I come here, like I often come here:
Bleary-eyed and purposefully dancing around the fire of to-do's that demand my immediate and distracted attention.
But I come here, like I look through a box of treasured ephemera.
So much of my life captured in one space, but almost forgotten.
A life I once lived that is now a silent part of me,
Core experiences that have been lost beneath the layers of the newer, the shinier, the most urgent.
I spend my days less introspectively now.
And to what end?
To the subtle crafting of little minds and little hearts.
Who could perhaps--no, certainly--benefit from the less-distracted introspections of their mother's soul.
So, perhaps I shall return.
4.07.2016
1.14.2015
Vistas
There's much I've missed recording about raising a one-year old, a two-year old and now a threenager. Something that I deeply regret.
Hopefully, someday when I'm 80, I will be able to reminiscently stitch together the expeirence of motherhood these past three years through my Instagram feed.
Ironically, tonight, it was that very Instagram feed that taught me a lesson I've been hard-pressed to learn these past three years.
It was the end of bedtime. The time when the child's head has actually made contact with the pillow: The waning moments of wakefulness and waxing moments of relief.
The routine has evolved these past three years, and now includes a brief backscratch before mom tiptoes around the squeeky floorboards and out the door.
While back scratching with one hand, and ever-feeling the need to multitask, I picked up my phone with my other hand to thumb-slide my way through the latest in pictoral updates.
And then I had this thought:
If I had spent 30 years saving for, planning for, living for a trip to Europe, would I spend my train rides from one destination to another with my face in my phone?
No. No, I would not.
I like to think I'd have my nose pressed against the window, craning my neck in an effort not to miss one single vista.
So why, why would I spend my unstructured time with my son--the one I saved for, planned for and lived for, for 30 years--unneedfully distracted?
I put my phone down.
A few seconds later, I noticed his feet. Not baby feet, but little boy feet. I saw with my true eyes how long his legs have grown recently and I suddenly felt a catch in my heart.
Not a baby, but a little boy.
"I love you," I whispered, with a fervency that I hoped would halt time a little.
Then I covered him with his blanket, and as I tiptoed around the squeeky floorboards and out the door, from the darkness of the room I heard his sweet little voice,
"Good night, mommy. I love you, too. See you tomorrow."
Hopefully, someday when I'm 80, I will be able to reminiscently stitch together the expeirence of motherhood these past three years through my Instagram feed.
Ironically, tonight, it was that very Instagram feed that taught me a lesson I've been hard-pressed to learn these past three years.
It was the end of bedtime. The time when the child's head has actually made contact with the pillow: The waning moments of wakefulness and waxing moments of relief.
The routine has evolved these past three years, and now includes a brief backscratch before mom tiptoes around the squeeky floorboards and out the door.
While back scratching with one hand, and ever-feeling the need to multitask, I picked up my phone with my other hand to thumb-slide my way through the latest in pictoral updates.
And then I had this thought:
If I had spent 30 years saving for, planning for, living for a trip to Europe, would I spend my train rides from one destination to another with my face in my phone?
No. No, I would not.
I like to think I'd have my nose pressed against the window, craning my neck in an effort not to miss one single vista.
So why, why would I spend my unstructured time with my son--the one I saved for, planned for and lived for, for 30 years--unneedfully distracted?
I put my phone down.
A few seconds later, I noticed his feet. Not baby feet, but little boy feet. I saw with my true eyes how long his legs have grown recently and I suddenly felt a catch in my heart.
Not a baby, but a little boy.
"I love you," I whispered, with a fervency that I hoped would halt time a little.
Then I covered him with his blanket, and as I tiptoed around the squeeky floorboards and out the door, from the darkness of the room I heard his sweet little voice,
"Good night, mommy. I love you, too. See you tomorrow."
1.13.2015
Live Deliberately
Hello 2015.
And hello you!
Yes, I'm still here. Not here, but here. You know?
And can I just say...2014...wow! What a year! A recap may be in order...someday.
So, two weeks into the New Year, and I think most people feel about "resolutions" the way I feel about those left-over potatoes in my fridge from several meals ago.
But, there is one such resolution that my little conscience won't let me just write down and forget.
It started in the summer of 2012, with an experience that I've blogged about (that I'm just not tenacious enough to find tonight and link for your curiosity's sake). A simple trip to the home of our nation's father, George Washington, left such an impression on me that I'm still writing about it.
Without the less-than-enthralling details, my take away was this:
Live deliberately.
Not unlike our good friend Henry at Walden Pond, I felt a sudden surge within me to "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." To have purpose and thoughtfulness in all that I do.
