Jennifer on the Verge

Dear Everyone:

2012-02-01T09:08:00.000-08:00

You and I, my friend, are not broken things that need to be fixed. And we must never let anyone convince us otherwise.

Hiking in the north woods, January 2012

Today's Other Carpe Diem Post

2012-01-19T14:31:00.000-08:00

This is a post about seizing the day, but not that popular one from HuffingtonPost that has been making the rounds. I'm less of a Big Deal.

In the past two months within my circle of friends in their 40s there has been a heart infection, an emergency gallbladder surgery, and a stroke. People, this is call to action. We must not only Carpe our Diems, but also take steps to ensure that we have many more Diems ahead of us. To that end I have done the following:

Pulled out my half-marathon novice training plan and done three days of training (I do this nearly every January and I have run exactly one 25K race and one 10 mile, no half maries. Whatevs. Judge if you must.).
Purchased brand new Asics Gel Kayano running shoes so that my knees last for all my Diems.
Started meditating. (I'm up to five minutes. Go, me.)
Made reservations here and here.

Yes, I am spoiled and privileged. I get that. But I'm serious and my guilt is overpowered by my drive to live well and to want you to do the same. We may only get this one go 'round, friends. Find some awesome way RIGHT NOW to take good care of yourself. Do it! Now! Please?

2012-01-13T06:24:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I worry, panic even, that I've run out of things to say.

Seriously.

Momma Always Told Me There'd Be Days Like This

2012-01-12T11:07:00.000-08:00

It's as challenging some days being an 11-year-old girl trying to find her way in the world as it is being a 41-year-old woman trying to find her way in the world.

Sometimes what helps most is a dose of unconditional love.

I know that. Nora knows that. Apparently Pocket Puppy knows it too because Monday, the first day back to school after a two-plus week break, he climbed onto Nora's back (and didn't start chewing her hair) when she collapsed in tears on the couch.

The ultimate lesson all of us have to learn is unconditional love, which includes not only others but ourselves as well. —Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Why Are My Kids So Weird?

2012-01-10T13:03:00.000-08:00

I'm doing a little moonlighting blogging about kids and life and the madness that is parenting over at ParentFurther.com.

http://www.parentfurther.com/blog/kids-do-weird-stuff

I Love to Go A'Wandering

2012-01-09T11:29:00.000-08:00

Okay, Lovelies, I am back. I always come back, you know. Sometimes it just takes a bit to get things sorted out.

Val-de-ri, val-de-ra

Saturday I spent the afternoon in silence bringing spiritual and emotional closure to 2011, and setting my intentions for 2012. Words are critical to me so I share with you some that emerged in my mind and on the page that day:

Substance • Beauty • Elegance • Humor • Strength • Openness • Edge • Different • Connected • Removed

Removed is a bit of a puzzler, eh?

Additionally, I came across this phrase, which captures where I anticipate I will be much of this year: "Neither looking to the left, nor looking to the right...just being in the middle." Similarly, this image from my recent explorations of the Donald D. Ferguson Demonstration Forest in Northern Minnesota is a fine visual representation of what I see forthcoming.

So, that is that.

Peace, joy, love.

Quote of the Week: Romance

2011-12-22T08:24:00.000-08:00

Yesterday someone I respect and trust said to me:

"You are deeply and intensely a romantic in the classic sense of the word; you want all the people you love to look up and notice the amazing color of the sky."

And then he said he thought that was a thing to know about me: Not a good thing, not a bad thing, just a thing.

And I smiled.

Day Dream Believers

2011-12-21T15:46:00.000-08:00

As far as I'm concerned the Winter and Summer Solstice are the bookends of a year. So on this day of so little light I visited my psychiatrist, listened to beautiful music, and was surrounded by lovely color. The Good Doctor and I talked about what it means to be a seeker and to feel like the one who didn't get the handbook and to know that there is so much more to life than what it looks like on the outside.

I also created this weird winter evening mandala that I'm not totally loving, but that's part of the whole mandala thing...let go and do what the spirit moves me to do.

May you have a year filled with light, color, and music, however weird.

Peace

Wednesday Post, Part 2

2011-12-14T15:04:00.000-08:00

I'm posting again today because that first one isn't making sense to me when I go back and read it.

What I was trying to explain has to do with why I started blogging in the first place. Eight years ago when I finally had to face depression, anxiety, and panic attacks head on, a very significant contributor to my return to functioning was that a number of people came forward and said, "I've done this. I lived it. You can get through it. You can change. Here's what happened to me...."

None of these people felt sorry for themselves or for me; they felt relief, health, gratitude, hope.

There were also people who were fearful, who worried that the stigma of mental illness would prove a barrier to all sorts of important things in life. These were people who felt only pity for me, not compassion.

I decided that I would never be afraid to tell my story; that I would make removing barriers one of the important things in my life.

For better or for worse, I've stayed in that place. But there's a difference between openness and story telling, and whimpering.

I've been getting a little close to whimpering lately, at least in real life. And that's what's tripping me up, serving as my writer's block. And every time I try to show a little bit of it I just get more worried I'm drifting that direction. I don't want to write things that provoke pity, that doesn't help anyone. If I can, I'd like to promote compassion. But mostly I just want to say, "I've done this. I lived it. You can get through it. You can change. Here's what happened to me."

2011-12-14T13:34:00.000-08:00

I've found it difficult to write lately. I worry about crossing the line from being real to being a real downer.

I have no interest in being that person.

Furthermore, while I have heard that the worst thing one human can feel toward another is apathy, I more strongly loathe pity. If you care about me, do not ever feel sorry for me. In fact, how about we all just agree to never feel sorry for anyone? Because when we do we stop thinking of them as being complete and whole and having everything they need to face whatever comes next.

And we all have it. We truly do.

Peace out.

2011-12-09T07:24:00.000-08:00

Most days I'm a pantheist, but the Hallelujah Chorus is still one of my favorite pieces of music and these version is really fun and the kids in it are awesome. (Though I do wonder if they realize what they are "saying." Also, try to not be distracted by the cringe-worthy punctuation toward the end.)

P.S. The views of Alaska are amazing and astonishing. I would not survive a year there.

A Very Dysthymic Holiday Season

2011-12-07T08:07:00.000-08:00

Episodic depression sucks, but I figure might as well make the best of it! If I knew how to video blog this would be my first one. Fortunately for you, I don't, so you'll just have to sing it in your head.

Deck the Halls: Redux

Deck the Halls with acts of folly

Fa la la la la, la goddamn la.

Tis' the season of melancholy

Fa la la, la, la, blah, blah, blah blah.

Don we now our stretchy apparel

Fa la la la la (you get the rest)

Trolls are actually elves gone feral

Fa la, etc. etc.

See the blazing yule before us

Fa la...

Strike the table and run into the forest*

Fa...

Follow me in ill-got pleasure

...

Oh wait, I quit that because it f```ed me up.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

*There's a wooded area with trails behind my house. When I get really fed up I tend to slam my hand down on something and announce, "I'm going for walk!"

Edited to say: I'm not currently depressed, mind you, just having to work extra hard to stave it off.

Conversation of the Day: When You Must Go to a Ball

2011-12-05T09:09:00.000-08:00

Coyote Hollow Arroyo Garden Dec 2011

The snow came this weekend to Coyote Hollow Gardens and Library, followed this morning by cold, cold, cold temps with more bitterness on the way. Here's how dressing for the weather went down in our household:

Nora (age 11, standing at the bus stop shivering): Ahh...my ears are cold.

JOTV (age old enough to not care, standing at the bus stop in dirty ratty torn wool poncho-type thing): Dude...put your hat on.

N: I can't; it'll mess up my hair.

JOTV: Seriously? You can fix your hair when you get to school. And besides, how your hair looks is never more important than being warm. Okay, almost never.
N: Yeah, like, if you have to go to ball.

So, folks, Nora has spoken. If you live where it's cold and must go to a ball today, you have our complete support for not wearing a hat. Otherwise, bundle up!!!

P.S. Isaac wore shorts.


Coyote Hollow Little Free Library Dec 2011

On Faith

2011-11-29T09:20:00.000-08:00

I've made it no secret that I live with depression on an ongoing regular basis. I also have a history of consuming rather large quantities of alcohol, perhaps in an attempt at self-medication. Depression and chemical dependency do not truly feel like the right words, but our vocabulary related to health, well-being and spirituality is too limited for me to accurately describe succinctly what it is to be me.

At times guilt reigns and I wonder why I don't just suck it up and move on, find Jesus or Allah, do more yoga, or otherwise be better than I am. I find myself rationalizing ("family history," "birth control pill-induced," "blah, blah, blah").

