God is better than the things he makes. -Calliope Free
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
A Sonnet for Rough Times
"Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. "
— Pablo Neruda
Among the Things That Shall Pass
Just documenting some things that happened in the past week or so:
-Calliope threw her first tantrum at my leaving for class. It involved throwing a bib in the trash and a hunger strike.
-Clara had her second abnormal hearing test. Tubes?
-A kid called Manny weird and then they proceeded to have an argument on the bus.
-Boys called Calliope "Calliopot" at school and because of this, she gave her day a thumbs down.
-Benicio's best friend has to go to a neurologist for headaches.
-Found a cool sewing pattern for a bag to make with Clara's new machine.
-We can hear the birds in the morning when we wake up.
-I found a note Manny wrote to said bus kid. And also Clara wrote a note to said name-callers. I love that they responded with writing. Also, these incidents became prayer requests at dinner and bedtime. Love that.
-Geoff went to the library at my school to get reserve materials out for me-- at 9pm.
-I found Benicio's list for his first confession. I won't give anything away but it involved "scareing people" and "provokeing people."
"Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life"
— Pablo Neruda
-Calliope threw her first tantrum at my leaving for class. It involved throwing a bib in the trash and a hunger strike.
-Clara had her second abnormal hearing test. Tubes?
-A kid called Manny weird and then they proceeded to have an argument on the bus.
-Boys called Calliope "Calliopot" at school and because of this, she gave her day a thumbs down.
-Benicio's best friend has to go to a neurologist for headaches.
-Found a cool sewing pattern for a bag to make with Clara's new machine.
-We can hear the birds in the morning when we wake up.
-I found a note Manny wrote to said bus kid. And also Clara wrote a note to said name-callers. I love that they responded with writing. Also, these incidents became prayer requests at dinner and bedtime. Love that.
-Geoff went to the library at my school to get reserve materials out for me-- at 9pm.
-I found Benicio's list for his first confession. I won't give anything away but it involved "scareing people" and "provokeing people."
"Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life"
— Pablo Neruda
Saturday, February 19, 2011
If I Could Tweet, It Would Be Sweet
And this is what I'd have said this week:
open windows + reading report cards + glass of Pinot
how to get along with your neurologist:: bring a paper of one of his colleagues, highlight it up, and ask questions about it
bribes for music practice work
valentine's day treasure hunt in the snow would have been better with clues
I know why my arms are getting toned:: punching!
I forgot how much I loved my philosophy of religion class
favorite philosophy teacher in undergrad: San Diego surfer. favorite philosophy teacher now: Hawaiian surfer.
After Body Combat, my jaw aches from clenching my teeth. After my TSP class, my brain hurts from wrapping it around DP's paradigms.
open windows + reading report cards + glass of Pinot
how to get along with your neurologist:: bring a paper of one of his colleagues, highlight it up, and ask questions about it
bribes for music practice work
valentine's day treasure hunt in the snow would have been better with clues
I know why my arms are getting toned:: punching!
I forgot how much I loved my philosophy of religion class
favorite philosophy teacher in undergrad: San Diego surfer. favorite philosophy teacher now: Hawaiian surfer.
After Body Combat, my jaw aches from clenching my teeth. After my TSP class, my brain hurts from wrapping it around DP's paradigms.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Beatty Brothers Valentine's Details
-Manny wanted to wear his Lenape belt (A Lenape geometric Lenape design using seed beads.) today "because it's Valentine's Day."
-On the bags they made as Valentine receptacles, Benicio wrote "Thank you."
-On the bags they made as Valentine receptacles, Benicio wrote "Thank you."
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
my specialty
This has been a household joke: If you look at descriptions of counselors, they list their specialty. Here's so and so who studied at psychology at Sarah Lawrence then earned a Psy D from Penn. She specializes in eating disorders, body-image issues, and emotional abuse. (That's a random, made-up example, by the way.)
I don't know about you but me, I immediately conflate the face of the counselor in the photo with an image of her double-fisting Tastykakes while looking in the mirror, with her mother yelling at her from the other side of the door. My tendency is to think that this person specializes in this because it has been their experience.
Mine would be: She specializes in hopeless vanity, people-pleasing, and preoccupations with the retail company, Anthropologie. Or specializes in poor time management, call screening, and guilt about housework.
I am reminded that listing one's counseling specialty can be like in medicine-- specializing in something because its study and development interest me. Or having experience in a given field can mean personal primary experience or because someone I was close to puked so much that she tore her esophagus and had to give up being captain of the field hockey team and had to have her senior photos airbrushed because her teeth were so damaged from the acidic bile. (That was an example from secondary experience, by the way, if you couldn't tell.)
We were on a double date with a couple who are both in the counseling program and the woman was like, "It seems like you like to joke about self-doubt a lot." Whoa. This program's going to be great but searing investigations of our own souls is totally an occupational hazard. I'm probably not ready for it but it is an act of great strength, restraint, and faith to open up my soul/psyche and say, "Okay, audit."
