I’ve spent about a week dealing with some intense interpersonal conflicts and I am gosh darn exhausted from it at this point. But I seem to be unable to mentally let go of it all yet. Everything is still very fresh and I find myself turning various events and conversations over and over again in my mind to view them from various angles and perspectives.
There was a time when I would have dealt with situations like this in a very different manner. A manner that I would not, now, be proud to admit to using. As this situation has progressed, I have tried my best to remain open, calm, honest, firm in my beliefs, respectful of the needs of others, caring and polite. I am hopeful that I have succeeded in those goals. However, as this situation begins to resolve itself, I still find myself wondering whether it could have turned out differently and whether I did everything I could to work through it positively, especially to the benefit of the community in which the situation unfolded.
I think what I am finding myself doing at this point is looking for the lesson for me. I am looking for what I am to take away from this situation through various lenses- the lens of leadership, the lens of spirituality, and the lens of motherhood to name a few. A part of me just wants to put this away and be done with it. But I sense there is still much for me to learn here and I am attempting to stay open to that instinct. I hope to find a quiet time and space to meditate upon all that has occured.
I am also hoping for a nap.
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Ten minutes poking around the search engine of my choice was enough to prompt this thoroughly depressing post. I’m warning you up front.
Today, I’ve been taking advantage of a leisurely weekend and indulging myself in some unstructured computer time. Oddly enough, one of my previous posts happened to garner a flurry of commentary that I was available to respond to thoughtfully and unhurriedly, which was nice. I also caught up on the latest laughable anti-homeschooling blog post (which is so ignorant, I refuse to give the poster the satisfaction of linking it) from a prime example of why we opt out of institutional schooling. That was fun and all, but then I got to thinking (which I know I shouldn’t do, but that’s never stopped me before….)
These can’t possibly be new arguments can they? Are folks taking positions on various sides of these disagreements that are original? Is the discussion evolving over time on a constant search for how to create a better world? Unfortunately, no.
Different folks. Same arguments. Same inability to come to some sort of agreement or at least mutual respect for differing viewpoints, intelligently and logically presented. So how long does it take for us to spin in circles over an issue before we spiral out to a new understanding? And, most likely, find ourselves spinning in a newer, possibly more complex, but equally divisive circle. Is there such a thing as progress or are we just too dizzy to notice we’re actually still in the same spot we started in?
Did Someone Out-Joss Joss?
Posted by Crunchy Mama in My Television Addiction
So I finally finished watching the Grey’s Anatomy season finale off my DVR yesterday night. And I’ve got to say that was a heck of a twist.
This is one of my two favorite times of year, television-wise. All the primetime shows wrap up, usually in a fairly fantastic manner, and my favorite reality contest show comes back on. This year I kept track of a slightly smaller number of shows than usual. Lost has lost me completely so I didn’t even try that one this year. I figure at some point, I’ll back track and catch it on DVD. Also, I was so over Ugly Betty about halfway through last year’s season. But I did keep up with Grey’s and with Private Practice. Although more than one episode of Addison Montgomery and her crew of misfits had me hollering at the tv this year. I’m not sure what was with the assault on all things Crunchy Mama style on that show, but it unnerved me for sure. (Especially considering how pro-Crunchy Mama several story lines from Grey’s have aired in the past.) Sunday and Monday were my big television nights this year with Desperate Housewives, Brothers and Sisters, The Unit, Chuck, Heros and new arrival, Castle, capturing my attention. Every year a different Housewife appeals to me most and surprisingly enough, this year it was Gaby. Scott Bakula was just plain fun. Bridget (aka Red Cap) was a great unoffical addition to the team and Nathan Fillion is sooooo back!
But it was Joss Whedon’s return to television that made me the most giddy this year. I love Joss. Joss rocks. I must also secretly confess that I always though Faith was just a touch cooler than the Buffster, so I was also jazzed to see Eliza Dushku back in action as well. Turns out she wasn’t the only Whedonite I’d get to see back in action on this show. Faces from Buffy, Angel and even the beloved Firefly made appearances.
I am now clearly a Dollhouse fan and will wait with baited breath to see if FOX executives can finally pull their heads out of their you-know-whats and hold on to a Joss Whedon show. But I have to say, after finishing the Grey’s finale, as sacriligious as it may be, Shonda Rhimes may have just out-Jossed Joss. I mean, unveiling Alpha and Whiskey like he did was good. But I saw Whiskey coming. I didn’t see 007 coming until a split second before Meredith did! I love when a finale leaves me aching for autumn premiere season.