Well. Nearly three years later, I'm still fighting the same rediculous self-mastery battles I've been fighting for three decades. At this point, I should just resign myself to the acceptance of irreconcilable character flaws, no?
I'm still trying to figure out the deliberate-ness of it all.
Enter Andi's New Year's Resolutions 2015.
Still working on getting the marrow of life far enough into my straw that I can sip, let alone suck, I suddenly feel like I need to explore it all through prose. And not by paper and pen in the safety of my journal. But here, by keyboard and screen.
So, for better or for worse, I'm back. And hopefully for an extended stay.
To a deliberate 2015...and beyond.
And hello you!
Yes, I'm still here. Not here, but here. You know?
And can I just say...2014...wow! What a year! A recap may be in order...someday.
So, two weeks into the New Year, and I think most people feel about "resolutions" the way I feel about those left-over potatoes in my fridge from several meals ago.
But, there is one such resolution that my little conscience won't let me just write down and forget.
It started in the summer of 2012, with an experience that I've blogged about (that I'm just not tenacious enough to find tonight and link for your curiosity's sake). A simple trip to the home of our nation's father, George Washington, left such an impression on me that I'm still writing about it.
Without the less-than-enthralling details, my take away was this:
Live deliberately.
Not unlike our good friend Henry at Walden Pond, I felt a sudden surge within me to "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." To have purpose and thoughtfulness in all that I do.
Well. Nearly three years later, I'm still fighting the same rediculous self-mastery battles I've been fighting for three decades. At this point, I should just resign myself to the acceptance of irreconcilable character flaws, no?
I'm still trying to figure out the deliberate-ness of it all.
Enter Andi's New Year's Resolutions 2015.
Still working on getting the marrow of life far enough into my straw that I can sip, let alone suck, I suddenly feel like I need to explore it all through prose. And not by paper and pen in the safety of my journal. But here, by keyboard and screen.
So, for better or for worse, I'm back. And hopefully for an extended stay.
To a deliberate 2015...and beyond.
8.27.2014
Kindness on the Battlefield
My heart is a little full as I heard the news that the mom of one of my former Polka Dot students just passed away this morning from a long, recurring battle with cancer.
This story begins a year ago when I was first starting my classes. The family had just moved into the area and had heard about the program from a friend. The mom registered the daughter eagerly, but confessed the girl had never taken a similar class and wasn't sure what to expect. I reassured her everything would be fine and that we would have a great time in class. At least I fully believed we would.
I've never publicly noted this, but the first couple days of class were a disaster. And may have included long, introspective sits in my car, my head resting pitifully on my steering wheel with thoughts like, "What in the HECK am I doing?" ringing in my head like a broken record blasted over the PA system of a concrete warehouse.
I picked myself up and dusted my sorry self off and went back to the drawing board, cloistering myself away at the computer until I figured. it. out. I emerged a week later--already feeling better about things.
Although my resolve to not quit improved, the class didn't immediately. Classroom management was hard. And a big part of it was that the daughter of this sweet woman was a very emotionally demanding student. I was at a loss of what to do.
I consulted friends, family and even elementary school teachers. Most said drop her. But somewhere in my heart, I just couldn't feel right about doing that. One seasoned school teacher wisely suggested I get her mom involved. So, I tried, indirectly (by way of emailing all parents), to nudge this mother to some sort of save-me-now action. I've since learned the value of direct communication with one's clients.
I finally asked this mom if she could come and sit with her daughter during class. She responded so nicely and said that she would do her best to make it happen. And she did. And it helped.
But, it wasn't until about halfway through that insane semester that I learned something of that mother's soul. Through friends of friends, I found out that this sweet mother had four children. She had challenges with her daughter beyond what I originally assumed. She also had a military husband in the throes of medical school. She also had cancer. And it wasn't her first bout with it, either.
At once I was hit with a wave of guilt and relief: I felt foolish for being so frustrated, and yes, unfairly judgemental, but so grateful I had followed those quiet feelings of my heart.
As the semester finished out, this little girl came to the final performance, dressed in her sparkling costume, with curled hair, a subdued manner, and a mom who was absolutely beaming. After the show, her mother thanked me for the opportunity to watch her daughter on stage and told me how happy it made her.
Sadly, it would be a first and a last.
My life was touched in many ways by this duo. My desire to be more patient, more graceful in suffering, more charitable, more optimistic, and more uplifting in conversation was heightened. As was my desire to rededicate myself to living by the ubiquitous maxim,
"Be kinder than necessary...for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."
I consulted friends, family and even elementary school teachers. Most said drop her. But somewhere in my heart, I just couldn't feel right about doing that. One seasoned school teacher wisely suggested I get her mom involved. So, I tried, indirectly (by way of emailing all parents), to nudge this mother to some sort of save-me-now action. I've since learned the value of direct communication with one's clients.
