumping around, I asked if she was sad. "Yes, I'm sad because Daddy went to work." I told her that it made Daddy sad to go to work too. She said, "No he wasn't." I asked why she thought he wasn't sad. "He didn't look sad."
Now, I know Erick was sad because I saw the tears forming in his eyes this morning. Sophia didn't see because her face was buried in the pillow. At first, I thought this would be a blog about how children still use their entire countenance and body to express emotions, but then I realized that she COULD have seen Erick's sadness if she had been looking. Because he didn't throw himself on the couch and bury his face, she was sure he wasn't sad.
This is a lesson that has always been difficult for me to learn. Just because other people don't express their emotions in the exact same way I do, does not mean they are not experiencing them at the same level.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Back to the Battle
Nope, we're not through with this discussion on grief. I definitely have some more things to say about it. I just needed to process some first in my head before I bare them to the eyes of the world (yeah, right, the world).
Simply stated, my current grief has changed my state of mind. This particular loss, with its slow, draining march, has combined with the recent loss of two grandparents, along with other peripheral losses and reminders of loss to produce a marked effect on my state of mind, or attitude. Is that the same thing?
My predisposition is one of contentment and laughter. I am certainly not saying that I'm happy all of the time. I am saying that my state of mind is typically one of seeing the humor and of choosing to focus on the brighter side of the human condition, even while venturing into the darkest of places. Over the past several months, I have experienced consecutive losses of varying degrees. My inability to take the time between to experience these at a deeper level has left me in a darker state of mind.
Those of you who know me at all know that sarcasm is a natural bent of mine. Many would suggest that sarcasm is never appropriate, but I still enjoy it. However, at times like these it becomes my enemy. I have to be more careful of my tongue because it tends to deal a larger dose of hostility. When I am in this state of mind, I tend to think of myself as a "realist," which is to say a pessimist. I see the negative more clearly than the positive in the photographs of daily life. It's not really depression, although that tends to kick it off. It's just a general state of malaise.
I am not afraid of this current lack of positivism in my life. I've been through it before. I'll get through it this time, too. Exercising my mind and my emotions. Using words to express how angrily I meet this loss and all the losses of my past. Reminding myself of the joys of being a human. These are the remedies for my soul.
I don't know if this is typical of grief or not. How about you? Does a particular state of mind accompany your grief? Is grief a state of mind of its own?
Simply stated, my current grief has changed my state of mind. This particular loss, with its slow, draining march, has combined with the recent loss of two grandparents, along with other peripheral losses and reminders of loss to produce a marked effect on my state of mind, or attitude. Is that the same thing?
My predisposition is one of contentment and laughter. I am certainly not saying that I'm happy all of the time. I am saying that my state of mind is typically one of seeing the humor and of choosing to focus on the brighter side of the human condition, even while venturing into the darkest of places. Over the past several months, I have experienced consecutive losses of varying degrees. My inability to take the time between to experience these at a deeper level has left me in a darker state of mind.
Those of you who know me at all know that sarcasm is a natural bent of mine. Many would suggest that sarcasm is never appropriate, but I still enjoy it. However, at times like these it becomes my enemy. I have to be more careful of my tongue because it tends to deal a larger dose of hostility. When I am in this state of mind, I tend to think of myself as a "realist," which is to say a pessimist. I see the negative more clearly than the positive in the photographs of daily life. It's not really depression, although that tends to kick it off. It's just a general state of malaise.
I am not afraid of this current lack of positivism in my life. I've been through it before. I'll get through it this time, too. Exercising my mind and my emotions. Using words to express how angrily I meet this loss and all the losses of my past. Reminding myself of the joys of being a human. These are the remedies for my soul.
I don't know if this is typical of grief or not. How about you? Does a particular state of mind accompany your grief? Is grief a state of mind of its own?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Starting from the Same Point
After a very good conversation with Erick last night about the topic of grief, I realized that today's post should be about how I define grief, particularly as I'm relating it to different areas of life.
Grief as people normally think of it relates to the large and often crushing losses of life: death, divorce, loss of livelihood, unexpected and unresolved end to relationship, disability, and the list goes on. This type of grief is large and takes up a great deal of our energy for at least a portion of our lives. Well, at least it does if we allow it. If not, we end up living only partially. Grief of this kind, most experts agree, seems to involve five stages: 1. Denial and Isolation, 2. Anger, 3. Bargaining, 4. Depression (Sadness), 5. Acceptance. I don't like assigning these stages numbers because each process seems to move in and out of all of these stages, even simultaneously. While all of these stages seem to be present after these greater losses in life, I believe they present themselves differently for each person, even within that person - differently for each loss.