At least I have Mary Murphy, Mia Michaels and Jillian Harris to get me through the summer, right? (See why this gets logged under a category labeled “My Television Addiction” now?)
Can You Be a Feminist At-Home Mom?
Posted by Crunchy Mama in Womanhood
Feminist has become such a loaded word. The mental images it conjures are often not pretty. It’s become an insult in certain circles and even given rise to the ardent anti-feminist movement. Both terms and sets of believers have moved to further deepen the divide between women as a whole and mothers in particular. And that is dissapointing. It is dissapointing because I believe women, and mothers in particular, could be an unstoppable force for good in this world if only they would quit fighting with each other.
My handy-dandy, old and raggity dictionary defines feminism as the “theory of the political, economic and social equality of the sexes” and as the “organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests.” Perhaps I’m delusional, but it seems to me that at both ends of the spectrum, this definition would still fit the actions and philosophy of the “radical feminist” and the “anti-feminist.” Both ends believe in the importance, value and acknowledgement of women’s chosen work. Both ends organize to support women in their chosen interests and the rights they wish to protect. Wait. Stop. What word just appeared in both of those sentences? That word, to me, is the essential beauty and power of what I view as true feminism. It’s about choice. And that’s the stumbling block that seperates the radical from the anti. They make very different choices. But what they are missing is that it is the act of making the choice that is the most sacred thing. Not the content of the choice. Each woman has a different genetic make up and a unique set of life experiences that come together to create the elements leading her to her individual path. No two are the same. And they shouldn’t be.
Women need to begin paying close attention to this concept. We need to actually choose. And, pardon the terribly corny cultural reference, choose wisely. In my opinion, a feminist is a self-aware woman. A feminist is a woman who has taken the time to be introspective, to examine her core values carefully and make mindful choices that allow her to live her truth on a daily basis and support those who do the same. What does this woman look like? She comes in countelss varieties. She may look like a career woman who has decided that the calling she feels to her work outside the home is the best way to honor her true self and set a powerful example for her children about following their dreams. She may look like an at-home mother who feels that her true self is found in her devotion to the daily growth and development of her children. She may be an atheist. She may be a Biblical Christian. She may be an ardent liberal. She may be a staunch conservative. She may forego politics altogether. She may cook a four course meal for her family every night. She may be on a first name basis with the take out delivery person. She may have no children at all. She may have twenty. If she has consciously chosen her path, believes she is honoring her calling in life with all her heart and is striving to mindfully live her truth to the best of her ability every day of her life, then in my book– she’s a feminist.
Once our choice has been made comes the tough part. Honoring our fellow feminist’s right to choose differently. This is where things tend to fall apart. Tempers flair and potential is lost. We don’t have to agree with each other’s choices by any means. That would be impossible. And quiet frankly, I myself, have absolutely no patience whatsoever for women who make what I perceive as uneducated, unmindful choices. They frustrate and anger me beyond rationality. This does occasionally get me into serious trouble. I’m working on it. But I am proud to say that I have friends and family who have made dramatically different choices than my own and I like to think I do a decent job of honoring them as they travel their mindfully choosen path of feminism. I am stronger for having them in my life. They push me to keep my heart and mind open and for that I am grateful. They help me to live my truth by living their own. Imagine the potential power if women as a whole could all strive for this kind of womanhood. The mere thought of it gives me chills.
The Tenth Amendment
Posted by Crunchy Mama in Politics
It’s not that I don’t agree with several points being made by the Governor of Texas. I am, in fact, believe it or not, a strong advocate of state’s rights. The federal government really has no business telling Texans how to run Texas. But what seriously miffs me that the Republican governor didn’t seem to mind massive amounts of federal oversight and the alarming restriction of Texans’ civil liberties under a Republican president who just happened to be “from” Texas. Now suddenly when there is a Democrat in the White House, he’s struting around Austin spouting off about the sovereignty of his great state. What about No Child Left Behind? What about the Patriot Act? From where I stand, these pieces of legislation were also violations of states’ rights. Where was HCR 50 when domestic spying programs were being implemented and Texas was being blackmailed into mass producing human beings by using federally approved educational standards and testing requirements? I don’t usually get anywhere near politics with my blog, but I’m a tad fired up tonight. I’m with Dan. This two party system has got to go. All either side every does is holler at each other and generally make a gigantic mess of things that they have no intention of cleaning up. My vote is for a return to old school Athenian democracy. That’ll teach them.
