So I was sick, and pregnant, and worried about a deadly disease I thought friendly furry visitors might bring into the house. The house was a mess, and the kitchen especially. In short, I felt cornered, and there is nothing like feeling cornered to make one feel justified. It was more than I could handle, and therefore I needed to make the kids help out - only out of desperation. As I washed a plate, it slipped out of my hands. I was contemplating using force, and the unkind words that go with it, but I wasn't tense and angry. But for some reason, the plate slipping out of my hand reminded me of what I had seen some people do, when they were angry, and something small and frustrating happened. They would throw down the washcloth and fume, like it was somebody else's fault that the plate slipped out of their hands. At least the whole situation wouldn't have happened if they were the only ones affecting it.
The truth is, that I am just not that perfect. Situations come because of the choices I have made. Difficult situations come because I make the choices I make, and often I make them because of what I believe. I have strong values and beliefs, but too often, and embarrassingly, they require me to bite off more than I can chew, and I end up not being able to chew it all, by myself. I am constantly reaching a hand up for help from others, because I, myself, by the choices I made, have put myself in a situation where I need help.
As I thought of the slipping dish, I wondered at the incomprehensible ability of others to get mad over something like that. Then it struck. I was doing the same thing. I was blaming others' lack of help for my unhappiness in a situation. The question wasn't whether I was justified in desperate force, the question was, what would I have done in the situation if they were all 2 years old? I had unhappy choices before me, but fretting about the choices of another human being was not helping. Because we have control over our own choices, and we know (or at least assume) that others' have control over their choices, it somehow stands to reason in our brains, that we should be able to control others' choices. In reality, our control over our choices, would clue us in to the fact that they, and only they can control their choices. But, despite our pride to the contrary, we humans don't live in reality very often. We can highly influence another's actions, but that doesn't change the choices in their heart. Yet we find more justification in anger towards a human that "could" have made another choice, than we do for anger towards a volcano, that "could" have erupted another hundred years earlier or later. If we see circumstances we are thrown into by other human beings, as no more under our anger filled control than circumstances we are thrown into by natural forces, such as volcanoes, we will save ourselves a lot of ill directed anger. Humans are interesting, their choices can be influenced by others more than a volcano's choices can be, but neither's choices can be forced more than the other's.
Realizing that I was just emotionally using flawed logic to justify my anger, I snapped back to reality and realized the situation I was in was what it was, and feeling that others' "should" make different choices was only unwittingly throwing my happiness away. I took stock of my true options, and dealt with it. And despite my logic, was surprised to find myself happy and grateful! If you believe in "should" or "deserve" then you deny yourself a lot of opportunities to be grateful, and consequently a lot of opportunities to be happy. If a person in the Philippines, who just lost everything in a typhoon, and is dying of lack of clean water, felt that they "deserve" clean water, or that they "should" have clean water, they would not enjoy the true grateful happiness they do feel, when someone brings them clean water that they simply would not have otherwise. The frustration left, and I was grateful for what I had, not mad about what others' were not giving me.
And that was the significant part of the story. That moment of change. I got my happiness back.
Later, I went to bed, and the kids got so hungry they decided to play restaurant, cleaned the kitchen, decorated the dining room, cooked lots of food, made menus, and even let me order out to eat, and brought it up to me. But this was nothing compared to the happiness my change of heart had allowed me to once again enjoy, while I was washing dishes. So often we don't "let" ourselves be happy.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Thursday, March 13, 2014
The first one to give in
Sometimes my husband and I get in fights. Every time he starts being nice to me even though I'm still angry and being mean to him. Then my heart is melted and I realize how good he is to be the first one to be nice even though we were angry at each other, and I want to be nice to him. Anger begets anger and love begets love. The trick is to give love when you get anger. The horrible feeling you get when someone is angry at you, especially someone you love, is not from the person. It is from the anger. Do not fight the person you love. Fight the anger. The most effective way of fighting anger is refusing to pass it on, refusing to let it use you as a host too. Return anger with love, and instead of letting the disease spread, it will reverse the spreading and the angry person always catches your contagious love. If you dislike someones anger, make it go away by loving them. Anger is decietfull and tries to trick you into thinking you're fighting it when you stand up for yourself or prove you're right, or something like that, but all you are doing is feeding the anger just what it wants, and you and those you love and your relationships are the casualties of it.
Anyway, every time he does this, I remember that it is him that starts the nice upward spiral, every time. And I promise myself that next time I will start it, because he is so wonderful to start it every time, and how could I have ever been mad at someone so wonderful!
But the next time, in the throws of my anger, I think, "But this time he really was insensitive to have said that!" or some other reason "this time" he is really wrong and I "shouldn't have to" be the one to be nice first because I "have a right to be angry." I also have a right to eat cavier, but I don't, because it isn't enjoyable!
And then he does it again, and I realize how silly I was to care that he hadn't been exactly my idea of perfect, and as I reciprocate his niceness and my anger melts, I once again promise myself that I will be the first one to be nice next time we get in a fight.
I thought perhaps it was unfair to him to always have to be the person who is nice first and reverse the downward spiral, but it isn't unfair because it is a burden for him and a free ride for me. It is unfair because he always gets the joy of being nice first.
Anyway, every time he does this, I remember that it is him that starts the nice upward spiral, every time. And I promise myself that next time I will start it, because he is so wonderful to start it every time, and how could I have ever been mad at someone so wonderful!
But the next time, in the throws of my anger, I think, "But this time he really was insensitive to have said that!" or some other reason "this time" he is really wrong and I "shouldn't have to" be the one to be nice first because I "have a right to be angry." I also have a right to eat cavier, but I don't, because it isn't enjoyable!
And then he does it again, and I realize how silly I was to care that he hadn't been exactly my idea of perfect, and as I reciprocate his niceness and my anger melts, I once again promise myself that I will be the first one to be nice next time we get in a fight.
I thought perhaps it was unfair to him to always have to be the person who is nice first and reverse the downward spiral, but it isn't unfair because it is a burden for him and a free ride for me. It is unfair because he always gets the joy of being nice first.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
War
If you are fighting against it, you are probably part of the reason it exists.
Nothing makes me feel like putting shoes on my children like people walking up and down the sidewalk in front of my house with picket signs telling me how bad I am to let my children go barefoot.
I am sure this is true for other people who disagree about other political, cultural, and even moral practices.
Nothing makes me feel like putting shoes on my children like people walking up and down the sidewalk in front of my house with picket signs telling me how bad I am to let my children go barefoot.
I am sure this is true for other people who disagree about other political, cultural, and even moral practices.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Missionary work
Mormons aren't good people because "You have to be Mormon in order to be a good person."
Mormons are good people because the religion is true and good people are attracted to truth.
Mormons are good people because the religion is true and good people are attracted to truth.
Friday, February 21, 2014
kids the best teachers
So I really really really wanted something. With as many kids as I have, this is not a good idea, unless you like disappointment. But I was going to be like everybody else, (or at least like I imagined they must be), for just this once.
I planned an impeccable approach. It took me days, but I balanced everything just right, and could see it happening. Right when I could almost touch it, despite my planning and extreme measures I had taken against it, my 5 year old decided to be completely uncooperative for no reason.
I had my cards stacked. I knew her and had taken every measure to make sure this would be what she too wanted. That she wouldn't be too tired, bored, thirsty, hungry, fidgety, or neglected! I had planned for everything!
I lost it on her.
I left the room, and as I pouted, I realized that I had thrown something away that I wanted even more.
As I rushed to my child's side, she smiled and it wasn't like she even forgave me as she hugged me with her trusting hands. She had never even felt a negative feeling towards me, despite my unforgivable behavior.
So often we lament that kids don't come with instruction manuals, but we thinking of it all wrong. We are not here to be perfect parents for our kids. If we were, we would, (I would hope), be much better at it than the vast majority of us are. Are kids are here to teach us, not from a book, but a very real lesson in hands on discovery learning. With their unconditional love and instantaneous forgiveness and utter lack of serious grudge holding, their compliance and lack of arrogance, unlike us, they are perfectly suited to be the teachers.
I planned an impeccable approach. It took me days, but I balanced everything just right, and could see it happening. Right when I could almost touch it, despite my planning and extreme measures I had taken against it, my 5 year old decided to be completely uncooperative for no reason.
I had my cards stacked. I knew her and had taken every measure to make sure this would be what she too wanted. That she wouldn't be too tired, bored, thirsty, hungry, fidgety, or neglected! I had planned for everything!
I lost it on her.
I left the room, and as I pouted, I realized that I had thrown something away that I wanted even more.
As I rushed to my child's side, she smiled and it wasn't like she even forgave me as she hugged me with her trusting hands. She had never even felt a negative feeling towards me, despite my unforgivable behavior.
So often we lament that kids don't come with instruction manuals, but we thinking of it all wrong. We are not here to be perfect parents for our kids. If we were, we would, (I would hope), be much better at it than the vast majority of us are. Are kids are here to teach us, not from a book, but a very real lesson in hands on discovery learning. With their unconditional love and instantaneous forgiveness and utter lack of serious grudge holding, their compliance and lack of arrogance, unlike us, they are perfectly suited to be the teachers.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Asking
Recently someone offended me. Too often this statement is true. But this time, I was so in the right, I had a right to be offended. There was no excuse for their behavior. I believe the only honest approach at this point would be to confront them with the incident. It would be unfair to our relationship and deceitful if I just harbored my feelings in my heart and fake smiled at them whenever I saw them, secretly knowing how horrible they had treated me and those I love. But the question is how to approach them.
Calling them on the insult, and letting my feelings gush out, was my first idea of what I would have to do to be completely honest with them, but the opportunity didn't present itself (this would have to be something I did alone in private), until I had another thought.
What if I just swallowed my anger? I could forgive and move on my merry way and be happy even if I didn't Immediately get a chance to confront them. Whether I had a right to be extremely upset or not, I sure didn't want to be unhappy for any length of time!
But what if this offense continued? What if they did it again? What if their evil intentions expounded and it got worse! Then I might regret not enduring my own anger for a whole day until I got a chance to speak to them.
Then I realized that, despite the horror of their trespassing, this was no different than all the other situations I preach about. I was right; I knew that. But however truly right I might be in the eternal laws of the universe, when I applied it to them, all that mattered is what they believed.
So I backed up and tried to make myself look at it objectively. What if, going out on a dead limb, they really didn't know how wrong they were, or worse, truly believed they were right. At this point with people I get sort of gaggy and want to cut off all contact, run away, and live in the middle of nowhere where people like this can't hurt me! I hate it that people tread on me and believe I am so wrong and that they are so right, that I should not be allowed to exist as I am. "Should not be allowed" I have trigger phrases that say, "Warning, this phrase is almost always incompatible with the cause of freedom!" and that is one of the big ones! Then I realized, in my self righteousness, that "should not be allowed" was the very idea of what I felt about what they had done.