But the truth is that it is what it is and no amount of fussing will change that. I am committed to being as well as I can be and sometimes that means acknowledging the pain, just as I would kidney stones or arthritis or gout.

On my journey toward seeing things differently, I often turn to the publications of Hazelden Foundation, where I worked one summer as a teenager. In this month of thanks giving there have been a number of reflections that have particularly rung true for me and I offer them to you now or when you most need them:

"Believe in yourself and others will believe in you. It cannot be otherwise." Douglas Bloch

"One forgives to the degree that one loves." La Rouchfaucould

"Faith is like a muscle. It must be exercised to grow strong. Repeated experiences of having to trust what we can't see and repeated experiences of learning to trust that things will work out, are what makes our faith muscles grow strong." Melody Beattie

Much love to you today and always.

Occupy This

2011-11-25T10:20:00.000-08:00

Working, November 2011

'Bout to go do some yoga as part of Occupy Smaller Pants.

Maybe my new business partner Hampsty Hamps will join me. He could use some work on his core. And his cheeks.

In Which I Reveal My Narcissism. A Little Bit.

2011-11-23T14:38:00.000-08:00

I visited the Good Doctor yesterday because despite my recent bout of serenity this dysthymia still has a fairly firm grasp on my being and the clouds have been moving in over the past weeks and so I figured I needed to cut the badness off at the pass. Stupid badness.

taking narcissistic photos with my laptop

"Tell me about your narcissism," he said at 1:47.

Really? With only 13 minutes left? After eight years?

Being in the I-Am-a-Screw-up-and-a-Phony place that I am, I replied with some mumbling about having always worried that I was a narcissist and probably co-dependent too, and several other DMSIV categories, and blah, blah, blah.

"Now wait a minute," he said. "I just want you to tell me about yourself, your view of you, your experience of you. How are you good to you? What do you like about you?"

Oh, that kind of narcissism.

But I had a hard time with that too. (Because, remember, I Am a Screw-up and a Phony.) I said things along the lines of thinking I should probably do more for the world and be kinder and more altruistic, be more selfless and more focused on solving the Universe's problems and so on and so forth, at which point he said something no one has ever come close to saying to me before: "You do have a puritan streak, don't you?"

And I was like, What the f---?

Stuff Happens

2011-11-22T10:40:00.000-08:00

Sometimes really lousy stuff happens. It just does.

And sometimes really cool stuff happens. Like when this beautiful, tiny, intricate insect wing landed on my page as I was working at the picnic table office last summer.

The cool stuff happens a lot more often than the lousy stuff when I remember to pay attention. (Although admittedly this particular example was probably not so great for that bug.)

Insect Wing on Journal, Summer 2011

Conversation of the Week: Babies

2011-11-21T10:13:00.000-08:00

Shop Guy, Nora and I watched Mrs. Doubtfire this weekend prompting a good discussion of parenting, divorce, family configurations, etc. After she went to bed Shop Guy revealed that something was bothering him:

Napping with Two of My Babies, November 2011

SG: "The thing that seemed weird was that those actors in their late 40s were playing parents of a five year old."

JOTV: "Yeah?"

SG: "Yeah, I mean, is that even usually a good idea, physically, to have a kid at that age?"

JOTV: (Indignantly, I'll admit) "Pfft, ah yeeesss, people do it all the time. I've actually been thinking lately that it'd be pretty cool to have another baby."

SG: (Walking away) Well then, it's a darn good thing we got that puppy.

In Defense: Minnesota Nice

2011-11-19T20:16:00.000-08:00

There was a little dust-up in the Twin Cities' arts community this week when a native New Yorker resigned from a prestigious leadership role citing an inability to deal well with Minnesota Nice. He said, in part, "People don't tell you what they think, they talk about it behind your back. And so that causes you to bob and weave and I've never been very good at that." You can read about the story here if you like, but honestly it's not all that interesting.

It did get me thinking, however.

I have always prided myself on being direct. Honest. Out there. Straight up. Tell it like it is. I can handle the truth. Etc., etc. But Shop Guy has, on occasion, mentioned that I can be a little bit defensive. I, of course, have nearly every time argued well the case that I am actually NOT defensive, I'm just almost always right.

Ahem.

That said, this is the Year of Transformation, of course, and perhaps even though I'm pretty sure I don't do the whole passive-aggressive-say-one-thing-mean-another mess of a dance, I could be inclined toward thin-skinness. And perhaps I shall work on shifting that a bit.

Or not, because really I'm not that bad and it usually is other people who are wrong or being unreasonable. (Just sayin'.)

2011-11-17T11:22:00.000-08:00

Melodie Beattie is one of my all-time favorite writers and one of my personal heroes. I often turn to her books or her web page when I need reminding of the Universe's blessings.

http://melodybeattie.com/

Peace out.

November Rose

2011-11-15T13:39:00.000-08:00

Coyote Hollow, November 2011

“They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold; and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price. ” —Khalil Gibran

Untitled

2011-11-11T14:35:00.000-08:00

You know how sometimes in autumn the leaves make interesting patterns where they've fallen and been rained on or started to decay?

I found this outside my front door this afternoon:

Sidewalk 11.11.11

Sometimes Life Surprises Me

2011-11-10T12:09:00.000-08:00

Last night, after dinner, when it was dark and cold outside and warm and cozy in my house, Shop Guy took Isaac and Nora to shoot baskets at a gym. I was left alone with the pets, the dirty dishes and pumpkin bread in the oven. After cleaning the kitchen and starting the dishwasher I dimmed the lights and just stood there listening to it murmur, smelling the ginger and nutmeg.

And I realized that I was the happiest and most content I had been in 13 years.

For the first time in this home I was perfectly at ease.

Of course the situation of my life had something to do with it...the place, the people, the creatures, the smells...but I like to think something else happened. Or is happening.

I am different from how I used to be. I am me, but transforming. Nothing is perfect. Some things are extremely difficult. Some painful. But I'm not so frightened. I don't run so hard. I don't struggle as much. I'm not trying to get away from what hurts.

It all just is. Life just is. And that's good.

Peace out.

P.S. Just so I don't make things sound too idyllic, right after this happened I realized it was REALLY FREAKING COLD outside of the kitchen so I put on several layers of jammies and fleece and went to bed at 9:00.

Quote of the Week: Nora Says

2011-11-09T14:08:00.000-08:00

Remember that fifth grade drama I've mentioned?

Here's what Nora has to say about so-and-so liking so-and-so but not being sure which so-and-so they like best and whatnot:

"I don't want someone to like someone who's not me. I don't mean 'not me' as in, like, someone else, you know...but not me as in me pretending to be some way that I'm actually not."

Shit like that pretty makes up for all the times she's bobbed her head and wagged her finger at me.

More Thinking

2011-11-04T08:42:00.000-07:00

Today Badger and I are thinking more deep thoughts like, "What if the world really is flat and we actually could fall off it's just that parts of it aren't visible to humans or dogs because we haven't yet evolved to that point so we haven't ventured as far as we'll eventually be able to go?" And, "If we are the first ones to fall off will it hurt?"

Also, we wonder what we should make for dinner.

Self-employed, 4 November 2011

Arrogance vs. Amazing

2011-11-03T15:24:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure it is not arrogant to think of yourself as amazing, wonderful, a gift, gifted, fascinating, and fabulous. Actually, it's pretty cool; I'm convinced there aren't many people who truly believe that about themselves.

What is arrogant, I think, and also ultimately destructive, is to think that you are that way because of you rather than because the Universe is so freaking awesome. Things get ugly when gratitude slips away and is replaced by just about anything else. And of course there's a danger of carrying it too far and forgetting that in addition to all these things you are also human which comes with some characteristics that are less fun to discuss.

Or not.

Just thinking. And I bet there are entire fields of study and religions dedicated to this that could help me explore the issue in more depth. But I'd rather just write about it here and then go back and read it again in a few days and then a few weeks and see if I still agree with myself.

I also love it when you chime in.

Rock 'n' roll, good people.

Quotes of the Week: Puberty

2011-11-02T10:49:00.000-07:00

"There is SOOOO much drama in 5th grade."

"Mr. Kise (8th grade health teacher responsible for the reproductive health unit) has scared the crap out of 99 percent of the class."

"I just realized...my feet are HUGE."

"Really, mom?" (Actually, I get this one a lot.)

Peace out.

Servant Leader?

2011-10-31T14:38:00.000-07:00

Today I am writing a workshop curriculum for youth workers on how to engage young people in everyday acts of leadership.

I am stuck on thinking about how people sometimes confuse servant leadership with martyr tendencies. Care of one's own self must be a priority in order to best care for and tend to the needs of others.