The second point I was trying to make is that grief is often short-circuited, if acknowledged at all, in other areas of life. I would agree these other losses are not as threatening to one's existence, but they still have the potential to derail us. For example, I said that choices we make leave others untried or unexperienced. An extreme example that I hope will help others understand what I mean is this: When Erick and I chose to begin starting a family, we were ecstatic and joyful to welcome Sophia. However, we had made a choice that our lives would never be shared between only the two of us again. No more running out for pizza at 10:30. No more sleeping in till 10:30. No more freedom or ease or uninterrupted conversation. I would not trade our current reality for any amount of riches, ease or opportunity; however, if I don't acknowledge the choice we made, I could become resentful of Sophia's presence in our life. Marriage is harder when children are present. Is it worth it? Of course! But even asking that question is a form of grief - particularly of the final stage of acceptance. I don't think that all the stages of grief are necessarily present in this second type of grief. Even if they are present, it seems that they could be less apparent and vital to the process.
I wanted to address my definitions of grief because if you are reading this with another definition or confusion about the less threatening types of losses, then we can't get very far. I hope that this post has been less confusing than I think, but I welcome questions and the chance to further clarify my position.
Maybe in the mean time, I'll take some pictures of Sophia. Nothing like a little distraction to ease the tension.
Thoughts?
Grief as people normally think of it relates to the large and often crushing losses of life: death, divorce, loss of livelihood, unexpected and unresolved end to relationship, disability, and the list goes on. This type of grief is large and takes up a great deal of our energy for at least a portion of our lives. Well, at least it does if we allow it. If not, we end up living only partially. Grief of this kind, most experts agree, seems to involve five stages: 1. Denial and Isolation, 2. Anger, 3. Bargaining, 4. Depression (Sadness), 5. Acceptance. I don't like assigning these stages numbers because each process seems to move in and out of all of these stages, even simultaneously. While all of these stages seem to be present after these greater losses in life, I believe they present themselves differently for each person, even within that person - differently for each loss.
The second point I was trying to make is that grief is often short-circuited, if acknowledged at all, in other areas of life. I would agree these other losses are not as threatening to one's existence, but they still have the potential to derail us. For example, I said that choices we make leave others untried or unexperienced. An extreme example that I hope will help others understand what I mean is this: When Erick and I chose to begin starting a family, we were ecstatic and joyful to welcome Sophia. However, we had made a choice that our lives would never be shared between only the two of us again. No more running out for pizza at 10:30. No more sleeping in till 10:30. No more freedom or ease or uninterrupted conversation. I would not trade our current reality for any amount of riches, ease or opportunity; however, if I don't acknowledge the choice we made, I could become resentful of Sophia's presence in our life. Marriage is harder when children are present. Is it worth it? Of course! But even asking that question is a form of grief - particularly of the final stage of acceptance. I don't think that all the stages of grief are necessarily present in this second type of grief. Even if they are present, it seems that they could be less apparent and vital to the process.
I wanted to address my definitions of grief because if you are reading this with another definition or confusion about the less threatening types of losses, then we can't get very far. I hope that this post has been less confusing than I think, but I welcome questions and the chance to further clarify my position.
Maybe in the mean time, I'll take some pictures of Sophia. Nothing like a little distraction to ease the tension.
Thoughts?
Monday, April 20, 2009
Good Grief
Earlier in this blog, in a post or comments that I'm too lazy to search for, I believe it was alluded to that our culture does not spend enough time actually talking about grief. Or death. Or pain. We let the artists take care of that. We shed a few unexplained tears at an emotional, even if poorly written, movie - and feel better. A book or song that holds no obvious emotion for us, gives us the excuse to let the waters flow, if only for a moment.
I am going to make an argument that we (humanity) do our best living when we are grieving. Not just loss of life, but of comfort, innocence, understanding, friendship, opportunity. The human experience is full of choices, paths taken and others not taken. Each choice we make leaves a whole path of opportunity that we must grieve. Of course there are many things that happen in life, which were not a product of choice, and those leave empty spaces that can only be filled with the tears of true grief. Now, I'm not the type that wants to live in a pit of blackness, reliving each misery or mistake of my own or others. I don't find satisfaction in dwelling on the losses of life, but it's my opinion that by actually grieving our losses, we give them far less power in our present and future.
All of that precedes my saying that I am grieving, and I am going to share it with you. This is a risk on my part. I hate leaving myself open to being pitied. Please don't do that, and if you do, keep it to yourself. I want to use my grief as a starting place for our conversation. I am not an expert on grief, although I (like each of us) have had many losses. I am not asserting that my loss deserves more attention than any other. On the contrary, my tendency is to remind myself of those who suffered infinitely greater loss than I and seem to endure with a tender spirit. That is true, and it's not the point either. I simply want to talk about grief. What better way than to walk you through some of my own process.