Should Have Blog-named Him Dionysus
Posted by Crunchy Mama in Motherhood
You know. The God of Whine! I love my little son oodles. When I picked Apollo as his blog name this year, I was mainly thinking of his sunny blond hair and the fact that he’s a twin. Artemis is beyond appropriate for his twin sister, so it seemed perfect. (I’d elaborate, but my intent was to blog about him, not her, so I’ll try to stay on topic.)
That boy is the most emotional and most sensitive child out of the whole Triad. It is crystal clear that one of the important purposes of his early life is to serve as my own persona live-in Zen Master, ready and more than willing to whack me with a large stick if ever I begin to tip off the ole’ Mindful Parenting bandwagon. I generally consider myself a very creative person, but the ways in which I have to twist myself into incredible mental pretzles to facilitate this kid’s emotional growth stretches me beyond my limits on a regular basis.
If you happen to know anything about or are inspired to dig into the mythology of Dionysus, you’ll quickly discover that he was also know as the god of madness and ecstacy. Can you see where I’m going with this? Patris Maximus likes to say that Apollo lives life to the max all the time. When he’s happy, he’s elated. When he’s not, he’s lost in tragic despair. When he’s angry, he’s furious. And when he’s tired, he’s exhausted. We’ve seen this kid go from doing laps around the house to collapsed in deep sleep on the living room floor with almost no transition whatsoever.
For the past two weeks I have been really working to invoke my inner Mindful Mama and striving hard to work closely with him. All. Dang. Day. Every time I’ve turned around, I’ve needed to fold him into a firm embrace, speak softly in his ear, help him name the emotion that is overtaking him and set him on the path to communication and problem solving. I’m very proud to say that over 90% of the time, I’ve done just that. Occassionally, I’ve sucumbed to Dionysus induced madness and just hollered louder. Guess which method is totally unproductive. Although I am confident the ”holler louder” technique is fairly useless, I wasn’t so sure the alternative was really doing that much good either until yesterday afternoon. Sitting in a friend’s dining room, I witnessed Apollo quell and disperse his own rising tide of madness in favor of a clearly and calmly spoken objection to which he received back the exact positive feedback he was hoping for without so much as a sideways glance from me. I was awfully impressed with us both.
Even as I type this I can hear him getting ready to totally lose it in the next room, so we still have more to work through, naturally. But moments like yesterday make me think that instead of just hanging on for dear life, I may end up driving this parenting wagon myself one day after all.
Strangly enough, I’ve gone vegetarian. This is not even remotely something I would have predicted. But I had no idea that by the time I turned thirty, I’d be a married, full time mother of three (including a set of twins,) ardent advocate of home education, and active blogger, so I should really keep myself open to the twists and turns of my personal evolution because who knows what might be next.
I actually tried out vegetarianism once before, when I was still in the military, but my body did not respond well to it and I didn’t try it then for the same reasons I’m committing to it now. Then, I had read Andrew Weil’s work and wanted to test out his nutritional recommendations. Interestingly enough (and probably due to my lifestyle at that time) my immune system and energy levels suffered. This was also way before I got smart about food and our modern food system in general, so although I can’t remember for sure, I was probably still eating a fair amount of processed food. That awakening came when I suddenly realized that my food choices were for the next phase of my life, going to profoundly affect others, namely my children.
During the early weeks of my pregnancy with Athena, I put myself through food information boot camp. I gorged myself on books, articles, and other research, trying to synthesize everything into a quality prenatal and postpartum nutrition plan. This was the first time I learned about the importance of protien consumption during pregnancy and nursing. At the time, in my mind, quality protein equalled animal food products. I was also unaware that the grain+bean=complete protein equation had been proven unnecessary. Some time during that pregnancy and the time I spent breastfeeding her, I put the books down. For the first time in my life, I really learned how to listen to what my body had to tell me about what it needed. Before conceiving the twins, I did continue to educate myself on the recklessly dangerous agribusinesses that currently hold our country’s food supply hostage and became an advocate for and practitioner of the organic and local food movements. I also tried my hand at organic gardening with a fair amount of success. All that combined led our family to continue to eat meat, eggs and dairy but to purchase it from clean, local, trustworthy sources with a deeply rooted respect for the earth. While pregnant with the twins, my body craved animal protein almost non-stop. A New York strip steak and three fried eggs were often seen on my breakfast plate (but not for long.) These messages from my body continued after their birth and I do believe contributed to their gestational age at birth, (Apollo and Artemis were born at 39 weeks 5 days) high birth weights, (8lbs. 6oz and 7lbs. 4oz.) and lengthy breastfeeding relationship (they nursed until they were 22 months old.) I do want to clarify and say that this is what I think my body needed to make these things happen. I have some good friends and fellow twin moms who had long, healthy pregnancies, high birth weight babies and beautifully long breastfeeding relationships on vegetarian and vegan diets as well. So I am not saying that every pregnant and nursing twin mom must eat meat to do the same. That is just what my body was asking for at that time in my life.