I think.

I'll think on it some more.

Feel free to think with me if you like. Or parallel think. Or perpendicular.

"Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength."

~Corrie Ten Boom

Self Employment

2011-10-28T14:09:00.000-07:00

We call this consulting. Fortunately for our clients we charge by the project, not the hour.

Checkmate: Acceptance

2011-10-27T06:11:00.000-07:00

Well, Yesterday didn't turn into a two-post day, but here's an early morning follow-up.

The thing about Needy? It's reactionary. It's not grounded. It's insatiable...the affirmations can keep on coming and do nothing...nothing, I tell you.

I see it in my 11-old-daughter and I hold her face in my hands and gaze fiercely into her eyes and tell her she's wonderful and completely whole and perfect just the way she is and that her love of self needs to come from knowing that on the inside and not any other way.

And I see it in myself and I don't think: just tumble, tumble, tumble...afraid of Rejection of any sort, compulsively seeking Affirmation.

On Tuesday night I knew it had taken a firm hold, the Fear, and it pissed me off. So I went to bed, closed my eyes, and hugged the Rejection tight. Just held it in my mind's arms. And we slept that way. And yesterday, when I woke up, I wrote. Then I ran. Then I walked. Then I bought some new jeans that actually fit (plus a soy latte on my way out of the mall). Then I worked. Then I cleaned my kitchen.

And by bedtime Wednesday Rejection and I had made our peace. The Fear was gone...Acceptance having taken its place.

Wild Thing, I Think I Love You?

2011-10-26T06:44:00.000-07:00

There are few emotions I like less than needy. It ranks right up there with shame which, now that I think about it, is probably because they are closely related.

You should have seen the look on my face when my therapist first said to me, "It's okay to not be strong. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to be vulnerable."

Still, I really don't like to let on when I'm needy...because it's such an easy thing to hide, right?

JOTV (waves hand wildly): "Hey! Hey, guys! Over here! Hey...wanna hang out? Wanna see my puppy? Can I get you a cold beverage? Did you know I have a blog? Hey, guys, lookatme!"

I'm right smack in the middle of, people.

It's so top-of-mind this might be a two post day.

In the meantime I'm thinking about the DH Lawrence quote: "I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself."

Peace out.

It Might Be Good to Move On

2011-10-25T09:26:00.000-07:00

So...Badger.

Since our very, very sad parting with our Big Dog several years ago, we have sworn we are not dog people. I was convinced I didn't deserve another dog because I brought Scout into our family and I let her down by not being able to care for and train her the way I had intended.

My daughter was pretty sure I was wrong. For a year she has been asking for a dog...swearing she'd help care for it well.

"But we are not good with dogs."

Then this summer one of my dear, wise friends who lives with a dog suggested that perhaps Scout's inability to function well in our highly populated area wasn't entirely my doing and that perhaps adoption of a more sensible dog would be a quite different experience.

Poor Badger thinks this means he and Espe are friends

And then two weeks ago, right before the Year of Transformation kick-off, this little guy's photo popped up on the Humane Society web site which I had been secretly looking at every day for two months. He had been transported from Alabama because there wasn't enough room for him in shelters down there. He weighed 3.3 pounds and scored 5 out of 9 on a veterinarian's rating of his health.

And then Nora saw his picture and whispered to me, "Mom, you DO deserve to have a dog."

And then she said to Shop Guy, "It might be a good idea for us to move on."

And now we have Badger.

I'm Dreaming of...

2011-10-24T13:20:00.000-07:00

'Tis the season of building up resistance against the coming isolation of winter:

breaking fast in front of the therapy light;

sauteing the final harvest of vegetables from our garden;

Cabbage from the Arroyo Garden, Fall 2011

and, this year, snuggling with the cats and also with Badger. Have you met Badger?

Badger and his boy, 2011

Blue Moon Shadow

2011-10-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

I'd be bummed about having the blues, except then I wouldn't have as much appreciation for songs like this one.

Hug someone today. Quick now. Go do it.

Monarchian Rhapsody

2011-10-16T08:01:00.000-07:00

I started to wonder this morning whether this current transformation requires leaving anything behind. Or adding things. Or whether it can simply be a shift.

I don't know. If I knew I'd bypass the whole process and just get on with the next phase.

And so I wait and I wonder.

And I miss summer already. And I get edgy when people wax rhapsodic about crisp, cool fall air. But this photo of a butterfly in my raspberries soothes a bit.

Just Breathe

2011-10-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

Well, the Year of Transformation has begun. Yesterday was a quiet, reflective day followed by an evening of burning stuff that was not my hair or the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.

Truth be told, I am as nervous about this year as I am excited. There's no sense of foreboding, but also no question, no option to opt out. It all came to me very clearly in a moment when I wasn't looking for it...wasn't looking for anything really.

Just like this song that Shop Guy just came in and turned on:

My Sharona

2011-10-11T19:36:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me on my run this morning that an unfortunate outcome of the Year of Transformation (which is nearly upon us) could be that I start liking country music. There would be nothing I could do to prevent it because, of course, part of the power of this venture comes from non-resistance. And, I'll be honest here, it freaked the hell out of me enough that I almost called the whole thing off.

But then this song came on my ipod and I remembered how much I loved this scene despite the maddening 90s-what-does-it-all-really-mean-anyway? angst of the film.

And I figured I'm pretty safe.

Practical Research Benefiting Children and Youth

2011-10-09T11:08:00.000-07:00

In March of 1993, I made my way to the downtown Minneapolis offices of Search Institute, an organization that said it did "practical research benefiting children and youth." I had heard that their president, Peter Benson, needed a new assistant. At 22, newly Bachelor degreed, newly married, tired of working essentially the same job I'd had since I was 16, and full of moxie and youth worker enthusiasm, I figured I'd be perfect for him.

It was one of those life-shaping decisions that you have no way of recognizing at the time.

It turned out Search Institute wanted someone with a little more life experience and a little less sass to manage Peter's professional world, but that didn't stop the HR director (whom I met in the elevator on the way up) from inviting me to meet the research director who talked with me for a good 45 minutes and six weeks later called back to offer me a different job. It was that kind of place.

I never did report directly to Dr. Benson, as I liked to loudly and effusively call him, but I have worked with him and influenced by him for the past 19 years. It isn't always easy or fun; mission-driven vocation based on a set of ideals that are far from real-life experience generally isn't. But it pushed me to continue to do something I believe in ferociously.

My friend and mentor Peter died last Sunday with years worth of vision and creativity and passion still left in him. It turned out that his dream was far greater than practical research benefiting children and youth. He wanted families, schools, congregations, entire communities, and indeed the world, to be more developmentally attentive to the needs of people in the first two decades of life, because he believed that all kids are our kids and that a true measure of the health of a people is the well-being of its children and youth.

It makes no sense that he died at 65, but, of course, little does from this side of the equation.

Tomorrow many will honor and celebrate and say good to Peter in a memorial service that is sure to reflect his charisma as well as widespread influence and connections, and contrasting personal, introverted nature. And then many, perhaps all, of us will go back out into the world and keep doing what we do a little better, a little differently, and little more intentionally.

To learn more about Peter and Search Institute visit their Web site: http://www.search-institute.org/

Peace out, Dr. Benson.

Quotes of the Week: Soccer Talk

2011-10-06T10:59:00.000-07:00

I coach a soccer team of 10 and 11 year old girls. It's a competitive team (as opposed to recreational) which in theory means the girls are there because they love soccer, want to grow in the sport, are interested in winning, etc., etc.

Here are some examples of recent conversations:

Soccer Kid: "Coach Nora's Mom, do we have to do this trapping drill."
JOTV: "Yes, trapping is one of the basic soccer skills."
SK: "But I'm afraid of the ball."

SK: "Hey, uh, Coach Whatever Your Name Is, why don't we ever have snack?"
JOTV: "I'm the anti-snack. We're here to play and exercise and have fun. You can eat when you go home."
SK: "But snack is the best part."

JOTV: "Who can tell me what just happened there on the field?"
SK: "Coach Stephanie, today at my school this kid spilled his milk all over the floor and this other kid walked through it and made milk footprints and the principal got super mad."
JOTV: "Uh...okay...what does that have to do with why the other team just scored on us?"
SK: "Huh?"

(Yes, my name is really Jennifer.)

On Being an Emotional Mattress

2011-10-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week a longtime friend and mentor of mine died, a dad on my kid's soccer team went ballistic on the coach, my other kid told me several of her friends had spread a rumor about something she said in a private conversation, and I learned about some very mean things people I know have done to someone I care about.

I am practicing being an emotional mattress.

That's as opposed to a backboard or sticky wall.