So I took my holier than thou tutu off, and said to myself, can I accept and love them even if they believe they are right in this horrible thing? Can I look at this objectively? Can I realize that no matter what happens, I cannot really control the feelings in their heart? Can I "allow" them that freedom? Is there a freedom of thought in a persons' heart that I can't "allow"? If so, does it matter, as what I do or do not want to allow in another persons heart isn't something I can control, so believing that I shouldn't allow it, only affects me. I am the one frustrated by pounding my head against something I can't change. Would I change it if I could? Would God change it if He could? Can He?
So after I'd calmed down a bit, I realized it was MY problem, and chose (with much difficultly) to address it as such. - So you see, I have this problem, this particular way of being thought of, hurts MY feelings. It isn't that you are "wrong", it is that I am sensitive to that particular thing. Is there any way you could help me out by accommodating my oversensitivities?
So far, when approached like that, I have never had anyone refuse me.
Calling them on the insult, and letting my feelings gush out, was my first idea of what I would have to do to be completely honest with them, but the opportunity didn't present itself (this would have to be something I did alone in private), until I had another thought.
What if I just swallowed my anger? I could forgive and move on my merry way and be happy even if I didn't Immediately get a chance to confront them. Whether I had a right to be extremely upset or not, I sure didn't want to be unhappy for any length of time!
But what if this offense continued? What if they did it again? What if their evil intentions expounded and it got worse! Then I might regret not enduring my own anger for a whole day until I got a chance to speak to them.
Then I realized that, despite the horror of their trespassing, this was no different than all the other situations I preach about. I was right; I knew that. But however truly right I might be in the eternal laws of the universe, when I applied it to them, all that mattered is what they believed.
So I backed up and tried to make myself look at it objectively. What if, going out on a dead limb, they really didn't know how wrong they were, or worse, truly believed they were right. At this point with people I get sort of gaggy and want to cut off all contact, run away, and live in the middle of nowhere where people like this can't hurt me! I hate it that people tread on me and believe I am so wrong and that they are so right, that I should not be allowed to exist as I am. "Should not be allowed" I have trigger phrases that say, "Warning, this phrase is almost always incompatible with the cause of freedom!" and that is one of the big ones! Then I realized, in my self righteousness, that "should not be allowed" was the very idea of what I felt about what they had done.
So I took my holier than thou tutu off, and said to myself, can I accept and love them even if they believe they are right in this horrible thing? Can I look at this objectively? Can I realize that no matter what happens, I cannot really control the feelings in their heart? Can I "allow" them that freedom? Is there a freedom of thought in a persons' heart that I can't "allow"? If so, does it matter, as what I do or do not want to allow in another persons heart isn't something I can control, so believing that I shouldn't allow it, only affects me. I am the one frustrated by pounding my head against something I can't change. Would I change it if I could? Would God change it if He could? Can He?
So after I'd calmed down a bit, I realized it was MY problem, and chose (with much difficultly) to address it as such. - So you see, I have this problem, this particular way of being thought of, hurts MY feelings. It isn't that you are "wrong", it is that I am sensitive to that particular thing. Is there any way you could help me out by accommodating my oversensitivities?
So far, when approached like that, I have never had anyone refuse me.
Leadership
If you are the one making the calls, no matter how much they benefit those you lead more than yourself, you are the one who needs to be grateful for any and all compliance. You are a leader because those who follow you choose for you to be so. However beneficial it may be for them to follow you, if it is not out of choice, you are not a leader, but a dictator.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Love
Love is gratitude. To love someone is to be grateful for them.
Gratitude is letting ourselves be happy because of something.
When we are happy, when we allow ourselves to just enjoy and be happy because of someone, we love them.
Gratitude is letting ourselves be happy because of something.
When we are happy, when we allow ourselves to just enjoy and be happy because of someone, we love them.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Fun
If the definition of good is what makes you happy, then why do so many people equate doing what is right with doing what makes you miserable? If the only joy to righteousness is the competitive edge pride gives us in our self-righteous piety, what is the point of being good if we give it up? Without the corrosiveness of superiority, are we left with pure misery? Who would have the self control to endure it, without that added motivation? Who would want it? Is our purpose in life, if we are truly good, to be miserable? Why would we be predisposed to only be happy with what isn't good for us? What animal in nature has an instinctual urge to make itself more miserable? If something makes an animal miserable, it follows it's innate desire for happiness, and turns away from what is causing it misery, seeking out that which it enjoys the most. Like a bear to honey. Humans are no different than any other animal. "Men are that they might have joy." (II Nephi 2:25)
When we stop catering to our drunken pride, we are naturally more happy, as we can then hear and feel the joy that comes from goodness, in it's pure form. That which we fear will disappear with letting go, is there for us the minute the rest of the music isn't so loud. The word faith comes to mind. But perhaps this gentle happiness is not the only source available for us to feast our inborn desire for happiness.
I love exploring how people learn. I find it incredibly interesting to find new ways to make learning fun! But then I catch myself, why am I going out of my way to "make" learning fun? Is not learning fun in and of itself? If I didn't spend hours disguising learning as fun, would children or even people, learn without another form of coercion. And if not, how does our species survive? I find it hard to imagine that the distinguishing trait of our species is passed down from parent to child as this intrinsically unpleasant task that we must all force ourselves to do. And how would this knowledge have started? Does one really need to entertain the idea that maybe at the creation, God also gave first man the desire to pass on the necessity of unpleasant learning? Did God risk having the very act that the survival of the entire species hinges upon, learned, and assume it would perpetuate?
God created the world, with all it's Giraffes and Venus Fly Traps. We are God's children. Creativity is in our genes. When you take the opportunity for creativity, the freedom to make ones own choices, out of education, it looses a whole aspect of enjoyability. So much so, that even when one is able to enjoy the other aspects of learning because external rewards, guilt, and punishments aren't used to facilitate it, sometimes enough fun is lost that learning still isn't pursued.
This is true for other things as well. If you take the opportunity for creativity, the freedom to make ones own choices, out of work, it will lose a whole aspect of enjoyability, and even if the other intrinsically enjoyable parts are not overshadowed by external imposed rewards, sometimes work without creativity is just not fun.
I find it frustrating that all these years when I thought I was "teaching" my kids to work by overdirecting their tasks, I was really teaching them that work was boring. My common approach, that in all fairness to myself seems to be the prevalent approach of our culture (and perhaps many cultures), was to find some part of a task I was doing that didn't require decisions, thought, or skill, and let my kid(s) help me with it.
In the coursera course Video Games and Learning, (my favorite educational class I have ever taken in my life), it talks about how a game is not fun if it is too hard or too easy. This opened up my eyes to how important this is in chidren learning work skills. If it is hard to "get" the kid to set the table, maybe it is boring and they would enjoy cooking the food or even programming a game in order to make money to pay someone else to cook the food, instead. Yes, that means that work is always a learning environment, and by default, rather messy and not always done exactly right, (or even close). But is not parenthood always a learning environment as well, with much the same results? This life is to learn.
And ultimately, if you take the opportunity for creativity and the freedom to make ones own choices, out of being good or righteous, out of doing the right thing, then you take much of ones intrinsic desire to do good, away.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Everything before anything
Well you know how we decided that you needed to the dishes before you do anything well since you were so good at it now we have decided that we need you to do everything before you do anything.
How do I do everything before anything?
-Raised by sprouts
How do I do everything before anything?
-Raised by sprouts
Thursday, January 23, 2014
A Communication Revolution!
To celebrate this time of year, let's start a revolution.
So often we bemoan the govt. and laws.
So often we bemoan the inequality of money.
So often we think that some time in the future when we manage to get rid of all of these oppressing controls, we will be able to experiment with living in peace and happiness with personal communication taking the place of impersonal enforced rules.
But what if we didn't wait?
What if, instead of trying to get rid of a smothering government who takes too much business into their own hands ... What if instead of trying to figure out a way to redistribute money so everybody will have the same amount of voting power the almighty dollar gives us ... What if we instead started living without these things. I do not mean being voluntarist. I do not mean not to acknowledge laws or money ourselves. I do not think a revolution where we all just took what we wanted without paying for it would be kind even if it miraculously managed to be peaceful.
I mean not using the benefits of these things. Not asking for more by depending on them.
I once read a "nice thought for the day", that sickened, shocked and scared me, as only those who have been run out by "the govt." can probably understand. It said something along the lines of
"Make the world a better place.
Today:
Report an incidence of animal cruelty
Report someone misusing the carpool lane
Report someone littering
Report a child that could possibly be abused (so authorities can make sure that they aren't.)
If everybody who read this, did this every day, the world would be a better place!"
This was being sent virally over the internet between friends of mine (strangely childless friends or ones who weren't in that stage of life). It was worded nicer, but I couldn't help but wonder if it had started out as a joke, and then people missed the sarcasm.
But then I realized that people who do these things truly believe they are doing noble and good things to sacrifice their time to improve the lives of others (children and animals).
And I try desperately to get the image from some movie where children were being indoctrinated by Hitler to report their own parents for even being slightly sympathetic to anything not approved by Hitler - out of my head.
Instead, let us start a revolution NOT involving the govt. and NOT involving being ruled by money!!!
Let us start a communication revolution!
Instead of calling the govt. when your neighbor doesn't mow his lawn, or even when he is drunk and nude in his front yard, try cookies.
In some third world countries, when you get in a car wreck, you take cookies over to the house of the people you got in a car wreck with. It is amazing the effect eating cookies will have on the ability of people to come to happy solutions to their problems.
Instead of calling the cops on the people who leave their starving dog tied up all night in the freezing cold, instead of calling the cops on the person who insults you in some illegal way, or the person you suspect of child abuse, GO TALK TO THEM. ESPECIALLY those ones you "know" won't listen. See what you can do to help.
And take cookies.
Instead of charging people money for you to help them or work for them, start doing everything you can for free, and then some. Instead of buying stuff from big stores, tell people about the revolution to get rid of money, and ask them to give you stuff, not because you deserve it, or because they approve of your use of it, but simply because it will make them feel good.
Then go a step further and start asking businesses to give you stuff.
Stop using govt. and stop using money.
So often we bemoan the govt. and laws.
So often we bemoan the inequality of money.
So often we think that some time in the future when we manage to get rid of all of these oppressing controls, we will be able to experiment with living in peace and happiness with personal communication taking the place of impersonal enforced rules.
But what if we didn't wait?
What if, instead of trying to get rid of a smothering government who takes too much business into their own hands ... What if instead of trying to figure out a way to redistribute money so everybody will have the same amount of voting power the almighty dollar gives us ... What if we instead started living without these things. I do not mean being voluntarist. I do not mean not to acknowledge laws or money ourselves. I do not think a revolution where we all just took what we wanted without paying for it would be kind even if it miraculously managed to be peaceful.
I mean not using the benefits of these things. Not asking for more by depending on them.
I once read a "nice thought for the day", that sickened, shocked and scared me, as only those who have been run out by "the govt." can probably understand. It said something along the lines of
"Make the world a better place.
Today:
Report an incidence of animal cruelty
Report someone misusing the carpool lane
Report someone littering
Report a child that could possibly be abused (so authorities can make sure that they aren't.)
If everybody who read this, did this every day, the world would be a better place!"