I don't know about you but me, I immediately conflate the face of the counselor in the photo with an image of her double-fisting Tastykakes while looking in the mirror, with her mother yelling at her from the other side of the door. My tendency is to think that this person specializes in this because it has been their experience.
Mine would be: She specializes in hopeless vanity, people-pleasing, and preoccupations with the retail company, Anthropologie. Or specializes in poor time management, call screening, and guilt about housework.
I am reminded that listing one's counseling specialty can be like in medicine-- specializing in something because its study and development interest me. Or having experience in a given field can mean personal primary experience or because someone I was close to puked so much that she tore her esophagus and had to give up being captain of the field hockey team and had to have her senior photos airbrushed because her teeth were so damaged from the acidic bile. (That was an example from secondary experience, by the way, if you couldn't tell.)
We were on a double date with a couple who are both in the counseling program and the woman was like, "It seems like you like to joke about self-doubt a lot." Whoa. This program's going to be great but searing investigations of our own souls is totally an occupational hazard. I'm probably not ready for it but it is an act of great strength, restraint, and faith to open up my soul/psyche and say, "Okay, audit."
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Sabotage the Self-Sabotage: Meeting the Grader
I am about to begin my Theology and Secular Psychology class. It is a class taught by one of the founders of biblical counseling. An important and rigorous class, I'm really thrilled about it. I have asked my study group to pray that I don't idolize this teacher, overly concerned with pleasing/impressing him, worried about grades, fretful and weird. Then, I'm reading the syllabus. And it turns out, this teacher will be the lecturer but NOT the grader.
Guess who the grader is. It's worse than someone you'd idolize-- it's someone you'll never be. Someone that maybe you SHOULD HAVE BEEN. I have never met her and probably won't because she is working long-distance. But like me, her parents are Asian. But hers worked in sweat shops on Canal St. Like me, she studied poetry. But she went to Princeton and Oxford. Like me, she is liturgical. But she is Anglican, which I think is way less stigmatized than being a daily-Masser as I am. Like me, she studied in this program. But now she is the TA. Now she is the Women's Ministry Director on the Upper East Side. Geoff said, does she have four amazing kids? I said she probably had unassisted births in the Catskills with Ina May on speakerphone.
I boo-hooed all this to Geoff just now and he said, "Wow, I think that sounds like someone you could learn a lot from!"
Geoff is quick to point out that God does not simply remove our idols-- he says He shatters them. I know that if I hold these people, my teachers, even my peers up in this arms-length, intimidated and sort of grumpy-jealous way that it will be bad. It will be an impediment to learning. I won't be able to be used in their lives. I will be reserved and self-conscious and incapable of being the vessel that I am supposed to be. I sabotage the experience before it begins. I set myself up to fall and to falter. And of all times, and of all things, this is something I want to be really healthy and present for.
Guess who the grader is. It's worse than someone you'd idolize-- it's someone you'll never be. Someone that maybe you SHOULD HAVE BEEN. I have never met her and probably won't because she is working long-distance. But like me, her parents are Asian. But hers worked in sweat shops on Canal St. Like me, she studied poetry. But she went to Princeton and Oxford. Like me, she is liturgical. But she is Anglican, which I think is way less stigmatized than being a daily-Masser as I am. Like me, she studied in this program. But now she is the TA. Now she is the Women's Ministry Director on the Upper East Side. Geoff said, does she have four amazing kids? I said she probably had unassisted births in the Catskills with Ina May on speakerphone.
I boo-hooed all this to Geoff just now and he said, "Wow, I think that sounds like someone you could learn a lot from!"
Geoff is quick to point out that God does not simply remove our idols-- he says He shatters them. I know that if I hold these people, my teachers, even my peers up in this arms-length, intimidated and sort of grumpy-jealous way that it will be bad. It will be an impediment to learning. I won't be able to be used in their lives. I will be reserved and self-conscious and incapable of being the vessel that I am supposed to be. I sabotage the experience before it begins. I set myself up to fall and to falter. And of all times, and of all things, this is something I want to be really healthy and present for.
Final Done, Plan for Tomorrow
-Turn in my Final Paper.
-Put up Valentiny decor.
-Go to Body Step class.
-Give girls an old-school, hands-on crafty-fun play date. I will get out the sewing machine. We will bake something! (Last semester, I got into the bad habit of putting Charlie and Lola on, running down to make popcorn, serving it with a pitcher of water, sitting back down to my schoolwork and hoping for the best.)
-Cull the linens: there's no way we need four sets of sheets for the futon.
-Fold four baskets of clean laundry.
-Make corn chowder and beet salad for dinner.
-Buy books for Spring Semester.
-Put up Valentiny decor.
-Go to Body Step class.
-Give girls an old-school, hands-on crafty-fun play date. I will get out the sewing machine. We will bake something! (Last semester, I got into the bad habit of putting Charlie and Lola on, running down to make popcorn, serving it with a pitcher of water, sitting back down to my schoolwork and hoping for the best.)
-Cull the linens: there's no way we need four sets of sheets for the futon.
-Fold four baskets of clean laundry.
-Make corn chowder and beet salad for dinner.
-Buy books for Spring Semester.
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