As a backboard, when my own or others intense feelings ball up and come at me I'm rigid and hard and the impact hurts and then they just bounce off into the Universe risking all kinds of chaos and badness.

A sticky wall? That's obvious, right? The stuff comes at me, hurts, and also adheres. I end up carrying it all around, slouched over and crooked from injury and uneven weight.

An upright mattress, though, absorbs the impact and lets whatever it is fall at my feet where I and whomever else happens to be around can examine it, let it settle, and figure out what to intentionally do next.

Also, I am baking cookies.

It's much better that way.

Why the Hell Not?

2011-09-29T13:03:00.000-07:00

Today was one of people connecting with me in all kinds of unexpected ways, both positive and challenging, and all important and nourishing.

This morning, for example, Deliberate Deborah just happened to end up in my neighborhood with time to spare. She's the kind of friend who will call and say, "I'm nearby...can I come over?" and I don't think "Damn. I didn't clean the bathroom."

So she came over and we sat in the sun on the porch by the Arroyo Garden and talked about this whole Year of Transformation business. She's in a kind of state of Creating a New Normal (a condition we did not think up ourselves but wish we had because it's so inspired) and I, of course, am almost in my 40s (being 40 does not count as being in one's 40s, fyi). We agreed that part of the power of opening yourself up to possibility at any age or stage is that when opportunity presents itself you forget to think, "Oh, I don't do that," or "That's not really me," and instead you think, "Sure...why the hell not?"

So, that's that.

A Poem for Peter

2011-09-28T18:34:00.000-07:00

I have a friend and mentor whose earthly body is very ill. But even in the ICU he is more well in spirit than I think he ever has been in the 19 years I've known him. Over the past 18 months he has embraced each moment, each gift, each pain, each new feeling and experience in a way that is remarkable and inspiring.

So here is a little gift of thanks for him, from a Khalil Gibran poem:

A Tear and A Smile
I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart

For the joys of the multitude.

And I would not have the tears that sadness makes

To flow from my every part turn into laughter.

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding

Of life's secrets and hidden things.

A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and

To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;

A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

Like, Michael Jackson Good

2011-09-23T13:36:00.000-07:00

Have you heard this song?

The other day it came on in the car on the way home from soccer practice. Here's what happened:

E (age 10 and all swoony): "Oooooo...I love this song."

Nora (age 11 and very bossy): Mom! Turn it up!

JOTV (age Old but practically perfect in every way): Uh...really?

N: Ugh! I mean PLEEEZE turn it up.

E: Nora, did you know there is an actual person named Jagger?

N: No. Seriously?

E: Yeah, and he's, like, a super good dancer. Like, Michael Jackson good.

Clearly I am even older than I realized.

A Short Story About Yesterday and Tomorrow

2011-09-22T09:02:00.000-07:00

A friend said yesterday, "Tell me more about the Year of Transformation."

And so I told him some stuff.

"But mostly," I said, "it's about stepping into the transformative spaces the Universe opens up to me."

And then I was pleased the words came out that way.

The Beginning (Formerly Known as The End)

In Which I Am Still on the Verge

2011-09-14T12:01:00.000-07:00

Reading, Lake 3, August 2011

My people and I spent time in the BWCA at the end of the summer just as the whole place was catching fire. It makes me think about this upcoming Year of Transformation and how I really can't decide how it will happen I just know that it will. So...that's kind of scary. And freeing. And real. Which reminds me of this Joseph Campbell quote that my beloved Kathleen posted on The Facebook the other day:

"We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us."

Fishing, Lake 3, August 2011

In Which I Redirect

2011-09-06T13:04:00.000-07:00

You might know my former boss Kathleen. She reminds me a lot of my mom...super cool, kinda crazy, headstrong, determined, wicked smart, and unpredictable. And she loves a good adventure. Look what she's up to now:

http://threeblueeyes.blogspot.com/

My Very Own Serenity Prayer

2011-08-31T10:05:00.000-07:00

In recycled news, parenting is kicking my butt this week.

I have written checks, read policies, signed forms:

"Yes, I solemnly swear I have reviewed and understand the State High School League 20plus-page tome on concussion management. Because my son might RUN INTO A FREAKING TREE during a particularly intense JV cross-country meet?"

[Okay, actually, I did once run into a tree. But that was at home. And it was dark. And my collarbone broke and I passed out, but no concussion. And, anyway...really?]

Yesterday we shopped.

"You know, babe, I never bought book covers; I used butcher paper and that worked just fine."

"Oh. My. God. MOM! It says right here on the list that I have to have THIS BRAND and THIS SIZE. You just don't GET IT."

And so it goes.

I read the paper this morning to help me get through. Being sandwiched between the heart of the city on one side and communities with middle school campuses that look like small, expensive liberal arts colleges on the other, the contrasting news coverage always helps me remember everything's a matter of perspective. Yesterday, for example, there was a story about the police in an urban high school hanging out in the hallways during the first week of classes trying to get information about two teens shot and killed in the area last week. Then today the Police Blotter ran in a special "West Metro" (i.e., swanky suburbs) section. It included the following:

"Disturbance. Someone rang the doorbell and ran at a home on the 1500 block of Fountain Lane."
"Animal complaint. Three alpacas were loose on the 13100 block of Hwy 7."
"Weapons. Someone reported hearing 12 gunshots on the 10600 block of Maple Lane East. Officers located a homeowner trying to knock down a dead tree limb with the gunshots."

Somehow, and I'll own that it's unique connection that works probably only in my own mind, the crazy contrast gives me the serenity to sign even though I've actually only skimmed, the courage to stick to my butcher paper resolve, and the wisdom to know that all the little stuff makes very little difference.

Peace out.

Backing Up

2011-08-22T15:10:00.000-07:00

I've been involved in a whole bunch of strategic initiatives that have taken place over time and invariably were launched with a kick-off event to get the whole thing started.

I have decided that the Year of Transformation is a strategic initiative and October 14, 2011, is the date of my kick-off event. Of course that means the pre-work has to start now because as any event planner knows you have to work backwards from your date and identify a whole bunch of milestones leading up to it so that you have everything in place and, more important, things to check off your list.

I have no idea what my kick-off event will be. Probably I'll have brown sugar on my oatmeal instead of just cinnamon or I'll put craisins on my salad. Or maybe I'll do something really cool that I'll tweet. Or maybe something really cool that I'll have to keep to myself.

That would be different.

Does This Blog Make Me Look Crazy?

2011-08-19T07:35:00.000-07:00

So...

...transformation.

The touchstone of my 42nd year, apparently.

August 2011

I find it curious, hopeful, exciting, and liberating. I anticipate it will shake me out of the aversion I have developed over the past several years to having my picture taken, not just because my outside will change, but that could be part of it. No...something inside of me is going to settle (or catch fire), I believe. Or not.

Something has to shift, anyway, because this whole photo business is ridiculous and rather difficult for my shutterbug mother.

That's about all I know at this point, which I suppose is appropriate since I'm still 40.

Here's a silly self-portrait I took on a ferris wheel this summer. I'm going to post several photos of myself in the coming weeks so in a year from now I can look back and see what's visually changed and what's stayed the same.

Exciting stuff, folks.

More than Meets the Eye

2011-08-18T09:26:00.000-07:00

Damn...it's August already.

Anyway, time has passed, a bunch of stuff has happened, nothing's happened, etc., etc. Blah blah blah.

Let's move on.

In two months I will be older than 40.

Thirty-nine was my Year of Sexy in all its myriad manifestations. Forty was by default the Year of #TodayIAm40 (see Twitter). Yesterday a voice inside my head told me that the next in this series of anni mirabiles will be Transformation. Or Transformers. I'm not quite sure...Shop Guy and I were on a two-hour bike ride and what with the wind rushing through my hair and the gasps coming from my lungs it was sort of hard to hear.

Still, I'm going with Transformation for now. Because who is the rest of me to argue to what I think my head says?

Are you with me?

Now That's Good Hair

2011-06-30T09:37:00.000-07:00

I feel like maybe I should write something angsty and profound about how my state government is about to shut down, causing endless inconveniences not to mention dangerous living conditions for many of our most vulnerable state-mates.

But, really? Not my style.

Hair so good people were swearing at me

What IS my style as of yesterday is having my hair "blown out" by Will at Hair Police.

Oh. my. god. Why has it taken me 40 years to learn of this awesomeness? (Seriously, it looked so good that some girl yelled, "Bitch!" at me while I sat at a stoplight taking this picture of myself with my iPhone.)

Um, probably it has something to do with my mom saying when she saw it, "Wow. Your hair. It's so glamorous....

...sometimes I forget to comb mine."

