Perfect (NOT)

As a child, I was taught to only pick up shells that were perfect.  Perfect, in the sense of whole.  Beauty, then, I learned could only be found in something perfectly formed.  But more than beauty, perfect also denoted value, worth of the shell.  

 

I might find a piece of a shell, cleaned to shiny glimmer by tumbling in the surf or a sand dollar with a corner missing, demonstrating its complexity by showing its innards or its fragility with the tender shell shattered.   

My mom would counsel me to look for another.  Prized were the small, delicate butterflies of the tiny opened clam shell with both sides still precariously attached.  I cannot remember the number of little butterflies I picked up from the sand over the years.  Perfection meant I could get it home in one piece. 

 

The desirableness of perfection and maybe in particular its elusiveness was burned into my being, unquestioned.  I thought it was the most normal belief – one shared by all – and it, therefore, extended its tentacles from those beach visits into all aspects of my life. Recognizing just how infrequently perfect is attainable, I configured worth or value of all things (products, outcomes, people, myself) accordingly.   

Not perfect was clearly not as valuable as perfect.  And imperfect could not become perfect.  While this was supremely exacting and limiting in many ways, it also liberated me from certain things, like pretty.  I was not pretty, not perfect in that pretty way, and I never would be.  Nor would I ever be expected to be.  As a not perfect, not valuable person, I could construct that barometer easily: not perfect equals not valuable and not pretty.

Striving for perfect in other ways, however, gets to be second nature when you have made this agreement about perfect.  It activates the negative self talk effortlessly and internalizes slights as confirmation of that not perfect status.  And yet we strive for the unattainable perfect in something, anything.   

Knowing just how elusive it is, we self sabotage, we fall, we make it worse by failing.  There isn’t anything redeemable about this agreement at all.

 

Sure, I have heard the TED talks on not-perfect and read plenty of self help books and analyzed my life and its shortcomings, but here it was, in living color as it were.  But it wasn’t until I was back on the beach in my home town watching my nephew pick out shells an rocks that I fully acknowledged this perfect agreement and its history in my life.  

 

My nephew was drawn to shapes, figures he saw in the broken and worn down shells. I resisted the urge to dissuade him from collecting imperfect shells.  He found one heart shaped piece and he immediately identified it as something he wanted to give his mom – dead nearly a year at that point.

I stepped ever so slightly back from the ingrained belief system.  Nearly another year has passed and I still struggle with the aftermath of perfect as I try to release the compulsion to find perfect and to punish myself endlessly for not being perfect.  I remember, in flashes as I walk the beach, that there is beauty in a broken shell, an imperfect sand dollar.  I identify rocks whose odd coloration or shape evoke beauty, whose value and worth is simply in its existence. 

I watch the waves make and remake patterns in the sand.  I watch the wind slowly chisel away at whatever was there a second ago.  The ocean and the beach allows change and movement without regard for perfection, perhaps not even knowing of its existence.

Martin

Forty seven years ago, Martin went home and left a void in our world.

Today, to honor that loss, I finally went to see Selma. 

I had heard how good a movie it was from many people.  But I knew it was going to be difficult to watch. 

It is not that anything would be portrayed in that movie that I didn't already know about.  But it is qualitatively different to read about it than to witness a reenactment.  Perhaps I have even already seen footage.  But, I still knew that the brutality would be unbearable.

But, I like depressing movies you might say.  The last film I saw was Still Alice -- heartbreaking, but beautiful and in its own way uplifting. 

This was different.   

All the while I was watching it, all I could do was think of all the people who have given so much of themselves so that we don't have to fight this battle anymore -- and of all the young men and women of color who have died at the hands of the police, lately and historically.

Watching those batons come down on the protesters felt like bearing witness to the continued deaths of so many people.

Tears streamed down my face for much of the movie.  I could not help but look away when the most brutal attacks were on the screen.

It is a great film.  Very well done, very well acted and directed.  But it is brutal... more for the echoes of what we continue to live despite the many blood sacrifices already given.