That's all for today, but I do want to set a few ground rules. Obviously, I want this to be a conversation, so please comment if you have something to say about grief. Please do not comment if you feel the compulsion to tell me that you're sorry for my loss. I know you are, and I appreciate it. That's not the point. So in the next days or weeks or whatever it takes, I'll share with you some writings and thoughts and random ways that I process. Enjoy. Or don't. Either way, you'll need to grieve the path you didn't take. ;)
I am going to make an argument that we (humanity) do our best living when we are grieving. Not just loss of life, but of comfort, innocence, understanding, friendship, opportunity. The human experience is full of choices, paths taken and others not taken. Each choice we make leaves a whole path of opportunity that we must grieve. Of course there are many things that happen in life, which were not a product of choice, and those leave empty spaces that can only be filled with the tears of true grief. Now, I'm not the type that wants to live in a pit of blackness, reliving each misery or mistake of my own or others. I don't find satisfaction in dwelling on the losses of life, but it's my opinion that by actually grieving our losses, we give them far less power in our present and future.
All of that precedes my saying that I am grieving, and I am going to share it with you. This is a risk on my part. I hate leaving myself open to being pitied. Please don't do that, and if you do, keep it to yourself. I want to use my grief as a starting place for our conversation. I am not an expert on grief, although I (like each of us) have had many losses. I am not asserting that my loss deserves more attention than any other. On the contrary, my tendency is to remind myself of those who suffered infinitely greater loss than I and seem to endure with a tender spirit. That is true, and it's not the point either. I simply want to talk about grief. What better way than to walk you through some of my own process.
That's all for today, but I do want to set a few ground rules. Obviously, I want this to be a conversation, so please comment if you have something to say about grief. Please do not comment if you feel the compulsion to tell me that you're sorry for my loss. I know you are, and I appreciate it. That's not the point. So in the next days or weeks or whatever it takes, I'll share with you some writings and thoughts and random ways that I process. Enjoy. Or don't. Either way, you'll need to grieve the path you didn't take. ;)
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Favorite Photos of 2008
*Warning: Very Long Post*
After reviewing my photos from 2008, I had a few realizations. First, we were very busy. Second, we had a lot of fun. Third, I took a ton of pictures.
Narrowing it to my favorite hundred took me the better part of Sophia's nap. Then I decided that would doubtless overwhelm my vast readership. So I decided to choose a random sampling. These are not necessarily my favorites, but they give an idea of our year. Chances are pretty good that if I know you, you were in my top 100, even if you don't show up in this sampling.
2008 was a year of:
traveling
parties
boys
cheering
girls
dancing
growing
reading
firsts
motherhood.
I can honestly say that I have never enjoyed a year more than I have enjoyed 2008. The little voice in my head is telling me to watch out for 2009. I will do my best to listen to the hopeful voice instead. Each year that I grow older, I learn more of what really makes me happy. The economy can falter, we can tighten our purse, the storms can rage and moan. Inside my little house, I will enjoy the moments of serenity and happiness that we make together in the presence of God.
After reviewing my photos from 2008, I had a few realizations. First, we were very busy. Second, we had a lot of fun. Third, I took a ton of pictures.
Narrowing it to my favorite hundred took me the better part of Sophia's nap. Then I decided that would doubtless overwhelm my vast readership. So I decided to choose a random sampling. These are not necessarily my favorites, but they give an idea of our year. Chances are pretty good that if I know you, you were in my top 100, even if you don't show up in this sampling.
2008 was a year of:
traveling
parties
boys
cheering
girls
dancing
growing
reading
firsts
motherhood.
I can honestly say that I have never enjoyed a year more than I have enjoyed 2008. The little voice in my head is telling me to watch out for 2009. I will do my best to listen to the hopeful voice instead. Each year that I grow older, I learn more of what really makes me happy. The economy can falter, we can tighten our purse, the storms can rage and moan. Inside my little house, I will enjoy the moments of serenity and happiness that we make together in the presence of God.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Being Mom
To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labors and holidays; to be Whiteley within a certain area, providing toys, boots, sheets cakes. and books, to be Aristotle within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it. How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness. - G.K. Chesterton What's Wrong with the World
So why doesn't it feel that way? For all of human history, the most noble task was that of being a mother. Yet, in recent Western history, we find it difficult to lower ourselves to such "menial" responsibility. It is not to say that all women are meant to be mothers, let alone to stay home with their children. But why is it so easy to think of one's self as wasted at home? It's an interesting thought. What a career..."to tell one's children about the universe." Pretty daunting. Chesterton also points out that it is not only a widening and benefit to the mind of the child, but to that of the mother as well. Quite the opposite of wasting away.
So why doesn't it feel that way? For all of human history, the most noble task was that of being a mother. Yet, in recent Western history, we find it difficult to lower ourselves to such "menial" responsibility. It is not to say that all women are meant to be mothers, let alone to stay home with their children. But why is it so easy to think of one's self as wasted at home? It's an interesting thought. What a career..."to tell one's children about the universe." Pretty daunting. Chesterton also points out that it is not only a widening and benefit to the mind of the child, but to that of the mother as well. Quite the opposite of wasting away.
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