Ah, yes, there it is.

Anyway, very excited because Will says I only have to get like a hundred clips to hold various parts out of the way and a huge curling iron and a mirror that lets me see the back of my head and about an extra hour each day and some talent and I'll be in business doing this on my own.

P.S. It totally looked better before the 45-minute drive home in rush hour traffic in the car with no air conditioning. But whatevs.

It's Summer but It's Still Spring

2011-06-28T09:10:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since we've heard from The Goddess Cards. So I asked the deck this morning what collectively we ought to be keeping top of mind today.

Ostara, the Teutonic goddess of fertility and spring, emerged to say that it's time to create, and to point out that springtime is "any time when the light increases within your mind and entire system."

Works for me.

That's the Great Thing about Summer, The Start of a List

2011-06-27T09:50:00.000-07:00

1. Sleepovers. On a Sunday night no less.

11:36 a.m. June 27

Let's Not Get Political

2011-06-23T07:03:00.000-07:00

I've been mostly sticking to my own content lately, but every once in a while I like a good repost.

You know that Shop Guy blogs too? It's primarily a journaling process for him, but as he is a man of few words it's good for me to read it to keep up with his Still Waters (because I have to admit I don't always believe they are running deep and that's when the trouble starts...).

Lately he's been asking me some questions about anarchism which had me a little concerned until I figured out the context, as (sort of) explained here. I swear on a stack of Macs I have never seen the guy read a book from beginning to end with as much intention as in the past couple of weeks:
http://johnjoiner.wordpress.com/2011/06/22/its-back-to-the-shop-for-me/

Enjoy.

The Day After the Solstice

2011-06-22T05:50:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness, this rain and these grey skies are getting to me. They knock me so off kilter.

I remember a stretch of days like this in September of 1993. Shop Guy and I had just moved into our first house in Minneapolis and he had soon after headed to Lake Itasca (four hours north of us) for a month-long seminar on foraging or orienteering or some such thing (that's what you get with a fisheries and wildlife major).

It was my first time ever living alone.

We had a stretch of sticky, rainy days that completely wiped me out. Fortunately I at least had to walk the dog. My friend Melanie came and sat with me and watched t.v...neither of us wanting to do a damn thing.

I've learned some things since then. Today I will get up off the couch and go for a run, rain or not (shine not being an option). And I will do something fun with my kids. And I will eat something fresh from my happy gardens.

And this too shall pass.

2011-06-21T09:27:00.000-07:00

It is the summer solstice. The longest stretch of continuous daylight. It's rainy and windy and brisk where I am. And I have a cold.

Oh, the injustice.

Maybe this is why I am thinking about the paradox that is vulnerability.

It seems to me that our hearts, minds, and souls are most safe when we are our most exposed. When every chink in the armor is laid bare, every magic curtain pulled back, we have nothing left to be but ourselves. And only then are we truly secure.

And sometimes people will surprise us, and judge or turn away in disgust or hide out of fear of such nakedness. And that hurts.

But the pain of perceived rejection eventually passes and we realize that it was not about us. And those were not spirits we truly needed and wanted now away. When we become ourselves we seek to be surrounded by others who also cherish and celebrate and adore us just as we are...nothing more, nothing less.

And we them.

Peace out.

Monday and Forget-Me-Nots from My Gardens

2011-06-20T09:07:00.000-07:00

It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we're alive - to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a facade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are.

—Elisabeth Kubler Ross

May you fully be you today, beloveds!

2011-06-19T11:25:00.000-07:00

I told her making it to Peach is pretty good for your first time

Nora and I were kickin it Old School yesterday waiting for Shop Guy and Isaac to finish up some business. I wondered at one point why I kept plugging quarters and almost said, "enough, I'm out" without really looking to check if I was until I remembered all those nights at Pepitos before people called it An Urban Pub waiting for my Lenny Plate with my dad plugging quarters and enjoying a Dos Equis in peace and I found more quarters in the bottom of my purse.

Funny that.

Happy Fathers Day.

Camp Hosta

2011-06-16T17:14:00.000-07:00

My fiery, emotional, hotheaded, affectionate little girl says she wishes it was time to go back to school. She's tired of her brother and his friends being annoyed with her. She's tired of me having to work instead of play Sorry with her. She's tired of not knowing what to expect when she wakes up each day. Time is a fairly amorphous concept for her so it's frustrating, I think, to not have a clear, regular routine. She appears to lose track of what's happening when, and in the wake of that lose motivation to do much other than wait for the next thing to get started.


Even Grandma Gretchen's hostas are more fun than mine

I on the other hand think keeping oneself and perhaps those around you engaged and amused without direction is becoming a lost art.

So off she went to day to Camp Grandma Gretchen and Grandpa Tom where she will engage and amuse the two people in the world who adore her more than Shop Guy and I do and who are more willing than we are to do pretty much whatever her rapid-fire little brain thinks up. She packed her bags for a few days because she's not sure how long she wants to stay. There will likely be at least gardening, game playing, ice cream shop visiting, philosophizing, and swimming.

It's a good deal if you can get it.

June 15

2011-06-15T07:12:00.000-07:00

As usual life these days is characterized by the juxtaposition of the mundane and extraordinary, excrutiating and delightful, apparently absurd and completely seemingly sensible.

Oh..the cuteness!

I need reminding always that it is as responsible to celebrate the simple joys—walking in the rain, celebrating a friend's birthday, cheering others' accomplishments, coaching my U10 girls to their first win of the season, running with Lady Gaga on my darling new iPod Shuffle (yay!)—as it is to hold a loved one as she weeps, say a prayer for a friend's very ill father, love my kids as hard as I possibly can.

I'm good at punishing myself (and, truthfully, others) for not Being Right. Today I will practicing celebrating that we are all simply Being the very best that we believe we can.

Peace out.

Chump Change

2011-06-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

I can't decide if I am embarrassed, ashamed or simply weary today.

I made a decision recently to honor my kid's request to keep something secret that really didn't need to be hidden. In the scheme of things it probably wasn't the best decision...there were a few people who should have been told what was going on. At the time I made it, however, protecting my beautiful girl from further distress, anxiety, and worry in what was already a stressful situation seemed like the highest priority.

I'm still not sure the choice I made was wrong, but it wasn't harmless.

Is this part of what it is to be a parent...to sometimes be faced with dilemmas that have no right or wrong, just different potentially negative consequences? Or maybe this is just part of being in a life.

New Ink and Other Drama

2011-06-13T20:28:00.000-07:00

Sun Goddess, June 2011

The Sun Goddess went through a transformation over the weekend in the presence of four of my most wonderful friends and thanks to the immensely talented Kore Grate. The only bummer was when my hair caught fire (it all comes from sitting with your ponytail poof too close to the candle). Fortunately I have very alert friends and fingers that are apparently made of asbestos, because I quickly reached up and put it out. After freaking out for a good bit I went upstairs to the Hair Police and the equally but differently talented Will cleaned me up.

He also put me at ease by sharing that in his drinking-smoking days he set his bangs on fire all the time.

Huh.

It was weird telling my mom that I have become a person who sets her hair on fire in the tattoo parlor but knows the guy upstairs who can fix it because he has lots of experience trimming his own burned hair.

Did not see that coming.

My Summer Rules

2011-06-10T06:28:00.000-07:00

I work from home. The Shorties summer at home. It gets a little crowded some days so clear expectations are extra important this time of year.

I think I am highly reasonable.

They think I am nuts.

Now This Is Just Annoying

2011-06-09T08:28:00.000-07:00

As a teenager I kid-sat a lot. Two of the girls I stayed with the most, Emily and Nora, had a jet-black cat named Daniel who scared the hell out of me. He joined their household when he rode home from school on the top of the car one day. They didn't know he was there until someone in another car rolled down his window and yelled, "There's a cat on top of your car!"

Daniel had a witching hour that happened after the girls were in bed and I was alone with my little black-and-white tv that I dragged down the block because they were a tv-free home. He tore around the house always stopping right in front of me on the couch, ready to pounce, definitely in an attempt to kill or seriously wound me.

A few years later he rode off on the top of another car and they never saw him again.

For most of my life I have been convinced Daniel was possessed. Now I know better.

June 8

2011-06-08T09:43:00.000-07:00

You could say that some stuff has changed since I last posted, or that nothing has changed at all.

Either would be right.