NRU

That is some author love ... or maybe jut the desire for a trip to the Bay? Either one I am good with ... I wish there were more that this person could have told about the story, maybe it for another book.  Then again, I know too well what looking for history looks like, threads that might or might not knit into a picture that makes sense... or maybe threads that give hints at a story and leave much to the imagination.  Either way, it sounds like it would be a good book.

I doubt very sincerely that this case will be resolved in a way that makes the tribe "happy," but I think it might just get the state talking about water in more substantive ways.  At least, I hope so.

A little silver lining for the NRU... we should all do a tiny bit more for others, this man is doing way more than his share but seems to enjoy it.

This is the kind of news (along with the breakfast all day idea) that makes me consider taking up some McDonalds again ... even if it is only for Egg white delights and ice cream cones...  how do I figure out which stores are owned by McDonalds and not franchises??

Poetry Thursday

Healing may not be 

so much about getting better, 

as about letting go 

of everything that isn't you 

-- all of the expectations, 

all of the beliefs -- 

and becoming who you are.

~ R. N. Remen

...

These are the "hidden stairs" I climbed a few times (read 2) while in Oakland... feels less daunting than plunging back into my work today.  But, I am going to do it anyway.

Here I go...

Re-entry chats

My dad likes to tell me, or let me know in other non-verbal ways, that I am not needed here.  He is just fine on his own.

So, when he stands outside my door sheepishly waiting for me to ask him what he needs, I know that something is up.

Me: What do you need, Dad?
Dad:  Do you feel like climbing up on the roof?
Me:  Huh?
Dad:  There's a leak in the solar panels that go to the water heater.
Me: And how does me climbing the roof help?
Dad: I need you to take pictures of the leak and then I will figure out how to fix it.
Me:  Couldn't we call the plumber?
Dad: I don't need help…

Yeah….this was my re-entry after nearly three weeks away. 

The universe would like me to know, nothing has changed here.

We are working on negotiating the idea that alternate plans might be available.  We have still not really been able to agree on that yet, but I am trying to remain hopeful.

NRU silver linings edition (mostly)

There are times when, even though I continue to read all the news, I can only bring myself to share those stories I found uplifting in some way.  This week has turned into that time ... so here you go.

It turns out that there are those who have tons of money who know how to do the right thing, even when entire countries can't figure it out.  This couple restores my faith in humanity (for the moment).

I know that many people disagree with the notion of raising the minimum wage ... I can only imagine that they are those who have not earned the minimum wage since they were 15.  And by that, I don't just mean when they were young ...but also when young people didn't need to have modern technology.  Again, we can disagree on whether or not folks *need* technology, or to move out of their homes, or buy things that they want ... the fact is, no one has the right to tell others how to spend their well-earned money (or their pan-handled money for that matter-- but that's another story).  So, I am excited about the cities and states that are taking the step towards a living wage for those who fetch our food, clean up after us, and handle our crazy shopping habits.  On my meager, starving-student budget, I am willing to pay what it takes for others to live their lives, are you?

This is the *mostly* story of this edition -- I just read this review and WANT this album... if you are going to make music about the crazy shit going on in Mexico, it should also be beautiful and stylish and just plain good music.  Putting this one into my music budget pronto.

Poetry Thursday - wishful thinking

Writing became such 

a process of discovery

that I couldn't wait 

to get to work

in the morning.  

I wanted to know

what I was going to say.

~Shannon O'Brien

Erin Prewitt & why you should *like* her!

About a year ago, there was a terrible accident near my hometown.  An educator, training for a marathon, was killed by a young woman who was driving under the influence.  His death shook the community.  My initial reaction was to make a note not to run on busy streets; and, of course, to grieve for the wife and child he left behind.  It threw me into a little bit of grief PTSD that almost cut my off from compassion, to tell the truth.  I had to catch myself being afraid to think about the earthquake this one man's death had created in our community.