This was being sent virally over the internet between friends of mine (strangely childless friends or ones who weren't in that stage of life). It was worded nicer, but I couldn't help but wonder if it had started out as a joke, and then people missed the sarcasm.
But then I realized that people who do these things truly believe they are doing noble and good things to sacrifice their time to improve the lives of others (children and animals).
And I try desperately to get the image from some movie where children were being indoctrinated by Hitler to report their own parents for even being slightly sympathetic to anything not approved by Hitler - out of my head.
Instead, let us start a revolution NOT involving the govt. and NOT involving being ruled by money!!!
Let us start a communication revolution!
Instead of calling the govt. when your neighbor doesn't mow his lawn, or even when he is drunk and nude in his front yard, try cookies.
In some third world countries, when you get in a car wreck, you take cookies over to the house of the people you got in a car wreck with. It is amazing the effect eating cookies will have on the ability of people to come to happy solutions to their problems.
Instead of calling the cops on the people who leave their starving dog tied up all night in the freezing cold, instead of calling the cops on the person who insults you in some illegal way, or the person you suspect of child abuse, GO TALK TO THEM. ESPECIALLY those ones you "know" won't listen. See what you can do to help.
And take cookies.
Instead of charging people money for you to help them or work for them, start doing everything you can for free, and then some. Instead of buying stuff from big stores, tell people about the revolution to get rid of money, and ask them to give you stuff, not because you deserve it, or because they approve of your use of it, but simply because it will make them feel good.
Then go a step further and start asking businesses to give you stuff.
Stop using govt. and stop using money.
Human rights
I am glad to see that there are so many people that know that human rights is not what we fought for at one time and is now over and done with, but a very real battle we are fighting right now.
What scares me though, is what gets shot in the crossfire.
What is a human right? No, I don't mean what is a right and what is a luxury. I mean what rights do people themselves want, and what opinions are touted as rights (usually accompanied by an out of context picture of a "poor oppressed person") by people who honestly think they are helping, because they imagine if they were that person, they would want that right. Sometimes our imaginations are more limited to our own experiences than we would like to believe.
I am not talking about not giving a lady the "right" to show her hair if she doesn't want to. Whether this is the most pressing civil right may be questionable, but having the right to choose to cover her hair, instead of being forced to, is actually very much a human right.
What I am talking about is people rallying for a cause that would say it was "giving her the right not to cover her hair" but in reality was forcibly taking away her hair covering. When people (I'm quite sure unintentionally, and only through misunderstanding of culture) take a persons right to choose away and call it giving them the right to do the opposite of what they were doing. We see it all the time in this country with children and education. Having the "right" to something means being able to choose, NOT being forced to do what another thinks is good for you or will make you happy. Can you imagine if we treated the right to religion the same way we treat the right of a child to an education?
I was living for some time in a country where the tradition was for the oldest children in the family to not get married and just work their whole lives in order to put the younger children through school and so the younger children could have lives and get out of the slums. Many people may see this as horrible that the older children are practically slaves their whole lives, and give up having a life. Many other people see this as sweet that a family is so close together that they will sacrifice their whole lives for each other to progress as an extended family (perhaps like wolves). What "many people" think is not important. What is important is what those who CHOOSE to do this, think. Freeing them from it, by throwing away their culture and making decisions for them (because we white Americans are so much better at making decisions than anybody else in the rest of the world), is not fighting for human rights. It is fighting against them. (Obviously, ideally, supplying them with what they would need in order for everybody in the family to get an education if they wanted to and live life unchained by working their whole lives for the family, would be a way to free up their choices without pushing our perhaps selfish culture down their throats. - though perhaps they enjoy having the chance to serve close family - perhaps we are the ones missing out on this "right" if we don't have extended family members who desperately need us to give up our dreams for them.)
Autism is another easy example. Seeing someone with Autism, feeling sorry for them, and deciding that it is a "right" to not have Autism, is a very kind thing to do. It is not a very good way to fight for a persons "rights" though. What if the person with Autism felt the same sympathy for people without Autism. (Oh, ya, I forgot, they couldn't, because what people with Autism feel is unconsequential - they have Autism after all!)
Nothing like putting pictures of people who are unaware of or don't agree with a cause, on billboards to raise sympathetic money in order to do research to test and exterminate those kind of people in utero. (Sadly, many, many kind people unwittingly help society "cure" Autism.)
It's funny, as long as we are fighting for rights for ourselves, we seem to do O.K., even when we are fighting for rights for people we truly know and understand as equals. But when we fight for rights for people that we unwittingly think of as less capable of making decisions as ourselves (people from "developing" - lol - countries, people with "handicaps", and children) we, as a whole, suddenly stop fighting for the rights of freedom for these people, and simply fight for the rights of us being able to be the ones to force them to do what WE think is good for them, instead of somebody else getting to force them to do what they think is good for them. It's doubly sad because it is all out of kindness. Do you really think that everybody that votes for truancy laws hates children and wants to take their free agency away? No, they simply are led to believe that they are "helping" the incapable-of-making-their-own-decisions children who would "gasp" choose something else otherwise!
In some states it is legal to unbuckle your newborn and put them between you and the steering wheel (complete with lethal airbag that will explode if you have even just a fender bender), and nurse them while driving. In some states it is legal to spank your kid as many times as you want as long as it is on their bottom. Would forcibly taking children from homes where parents did these things, be fighting for civil rights? Would it be fighting for freedom? If you don't have a choice is it supporting your rights? If the child would rather stay with their mother and be spanked 10 times a day, is it supporting THEIR rights to force them to do otherwise? Whose rights are we talking about when we say "civil rights"?
The sign language symbol for help is a fist with the thumb sticking up. The other hand is held palm up and open and pushes against the bottom of the fist. Every time I see this, I remember that help is really only help when it is directed by the person being helped.
What scares me though, is what gets shot in the crossfire.
What is a human right? No, I don't mean what is a right and what is a luxury. I mean what rights do people themselves want, and what opinions are touted as rights (usually accompanied by an out of context picture of a "poor oppressed person") by people who honestly think they are helping, because they imagine if they were that person, they would want that right. Sometimes our imaginations are more limited to our own experiences than we would like to believe.
I am not talking about not giving a lady the "right" to show her hair if she doesn't want to. Whether this is the most pressing civil right may be questionable, but having the right to choose to cover her hair, instead of being forced to, is actually very much a human right.
What I am talking about is people rallying for a cause that would say it was "giving her the right not to cover her hair" but in reality was forcibly taking away her hair covering. When people (I'm quite sure unintentionally, and only through misunderstanding of culture) take a persons right to choose away and call it giving them the right to do the opposite of what they were doing. We see it all the time in this country with children and education. Having the "right" to something means being able to choose, NOT being forced to do what another thinks is good for you or will make you happy. Can you imagine if we treated the right to religion the same way we treat the right of a child to an education?
I was living for some time in a country where the tradition was for the oldest children in the family to not get married and just work their whole lives in order to put the younger children through school and so the younger children could have lives and get out of the slums. Many people may see this as horrible that the older children are practically slaves their whole lives, and give up having a life. Many other people see this as sweet that a family is so close together that they will sacrifice their whole lives for each other to progress as an extended family (perhaps like wolves). What "many people" think is not important. What is important is what those who CHOOSE to do this, think. Freeing them from it, by throwing away their culture and making decisions for them (because we white Americans are so much better at making decisions than anybody else in the rest of the world), is not fighting for human rights. It is fighting against them. (Obviously, ideally, supplying them with what they would need in order for everybody in the family to get an education if they wanted to and live life unchained by working their whole lives for the family, would be a way to free up their choices without pushing our perhaps selfish culture down their throats. - though perhaps they enjoy having the chance to serve close family - perhaps we are the ones missing out on this "right" if we don't have extended family members who desperately need us to give up our dreams for them.)
Autism is another easy example. Seeing someone with Autism, feeling sorry for them, and deciding that it is a "right" to not have Autism, is a very kind thing to do. It is not a very good way to fight for a persons "rights" though. What if the person with Autism felt the same sympathy for people without Autism. (Oh, ya, I forgot, they couldn't, because what people with Autism feel is unconsequential - they have Autism after all!)
Nothing like putting pictures of people who are unaware of or don't agree with a cause, on billboards to raise sympathetic money in order to do research to test and exterminate those kind of people in utero. (Sadly, many, many kind people unwittingly help society "cure" Autism.)
It's funny, as long as we are fighting for rights for ourselves, we seem to do O.K., even when we are fighting for rights for people we truly know and understand as equals. But when we fight for rights for people that we unwittingly think of as less capable of making decisions as ourselves (people from "developing" - lol - countries, people with "handicaps", and children) we, as a whole, suddenly stop fighting for the rights of freedom for these people, and simply fight for the rights of us being able to be the ones to force them to do what WE think is good for them, instead of somebody else getting to force them to do what they think is good for them. It's doubly sad because it is all out of kindness. Do you really think that everybody that votes for truancy laws hates children and wants to take their free agency away? No, they simply are led to believe that they are "helping" the incapable-of-making-their-own-decisions children who would "gasp" choose something else otherwise!
In some states it is legal to unbuckle your newborn and put them between you and the steering wheel (complete with lethal airbag that will explode if you have even just a fender bender), and nurse them while driving. In some states it is legal to spank your kid as many times as you want as long as it is on their bottom. Would forcibly taking children from homes where parents did these things, be fighting for civil rights? Would it be fighting for freedom? If you don't have a choice is it supporting your rights? If the child would rather stay with their mother and be spanked 10 times a day, is it supporting THEIR rights to force them to do otherwise? Whose rights are we talking about when we say "civil rights"?
The sign language symbol for help is a fist with the thumb sticking up. The other hand is held palm up and open and pushes against the bottom of the fist. Every time I see this, I remember that help is really only help when it is directed by the person being helped.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Pride
If an unknown relative were to die and leave each of your siblings $50 and you $50,000 would you somehow feel that you were better than your siblings? Would this feeling of superiority extend to the point of a subtle frustration at your siblings for not being "as good as you" and having $50,000?
Why then, is it so tempting to think that if I have more money than someone else, that I am somehow better than them; that somehow I deserve more freedom than them.
Why is it tempting if I have more knowledge than another person, to think that I am more important than they are. Sometimes I even want others to be ignorant, because my superior knowledge would not give me appropriate frustration at their herd mentality if they were all as intelligent as I am.
Why is it so tempting to think that because I have a greater desire to be "righteous" that I am better than another?
Why, if I have more ambition, more determination, more self control, more self motivation, a stronger work ethic, more compassion, or am more responsible, do I think that I am somehow more deserving of love than another?
And even if we do not show hatred or contempt towards others who do not have what we are fortunate to have, sickeningly sweet benevolence is often shown. And seldom is this recognized by the giver as wrong. Is it not angelic of us to lower ourselves to help out the more misfortunate? Do we really need to lower ourselves to help out? Are we, in anything but our own delusions, really higher than another in any way? Is our supposed superiority so incredibly painful as to render it unpalatable unless we garnish it with pride? If something is really superior, would it not be truly more enjoyable, would it not intrinsically make us happier, without the need to boost our mirage of joy with feelings of pride?
