I don't know at what age children learn the conceptual difference between 'rough' and 'gentle'. I think perhaps Chumley would argue that we are not quite there yet.
My favorite time of day is Oliver's bedtime, which begins around 5:30. The routine is dinner, bath, jammies, milk, and then we snuggle in together. I hold him until he falls asleep, which is entirely because I want to. If I were to just put Oliver in his crib and say goodnight, he would stand up and cry in protest, but within ten minutes he would be on his knees, facedown and asleep. (In yoga this is called 'child's pose', and the first time I saw him sleep like this, I did the ole "ahhh, that's why...".) No, I lay with him for purely selfish reasons. I get to make him giggle. I get to stare at his face up close. I get to hold his warm, dinosaur-clad body and smell his freshly-bathed skin. I get to witness his progression from awake, to drowsy, to trying-to-stay-awake, to...asleep. Then I stare at him some more.
Once we are curled up together, I press Play on a very relaxing bedtime CD. Chumley is always the first to succumb, and I know this because he rolls onto his side, often with one leg in the air, farts, and then snores like he's just had twelve shots of Jaeger and a cigar. Oliver gets heavier as he relaxes into me, and I feel myself melt into the mattress. I lay nose to nose with Oliver, eyes closed, listening to him suck his pacifier and feeling his little exhales.
Then 'Whack! Whack! Whack!', a very sobering, rapid-succession, open-handed, smacking against my cheek. (Recall that, embedded in the routine, there is a 'trying-to-stay-awake' part.) Sometimes it's a close-fisted pounding on my chestbone like a CPR resuscitation attempt. Sometimes it's a tiny finger jammed up my nostril in surprise fashion. And sometimes it's an orangutan foot that grazes across my face and plants it's toes deep inside my bottom lip. On a bad day I get all of these painful maneuvers in multiple.
Did I mention my son is big for his age?
Given that bedtime bonding is a contact sport at my house, I've begun to use the tactic I employ when Oliver is playing with Chumley: I take Oliver's hand in mine, and I stroke Chumley gently while repeating "aaah-ooh-aaaah, Chumley, aaah-ooh-aaah". Even though Chumley is tolerant of the abuse (perhaps his, uh, "stature" makes him immune), I want Oliver to understand the proper, loving way to pet an animal. So during the bedtime snuggle, I take Oliver's hand in mine, stroke my face, and say "aaah-ooh-aaah, mommy, aaah-ooh-aaaah".
Tonight when I was putting Oliver to sleep, we did our usual giggling in the dark, he did a "honk honk" on my nose, popped his pacifier in, and reached for my hair. I braced for the impending yank. Instead, he brushed my hair out of my face. Then he started to stroke my face very gently. My 15-month old was running the tips of his fingers very softly from my eyelids to my chin and back again. My eyes welled with tears. I felt the most powerful love for him, so proud of him that he was able to demonstrate such gentleness. It was one of those moments that makes you forget the rest of the world exists.
For me this was a lesson in contrasts. That we unfortunately only truly feel the immense power of something beautiful because we have also experienced the ugly. It is why when I exit the 405, irritated and angry, and turn the corner to see the sun setting on the ocean, I am immediately transported. Why the cleanliness of the air in the Pacific Northwest is burned in my olfactory memory. Why the gentleness of a handstroke is like the caressing of your heart. The next time I am in the midst of something tragic or frustrating or sad, I will remind myself that the loveliness of life will only be more pronounced as a result.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Friends. The New Status.
When I was young, I looked enviously upon my sister's group of girlfriends. They were a tight group of five with very different personalities and talents. I suspect what bonded them was an ability to laugh at themselves as well as a mutual appreciation for what each brought to this unique constellation. They rallied like mama bears when one of the pack had a broken heart, they shared details of all the requisite "firsts", and, not surprisingly, they are still the closest of friends. Despite geographic distance, they've embraced each other through bachelorette parties, divorces, children, lack of children, job dilemmas, and life successes. Somehow, even at a very young age, I knew that this closeness of friendship was something special to behold.
I, on the other hand, tended to have friends in many different groups. I had cheerleader friends, stoner friends, goth friends, nerdy friends, and jock friends. Unfortunately these friends never convened under one roof, so I floated between my eclectic circle, spending a little time with each, nurturing deep acquaintences as opposed to everlasting friendships. I cannot remember ever having had an enduring "best friend", and to this day, even with many wonderful people in my life, this level of friendship still eludes me.
Which brings me to the point of all this.