Quickly it turned out that this man was so well loved by the community that his name was every where, and venom towards the young woman spewed through the newspaper, social media, etc.  It turned out that we had a connection to this man, through his wife's mother and father who were in the same water aerobics class at the gym.  Also, he had taught at the school my niece attended as a freshman in high school.

Candle on Altar at home...

All the while, I was wondering at how some lives get more attention than others ... deep in my own grief over the loss of my brother and sister, I wondered at how so many people had mobilized to collectively grieve, remember and honor this one life (while at the same time vilifying another).  I wished, many times, that there was a way to make my own loss mean more to others ... as if I could know what was in the hearts of others.  But, I realize now that it was because we were all grieving, in our own ways, so privately, that the sense of community I saw in this other grief almost stung me.

As you know, I am a newshound, so, I followed the case via the newspaper, while I saw glimpses of the public grief on social media.  And I was so pleasantly surprised to see that the family of the man who died had figured out how to promote forgiveness in the wake of their grief.  [I wrote about it here recently].

lovely driftwood from beach!

I was reading this article this morning when I thought again of Erin Prewitt, the knowledge she holds, both as a grieving widow and a researcher, about prisons, life sentences, forgiveness and healing.  What I love about Erin is that she does not claim to have it all figured out ... she is not the person who waits to tell you the story until she knows exactly how it all plays out. 

She is so excited to tell you about what she knows now, and she does so very coherently, that she both enlightens you and gives you a glimpse into how you can do the same.  Don't wait ... get in there.  Her latest blog post provides another insight into her thinking via her grief journey.

I hope you will read it, like her on FB, follow her on Twitter (if you do those kinds of thing) and otherwise help to spread the word about Erin and her work.  I think she is one of those people who can shine light on a whole lot of things that would make life better for a bunch of folks.

NRU woo hoo

I am not a cat person (or a dog person for that matter), but I love mountain lions.  I love the images these lovely cats pose for with the "secret" cameras.  When you see the photos, I am sure you will agree that these cats are totally onto the fact that there are cameras in their midst.

GRUNION!  In my family home, the running of the grunion is legend.  I have never seen one, though I have actually gone to try to see them. In fact, it was freezing and no fish were running around on the sand. But the story goes that when my mother was pregnant with me, there were many grunions running.  She said she ate so many of them that she never wanted to eat them again.  But the legend of the grunion took on new life as inside joke when my older sister decided that we should call children with front teeth missing: grunions.  One tooth, actually, is a grunion.  And two missing, double grunion. 

Ok...somehow I didn't know this story ... or I don't remember it.  MLK Jr was stabbed? By a Black lady?  By a Black lady who thought that the NAACP was after her?!  What a story.  Crazy.  Then again, getting on the inside of this story made it all the more sad...takes me to very melancholy places.

This one doesn't quite fit the "woo hoo" subtitle of this post, so I better go ahead and stop collecting articles and just post this...but I couldn't not post it.  It is heart-wrenching, heart-breaking to read this story about Mr. Hill who was shot in Atlanta this month by a police officer - his family, and the reporter, go to great pains to make clear that he was not *just* another (unarmed) Black man shot by a white police officer.  The contours of this story are what make it truly heart-wrenching ... the help that this young man needed was just beyond his reach, apparently, *and* we live in a world where being a young Black man and mentally challenged more likely than not means that you are more likely to met with bullets than compassion, understanding or medical attention.  Truly, truly heart-breaking, may his soul rest in peace and may his family someday find some peace to hold their hearts. 

New Moon, Solar Eclipse, Spring Equinox...

In case you slept through the solar eclipse (and don't live in the tiny sliver of the world where it was visible)... here is video.  You can still be a part of it!

not a new moon but a full one...

I hope you are readying your intentions for the new moon and the turn to spring... for those with little time, the three minute new moon ceremony.

Thursday ... chant day

Feeling light within,

I walk.