Here's some of the minutia:

Gardens are going like gangbusters, including the weeds.
I am working primarily at the Picnic Table Office where this bug hung out with me for about 20 minutes the other day until I remember that I wasn't get paid if I was just sitting there playing with a bug and blew it off.
I have vowed to start wearing more dresses.
Shorties have their last day of the school year today.
Shop Guy is building stuff, sometimes with his friends out at Mike Seimsen's School of Woodworking. Sometimes I complain that he'll get pasty white if he keeps spending all his time in the shop.
Nora has decided she hates the swallows in our swallow house because they are The Enemy of The Eastern Bluebird.
Grandma Gretchen and Grandpa Tom and L'il Bro have been traveling the world and the country. I have not. But I did drive two hours south to Gaylord, Minnesota with some of my dear friends from TVbyGirls.
I am going to be writing for some new blogs come 2012...I'll keep you posted.
Something in my refrigerator stinks. I think it's the cantaloupe Shop Guy bought. I try to love cantaloupe because it's a Super Food and filled with antioxidants that remove free radicals (no, I don't know what either of those things are and, come to think of it, free radicals sound right up my alley). But I only tolerate it. And I hate the smell.

So...that's about all the news that's fit to tell. It's exciting and mundane and what it is. Shop Guy continues to amaze me with his ability to live and let live and put up with my Crazy and listen to my ramblings on life and relationships and stinky fruit. My kids make my heart dance and alternately completely piss me off.

It's just how we roll.

June 7

2011-06-07T10:08:00.000-07:00

Did you think I had forgotten?

My approach to blogging goes against all common wisdom. It's haphazard and inconsistent. It's personal and revealing. I post photos of my children and my home.

Always on the verge of being sensible, deliberate. Always on the verge of fitting in.

But never quite.

This? Is my life.

Yes, Even Then

2011-04-26T08:35:00.000-07:00

April 2011 has not been my favorite month.

I have been indecisive, reactionary, judgmental. I'm not listening well because my mind isn't present to what my body is doing. I'm off my game. I move my right foot before my left is firmly planted. Last week after a particularly stressful day I texted a friend I trust with my deepest, darkest insecurities because I know he feels them too: "Please, when you have a moment, remind that I don't completely suck?"

Not two minutes passed.

"You are loved and lovable."

Okay, but, really? Even when I'm flaky and harsh and edgy? Even when my house is a mess and my records aren't in order and I file my taxes at the very last possible moment? Even when I say the wrong thing at the wrong time? Even when I methodically pull weeds from my garden when I maybe ought to cook dinner for my family?

Even when I fuck up everything?

Yes, in fact, my dearest friends remind me every single time I ask and sometimes even when I don't, especially then.

Backseat Conversation of the Week: Duct Tape

2011-04-19T18:56:00.000-07:00

Isaac (age 13): I could totally fix that book with duct tape.
JOTV: You can do anything with duct tape and a good imagination.
Isaac: I know, right?
Nora (age 10): Oh reeaaallly? Can you make a working eyeball out of duct tape?
Isaac: Dude. You can't make a working eyeball out of anything...but you could make working intestines.

Seriously...who are these people?

Here's How This Went...

2011-03-25T12:17:00.000-07:00

JOTV: Ohmygoshlook, Nora! A live possum. I've only ever seen them dead in the road.
Nora (age 10): Cool!
JOTV: Ew. That tail is kind of nasty looking though. It's like a huge rat.
Nora: What does a rat look like?
JOTV: That...except smaller.
Nora: Quick give me your phone anyway! We should show dad and Isaac! [Rolls down car window.]
JOTV: No! Jump out and take it you'll be able to get closer!
Nora: Gak! No way! You do it!
JOTV: No! I have to stay in the car in case someone comes and we need to move!

[Really this many exclamation points.]

Nora: Really, mom? Are you serious? JOTV: What???
Nora: It's a huge road and there's no one around.
JOTV: Yeah, but someone could totally come up behind us.
Nora: I can see, like, four blocks back.
JOTV: Just do it! Hurry it's getting away!
Nora: I don't want to, mom; I'm scared.
JOTV: There's nothing to be afraid of...it won't hurt you...come on.
Nora: It's gross. You do it if you want a close up so bad.
JOTV: Well, I guess we can just zoom in once we upload it.
Nora: Yeah, probably so.

And that is that.

Fun

2011-03-22T12:49:00.000-07:00

It's a busy day at the office, as you can see, where we are thinking Big Thoughts about:

Bridging the gap between formal and nonformal education in order to provide an overall higher quality educational experience for all young people;
Improving the quality of both nonformal and formal education for all ages through innovative practice, action research, and personal growth and development;
How to best nurture a growth mindset vs. a fixed mindset; and
Stalking mice.

We are also periodically checking in with Shop Guy, who stayed home sick, to gather his thoughts on Choice vs. Free Will vs. Destiny and so on and so forth. He's not saying much, actually.

Anyway, I love this quote from William Glasser and the cats tolerate it:

"Fun is the genetic payoff for learning."

I sure as heck agree, but fun seems to get sidelined in the interest of...what? Progress? Competition? Fear?

More thinking to come, I'm sure.

Things Only Privileged People Fret About

2011-03-18T11:38:00.000-07:00

Here are some thoughts on an issue that's really important in the grand scheme of things: Shopping.

My mother, who is fairly fabulous, manages to shop almost exclusively in thrift stores and direct trade markets. For a while I was fantasizing that I could be that awesome but then I realized she has three things I do not: patience, retirement, and mad shopping skillz.

I'm am not a highly skilled shopper. Actually, I kind of suck at it. Most of my clothes come from sporting goods or thrift stores and while that's very thrifty and sporty, it doesn't make getting dressed for work very easy. Difficult, in fact. Add to that that right now all my stuff is old and/or ratty and/or imaginary (i.e., I go to bed thinking I have the perfect outfit for my morning meeting, only, hah! joke's on me) and it becomes clear that it's time to stop giving a shit about what The People think of my appearance, or shop.

I may need to actually go to a mall (I told you this was meaty stuff). Tuesday night I did a run through that went okay except for that the only store I actually stepped into was Eddie Bauer and really that's just sort of sporty in disguise.

It would be really cool if I had a profound reflection or tying up or some such thing of this post, but really? This is it.

Peace out.

By Turning, Turning We Come 'Round Right

2011-03-17T18:45:00.000-07:00

March is starting to feel like a long month. Professionally I've been thinking a lot about homeless and other highly mobile youth; personally I've been not spending as much time outside--walking, running, playing--as I'd like; and of course on the national and global level all hell has been breaking loose, as my friend Colleen described the situation in Haiti...where she is at the moment trying to help ensure fair and just elections there.

And, again, all I have to offer is a prayer:

Prayers for the Battle

2011-03-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

Our part of the Universe is a damn scary, sad place right now.

Actually, it always is pretty frightening and depressing if you pay attention that way, but usually we aren't blasted in the face with it on this scale. Often we don't have individual, fiercely private devestation coupled with global crises of this magnitude. Sometimes there is a literal or figurative war we can fight that makes us feel better somehow...as though we can pinpoint the source of the evil and eliminate it.

But not right now. It's just a damn scary, sad place right now.

I have nothing to offer but love. It looks like words and smiles and hugs and laughter and tears. And here, too, is a prayer:

Now,
O Lord,
calm me into a quietness
that heals
and listens,
and molds my longings
and passions,
my wounds
and wonderings
into a more holy
and human
shape.

—Ted Loder, Guerillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle

Peace out.

With Passion

2011-03-11T16:17:00.000-08:00

Tonight Nora and I are playing Words with Friends on my iPhone while making brownies with chocolate butter cream frosting while snuggling and also blogging a bit, because things like tsunamis and earthquakes and you-just-never-know-whats happen.

And also for that reason, Rumi:

With
passion pray. With
passion work. With passion make love.

With passion eat and drink and dance and play.

Why look like a dead fish
in this ocean
of
God?*

Seize the day.

Peace out.

*Or Goddess. Or Universe. Or whatever. In this big freaking ocean we're sharing, okay?

Gray (Grey?)

2011-03-10T06:08:00.000-08:00

It has been an exhausting week though I'm really not quite sure why this is so. Yesterday included a long morning nap peppered with dreams of waking but not being able to arise. Disturbing at best.

The persistent gray skies may have something to do with it. It reminds me of the term I spent in college visiting "literary landscapes of England and Ireland." Sounds glamorous, no? Mostly it was churches and cemetaries.

Anyway, this current grayness calls for some Irish poetry...I give you Yeats:

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Let the River Run

2011-03-08T08:54:00.000-08:00

Sometimes important aspects of my energy get stuck...river water pooled thanks to piles of junk: sometimes rocks and fallen branches and other natural debris and other times old tires and soda bottles and sheets of landscape fabric.

My writing energy has been stuck.

I hate that.

It gets me all jammed up in all sorts of ways.