"The central feature of pride is enmity—enmity toward God and enmity toward our fellowmen. Enmity means 'hatred toward, hostility to, or a state of opposition.'" - Ezra Taft Benson
Terry Warner talks about how sometimes we want someone to react harshly to us because we so want to think of ourselves in our own minds as good. If we do or say something to someone that we are uncomfortable justifying to ourselves, and they react harshly to it, then we can grasp onto that and redeem our façade of perfection to ourselves. So by being scared to realize our mistakes and love ourselves and be nonjudgmental of ourselves and willing to realize that we can change - when we are scared to break our masquerade of perfection, we often WANT others to react harshly to us so we can add that justification to hold up our pretense. (Which by necessity must be very strong, as we must somehow fool ourselves.)
Can we not enjoy our knowledge, persistence, determination, morals, righteousness, health, intelligence, and wealth, because they, in and of themselves, are enjoyable? The tenseness of comparison, the strife of deserving something, is so potent, that it often masks the intrinsic enjoyment of something to the point that we really don't experience happiness through it, just the feeling of being right. Gratitude, however, can have the opposite effect on our ability to enjoy our gifts. It doesn't detract from our intrinsic enjoyment, rather it enhances and magnifies how enjoyable our gifts really are.
Why then, is it so tempting to think that if I have more money than someone else, that I am somehow better than them; that somehow I deserve more freedom than them.
Why is it tempting if I have more knowledge than another person, to think that I am more important than they are. Sometimes I even want others to be ignorant, because my superior knowledge would not give me appropriate frustration at their herd mentality if they were all as intelligent as I am.
Why is it so tempting to think that because I have a greater desire to be "righteous" that I am better than another?
Why, if I have more ambition, more determination, more self control, more self motivation, a stronger work ethic, more compassion, or am more responsible, do I think that I am somehow more deserving of love than another?
And even if we do not show hatred or contempt towards others who do not have what we are fortunate to have, sickeningly sweet benevolence is often shown. And seldom is this recognized by the giver as wrong. Is it not angelic of us to lower ourselves to help out the more misfortunate? Do we really need to lower ourselves to help out? Are we, in anything but our own delusions, really higher than another in any way? Is our supposed superiority so incredibly painful as to render it unpalatable unless we garnish it with pride? If something is really superior, would it not be truly more enjoyable, would it not intrinsically make us happier, without the need to boost our mirage of joy with feelings of pride?
"The central feature of pride is enmity—enmity toward God and enmity toward our fellowmen. Enmity means 'hatred toward, hostility to, or a state of opposition.'" - Ezra Taft Benson
Terry Warner talks about how sometimes we want someone to react harshly to us because we so want to think of ourselves in our own minds as good. If we do or say something to someone that we are uncomfortable justifying to ourselves, and they react harshly to it, then we can grasp onto that and redeem our façade of perfection to ourselves. So by being scared to realize our mistakes and love ourselves and be nonjudgmental of ourselves and willing to realize that we can change - when we are scared to break our masquerade of perfection, we often WANT others to react harshly to us so we can add that justification to hold up our pretense. (Which by necessity must be very strong, as we must somehow fool ourselves.)
Sometimes when we have worked hard, and used our abilities to their fullest, our health or our superior intelligence, and our superior effort to be healthy or intelligent, then we feel we deserve to think of ourselves as better than others. But the very determination and sound reasoning that we use to push ourselves to our potential, is a gift.
"Perhaps thou shalt asay: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just—
are we not all abeggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?
And behold, even at this time, ye have been calling on his name, and begging for a aremission of your sins.
And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to aimpart of the substance that ye have one to another.
And if ye ajudge the man who putteth up his petition to you for your substance that he perish not, and condemn him, how much more just will be your bcondemnation for withholding your substance, which doth not belong to you but to God, to whom also your life cbelongeth"
"I am a a son of God, in the similitude of his Only Begotten;
Can we not enjoy our knowledge, persistence, determination, morals, righteousness, health, intelligence, and wealth, because they, in and of themselves, are enjoyable? The tenseness of comparison, the strife of deserving something, is so potent, that it often masks the intrinsic enjoyment of something to the point that we really don't experience happiness through it, just the feeling of being right. Gratitude, however, can have the opposite effect on our ability to enjoy our gifts. It doesn't detract from our intrinsic enjoyment, rather it enhances and magnifies how enjoyable our gifts really are.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Reality
I know you are knowledgable,
But can you break open the sky with your facts?
Can you make reality waver,
As a million feelings of love consume the room?
I know you have immaculate research,
And your lit corridors are impeccably sterile,
But can you create peace out of the fabric of belief?
Can you liberate the being you stifle in your soul
That is more powerful than the world?
I know you can see the future,
and know the stars' probability of error,
But do you know their souls?
Can your soul look into my eyes
And know who I am?
But can you break open the sky with your facts?
Can you make reality waver,
As a million feelings of love consume the room?
I know you have immaculate research,
And your lit corridors are impeccably sterile,
But can you create peace out of the fabric of belief?
Can you liberate the being you stifle in your soul
That is more powerful than the world?
I know you can see the future,
and know the stars' probability of error,
But do you know their souls?
Can your soul look into my eyes
And know who I am?
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Lemon Pulp
When we first moved here, I went to warm the oven up, and lo and behold the inside was covered with probably 6 inches of bubbled up what looked and smelled to be like burnt sugar. I of course, had already turned it on, because I always look before I turn an oven on, except for when I am in a brand new location.
Luckily, in all the boxes, I found a bag of lemons. I don't know why my mom had sent me a bag of lemons right when I was moving, but luckily they got in with all the lost stuff I put in the car last minute. (Lots of stuff must have been lost, as the car got pretty full - in a full size van, nobody could put their feet down and most people had something on their lap.)
So I took a lemon and cut it in half (I don't remember where I found a knife in a house full of boxes.) and squeezed it all over the oven. I think I must have poured some water on it then too. Then I went to the neighbors house and begged off a scrubby. (My husband was gone with the car somewhere and we didn't have a phone hooked up yet, just how I like it, disconnected from the rest of the world!)
By the time I got back, the oven had barely cooled off enough to touch the hot water mess inside of it. I took that scrubby, and I don't know if it was the heat or the lemon or what, but that oven came cleaner faster than any oven I have ever tried to wash. I was addicted to cleaning with lemons.
So easily did lemons clean kitchen stuff, that I decided to expand their territory. My hair is thick and fine. That is, there is LOTS of it and each strand is very very skinny. It is what I like to call, naturally snarly. I can brush it all out, and lift the brush to the top of my head, and not be able to pull it all the way through my hair because it will have developed another snarl already.
I used to Have to shampoo and condition it every time I showered. Then I read about "no poo". After 2 weeks of really really gross hair, my hair stopped being "stick out straight out to the side of my head" frizzy, and I was addicted. I still used my favorite conditioner a couple of times a year. I do live with babies...
So I was out of my favorite conditioner. (They actually stopped making it :( ) And we were getting ready for church. I had already told my toddler to "just hop in the toilet really fast and wash off" and corrected my unreliable brain too late! So I had decided that this was one of the days in my life I was going to wash my hair.
Like I said, I was enamoured with lemons ability to wash things. And they couldn't be as bad for hair as shampoo, right?
Now, most people that I tell this story too, at this point start laughing. They then proceed to tell me of the lightening effect lemons have on the color of hair. The color of my hair was not the main problem with my results.
About halfway through the main meeting, while balancing three squirming kids on my lap, as I flicked a strand of hair out of my face, I noticed something. I pulled a larger clump of my hair in front of my face to see it better, then used the screaming baby as an excuse to make a hasty retreat to the bathroom. There I could see what I had done to my hair in all it's glory!
Every single strand of my unruly hair had little tiny bits of lemon pulp tangled into it; millions and millions of tiny bits of Lemon pulp!
You see, in my excitement of being "all natural", I had simply cut open a lemon and rubbed it into my hair. Maybe there is a reason normal "earth killers" (and I am one most of the time, when I don't have brilliant ideas!) use stuff in plastic bottles. Even bottled lemon juice would have been better, or a rag to wrap around the lemon and squeeze it through. For some reason I thought that the lemon itself touching my hair would magically make it beautiful!
After a good 15 min. of trying to pick "the most noticeable" bits of pulp out of my hair, with absolutely no improvement, I admitted defeat. Did I mention I had THICK fine hair? I realized that this was going to be a couple of hours long project at best. My choices were now, go home and miss church. Church is 3 hours long, but there was no way I was going to be presentable before it ended. Or stay at church with the lemon pulp in my hair, put on my stage presence, look people in the eye, and dare them to notice what I was oblivious to! This is actually easier than it sounds, for me, as I forget things almost instantly. If I wasn't looking in a mirror, I wouldn't actively know I had lemon pulp, lots of lemon pulp, all throughout my hair. The thing is, it didn't look like lemon pulp, it looked like a really really really really really bad case of lice!!!!!
I don't go to church for the other people there, so I'll let you guess what I did.
On a more practical note, I decided lemon, even without the pulp, wasn't the best thing for my hair. It does however clean everything else really well. I tried it with laundry, and it needs something else - oatmeal works well with laundry too. But my favorite natural cleaner that actually works - not one that I pretend works for a couple of months until it is all too obvious it doesn't quite really work... My favorite out of all the natural cleaners that I have tried over the years, is soap nuts. To really get the laundry clean, I put in some orange or lemon peal. (Unlike with hair, a whole lemon slice, pulp and all works wonderfully well.) For some reason grapefruit doesn't work well at all. I wonder if crab apples would (maybe mushed up?) as they make good pectin (the stuff that makes jelly gel) as well as the citrus fruits.
For the dishes, I take an old sock and put a couple of soap nuts in it and some lemon peal or slice, or a cucumber slice, twist the sock closed, then turn the left over top part inside out over it. This makes it easy to open and close, but it doesn't open when I'm using it. I then use it as a rag or sponge to wash dishes with. The lemon or cucumber helps cut the grease better than just soap nuts. The best thing about washing dishes with it is that you don't get yucky chemicals and an even yuckier taste if the dishes aren't rinsed off enough. With some chemical soap, especially the "beautifully scented" kind, it seems almost impossible to rinse the dishes enough to get that extra taste off!
I like using cucumber, because as green as I like to think a lemon is, it isn't local and the toll it's travel takes on the environment is real!
But my favorite thing to use on my hair now, is soap nuts. I still only wash it a couple of times a year, but I could probably do more with soap nuts without damage. It is SO soft and not traumatized when I get done washing it. Nothing else comes close to actually washing it without traumatizing it! I guess I have sensitive hair.
I keep on thinking I'll actually take the time to soak or boil some soap nuts to make shampoo or hand soap with, but that's not my reality. I just use the above mentioned sock method that I use for dishes (without the lemon, for some reason :) It works best if I let it soak in the tub with me and the baby first. Unlike normal soap, this doesn't kill my skin and burn me. Then I just ring it out on, and rub it into my hair. So Soft! (and a good way to get throw up and "other" niceties indigenous to parenthood, out of your no poo hair.)