I am the first to say that I love social networking, because I am a lazy communicator. I am admittedly quite bad at keeping in touch. (If you are reading this blog, you know me well enough to confirm this.) Sites like LinkedIn and Facebook allow me to easily keep track of people I care about and visa versa. But lately I have been seeing people with, very literally, THOUSANDS of friends. Really? Friends? I currently have 665 people in my Outlook Contacts and I can probably delete about 95% of them because they are distant and outdated contacts from three jobs ago. (That reminds me, I need to do that.) So if I have 665 people in my contacts, and only about 65 of them are "valid", how is it that some people have thousands of supposedly valid "friends"?
If it used to be aspirational to have a handful of eternal friendships in your life, have we (d)-evolved as a society to the point where a competitive volume of 'contacts' is the New Black? Is it now how many you know (or more importantly, know you) that makes you feel on top of your game? Do people click on the "Add As Friend" button, do the arm pump, and make the 'cha-ching' sound?
This seems to be an order of magnitude beyond having a broad collection of good acquaintences, as my life has been, and is about forming a cadre of strangers linked by some random thread. I believe in my heart that having a close-knit posse, like my sister has, must be infinitely more fulfilling than a mere group of solid acquaintences. So the Facebook Trajectory of Friendship would suggest that, beyond the ill-placed pride of a thousand connections, there can really be no true emotional fulfillment at all. So then why is this happening?
Perhaps in the flailing economy, the deflation of confidence and egos, and the lack-luster of luxury items, we are reverting to non-monetary means of showing our status (to others and to ourselves). We feel that our large network somehow makes us an "influencer". We fanticize that all of these people on our long list of Connections log on daily just to see what we are doing or thinking right at this very moment. Yes, we are indeed that important. That interesting. Meanwhile, back in the real world, half the people on our list may not even remember who we are despite that fabulous headshot (or cool party shot) that is posted by our name and profile.
When I was in Russia in the early 90's, I spent most of my time sitting around the kitchen table with people, drinking tea and talking. Sometimes there were just two of us, sometimes eight, squeezed in around the warm pot of water. We talked about everything. I remember thinking about how, when economies are bad and people are struggling, there is a coming together, a certain solidarity, an increased intimacy in the conversation, and a deeper bond that forms among people. So my hope is that what I see on the social networking sites is just a fad of fun distraction from real life, and is not a social trend pointing to the devaluation of true friendship. Russia is looking pretty good right now.
I may be almost 40, but I haven't given up hope that I will someday find my close tribe.
I, on the other hand, tended to have friends in many different groups. I had cheerleader friends, stoner friends, goth friends, nerdy friends, and jock friends. Unfortunately these friends never convened under one roof, so I floated between my eclectic circle, spending a little time with each, nurturing deep acquaintences as opposed to everlasting friendships. I cannot remember ever having had an enduring "best friend", and to this day, even with many wonderful people in my life, this level of friendship still eludes me.
Which brings me to the point of all this.
I am the first to say that I love social networking, because I am a lazy communicator. I am admittedly quite bad at keeping in touch. (If you are reading this blog, you know me well enough to confirm this.) Sites like LinkedIn and Facebook allow me to easily keep track of people I care about and visa versa. But lately I have been seeing people with, very literally, THOUSANDS of friends. Really? Friends? I currently have 665 people in my Outlook Contacts and I can probably delete about 95% of them because they are distant and outdated contacts from three jobs ago. (That reminds me, I need to do that.) So if I have 665 people in my contacts, and only about 65 of them are "valid", how is it that some people have thousands of supposedly valid "friends"?
If it used to be aspirational to have a handful of eternal friendships in your life, have we (d)-evolved as a society to the point where a competitive volume of 'contacts' is the New Black? Is it now how many you know (or more importantly, know you) that makes you feel on top of your game? Do people click on the "Add As Friend" button, do the arm pump, and make the 'cha-ching' sound?
This seems to be an order of magnitude beyond having a broad collection of good acquaintences, as my life has been, and is about forming a cadre of strangers linked by some random thread. I believe in my heart that having a close-knit posse, like my sister has, must be infinitely more fulfilling than a mere group of solid acquaintences. So the Facebook Trajectory of Friendship would suggest that, beyond the ill-placed pride of a thousand connections, there can really be no true emotional fulfillment at all. So then why is this happening?
Perhaps in the flailing economy, the deflation of confidence and egos, and the lack-luster of luxury items, we are reverting to non-monetary means of showing our status (to others and to ourselves). We feel that our large network somehow makes us an "influencer". We fanticize that all of these people on our long list of Connections log on daily just to see what we are doing or thinking right at this very moment. Yes, we are indeed that important. That interesting. Meanwhile, back in the real world, half the people on our list may not even remember who we are despite that fabulous headshot (or cool party shot) that is posted by our name and profile.