About five or six months after the twins weaned, I realized my body had changed the message completely. And this time, I was listening. In some fairly amazing occurances of synchronicity, my spiritual practice also led me to stumble onto various materials that ethically supported the messages my body was sending. The idea of compassionate eating flowered inside me, taking root in the soil of my previously established support of local and organic food. Often saddened and frustrated by the overwhelming amounts of hurt and violence in today’s world, the idea of personally taking action to reduce that even just a tiny bit spoke deeply to me. I began leaving meat off the shopping list and a wonderful side effect developed as our monthly grocery bill plummeted substantially. And the other day, the words “No thanks. I’m a vegetarian.” rolled off my tongue without any extra thought in the most natural manner possible; alomst a reflex.
Patris Maximus and I discussed how this will affect the family as a whole for the time being as he is not ready to commit to living sans meat completely. We agreed that if he wants it, he can go shopping for it, but I wont be buying any when I do the family shopping. For the most part, I do all the cooking, so I don’t cook it either. Athena and I also had a long talk about food choices and I let her make her own decisions about her diet. She, like her father, is a fairly committed omnivore for the time being. Apollo and Artemis are mostly oblivious on this topic and will snarf just about anything you set on a plate in front of them. This means that by default, they are eating a mostly vegetarian diet.
Interestingly enough, I have moved on to contemplating veganism. There are a couple of women I know that I admire for their commitment to this path and I enjoy having them as a resource to mull things over with. I’ve read plenty of source material and even have a favorite vegan podcast I listen to fairly regularly. I have all the information one might need to become convinced of the merits of a vegan diet. But as of yet, I am not physically or spiritually moved to take that step and that’s what it will most likely take. Never say never, though. As I continue to keep my ear trained to the messages of my body and my spirit, one day yet, I may.
The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.
~Albert Einstein~
I recently attended a discussion where the facilitator presented this particular quotation and proposed the idea that indulging our curiosity is actually a form of spiritual practice. Learning can be a sacred act. As someone who is constantly contemplating how I can deepen my own spiritual practice and further my personal journey, this instantly appealled to me on several levels.
Since homeschooling our children is my primary daily focus these days, I first went there. It is interesting that recent data shows a shift in the primary motivation to homeschool in this country. After a decided peak in the number of families choosing to home educate in order to ensure a Biblically-based education, other more varied reasons are starting to catch up. However, families who are not Christian are also choosing to homeschool in order to ensure a values-based education. The public system has been forced to secularize and sanitize its curriculum to an extreme and that is affecting the decision making process of Christian and non-Christian families alike when it comes to the educational path their children will travel. All homeschoolers may no longer be using the Bible to do it, but a majority of them still want to ensure their children do receive some sort of positive character building experience that they feel the mainstream system no longer provides. But Einstein’s words suggest we might be going about this a bit cockeyed. Perhaps the learning process itself is just the values-based, character building path we were seeking. Perhaps we should see the two goals of spiritual and secular education as a single shining path of lifelong learning, winding through one holy curiosity after another and leading us into wholeness.
Revisiting how I view pursuing random bits of knowledge for myself has also been invigorating. Seeing as we end up at the library a minimum of once a week, I often spot an armload of books that interest me personally, in addition to whatever the kids are into at the time. They usually consist of a random hodgepodge of topics that have currently peaked my interest. The same can be said of my assorted podcast subscriptions and current playlist. Sometimes in the evenings, when I have finally managed to render the Triad unconscious, I struggle with what to do with the few hours I have to myself. Do dishes? Do yoga? Chat with Patris Maximus? Watch that DVR’d episode of something-or-other? Meditate? Journal? Blog? Read a novel? Read non-fiction? Plan out a Girl Scout meeting? Or a tea party? The internal deliberation can get out of control and Patris Maximus may point out that I’m beginning to turn an alarming shade of purple and should stop thinking about whatever it is that I’m thinking about because I’m getting nowhere good with it. I am also a habitual multi-tasker. I have my ear buds in as I’m typing this. So I often try to do more than one thing at a time to maximize my efforts. But after thinking about what ole’ Albert had to say, I got a bit of a handle on a tiny chunk of my evening hours of peace and quiet. I made a list of my own personal Holy Curiosities. They are things I am in awe of. Things I am just bursting to know more about. Things that, as I learn more about them, fill me with wonder at and gratitude for the world around me. Now my reading material and my evenings are becoming a tad more organized. And I’ve put my meditation practice (which was mostly frustrating me lately anyway) on hold for a different sort of spiritual practice; a two-for-one sort of practice which the multitasker in me is thrilled with.