Luckily, in all the boxes, I found a bag of lemons. I don't know why my mom had sent me a bag of lemons right when I was moving, but luckily they got in with all the lost stuff I put in the car last minute. (Lots of stuff must have been lost, as the car got pretty full - in a full size van, nobody could put their feet down and most people had something on their lap.)
So I took a lemon and cut it in half (I don't remember where I found a knife in a house full of boxes.) and squeezed it all over the oven. I think I must have poured some water on it then too. Then I went to the neighbors house and begged off a scrubby. (My husband was gone with the car somewhere and we didn't have a phone hooked up yet, just how I like it, disconnected from the rest of the world!)
By the time I got back, the oven had barely cooled off enough to touch the hot water mess inside of it. I took that scrubby, and I don't know if it was the heat or the lemon or what, but that oven came cleaner faster than any oven I have ever tried to wash. I was addicted to cleaning with lemons.
So easily did lemons clean kitchen stuff, that I decided to expand their territory. My hair is thick and fine. That is, there is LOTS of it and each strand is very very skinny. It is what I like to call, naturally snarly. I can brush it all out, and lift the brush to the top of my head, and not be able to pull it all the way through my hair because it will have developed another snarl already.
I used to Have to shampoo and condition it every time I showered. Then I read about "no poo". After 2 weeks of really really gross hair, my hair stopped being "stick out straight out to the side of my head" frizzy, and I was addicted. I still used my favorite conditioner a couple of times a year. I do live with babies...
So I was out of my favorite conditioner. (They actually stopped making it :( ) And we were getting ready for church. I had already told my toddler to "just hop in the toilet really fast and wash off" and corrected my unreliable brain too late! So I had decided that this was one of the days in my life I was going to wash my hair.
Like I said, I was enamoured with lemons ability to wash things. And they couldn't be as bad for hair as shampoo, right?
Now, most people that I tell this story too, at this point start laughing. They then proceed to tell me of the lightening effect lemons have on the color of hair. The color of my hair was not the main problem with my results.
About halfway through the main meeting, while balancing three squirming kids on my lap, as I flicked a strand of hair out of my face, I noticed something. I pulled a larger clump of my hair in front of my face to see it better, then used the screaming baby as an excuse to make a hasty retreat to the bathroom. There I could see what I had done to my hair in all it's glory!
Every single strand of my unruly hair had little tiny bits of lemon pulp tangled into it; millions and millions of tiny bits of Lemon pulp!
You see, in my excitement of being "all natural", I had simply cut open a lemon and rubbed it into my hair. Maybe there is a reason normal "earth killers" (and I am one most of the time, when I don't have brilliant ideas!) use stuff in plastic bottles. Even bottled lemon juice would have been better, or a rag to wrap around the lemon and squeeze it through. For some reason I thought that the lemon itself touching my hair would magically make it beautiful!
After a good 15 min. of trying to pick "the most noticeable" bits of pulp out of my hair, with absolutely no improvement, I admitted defeat. Did I mention I had THICK fine hair? I realized that this was going to be a couple of hours long project at best. My choices were now, go home and miss church. Church is 3 hours long, but there was no way I was going to be presentable before it ended. Or stay at church with the lemon pulp in my hair, put on my stage presence, look people in the eye, and dare them to notice what I was oblivious to! This is actually easier than it sounds, for me, as I forget things almost instantly. If I wasn't looking in a mirror, I wouldn't actively know I had lemon pulp, lots of lemon pulp, all throughout my hair. The thing is, it didn't look like lemon pulp, it looked like a really really really really really bad case of lice!!!!!
I don't go to church for the other people there, so I'll let you guess what I did.
On a more practical note, I decided lemon, even without the pulp, wasn't the best thing for my hair. It does however clean everything else really well. I tried it with laundry, and it needs something else - oatmeal works well with laundry too. But my favorite natural cleaner that actually works - not one that I pretend works for a couple of months until it is all too obvious it doesn't quite really work... My favorite out of all the natural cleaners that I have tried over the years, is soap nuts. To really get the laundry clean, I put in some orange or lemon peal. (Unlike with hair, a whole lemon slice, pulp and all works wonderfully well.) For some reason grapefruit doesn't work well at all. I wonder if crab apples would (maybe mushed up?) as they make good pectin (the stuff that makes jelly gel) as well as the citrus fruits.
For the dishes, I take an old sock and put a couple of soap nuts in it and some lemon peal or slice, or a cucumber slice, twist the sock closed, then turn the left over top part inside out over it. This makes it easy to open and close, but it doesn't open when I'm using it. I then use it as a rag or sponge to wash dishes with. The lemon or cucumber helps cut the grease better than just soap nuts. The best thing about washing dishes with it is that you don't get yucky chemicals and an even yuckier taste if the dishes aren't rinsed off enough. With some chemical soap, especially the "beautifully scented" kind, it seems almost impossible to rinse the dishes enough to get that extra taste off!
I like using cucumber, because as green as I like to think a lemon is, it isn't local and the toll it's travel takes on the environment is real!
But my favorite thing to use on my hair now, is soap nuts. I still only wash it a couple of times a year, but I could probably do more with soap nuts without damage. It is SO soft and not traumatized when I get done washing it. Nothing else comes close to actually washing it without traumatizing it! I guess I have sensitive hair.
I keep on thinking I'll actually take the time to soak or boil some soap nuts to make shampoo or hand soap with, but that's not my reality. I just use the above mentioned sock method that I use for dishes (without the lemon, for some reason :) It works best if I let it soak in the tub with me and the baby first. Unlike normal soap, this doesn't kill my skin and burn me. Then I just ring it out on, and rub it into my hair. So Soft! (and a good way to get throw up and "other" niceties indigenous to parenthood, out of your no poo hair.)
This is the cheapest I have found them! It is pieces instead of whole ones, which, if there is a difference, these would be better, as the soap comes off in water, and this gives more surface area. It came in a cardboard box with 2 plastic bags as shown full of soap nuts, and that one little book. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of additional packaging. Well over a year later, we still haven't depleted our supply, and we are a LARGE family that uses them for pretty much all cleaning. Think of all those plastic bottles!
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Pistachios
The kids love pistachios. We get them without the shells on sometimes, but the kids like them better with the shells. They are right. It is really more fun to pull the shell apart, eat the pistachio, and then suck on the salty shell.
This leads to pistachio shells showing up on the floor or in the couch cushions and other places where you least expect them. And... in the toddler's mouth.
I took the one year old and broke a pistachio open. The nut clung to one of the two shell halfs. I held out both in my hand. He took first the one without the seed, stuck it in his mouth, and played with it. Then he took the half with the seed, stuck it in his mouth, and a look of pleasant surprise filled his eyes. He tried to maneuver the shell around and chew the seed, and ended up with a little of both. Then he spit the shell covered with pistachio pulp filled saliva, out.
I then separated both sides of the shell and the seed, holding all 3 out in my hand. He immediately took the seed, leaving the shells.
Then I again separated just the shell in two, leaving the seed clinging to one shell. He took his little fingers, perfect for the task, dug the seed out, ate it, and to my surprise, threw the shell in the garbage!
Then I gave him a whole pistachio, shell and all. He gave it back to me, begging me to open it for him.
I no longer worry about him choking on a random pistachio shell he finds and puts in his mouth. When he finds a pistachio shell, he brings it to me begging, wanting me to somehow magically put a seed into it. And when we have a fresh stock of pistachios, I can.
This leads to pistachio shells showing up on the floor or in the couch cushions and other places where you least expect them. And... in the toddler's mouth.
I took the one year old and broke a pistachio open. The nut clung to one of the two shell halfs. I held out both in my hand. He took first the one without the seed, stuck it in his mouth, and played with it. Then he took the half with the seed, stuck it in his mouth, and a look of pleasant surprise filled his eyes. He tried to maneuver the shell around and chew the seed, and ended up with a little of both. Then he spit the shell covered with pistachio pulp filled saliva, out.
I then separated both sides of the shell and the seed, holding all 3 out in my hand. He immediately took the seed, leaving the shells.
Then I again separated just the shell in two, leaving the seed clinging to one shell. He took his little fingers, perfect for the task, dug the seed out, ate it, and to my surprise, threw the shell in the garbage!
Then I gave him a whole pistachio, shell and all. He gave it back to me, begging me to open it for him.
I no longer worry about him choking on a random pistachio shell he finds and puts in his mouth. When he finds a pistachio shell, he brings it to me begging, wanting me to somehow magically put a seed into it. And when we have a fresh stock of pistachios, I can.
Free your kids
There is a wonderful page on facebook called Free Your Kids https://www.facebook.com/freeyourkids
This is only one of this father's wonderfully written thoughts!
"What if I admitted to you that it's scary? What if I told you that many days I get tired of being different? What if I confided in you that poking the tiger often leaves me feeling unbalanced and out-of-sorts? What if I told you that, sometimes, I want to shovel the dirt back into the rabbit hole?
What if I told you that critically examining every piece of information I'm presented with leaves me... drained? What if I told you that I sometimes wish to lower my head and rejoin the safety of the flock? What if I told you that re-examining and critiquing every custom and belief I had instilled in me as a child leaves me feeling insecure and frightened?
What if I told you I must find the truth no matter where it lies? What if I told you that I can't turn it off, that I can't disengage, that I can't simply decide to become "normal" again? What if I told you that, for me, knowing the truth and living my ideals trumps any temporary desire to soothe my soul with platitudes?
What if I told you that living freely doesn't come easy? What if I told you that questioning everything scares the hell out of me? What if I told you my biggest fear was losing everything I had because I failed to conform? What if I told you that following this path is lonely and confusing?
But what if I told you I can't stop? And furthermore, what if I told you I couldn't stop even if I knew for certain that every one of my fears would come to pass? What if I told you that, no matter what, I can't and won't put the genie back in the bottle?"
What if I told you that critically examining every piece of information I'm presented with leaves me... drained? What if I told you that I sometimes wish to lower my head and rejoin the safety of the flock? What if I told you that re-examining and critiquing every custom and belief I had instilled in me as a child leaves me feeling insecure and frightened?
What if I told you I must find the truth no matter where it lies? What if I told you that I can't turn it off, that I can't disengage, that I can't simply decide to become "normal" again? What if I told you that, for me, knowing the truth and living my ideals trumps any temporary desire to soothe my soul with platitudes?
What if I told you that living freely doesn't come easy? What if I told you that questioning everything scares the hell out of me? What if I told you my biggest fear was losing everything I had because I failed to conform? What if I told you that following this path is lonely and confusing?
But what if I told you I can't stop? And furthermore, what if I told you I couldn't stop even if I knew for certain that every one of my fears would come to pass? What if I told you that, no matter what, I can't and won't put the genie back in the bottle?"
Learning to Pray
I learned to pray as I learned to talk.
I did not learn to pray because "if I prayed God would give me blessings."
I did not learn to pray because "good people pray."
I did not learn to pray because I hurt God's feelings when I didn't pray.
I didn't even learn to pray because I would hurt my parents' feelings if I didn't pray!