When I was in Russia in the early 90's, I spent most of my time sitting around the kitchen table with people, drinking tea and talking. Sometimes there were just two of us, sometimes eight, squeezed in around the warm pot of water. We talked about everything. I remember thinking about how, when economies are bad and people are struggling, there is a coming together, a certain solidarity, an increased intimacy in the conversation, and a deeper bond that forms among people. So my hope is that what I see on the social networking sites is just a fad of fun distraction from real life, and is not a social trend pointing to the devaluation of true friendship. Russia is looking pretty good right now.
I may be almost 40, but I haven't given up hope that I will someday find my close tribe.
Monday, June 8, 2009
What Defines You.
We have to be careful about what we use to define ourselves.
I used to define myself by work, and more specifically, output. With every crisis averted, problem solved, project completed, and to-do-list item checked off, my self-confidence rose. I was a "get shit done" person.
Then I had a baby.
All of a sudden my high-productivity-self could barely get showered or turn on the dishwasher. A very troubling development and a crushing blow to my sense of self worth. I don't know why "Keep Baby Alive" didn't seem like a large enough item on the to-do-list. In hindsight I really should have been satisfied, proud even, to achieve that on a daily basis, showered or not.
It has taken me an entire year to overcome an obsession with output, and evolve what it is that defines me. A YEAR. Do you realize how much self-flogging can take place in a year? Plenty.
I thankfully emerged with a sense that my greatest skills are to Love and to Understand. I feel things very deeply, and recognize that as a gift. Anyone can get shit done, but how I use my ability to Love and Understand will be what makes a difference in my life and those around me.
My enlightened perspective looks something like this.
I used to define myself by work, and more specifically, output. With every crisis averted, problem solved, project completed, and to-do-list item checked off, my self-confidence rose. I was a "get shit done" person.
Then I had a baby.
All of a sudden my high-productivity-self could barely get showered or turn on the dishwasher. A very troubling development and a crushing blow to my sense of self worth. I don't know why "Keep Baby Alive" didn't seem like a large enough item on the to-do-list. In hindsight I really should have been satisfied, proud even, to achieve that on a daily basis, showered or not.
It has taken me an entire year to overcome an obsession with output, and evolve what it is that defines me. A YEAR. Do you realize how much self-flogging can take place in a year? Plenty.
I thankfully emerged with a sense that my greatest skills are to Love and to Understand. I feel things very deeply, and recognize that as a gift. Anyone can get shit done, but how I use my ability to Love and Understand will be what makes a difference in my life and those around me.
My enlightened perspective looks something like this.
- In order to understand deeply, you have to observe. In order to observe, you have to sit still and keep your eyes open. In order to sit still, you have to be willing to do so.
- Big problems are generally not solveable in one go. They may require some trial and error. Making progress is an iterative process that takes patience. Patience requires you to be gentle with others and also with yourself.
- Understanding is a lonesome trait without its partner Discovery. The most satisfying moments are those in which you grasp something new, and see the world more clearly as a result.
- The important things do not have an "end" and cannot be marked as "completed". Things that do, should not cause you to lose sleep. They still have to get done, but recognize them for what they are, and try not to invest emotionally.
So now you understand why you didn't get a photo Christmas card last year. Oh, I have them. Two whole boxes. I even considered drawing bunny ears on us and wishing you a very Merry Easter, but that didn't happen either. Oh well. My kid is thriving and I am clean.
Here we go.
Apparently if I want to someday call myself "A Writer", I need to get writing. (Genius, I know.) Just one of the nuggets of brilliance I learned in my, you guessed it, writing class. The problem is that I was never good at journaling, and my novel (while saved with a title in a folder on my computer) consistes of one page. The title page. So this blog is my last ditch attempt to motivate my own self-expression.
I apologize in advance for the randomness of topics. I have finally given up on trying to understand how my brain works, and am learning to just embrace The Neurosis. One of the reasons I aspire to the title of "Writer" is because it is a free pass to Randomness. A one-way ticket to Quirkitown. Hopefully in the next ten years I can work my way up to full-blown Eccentricity. Everyone needs to have a goal.
Please don't discourage my efforts by commenting with negative feedback, telling me not to quit my day job, etc. After all, we "Writers" are sensitive (sigh).
I apologize in advance for the randomness of topics. I have finally given up on trying to understand how my brain works, and am learning to just embrace The Neurosis. One of the reasons I aspire to the title of "Writer" is because it is a free pass to Randomness. A one-way ticket to Quirkitown. Hopefully in the next ten years I can work my way up to full-blown Eccentricity. Everyone needs to have a goal.
Please don't discourage my efforts by commenting with negative feedback, telling me not to quit my day job, etc. After all, we "Writers" are sensitive (sigh).
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