So today I am clearing energy...starting with downloading these iPhone photos that make me happy. Then it's off for a chiropractic adjustment (only my second ever but wow, it's freaky awesome), delivering web copy for a client, and then hanging out with some middle schoolers (not this one) who push all my buttons, make me madder than hell some days, and yet still seem to have won at least a piece of my heart.

See you again soon. I've missed you.

More Not From Me

2011-03-04T09:27:00.000-08:00

I think that perhaps tomorrow or maybe Monday I will write something original. The sun may need to first come out where I live. My reserves are waning....

In the meantime, this says what needs to be said:

What Happens?

What happens when your soul
Begins to awaken
Your eyes
And your heart
And the cells of your body
To the great Journey of Love?

First there is wonderful laughter
And probably precious tears

And a hundred sweet promises
And those heroic vows
No one can ever keep.

But still God is delighted and amused
You once tried to be a saint.
 
What happens when your soul
Begins to awake in this world
 
To our deep need to love
And serve the Friend?

O the Beloved
Will send you
One of His wonderful, wild companions ~
Like Hafiz.

From: 'I Heard God Laughing - Renderings of Hafiz' - Daniel Ladinsky

Today's Hafiz and the Frozen Morning Sky

2011-03-02T09:30:00.000-08:00

A Suspended Blue Ocean

The sky
Is a suspended blue ocean.
The stars are the fish
That swim.

The planets are the white whales
I sometimes hitch a ride on,

And the sun and all light
Have forever fused themselves

Into my heart and upon
My skin.

There is only one rule
On this Wild Playground,

For every sign Hafiz has ever seen
Reads the same.

They all say,

"Have fun, my dear; my dear, have fun,
In the Beloved's Divine
Game,

O, in the Beloved's
Wonderful Game."



Morning Sky — March 2, 2011

My Life in Post-Its

2011-02-16T07:55:00.000-08:00

We GWs tend to do a pretty fine job of living in the moment. It's something inherent in my character that I didn't embrace comfortably until my 30s, tending rather to feel like I didn't get the instruction manual and then fret over a perceived misstep in the past or obsess about being "just right" somewhere down the line.

It isn't easy being One Who gets Lost in a culture that values mapping, direct paths, scheduling, organization, planning, and deadlines. I suspect that we often overstay our welcome, push people's comfort zones regarding timeliness, and—perhaps most of all—seem, well, weird (I have become aware, for example, that I spend a lot more time standing my yard looking at my trees than do the majority of my neighbors). But neither does it justify any self-pity because along the journey we get to experience together this amazing and startling and stunning Universe. And, we manage to function pretty well in society; that's important to us as well and so we work at it.

Recently the Shorter People have taken to a new tactic for reminding themselves and me of key tasks and responsibilities. It's quite untidy and we're going through a lot of Sharpies, but hey...it gets the job done.

On the front door

On the mirror in the first floor bathroom


On the mirror in the second floor bathroom

Conversation of the Week: Parental Controls?

2011-02-14T09:21:00.000-08:00

A little set up: Recently we GWs purchased a service called Netflix on Demand, or some such thing. It means we can download movies and television shows instantly on anything in our house that can access our Wif, i.e., the t.v., the laptop, and my iPhone. Oh, and apparently my 10-year-old's iPod Touch.

Nora: Hey, mom?
JOTV: Yeah?
Nora: Uh...anything you download from Netflix shows up on my iPod.
JOTV: Really? Cool.
Nora: Yeah, well, everything. Not just the stuff I watch.
JOTV: Oh. Everything?
Nora: That's what I'm saying.
JOTV: Jeez. Well...hmmm...there's probably some stuff on there that's, well, inappropriate.
Nora: That's what I'm saying.
JOTV: Well did you watch any of it?
Nora: Jeez! No! But the covers look kinda weird...
JOTV: Is there some way to erase certain things?
Nora: I don't know. Probably.
JOTV: Well I don't know either! Can you figure it out?
Nora: I don't know!
JOTV: Yes, well, um, for now just don't watch anything that seems suspicious, okay?
Nora: Fine. But maybe you should talk to dad about how to get rid of stuff.
JOTV: You got it, babe.

I'm already obsolete.

A Breath of Fresh Air: One More Photo

2011-02-11T06:19:00.000-08:00

Life in my city (I still think of it as such even though, technically, I have relocated to a first-ring suburb...semantics) definitely has its drawbacks (see yesterday's photo essay, for example). On the other hand, it is totally filled with awesome awesomeness, like the Chain of Lakes. So there's that.

And perhaps because I needed a little reminding of that this week, yesterday while walking around one of the lakes (because we are hearty northern girls who won't be brought down by a little windchill factor) Pepper Silverlake* and I spotted this bald eagle just chillin out in this tree (you may have to zoom in if you really care about seeing it...it's right there in the middle...really, I swear).

So there you go.

*a stage name

Ice Damns

2011-02-10T07:59:00.000-08:00

Apparently it is the week of photo essays.

Also for this post I have written a Haiku.*

We paid these fellows

Several hundred plus a tip

Oh, Winter, Bite me

*Poetry is not one of my Mad Skillz.

This is Where the Magic Happens

2011-02-08T08:27:00.000-08:00

I? Am a consultant. Which in and of itself means very little other than that I don't have a boss or dental benefits or a 401K.

It's the nuance that makes it fabulous.

Unfortunately I don't have an elevator speech. And, really, I wouldn't even want to try to explain myself to someone who could only focus on our conversation for 44 seconds. The short story is that I work with education and youth development professionals to help make their work more effective, more satisfying...more awesome. I'm also a freelance writer and editor. And an evaluator. And curriculum developer.

The long story is longer. I'll save it for another day.

More important at the moment is that you may recall that many months ago my family started a room shifting (not to be confused with shape shifting which is much more difficult and definitely freakier) project that included a new office for me. Well it's done, finally, and I thought you might like a tour since you've stuck with me through all the chaos and mess and whatnot. Or something like that. So here you go:

The long view

The Fu Dogs: To protect against bad feng shui

Creating fabulous Power Points

My co-worker Cash gets crabby when he has to analyze data

Lightning is glad we added the nap spot

She's rather shy so we usually let her stay behind the scenes

And last but not least, Espe, Senior Vice President in Charge of Feng Shui supervising her charges

Baby, You're a Firework

2011-02-07T08:27:00.000-08:00

For the first time in nearly a decade I'm spending more time and energy looking up, out, and around than down at where my feet are landing.

It calls for a new soundtrack.

February Morning

2011-02-04T08:41:00.000-08:00

It's cold here where I live. Cold in a way that makes no sense. But sometimes with the harshness comes a striking, startling beauty that I almost can't see through my frustration.

When I do remember to look, it takes my breath away.

Morning Sky, February 4, 2011

World Stuff

2011-02-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

I totally heart social media. But it does have a number of potential downsides, including that your choices of what to post may silently say more about you than your actual posts.

I think that made sense.

Anyway...if you follow JOTV and/or my Facebook page or Twitter, you probably have been struck more than once by the suspicion that I am self-centered, silly, and vain (or as I like to think of it, introspective, free spirited, and self confident).

I do go on a great deal about my eyebrows and my psyche and my cooking and such.

I think about other stuff, though, too. A lot of the time, in fact.

Egypt, for example?

Wow.

But that's really all I can write that doesn't sound, well, self-centered, silly, and vain. Because quite frankly, I DON'T UNDERSTAND. I don't know what makes people oppress and kill and do other shitty stuff to other people. I don't know what makes one country think it has the duty/right/responsibility/balls to mess with another country's government. I don't know what makes us use religion as a reason to pummel each other. We're weird like that, we the people. I've tried to figure it out...even went to college and therapy and church and yoga and the library to try and figure it out. But I haven't. It's a mystery. And, really, I'm not so sure I'm any much better than the people who do that stuff...maybe I just have a better life.

I don't know.

So I don't say much about it.

2011-02-02T15:23:00.001-08:00

Now that I'm 40 and 4 months I'm back on Blogger.

2010-10-14T00:00:00.000-07:00

I'm on Wordpress now that I'm forty.

Word.

It Changes Everything

2010-10-13T07:44:00.000-07:00

From about age ten to age 32 and 11 months I judged the quality of a day by how much I accomplished. With the exception, that is, of holidays and vacations and other times I had earned or were set aside by The Powers that Be to celebrate, relax, be with people.

Love: You can see it in faces.

At 33, I had to learn to appreciate just getting through a day. I discovered what it's like for every minute to creep along, watching the clock, waiting to be able to take another pill, and to sleep.

At 39 and 364 days*, my measure is Love. A day filled with love is the Best Day Ever. Always. Every time, though there is no checklist...only what you see in faces, feel in touch, know in your entire being.