I learned to pray because I love God.
I learned to pray because I know He loves me.
I learned to pray because I know I can tell Him anything and everything and He will still love me.
I learned to pray because I know these things. Every single morning of my life, if I cared to get up that early, I could peek into my parents' room at 4:00 am and see my mother kneeling up against her too soft chair, audibly pouring out her soul to God.
I know she loves Him.
I know she knows He loves her.
I know she knows she can tell Him anything and everything and He will still love her.
I did not learn to pray because "if I prayed God would give me blessings."
I did not learn to pray because "good people pray."
I did not learn to pray because I hurt God's feelings when I didn't pray.
I didn't even learn to pray because I would hurt my parents' feelings if I didn't pray!
I learned to pray because I love God.
I learned to pray because I know He loves me.
I learned to pray because I know I can tell Him anything and everything and He will still love me.
I learned to pray because I know these things. Every single morning of my life, if I cared to get up that early, I could peek into my parents' room at 4:00 am and see my mother kneeling up against her too soft chair, audibly pouring out her soul to God.
I know she loves Him.
I know she knows He loves her.
I know she knows she can tell Him anything and everything and He will still love her.
Monday, January 13, 2014
judging
When you judge yourself harshly,
you also judge me harshly.
"Judge not, that ye be notb judged.
Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.
So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he could just stare, helpless. "
you also judge me harshly.
"Judge not, that ye be not
For with what a judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what b measure ye mete, it shall be c measured to you again."
You are loved no matter who you are. No matter how good or bad, righteous or wicked, stinky or "desireable". If you are the worst person you have ever known, YOU ARE LOVED!
Know this, and love yourself as well, for when you do not love yourself, you prevent yourself from loving others. Love not only yourself for who you are, but for who you might be if you slipped and messed up. Do not go around thinking your lovability is somehow even remotely connected to your thoughts and actions. Your happiness and joy, perhaps, but NOT your lovability. You are lovable no matter what. Love yourself no matter what.
"Hook was not his true name.
but as those who read between the lines must have already have guessed, he had been at a famous public school; and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with which indeed they are largely concerned.
But above all he retained the passion for good form.
Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knew that this is all that really matters.
Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not bad form to think about good form?"
My favorite quote in James M. Barrie's Peter Pan
My other favorite quote:
"He gave the pirate a hand to help him up.
It was then that Hook bit him.Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.
So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he could just stare, helpless. "
My theory
proved incorrect.
The diaper doesn't look any more enjoyable to rinse out this morning
than it did last night.
The diaper doesn't look any more enjoyable to rinse out this morning
than it did last night.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Laundry at Night
When it is warm enough, I have to get the laundry in by dark, or it gets covered with bugs. Ants seem to think that the lines are their personal highways anyway, I just don't like the nocturnal bugs in my clothes, and especially not in my baby's diapers!
Unfortunantly right when I need to get the laundry in before dark in the summers, is also right when the kids get cranky, tired, and hungry, and also right when my husband thinks the world suddenly needs to revolve around him. He's fine the rest of the day, but just once a day can't I drop everything at a moments notice and pay attention to him? It's hard to drop anything at a moments notice when you are living off the land. Everything is a web of things that other things depend upon.
Hathor the Cowgoddess calls this the bewitching hour.
Once it freezes, though, sometimes it is too cold to take the kids outside with me, and I enjoy the best time to hang up laundry being in the middle of the night.
The death in the air stings my throat and shrinks my nostrils. Sometimes it's too cold to breathe. Tingling points of ice touch cover my exposed skin. Clouds trail in fast motion as the wind whips through the night. The silence and peace and utter lack of humans refreshes me. No nagging. No tugging. No neighbors looking over concerned. No judging. Just peaceful night surrounding and loving me. I am invisible in the dark. I dare take the luxury of looking up at the stars. This is my time. I have no deadline to perform. All I give in exchange is my scant sleep. And stars are better than sleep. I let the sky engulf me, happy in its unconcered beauty. It is not a slave of small human concerns, what one person said, or what is or isn't on sale. It does not care what deadlines were met or what car did or didn't start. And when I become part of it, neither do I.
It takes effort to hold the cloth on the line in the whipping wind, while I get the clothespin to stick. But this is effort without interruption. I can let my methodical self take over. In the dark cold of the night, others' happiness doesn't depend on me being overly flexible, and I can be as rigid as the cold that permeates through my clothes.
Civilization, common sense, and life itself, beckon for me to return to the warmth inside. But I am free! Free of concern about everything else, and I inhale the black coldness.
Each item I hang, will dry quickly in this wind, and I think of the luxury of having several clean diapers for my baby. The luxury of his screams not ripping my soul as I scrounge for something to put on him, before he soaks me while he nurses back to sleep. If only I could always enjoy creating happiness in life, while remaining separate from it, as I do now.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Gummy men
This is a story I have heard several versions of, I just can't find it...
So here is my retelling, and if anybody knows where I can find it or what it is called, please tell me!
Once upon a time there was a beautiful peaceful city called The City of Gummy Bears. This was because that is who lived there. Eventually, their peaceful existence was bound to come to an end, as their whereabouts was discovered, and people wanted to come and have all the wonderful things that they as Gummy Bears owned.
A Gummy Scout came running in to tell the Gummy Queen about a ferocious army from the North, riding on Polar Bears and leaping up and down ice mountains in it's unrelentless trek straight for the Gummy Palace. Before he had left, a Gummy Scout from the west came to report on an army astride giant Rattle Snakes, slithering through the dunes formed by the desert sands, determined to conquer the Land of the Gummies! And before the exhausted scout could catch his breath, another Gummy Scout, this one from the East, came to report that not many days journey away, a giant army that he couldn't see the end of, of practically cities on top of Giant Elephants, was steadily marching towards The City of Gummy Bears. And then the last Gummy Scout staggered in from the south to tell of an even bigger army full of trained cats, Lions, Tigers, and Jaguars!
So the Queen of the Gummy Bears called in her 4 Gummy Generals, the bravest and Strongest of all the Gummy Bears, and she sent one Gummy General in each direction, to ward off these ferocious armies.
So the first Gummy General took off north to defeat those Polar Bears, but his Gummy men got lost in the snow, (though they ate quite a bit of it, delicious!)
The second General took of West to assault the Rattle Snakes, but his Gummy men got buried in the sand (and it took them weeks to dig themselves out).
The third General went East to stem the tide of Elephants, but got lost in the tall grass, (and some even had to be pulled out of a mud puddle).
Now the forth General was by far braver and stronger than all the other General's put together, so he took his Gummy men swinging through the trees, but so thick was the foliage, that he passed within inches of the Cat army, (and even between some of their paws), without even knowing it.
So, despite the Gummy armies best efforts, the 4 armies from the 4 corners of the world marched (and slithered, and leaped, and slunk on padded feet) on.
The Gummy queen had ordered everybody underground in the beautiful and giant cave under the castle, where glowing crystal made it look like a fairy land. So when the 4 armies arrived there was no one in site.
The Polar Bears, the Rattle Snakes, the Giant Elephants, and the Army of Cats, all happened to arrive at the City of Gummy Bears, at exactly the same moment. Looking across the deserted land, the Polar Bears suddenly started to shiver, although they never got cold. They didn't know the Gummy Bears had an army of Snakes, Giant Elephants, and assorted Cats!
Opposite them, the Army of Cats started to kneed the ground in nervousness, there were 3 giant armies of Polar Bears, Snakes, and worst of all Giant Elephants!
The snakes didn't have to look long to discover they were outnumbered, and not just by any army, by three huge armies consisting of Bears and Elephants and an incredibly large number of different kinds and sizes of Cats (some of them like the Bengal Tiger were quite huge!)
And, although Huge and seemingly numberless, and undeterrable by any army, the army of Giant Elephants wasn't undeterrable by THREE different armies, at least these are the thoughts that went through their chieftains heads as they looked at the 3 formidable armies consisting of Rattle Snakes, Polar Bears, and Cats they could see outnumbered only by the cats slinking in the shadows, that they couldn't see!
All at once, all 4 armies simultaneously called a hasty retreat! And such were the legends told in each corner of the world about the armies of the Gummy Bears, that never again was anybody brave (or foolish) enough to try to conquer them again.
And along about Spring time, the Victorious Gummy Armies, headed by the 4 Brave Generals, returned back home, and there was a huge victory party thrown for them.
So here is my retelling, and if anybody knows where I can find it or what it is called, please tell me!
Once upon a time there was a beautiful peaceful city called The City of Gummy Bears. This was because that is who lived there. Eventually, their peaceful existence was bound to come to an end, as their whereabouts was discovered, and people wanted to come and have all the wonderful things that they as Gummy Bears owned.
A Gummy Scout came running in to tell the Gummy Queen about a ferocious army from the North, riding on Polar Bears and leaping up and down ice mountains in it's unrelentless trek straight for the Gummy Palace. Before he had left, a Gummy Scout from the west came to report on an army astride giant Rattle Snakes, slithering through the dunes formed by the desert sands, determined to conquer the Land of the Gummies! And before the exhausted scout could catch his breath, another Gummy Scout, this one from the East, came to report that not many days journey away, a giant army that he couldn't see the end of, of practically cities on top of Giant Elephants, was steadily marching towards The City of Gummy Bears. And then the last Gummy Scout staggered in from the south to tell of an even bigger army full of trained cats, Lions, Tigers, and Jaguars!
So the Queen of the Gummy Bears called in her 4 Gummy Generals, the bravest and Strongest of all the Gummy Bears, and she sent one Gummy General in each direction, to ward off these ferocious armies.
So the first Gummy General took off north to defeat those Polar Bears, but his Gummy men got lost in the snow, (though they ate quite a bit of it, delicious!)
The second General took of West to assault the Rattle Snakes, but his Gummy men got buried in the sand (and it took them weeks to dig themselves out).
The third General went East to stem the tide of Elephants, but got lost in the tall grass, (and some even had to be pulled out of a mud puddle).
Now the forth General was by far braver and stronger than all the other General's put together, so he took his Gummy men swinging through the trees, but so thick was the foliage, that he passed within inches of the Cat army, (and even between some of their paws), without even knowing it.
So, despite the Gummy armies best efforts, the 4 armies from the 4 corners of the world marched (and slithered, and leaped, and slunk on padded feet) on.
The Gummy queen had ordered everybody underground in the beautiful and giant cave under the castle, where glowing crystal made it look like a fairy land. So when the 4 armies arrived there was no one in site.
The Polar Bears, the Rattle Snakes, the Giant Elephants, and the Army of Cats, all happened to arrive at the City of Gummy Bears, at exactly the same moment. Looking across the deserted land, the Polar Bears suddenly started to shiver, although they never got cold. They didn't know the Gummy Bears had an army of Snakes, Giant Elephants, and assorted Cats!
Opposite them, the Army of Cats started to kneed the ground in nervousness, there were 3 giant armies of Polar Bears, Snakes, and worst of all Giant Elephants!
The snakes didn't have to look long to discover they were outnumbered, and not just by any army, by three huge armies consisting of Bears and Elephants and an incredibly large number of different kinds and sizes of Cats (some of them like the Bengal Tiger were quite huge!)