I finally asked this mom if she could come and sit with her daughter during class. She responded so nicely and said that she would do her best to make it happen. And she did. And it helped.
But, it wasn't until about halfway through that insane semester that I learned something of that mother's soul. Through friends of friends, I found out that this sweet mother had four children. She had challenges with her daughter beyond what I originally assumed. She also had a military husband in the throes of medical school. She also had cancer. And it wasn't her first bout with it, either.
At once I was hit with a wave of guilt and relief: I felt foolish for being so frustrated, and yes, unfairly judgemental, but so grateful I had followed those quiet feelings of my heart.
As the semester finished out, this little girl came to the final performance, dressed in her sparkling costume, with curled hair, a subdued manner, and a mom who was absolutely beaming. After the show, her mother thanked me for the opportunity to watch her daughter on stage and told me how happy it made her.
Sadly, it would be a first and a last.
My life was touched in many ways by this duo. My desire to be more patient, more graceful in suffering, more charitable, more optimistic, and more uplifting in conversation was heightened. As was my desire to rededicate myself to living by the ubiquitous maxim,
"Be kinder than necessary...for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."
6.29.2014
Wedged
It's a little before 11:00 pm. And I'm writing this post from the confines of 11 3/8" of my queen-sized bed. If I hadn't stayed up until 5:00 am the night before last, I might be able use one word to succinctly describe the fact that I am literally wedged between two sleeping forces: Big man on my right, little man on my left. My arms are kind of losing circulation as I hold my phone above my head to type and keep my claustrophobia at bay. I guess I could always get up and go clean the kitchen.
But I've always been better at procrastination than problem solving.
After a long hiatus, I've returned. Maybe just to rest from my labors for a moment.
Life has been good. A little like, whoa-slow-down-I-gotta-catch-
Recently I've been thinking a lot about the secrets of really successful people--of all kinds. And in all my unscientific research, I have come to this unscientific conclusion:
Drive + (Hard Work ^ Self Discipline) = Success
Success is combination of drive and hard work, which seems to be directly impacted by self-discipline. Or lack there of.
(I'm brilliant. I know.)
Let me illustrate:
If we were to give drive (or desire, or ambition or motivator or whatever) a value, it would be between 0 and 1. I mean, either you kind of want something (.25) or you want it 100% (1). I guess you might not even want it at all...but are forced into it for your own good (0). At any rate, drive by itself gets you up to 1 point of success.
Yay.
You're not an android.
That is success, I guess.
[And might I pause here and say that the claustrophobia won over and I am now hugging the edge of my mattress listening to my 2 year old laugh in his sleep. As cute as that is, he is also snoring loudly and just smacked me in the face with his subconscious flailings. He will be deposited back in his bed shortly.]
But next comes hard work. Or intense effort. I can't say that hard work would ever have a negative value. Intense effort (whether for good or bad) is always a propelling force. Is it not? However, it does have an infinite upper range. Because we are imperfect, our hard work will never be perfect, thus it cannot be capped by a single integer. Do you agree?
Finally, we come to self discipline. This is the ability to be the master of one's own thoughts and actions in space and time. Again, because we are imperfect, and can always be more disciplined, we cannot reasonably cap the upper range. Even if we were "perfect," we would have to perfectly exercise self-discipline in any new situation to remain perfect. And if you believe in the eternal nature of the soul, you believe in the never-ending stream of new situations. Thus, we still cannot cap the upper limit of self-discipline. (Some call it eternal progression.) Nor can we reasonably cap the lower range because by the same logic, undisciplined actions have no outer bound. (Some call it eternal damnation.) So this results in an infinite range of values.
But I've always been better at procrastination than problem solving.
After a long hiatus, I've returned. Maybe just to rest from my labors for a moment.
Life has been good. A little like, whoa-slow-down-I-gotta-catch-
Recently I've been thinking a lot about the secrets of really successful people--of all kinds. And in all my unscientific research, I have come to this unscientific conclusion:
Drive + (Hard Work ^ Self Discipline) = Success
Success is combination of drive and hard work, which seems to be directly impacted by self-discipline. Or lack there of.
(I'm brilliant. I know.)
Let me illustrate:
If we were to give drive (or desire, or ambition or motivator or whatever) a value, it would be between 0 and 1. I mean, either you kind of want something (.25) or you want it 100% (1). I guess you might not even want it at all...but are forced into it for your own good (0). At any rate, drive by itself gets you up to 1 point of success.
Yay.
You're not an android.
That is success, I guess.