When you live for love it changes the way you see everything.

*If this is a Leap Year, do the math. I don't have time to Google it.

Hey! Lookatme!

2010-10-12T17:24:00.000-07:00

So, I went to a session on social media recently and was told, "The people who are active on Twitter are the Thought Leaders."

So naturally I thought, Well, bloody hell I better get on the damn thing.

Because I can't very well be just hanging around a bunch of Thought Followers. Or worse yet, Thought Slackers.

On the other hand, if I just sit there and don't say anything it's too stalkerish and also just not, Hey, lookatme! enough for me. The dilemma, of course, is that if the people on Twitter are the thought leaders then does that mean that if I go on Twitter I think I'm a thought leader? How silly and vain.

[awkward pause]

Which is why on Thursday, October 14, 2010—the only day of my entire life when I will be truly 40 years old—I will tweet my adventures. I plan to focus on local indulgences...shopping, massage, dining, an art class, walking beautiful trails.

I will also take a few new risks that will make it worth checking on me at least once. I think. But I don't really know because, honestly, I don't understand The Twitter much and am totally intimidated by it.

So, yeah. There it is.

Oh yeah, I'm @todayiam40.

This Is My Life: Quote of the Day

2010-10-11T11:07:00.000-07:00

"Mom! Come here! I have to show you how I can change my underwear without taking off my shorts!"

You can imagine my pride.

(P.S. It's National Coming Out Day, in the middle of National Anti-Bullying Month. How about we all do a little personal inventory, then walk a mile in someone else's shoes, and then decide if we really want to judge.)

I Really Do Get Serious Today

2010-10-08T07:59:00.000-07:00

Another warm, bright light went out last week after a struggle with depression. Another family and circle of friends and colleagues and neighbors and Scouts and teammates and church members are mourning a loss and celebrating a life. They are filled, I know, with unanswerable questions. I ache for them and do not know at this moment how to deal with the deep, gut-wrenching anger and pain and desperation I feel toward a Universe that allows people to suffer as they are and as he did.

People hurt in myriad ways; I get that. The world to our human ability to understand is shockingly unjust, and making sense of "evil" is an existential crisis persistent since time immemorial. I am not so foolish as to think that I, better than anyone else, will find the answers to "Why?" that lay the issue to rest.

But a battle I am unwilling to concede is the fight for open, honest dialogue about mental illness; for access to high-quality treatment for EVERYONE who needs it; for my own well being so that I can give back to the world some iteration of the tremendous support network and resources with which I have been blessed.

And that's that.

Much, much love to you.

I Had My Eyebrows Threaded

2010-10-07T11:47:00.000-07:00

Foreword: I am silly and vain. There's no getting around it. If you're cool with that, read on.

One week from today is the kick off of the Year of Surrender (aka, I Turn 40). In the meantime I have declared these next several days The Pre-Launch Party.

Today I surrendered finally to the will of the The Grooming Goddesses who have been clearly asserting a: that I am ill equipped to manage my own brows, and b: their preference for threading over waxing. This photo was taken sans makeup just hours later; notice the pronounced lack of angry redness.

Peace out.

P.S. Tomorrow I shall try to have something of substance to offer.

Surrender: A Story in Parts—Part 2

2010-10-06T06:26:00.000-07:00

Good morning.

I? Am all out of thoughts.

Actually, that's not quite right. There are just so many swirling I can't find a single coherent one to pull out and put on the page. (Kind of curious that we used to put thoughts "down on the page," and now we put them "up on the page.")

So, for you today, a thought on surrender from someone I admire, Maya Angelou:

At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice.

Rock on.

Surrender: A Story in Parts—Part 1

2010-10-05T08:44:00.000-07:00

Every morning when I wake up there is in my inbox a message from Hazelden Addiction and Recovery Services with the subject line "Today's Gift."

Yesterday's gift started with: Today I will surrender to that which I cannot control.

Which brings us to the topic of the Year of Surrender which begins next Thursday and which as a term, title, what have you, certainly has many potentially negative connotations.

Let's just start by acknowledging that while I may fancy myself a bit of revolutionary, I'm no "Give me liberty, or give me death" Patrick Henry. Surrender is in my view at times the most courageous and noble act possible...accepting that what is, is, despite it not being what you had hoped or planned for, and refusing to make further sacrifice for the sake of the original intent.

I am not a doormat, however, as my father will attest, and I have no intention of giving up the good fight. Rather, I'm tired of struggling against things over which I HAVE NO CONTROL (see above). As much, for example, as I have kicked and flailed and protested and even spit, I still cannot drink alcohol in a healthy way. Same with depression—I have kicked that Damn Fool in the ass so many times trying to just send it on its way, but it is more stubborn than I and continues to hang around, occasionally rearing its vacuous black hole of an ugly head. It pisses me off, but so far that alone hasn't done me a whole lot of good.

So...surrender...it's a idea, a thought I had, something I intend to try. Time will tell.

In Which I Arch Type

2010-10-01T06:37:00.000-07:00

It is, I suppose, shamelessly archetypal for a thirty-something (still am...ha!) Soul Searching, Meaning of Life Seeking mom to cite her own mother as one of her heroes, significant influences, role models, etc., etc., and so on, and so forth.

But I? Am nothing if not a walking, talking archetype.

And my mom? Is awesome. National Merit Scholaring, World Traveling, Political Activisming, Wall Paper Stripping, Grandkid Back to School Shopping awesome.

And she knows stuff...like the guy in this video and the guy making this video and the places featured in this video.

So watch it. Please.

G Project Intro Video from G Project on Vimeo.

The Psychiatry and The Art and The Happy

2010-09-29T07:40:00.000-07:00

I shall visit the Good Doctor today because for some set of reasons I stubbornly and relentlessly hold on to the belief that it is possible for me to live as a Consistently Happy Person rather than a Consistently Working on Being Happy Person. I gave up on Content long ago and seem to have embraced Grateful with a fair amount of success.

Consistently Happy remains elusive and yet still seemingly within reach.

I also dug out this morning my largest mosaic undertaking to date—this project from many, many months (years?) ago. It's actually very close to finished but I have been out of glue since April and I really, really hate shopping and so it has sat waiting for me to somehow manifest mosaicing glue without setting foot in art supply shop. I finally managed to pull it off.

And, finally, I intend to pull my gaze out of my navel today and Do Something for someone else as often as possible, thanks to gentle prompting from one of my favorite mindfulness gurus, Karen Casey, whose words came to me this morning via my snazzy new iPhone (so handy!):

"...Our greatest happiness will visit us when we least expect it...

when we are attentively seeing to another's happiness."

In Which Things Work Out Pretty Well for Me

2010-09-28T05:47:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday? My iPhone went flying out of my hand onto my tile foyer floor at 4:43. I know the time because I glanced at the clock on the microwave just as attempting to lock the front door before getting in the car to take Nora to her 4:45 violin lesson and then go pick Isaac and his friend up (also at 4:45) after their cross country practice. There was just enough time to drive his friend home before swinging back to catch Nora walking out the maestro's door at 5:15

Doing too much too fast carrying too many things.

That said, End of Story is that Shop Guy went out last night and bought me a brand new shiny iPhone 4.

I may try to drop my car today.

Apparently Surrender Looks Like This...Today

2010-09-27T10:40:00.001-07:00

Everything Is Occuring in Perfect Timing

2010-09-26T10:34:00.000-07:00

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I felt a shift happening in my life. When I wrote that Shop Guy asked, "Are you going to fill me in on what that is?"

But I couldn't, because I didn't really know other than that for about the past six months or so I have thought that it might be time for the GWs to move. If you know my kids and my neighborhood and even the loving work that Shop Guy and I have put into our home you'd know the deep conflict that has stirred.

But there are times it life when it becomes acutely important to shift energy. All the other times that I've felt this so strongly have ended in packing and going somewhere else...not far, but away from a place where people thought they knew me and I thought they didn't. Because I have a tendency to define myself by my impression of other people's impressions and then get mad because, well, I don't even know myself who I am so how can someone else have it figured out?

Are you following?

On the other hand, it may be time to grow up...to differentiate between dealing with my own internal stuckness and running away.

Isis, the first card I drew in our reading on Friday is all about past lives and recognizing that our roots are much deeper than we realize. Coventina, the second card, is the Goddess of Purification: "It is time for a cleansing detoxification of your body and mind," which I have been doing since my Labor Day debacle. And finally, Oonagh tells us, "There is no need to hurry or force things to happen. Everything is occurring in perfect timing."

So, I'm staying, and surrendering. And trusting that what comes my way will be right and good, even though I won't always like it.