And, although Huge and seemingly numberless, and undeterrable by any army, the army of Giant Elephants wasn't undeterrable by THREE different armies, at least these are the thoughts that went through their chieftains heads as they looked at the 3 formidable armies consisting of Rattle Snakes, Polar Bears, and Cats they could see outnumbered only by the cats slinking in the shadows, that they couldn't see!
All at once, all 4 armies simultaneously called a hasty retreat! And such were the legends told in each corner of the world about the armies of the Gummy Bears, that never again was anybody brave (or foolish) enough to try to conquer them again.
And along about Spring time, the Victorious Gummy Armies, headed by the 4 Brave Generals, returned back home, and there was a huge victory party thrown for them.
And this is what I think about when I think my ideas are the best.
You see, strong people may think the world should be ruled by strength. Smart people may think it should be ruled by intelligence. Creative people, by creativity, and innovative people by innovations. So when I go off on my utopia of a world where there are no laws, and no rules to give someone more of a right to possessions. When I think that if only people would communicate with each other, instead of relying on laws enforced by police - whether the laws were made by the people or not - I have to remember that maybe it is because I think communication is a good thing to learn. Maybe there are people out there who are glad they can call Child Protective Services when they are not quite sure a parent is parenting how they would have in that situation, or Animal Control if a dog is in their yard. Maybe there are people who want to be able to call the police if a stranger enters "their" house in the middle of the night, and not have to "talk him out of it". So who am I to force freedom on people who would prefer it a different way. Am I no different than one of the armies approaching the Gummy Bear City? I dream of a utopia of negotiation, but is that everybody's dream? A shy large man with lots of muscles may find it unfair to be forced to talk to people about what he wants. It may be as painful and impossible for him, as arm wrestling to get what one wants, would be unfair for a slight week person who was incredible at negotiation. Maybe some people are better at getting votes, than convincing people individually. Should I make it my goal to force them to live in a world where communication is constantly mandatory? Should any of us be forced to live in a world where laws rule, regardless of right and wrong. Where people are unduly encouraged to "let the authorities deal with it" instead of human contact? What IS a utopia?
Dear Mommy,
Once I found myself in a situation so conflicting that I no longer cared for my own happiness. The most tempting decision to make would have hurt me, but I no longer cared. But I knew that it would hurt you to know that I had hurt myself. Despite not caring about anything else in my agony, I could not bring myself to hurt you in that way. I knew that you loved me.
All the times you have bemoaned not being a good disciplinary parent, all the times that you have thought that if you had only been a little stricter I would have done the dishes, all the times when you've cringed as I told exaggerated stories about how we never did any work when you bribed us, and you would give us the cookies anyway... Well, all those times, the underlying message you clearly gave me, was that you loved me. Consistency in discipline techniques could only have hindered, what your heart naturally told me without any book of tricks to tell you how to raise me.
All the times you have bemoaned not being a good disciplinary parent, all the times that you have thought that if you had only been a little stricter I would have done the dishes, all the times when you've cringed as I told exaggerated stories about how we never did any work when you bribed us, and you would give us the cookies anyway... Well, all those times, the underlying message you clearly gave me, was that you loved me. Consistency in discipline techniques could only have hindered, what your heart naturally told me without any book of tricks to tell you how to raise me.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Hanging out the Laundry
The few dead leaves rustle back and forth in the wind. Neglect has caused the line to bite into the tree as it's bark folds around it. The smell of soon to be damp dead grass kisses my toes. My feet, unintentionally tearing the dry covering, make a love path of exposed dirt. The ball of my bare foot digs into the not quite softening earth, as my weight shifts, baby and all, from basket to line to basket to line, lulling him with my slow deliberate rhythm. The dark frozen earth gives calm peace as it rubs onto my bare skin. The almost sharp wind caresses my face through my tangled hair, and the smell of last years apples finally looses it's grasp on the tree. My fingers are just cold enough to know I am alive as I hurridly shake them to give myself a little more time to complete my task. The ridges of my face taste the cold they are exposed to, and the baby snuggled deeper in his pouch. The dead grasses make patterns on the ground that only living things can breathe, as the wind blows a longer strand against my bare ankle and life down my throat. Mischievous eyes drink in the open world, safe in my presence, as the kids peek out from the hammock they have made out of an old sheet. Little eyes exposed to the wild of the wind, as hidden bodies wiggle in the constant movement that is a child. As my fingers burn with the coldness of my task, I feel the peace of working in the closeness of my children under the open sky, and the calmness, that I have carelessly trod on in the rush of life, washes over me like the wind.
I want to do
something that I am good at,
that I enjoy,
that will give other's joy.
- smelling the butterflies
that I enjoy,
that will give other's joy.
- smelling the butterflies
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
brave chieftains
I'll capture them fat I'll capture them scrawny.
I'll capture a scraggle-foot mulligatawny,
A high stepping animal fast as the wind
From the blistering sands of the desert of zind.
This beast is the beast that the brave chieftains ride
when they want to go fast to find some place to hide.
I found this really funny if you have read a war book where the general runs away on a horse and leaves his entire army to get captured when he is about to lose. like in the American Revolution,
Major General Heratio Gates' 170 mile retreat at the Battle of Camden, after 1000 of his men got captured.
-raised by sprouts
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
School
Recently I took a wonderful class on coursera! If you want you can turn in participation and get credit for taking the class. I think it costs something like $100 to get a signed certificate that you took the class.
But I didn't have time to figure out how to turn in all the homework, and I didn't take it because I wanted someone else to know I had taken it.
I took it because I wanted to learn.
I would have to say, of all the classes I have ever taken, it was the most educational.
So what is school?
Is it a set of rules and tests to see if you followed them well enough to get enough credit to be looked at to get hired for a job?
To me, my learning, my reasoning for going to school was to learn. And that is what I got from it.
If they had been teaching something I could have learned another way, from a book or a video game, or from talking to friends, then that is where I would have gone for the information, not to school.
I do not send my kids to school. But I am very much for free public school! I have often lauded the opportunity there is in this country to go to school for free! But do we have free schools in the U.S.A.? Are our schools places where people can go to learn? Where people go to get knowledge they can't get better and easier someplace else?
Do our public schools give us knowledge or tell us what knowledge to get? Do they open our minds and help us discover new ways of learning we wouldn't have thought of on our own, so we can open the floodgates of the unknown and drink in the depths of understanding? Or do they restrict how we are allowed to learn and tell us not only what we "must" learn, but where and how we must find that knowledge. Are these really, by definition, schools? Places to measure and keep track of learning? Yes. Places to create competition over limited types of learning? To be sure. But "schools"? Places we can go to discover what we never would have known otherwise? I think not.
Now, there are many schools in other parts of the world, that do serve this purpose. Even here in the U.S.A., there are likely places where what a child discovers in school, cannot be had other places, given their situation in life.
If the only person I knew who could tell me what the words on a page meant, was a teacher at school, I would gladly walk 10 miles there and 10 miles back each day. Some kids do.
"there are no classrooms. There are no desks. It doesn't matter. There is a teacher,"
Thankfully we have a place that is free to everybody no matter their age, that provides boundless information in increasingly innovative ways. The Public Library.
That Book Woman
But I didn't have time to figure out how to turn in all the homework, and I didn't take it because I wanted someone else to know I had taken it.
I took it because I wanted to learn.
I would have to say, of all the classes I have ever taken, it was the most educational.
So what is school?
Is it a set of rules and tests to see if you followed them well enough to get enough credit to be looked at to get hired for a job?
To me, my learning, my reasoning for going to school was to learn. And that is what I got from it.
If they had been teaching something I could have learned another way, from a book or a video game, or from talking to friends, then that is where I would have gone for the information, not to school.
I do not send my kids to school. But I am very much for free public school! I have often lauded the opportunity there is in this country to go to school for free! But do we have free schools in the U.S.A.? Are our schools places where people can go to learn? Where people go to get knowledge they can't get better and easier someplace else?
Do our public schools give us knowledge or tell us what knowledge to get? Do they open our minds and help us discover new ways of learning we wouldn't have thought of on our own, so we can open the floodgates of the unknown and drink in the depths of understanding? Or do they restrict how we are allowed to learn and tell us not only what we "must" learn, but where and how we must find that knowledge. Are these really, by definition, schools? Places to measure and keep track of learning? Yes. Places to create competition over limited types of learning? To be sure. But "schools"? Places we can go to discover what we never would have known otherwise? I think not.
Now, there are many schools in other parts of the world, that do serve this purpose. Even here in the U.S.A., there are likely places where what a child discovers in school, cannot be had other places, given their situation in life.
If the only person I knew who could tell me what the words on a page meant, was a teacher at school, I would gladly walk 10 miles there and 10 miles back each day. Some kids do.
"there are no classrooms. There are no desks. It doesn't matter. There is a teacher,"
Thankfully we have a place that is free to everybody no matter their age, that provides boundless information in increasingly innovative ways. The Public Library.
That Book Woman
Saturday, January 4, 2014
My kids' happiness
Sometimes my kids do something that mortifies me. Usually it has to do with respect or unselfishness towards other people, especially their elders and people younger than them. I want to somehow communicate to them how important it is to love and respect. But is this concept of "you aren't 'good' unless you are nice" what I really want to teach them? Do I want them to know that I think "less" of them when they are rude? Do I want them to know how much more righteous I am, than them, because "when I was there age ...."? Or do I want them to feel the intrinsic joy of seeing a softly held back smile sneak out of the shy face of an old lady as they make her day?
I love competitiveness, but is "goodness" a competition? Do I get my reward from being good the same way I get it from outsmarting a brainteaser? Do I get my reward from anything from the beautiful inner joy of feeling wonderful, or only as I compare to others - or some imaginary scale I made up? Even if I'm only comparing myself to myself, is my happiness only from how I measure up?
Then my teenager, when I'm least expecting it, when I'm not tired and judgmental and thinking "he should!" thoughts, stops in the middle of an online epic battle and asks my mom what he can do to help.
Is the beauty of a moment like this worth it's rarity? Is it worth waiting for? If I had raised my kids differently, I could have coerced him into helping all the time. Is this one true pure act of helping because he truly feels it inside and wants to, worth a hundred kind acts he might have otherwise performed out of the pride of "being good"?
To me it is.
Is it really about how "good" he is, or about how happy he is? Being good IS being truly happy. Not a superior feeling of being better than some idea of how things "should" be, but a happy glow inside. The word authentic comes to mind.
The Last Airbender season 2 ch. 9 "Bitter Work"
When we think our happiness is dependent on how we measure up on the "righteous scale", we not only rob ourselves of the subtle and underlying taste of true happiness, but we judge others as we judge ourselves. Pointing our fingers and mocking at their lack of righteousness, we hold out a barbed hand to rescue them. But if they truly followed our idea of perfection, would we enjoy it? Would we enjoy the lack of someone to ridicule? The lack of someone to "help!"
"And it came to pass that I beheld a atree, whose bfruit was desirable to make one chappy.