-Navajo Night Chant

NRU - kitchen sink edition

It breaks my heart that our actions have caused our beloved sea lions to be so distressed. I ran into another one at the beach the other day.  There was nothing I could do but talk to it as it looked at me through its sad "disney" eyes (as my sister used to call them).  It was so tired, so hungry, yet still alert and able to scare away curious dogs.  Feeding one, two or three hundred is not the answer.  We need to change out ways now... but I am still proud of Sea World for doing the right thing to try to help. 

On a lighter note, I am sort of addicted to these pieces from the LA Times on the dating scene in LA.  Some are silly and others salty, and still others overly romantic.  But almost always somewhat entertaining.

Ah, it turns out that older females (at least orcas) provide much needed wisdom that may impact survival ... good to know that older females of some species are not only useful but an integral part of the community.  Maybe we can find the need for other species' female elders.

These personal "opinion" pieces in the NY Times are some of my favorites ...  this one is about a woman's journey and how she ended up childless, somewhat by choice and somewhat by circumstance.

Ummm...this seems like a tour I should plan on taking... need a partner or partners in crime, and maybe one designated driver.

I think I need one or two of these... seriously.

California, the land of complicated relationships, never ceases to provide interesting disputes over beaches, and this is another one.  I can't wait to hear the outcome.

Quote Thursday

A human being is part of the whole, 

called by us "universe," 

a part limited in time and space. 

He experiences himself, 

has thoughts and feelings, 

as something separate from the rest-- 

a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. 

This delusion is a kind of prison for us, 

restricting us to our personal desires 

and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. 

Our task must be to free ourselves 

from this prison by widening 

our circles of compassion to embrace 

all living creatures and the 

whole of nature in its beauty.

- Albert Einstein

break down, break through, writing break

It goes in cycles for me ... that is the world feels like it is beginning to cave in, but I don't notice it until I am feeling consumed by the darkness.  When I look back, I see the signs that I ignored, mostly in my own behavior.  Short tempered, touchy, overly sensitive.  These are the not generous descriptions.  There are equally not generous descriptions of those who I feel put upon by. 

Ultimately, though, I know that these are just the symptoms of my boundaries collapsing, and the first casualty is always myself. 

I have been super careful with my workouts and even meditation.  Even on the days when I haven't made it to weekly meditation, I am still finding time to be mindful, even if it is just a few minutes. I have tried to incorporate at least my metta practice into my walking.  I use these mantras to counter the obsession and ridiculousness when I feel it rise in my chest.

It is helpful ... but it doesn't take the place of a more holistic self care that includes getting work done for myself.

My little breakdown a few weeks ago that led to my little breakthrough (and shift in my attitude and perspective -- for the better!) seems to have shortened the amount of time I can go before I FEEL the boundaries dangerously melting away.

It's a good thing -- better to feel it sooner than wait for the complete meltdown.  Like the toddler kicking and screaming, tears streaming down his face, on the floor, my meltdowns leave me feeling utterly helpless, vulnerable and like there is no way out.  It is never pretty to get there.

So, after all the good work I did when I debriefed the last breakdown, I am moving forward.  This afternoon I will retreat from my parents' home to a friend's house for some writing.  My plan is to write long hours the first five days before I have to add back in work for money, but then to continue writing for at least half days for another week or more. 

I have to make progress on these papers -- and my PhD program -- or decide that it is really not the right thing for me.

I decided it was better to really give myself the space, emotionally and physically, to try rather than to just throw in the towel.  If at the end of my writing retreat I am still inclined to quit, then, at least, it will be because I have made that decision.  I am trying to remove any possibility of resentment - perhaps an even more useless emotion than regret or guilt.

NRU

Many people do not understand the divide between archaeologists and native peoples when it comes to "discovering" or studying historical sites.  I think this piece unwittingly offers a pretty good look inside of the schism ... though it is much more sympathetic to the academic's perspective.  As someone who grew up wondering about the Lone Woman on the island after reading The Island of the Blue Dolphin, my heartstrings are pulled in many directions.  I would love to know what those academics might find, but I also feel like her tragic life might best be left to literature.