[And might I pause here and say that the claustrophobia won over and I am now hugging the edge of my mattress listening to my 2 year old laugh in his sleep. As cute as that is, he is also snoring loudly and just smacked me in the face with his subconscious flailings. He will be deposited back in his bed shortly.]
But next comes hard work. Or intense effort. I can't say that hard work would ever have a negative value. Intense effort (whether for good or bad) is always a propelling force. Is it not? However, it does have an infinite upper range. Because we are imperfect, our hard work will never be perfect, thus it cannot be capped by a single integer. Do you agree?
Finally, we come to self discipline. This is the ability to be the master of one's own thoughts and actions in space and time. Again, because we are imperfect, and can always be more disciplined, we cannot reasonably cap the upper range. Even if we were "perfect," we would have to perfectly exercise self-discipline in any new situation to remain perfect. And if you believe in the eternal nature of the soul, you believe in the never-ending stream of new situations. Thus, we still cannot cap the upper limit of self-discipline. (Some call it eternal progression.) Nor can we reasonably cap the lower range because by the same logic, undisciplined actions have no outer bound. (Some call it eternal damnation.) So this results in an infinite range of values.
So, what we see is that our success in becoming more than just not an android any is directly impacted not only by hard work, but by disciplined hard work.
Let me illustrate.
Say I have a project I need to complete. Here are my factors:
Say I have a project I need to complete. Here are my factors:
Desire = 1
Hard Work = 4 (in this case, we'll qualify it by stating it's the number of hours needed to complete the project)
Self-discipline = 5 (about where I am on a good day in being the master of myself)
1 + (4^5) = 1,025
A killer job on my project, with time left over for canning 3 bushels of peaches, washing and folding 5 loads of laundry, composing a piano concerto, teaching my 2 year old sign language in Spanish and knocking off a 10-mile run in my marathon training, right?
But what about on a not-so-good day for self-mastery? What if, after staying up until 5:00 am (ahem), and waking up at 1:00 pm, I eat a tub of chocolate ganache and french fries for breakfast and get sucked into watching cat videos on YouTube for 3 hours, then zonk out from over stimulation, but still manage to squeeze in my project somewhere around 3:00 am the next morning? Let's give me a self-discipline score of -5. All other factors remain constant.
1 + (4^-5) = 1.00098
I'm not an android and I had time to brush my teeth before zonking out.
Yay.
OK, maybe slightly dramatic. I mean, I'd probably only be able to fit in 3 loads of laundry, seeing how my dryer doesn't have much self-discipline.
But you get the picture, right?
I think successful people aren't successful just because of the single end result. I think it comes down to what else happens under the surface of that end result...all of which comes from being incredibly self disciplined.
(Again, brillant. I know.)
I think successful people aren't successful just because of the single end result. I think it comes down to what else happens under the surface of that end result...all of which comes from being incredibly self disciplined.
(Again, brillant. I know.)
Plato says it best,
And then maybe the 2-year old who has conquered your bed.
6.02.2014
Instagram Killed the Blogging Star
Oh, hello, June.
Do you mind telling me exactly how you got here?
Do you mind telling me exactly how you got here?
1.14.2014
A Belated Auld Lang Syne
I recently wished my aunt Happy Birthday and her best year yet. She responded, "2014 has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Yes, I do.
2013 was an eventful year. A very eventful, exciting year...and a kind of sad and stressful one, too. A year that I wasn't necessarily happy or sad was over. (Maybe I'm waxing apathetic in my old age.)
But I always get excited about starting something over, especially the New Year. I think it's because really like the concept of goal setting, and anticipation of the unknown, and repentance in the sense of having a fresh outlook and chance on the everyday things. And maybe because I really like buying calendar books. Especially like the ones I bought this year.
But, 2014.
It seems to hold a fair amount of promise and intrigue on its outset...with maybe a twinge of aprehension. But it definitely has a nice ring to it. And we'll drink [some Martinelli's] to that.
So, to 2014 and beyond!
Yes, I do.
2013 was an eventful year. A very eventful, exciting year...and a kind of sad and stressful one, too. A year that I wasn't necessarily happy or sad was over. (Maybe I'm waxing apathetic in my old age.)
But I always get excited about starting something over, especially the New Year. I think it's because really like the concept of goal setting, and anticipation of the unknown, and repentance in the sense of having a fresh outlook and chance on the everyday things. And maybe because I really like buying calendar books. Especially like the ones I bought this year.
But, 2014.
It seems to hold a fair amount of promise and intrigue on its outset...with maybe a twinge of aprehension. But it definitely has a nice ring to it. And we'll drink [some Martinelli's] to that.
So, to 2014 and beyond!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