And as I partook of the fruit thereof it filled my soul with exceedingly great ajoy;
And I beheld a great and bspacious building
filled with people, both old and young, both male and female; and their manner of dress was exceedingly fine; and they were in the aattitude of bmocking and pointing their fingers towards those who had come at and were partaking of the fruit.
(I Nephi ch. 8)
One Sunday as I opened the heavy soundproof door of the Chapel, my toddler spun across the room as only a three year old can, and made sound contact with the edge of the door. I hadn't pulled it open very swiftly, and I hadn't realized how fast she must have been spinning, so at first I didn't know how badly she had been hurt. Her ear splintering screams, however, immediately testified as to how mistaken I was!
I rushed her to the kitchen where I desperately tried to get her to let me put ice on it, closing the doors as I knew only too well that she was all anybody could really hear as the meeting started.
Seeing my friend in her car just outside the door, I took my child in my arms and went to see if she had anything that would help calm my daughter enough to endure what I deemed as the necessity of ice.
Just outside the door I bent down again to try to hold the ice against the rapidly growing lump on her forehead, hoping it wouldn't split open. And that is when a concerned lady stuck her head out of the door and said in all the splendor of her concern for the insult of the child, "Did you ever consider that she might be crying because it's cold outside!" and then disappeared with a humph (I had previously always wondered what this would look like in real life, lol, but she really did it!) before I would have time to dare respond to her exceeding wisdom.
Sugar, as any drug, is wonderful when used appropriately, and calmed with a chocolate coin, my daughter got her head iced and her concussion eventually wore off. We were very worried at first, but then I had time to worry more about my feelings towards this lady. I so wanted to forgive her, but I didn't know how.
Wasn't I a freedom fighter? Would giving her some slack lessen my stand against judging people. We never really know what is happening when we look in on a situation, from the outside.
So many times I have discussed with like minded friends online the importance of standing up for children. That is all she had really been doing. But my bitterness towards her wasn't just for being grossly misjudged. (Did she really think I was perhaps punishing my wildly protesting child by making her stand out in the cold?) But what if I had been? What if I had been that evil and bad? I have seen less than kind parents in public places like the grocery store, and I have known very well that it was the parent more so than the child, that needed my love. If I drew attention to the judged inadequacy of their love for their child (which we all can unquestionably tell by a persons parenting skills), I knew very well that child would be beaten and blamed for the embarrassment later on. So I had no illusion that this lady was really trying to help. Perhaps she had that illusion, though.
Then it hit me! I could only feel greater sorrow for her circumstance than for mine. Her response was ignited by a true belief way deep down in her soul, that her self worth was inseparably dependent on how "good" of a mother she was. A deep scar that I knew only too well myself. A battle I fought desperately in the dark hours when the state of the house was such that I thought I deserved for CPS to take my children away. A thought that nagged at my sanity when I had just recycled all the library books because circumstances I felt helpless to control ended up resulting in a bleeding head because they had become airborne in the hands of an unsettled toddler. I knew this feeling to the depths of my toes, to the back of my throat where tears reside. If there was one dark cloud behind which the monsters of my life reside, it was my inadequacy as a parent making me know I was not worth being loved.
Thankfully I have a husband who believes in forgiveness, imperfection, and trying again and again - not in the beauty of succeeding, but he beauty of trying. Perhaps this lady had no such person in her life. Perhaps her judgment of me was merely an outlet for the pent up tenseness that had built inside of her her whole life. I could only feel horror at how decisively I had judged someone drowning from prejudice, so incredibly like myself.
I laud Christ for waking the religious world up to their reliance on pride in their actions of righteousness. He gave the world a taste of true joy from authentic kindness - without caring what the judgment of ones self or others was of the action. Now I look at my warped idea of following him, and need a wake up call to authentic joy from good. Good is what makes us truly happy inside. And I need to somehow lay aside my piety of self righteousness that makes me like or hate myself depending on how I judge myself on my scale of righteousness.
It is like the cotton candy parable. I love cotton candy! If I went to the fair and didn't get any cotton candy because I couldn't afford it, and then upon returning home, learned that the cotton candy had been free, would I be sad because I was "bad" for not having gotten to eat cotton candy, or would I be sad because I wanted to eat cotton candy and missed out. Sin is not happiness. It is it's own punishment. We don't need our own, or anybody elses opinions to make us embarrassed or sad for causing our own sorrow by sin.
And true happiness doesn't come from recognizing where we measure on a scale of righteousness, only from feeling happy deep inside from following our inborn love of doing good.
I love competitiveness, but is "goodness" a competition? Do I get my reward from being good the same way I get it from outsmarting a brainteaser? Do I get my reward from anything from the beautiful inner joy of feeling wonderful, or only as I compare to others - or some imaginary scale I made up? Even if I'm only comparing myself to myself, is my happiness only from how I measure up?
Then my teenager, when I'm least expecting it, when I'm not tired and judgmental and thinking "he should!" thoughts, stops in the middle of an online epic battle and asks my mom what he can do to help.
Is the beauty of a moment like this worth it's rarity? Is it worth waiting for? If I had raised my kids differently, I could have coerced him into helping all the time. Is this one true pure act of helping because he truly feels it inside and wants to, worth a hundred kind acts he might have otherwise performed out of the pride of "being good"?
To me it is.
Is it really about how "good" he is, or about how happy he is? Being good IS being truly happy. Not a superior feeling of being better than some idea of how things "should" be, but a happy glow inside. The word authentic comes to mind.
| Zuko | Why can't I do it? Instead of lightning it keeps blowing up in my face... like everything always does. |
|---|---|
| Iroh | I was afraid this might happen. You will not be able to master lightning until you have dealt with the turmoil inside you. |
| Zuko | What turmoil? |
| Iroh | Zuko, you must let go of your feelings of shame if you want your anger to go away. |
| Zuko | But I don't feel any shame at all. I'm as proud as ever. |
| Iroh | Prince Zuko, pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source. True humility is the only antidote to shame. |
When we think our happiness is dependent on how we measure up on the "righteous scale", we not only rob ourselves of the subtle and underlying taste of true happiness, but we judge others as we judge ourselves. Pointing our fingers and mocking at their lack of righteousness, we hold out a barbed hand to rescue them. But if they truly followed our idea of perfection, would we enjoy it? Would we enjoy the lack of someone to ridicule? The lack of someone to "help!"
"And it came to pass that I beheld a atree, whose bfruit was desirable to make one chappy.
And as I partook of the fruit thereof it filled my soul with exceedingly great ajoy;
And I beheld a great and bspacious building
filled with people, both old and young, both male and female; and their manner of dress was exceedingly fine; and they were in the aattitude of bmocking and pointing their fingers towards those who had come at and were partaking of the fruit.
And after they had atasted of the fruit they were bashamed, because of those that were cscoffing at them; and they dfell away into forbidden paths and were lost.
And great was the multitude that did enter into that strange building. And after they did enter into that building they did point the finger of ascorn at me and those that were partaking of the fruit also; but we heeded them not."(I Nephi ch. 8)
One Sunday as I opened the heavy soundproof door of the Chapel, my toddler spun across the room as only a three year old can, and made sound contact with the edge of the door. I hadn't pulled it open very swiftly, and I hadn't realized how fast she must have been spinning, so at first I didn't know how badly she had been hurt. Her ear splintering screams, however, immediately testified as to how mistaken I was!
I rushed her to the kitchen where I desperately tried to get her to let me put ice on it, closing the doors as I knew only too well that she was all anybody could really hear as the meeting started.
Seeing my friend in her car just outside the door, I took my child in my arms and went to see if she had anything that would help calm my daughter enough to endure what I deemed as the necessity of ice.
Just outside the door I bent down again to try to hold the ice against the rapidly growing lump on her forehead, hoping it wouldn't split open. And that is when a concerned lady stuck her head out of the door and said in all the splendor of her concern for the insult of the child, "Did you ever consider that she might be crying because it's cold outside!" and then disappeared with a humph (I had previously always wondered what this would look like in real life, lol, but she really did it!) before I would have time to dare respond to her exceeding wisdom.
Sugar, as any drug, is wonderful when used appropriately, and calmed with a chocolate coin, my daughter got her head iced and her concussion eventually wore off. We were very worried at first, but then I had time to worry more about my feelings towards this lady. I so wanted to forgive her, but I didn't know how.
Wasn't I a freedom fighter? Would giving her some slack lessen my stand against judging people. We never really know what is happening when we look in on a situation, from the outside.
So many times I have discussed with like minded friends online the importance of standing up for children. That is all she had really been doing. But my bitterness towards her wasn't just for being grossly misjudged. (Did she really think I was perhaps punishing my wildly protesting child by making her stand out in the cold?) But what if I had been? What if I had been that evil and bad? I have seen less than kind parents in public places like the grocery store, and I have known very well that it was the parent more so than the child, that needed my love. If I drew attention to the judged inadequacy of their love for their child (which we all can unquestionably tell by a persons parenting skills), I knew very well that child would be beaten and blamed for the embarrassment later on. So I had no illusion that this lady was really trying to help. Perhaps she had that illusion, though.
Then it hit me! I could only feel greater sorrow for her circumstance than for mine. Her response was ignited by a true belief way deep down in her soul, that her self worth was inseparably dependent on how "good" of a mother she was. A deep scar that I knew only too well myself. A battle I fought desperately in the dark hours when the state of the house was such that I thought I deserved for CPS to take my children away. A thought that nagged at my sanity when I had just recycled all the library books because circumstances I felt helpless to control ended up resulting in a bleeding head because they had become airborne in the hands of an unsettled toddler. I knew this feeling to the depths of my toes, to the back of my throat where tears reside. If there was one dark cloud behind which the monsters of my life reside, it was my inadequacy as a parent making me know I was not worth being loved.
Thankfully I have a husband who believes in forgiveness, imperfection, and trying again and again - not in the beauty of succeeding, but he beauty of trying. Perhaps this lady had no such person in her life. Perhaps her judgment of me was merely an outlet for the pent up tenseness that had built inside of her her whole life. I could only feel horror at how decisively I had judged someone drowning from prejudice, so incredibly like myself.
I laud Christ for waking the religious world up to their reliance on pride in their actions of righteousness. He gave the world a taste of true joy from authentic kindness - without caring what the judgment of ones self or others was of the action. Now I look at my warped idea of following him, and need a wake up call to authentic joy from good. Good is what makes us truly happy inside. And I need to somehow lay aside my piety of self righteousness that makes me like or hate myself depending on how I judge myself on my scale of righteousness.
It is like the cotton candy parable. I love cotton candy! If I went to the fair and didn't get any cotton candy because I couldn't afford it, and then upon returning home, learned that the cotton candy had been free, would I be sad because I was "bad" for not having gotten to eat cotton candy, or would I be sad because I wanted to eat cotton candy and missed out. Sin is not happiness. It is it's own punishment. We don't need our own, or anybody elses opinions to make us embarrassed or sad for causing our own sorrow by sin.
And true happiness doesn't come from recognizing where we measure on a scale of righteousness, only from feeling happy deep inside from following our inborn love of doing good.
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