It is hard to believe it has almost been a year since this plane fell out of the sky.  I cannot even begin to imagine how the families are coping -- not being able to fully give up hope and begin to grieve as there is so much unknown.

We just don't know the impact we have on the lives of others. I think of teachers all the time in this respect, but I forget about law enforcement.  This StoryCorps brings it home ...as does this piece on NH.  These are bright spots amid some very dark ones.  I also think about all the negative interactions we all have and how they also impact others (and ourselves).  My dad's constant animosity to what I feel is showing care and concern and he feels like losing control of his life.  Ugh...

I am just not sure if I can go there with this show... I watched the first ten minutes and I was not captivated, but I was also sort of watching it through covered eyes.  I hope it does well for Scott as I like his work, but I am not sure we are all ready for this much *reality*.

Poetry Thursday, really quote

There are two kinds of light
the glow that illuminates,
and the glare that obscures.
-James Thurber

Not a life list

During my birthday month, and I started to think of "gifts" I could bestow on myself.  I am sure I have already explained that I think it is most important to give yourself the gift you want rather than *hope* or *expect* someone else to get it for you.

My mind turned to trips and things that I couldn't afford.  Likes, wants and antojos change with the season, so this is not a life list.  Besides, waiting and planning out all these "lasts" might not be the best way to use our time alive.  Just a few things I was thinking about ... many of the things on the list cannot be just "gifted" to me by myself or someone else; but like all things, that doesn't mean I don't want them.

Machu Pichu

a year of writing in Italy or France

good hair cuts

an Italian practice buddy (speaking)

one for French too

tighter fitting pants for men -- yes, it is a gift for me and all other women who are tired of looking at saggy and otherwise loose-fitting pants/jeans/shorts etc.

good wine

picnic

quiet, down time

good sleep

pleasant conversation with my father

grow old happy instead of grumpy

hope

birds singing and flowers blooming (and rain ... at night, preferably)

daily meditation practice (getting closer)

that compound of friends in their third phase

an electric car

spa time is always good, ten thousand waves spa time is even better

beautiful clouds and the presence of mind to appreciate them

I get bored with the wishing and wanting ... so these are really just top of the head, and looking around at the world just now.

This one is a panorama, so hopefully it will get bigger if you click it...

Searching for word of the year, finding beauty

Made as large as possible here to give you the best sense of the beauty.

As I waited, characteristically impatiently, at a light the other day, this was the sight out of my window.  When I see clouds like this, I do miss New Mexico.  I recall the long drives to Gallup and the reflection of gorgeous clouds seemingly imprinted onto my car as I peeked out the side and rear view mirrors.

I have always been fascinated by clouds ... the shapes, the way the wind moves and changes them, the way they give in to those inevitable changes with such grace and ease, making something new and beautiful instead of balking at change. 

It seems like flawless beauty, perfection created from air swishing around... with no one controlling or directing or criticizing. 

It feels like the essence of ALLOWING, no boundaries or barriers, no excuses or defenses, no regret and no planning.  It is being in the present moment. 

And appreciating the moment and the next and the next is the goal of the meditation training. Cloud gazing, like wave watching the other, is a pretty beautiful way to meditate.

I have been searching for my word of the year for a bit ... and this one, allowing, is the only one that has felt moderately comfortable and genuine.  It's not flashy.   Maybe there is some other word out there.  I don't know.

In some way, it feels like a continuation of other words.  But it feels bigger than just opening or practicing being vulnerable. It sounds like inviting the world to just to its thing; makes me feel a little like I am willing to give up some control... wouldn't that be amazing?!

Here is the whole photo since I don't think the above will show it all.

Beauty after the storm

Sunday morning at 3am, I woke to thunder and pouring rain.  It had already been raining since early evening.  I worried it would be too wet for my nephew to play soccer or for me to take my run.

I know, I know... we need the rain.

But by morning, the sun was bright and we had these lovely clouds promising more rain at some point.

I decided to take my run on the beach ... and was rewarded with a friendly sea lion, dolphins and a majestic great blue heron.

 

This is where I meditated after my run.