When I sit down to revel in a Holy Curiosity, I take deep breaths and I get really comfortable. I may even have something indulgent in hand to sip or nibble. But before I crack the book or load the podcast or click on the search engine, I take a moment to be open. I open to the wonder of what I am about to take time to take in. It is a deeply satisfying experience. Turning to a book is nothing new in the human spiritual experience. There are holy books for every dogmatic path. But what if every book had the potential to be holy? For me, the line between secular and spiritual is blurring and I’m much more comfortable with that than I would have been previously. This is where the questioning has led me. And for now, I really like it here. Let Holy Curiosity abound! I’ll be grateful for every relative moment of it.
I escaped for a few hours to my book club last night and when I arrived home, I found Patris Maximus and the Triad of Chaos in our living room. Inside our eight man tent. Artemis and Apollo were wrapped in fleece blanket cocoons and had obviously called it a night, while Patris Maximus and Athena were kicked back, hands behind their heads watching a History Channel program on Ancient Egyptian warfare and weaponry. I peeked in the door of the tent and was promptly instructed to change into pajamas and get in there before the show started talking about the battle of Quadesh. I stashed my purse and snuggled in for the night.
In the morning, I took a look at how Patris Maximus had been able to pitch the tent without staking it through our living room carpet and into the foundation. My darling husband is really pretty fantastic at these sorts of things, but it was obvious that it had taken some time for him to get it set up for them. Over our mini-waffle breakfast, I tested the waters just for fun and asked the Triad if the tent should come down after we got home from co-op class. I must know my kids, or just kids in general, pretty darn well because I got exactly the response I figured. The tent is there to stay for today and tomorrow at least and they are negotiating for another day or so. This afternoon we’ve done just about everything except eat and go to the bathroom in the tent. (Any camper or ex-military officer worth their hiking/combat boots knows that you don’t eat or….. you know, where you sleep.) But other than that, we’ve barely come out of the tent. Athena even managed to come up with the inevitable “tentschooling” comment for today’s educational efforts, observing gleefully that “After all, you can learn anywhere, can’t you?” The girl is wise beyond her years.
I am looking forward to a fun evening of living room camping and I figure since it did take my husband so long to put it up, we might as well get some lengthy enjoyment out of his indoor engineering efforts. I’ve already mentally adapted all of tomorrow’s plans to fit inside the tent because really, in all honesty, this kind of thing is just as much fun for me as it is for them. And I’m betting I can get them to do just about anything (like helping to fold the laundry) as long as I suggest we do it in the tent. Did I mention that this gig is actually my dream job? Back to the campsite!
Oh, put a stake in me! I just can’t take all this mamby-pamby boo-hooing about the bloody Indians. You won. Alright? You came in and you killed them and you took their land. That’s what conquering nations do. It’s what Julius Caesar did. He’s not going around saying, “I came, I conquered, I felt really bad about it.” The history of the world is not people making friends. You had better weapons and you massacred them. End of story.
~Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 4, “Pangs”~
I adore Thanksgiving. It is possibly my favorite annual celebration. In the nine Thanksgivings since I left college, I have been known to put on some serious feasts. The compulsive planner in me thrives on reviewing recipes, writing up a menu, gathering ingredients from at least four different grocerey stores, and preparing each dish with love. And like the Buffster, the sentimental mystic, in me is attracted to the ritual and tradition of the day and the spiritual nature of collecting loved ones around the table. But the budding history buff in me (cultivates by Athena, actually) struggles with the background for this cultural melee and has to acknowledge that Spike has a valid point.
So what’s a girl to do? Especially a girl who espouses the goal of homeschooling socially conscious children with an accurate understanding of the true events of human history with all its inherrant beauty and malice, amazing acts of love and mind boggling atrocities alike. The best I’ve been able to come up with is to focus on the “Thanks” part of Thanksgiving for now. To teach our children that, in this day and age, it is our country’s cultural tradition to take a day to focus on our blessings, to cultivate a spirit of gratitude. We’re going to skip stereotypical dancing pilgrims and singing natives. Two years from now, when we reach that period of history in our curriculum, we’ll get to the settlement of North America by the European colonists and tackle the history behind Turkey Day.
Modern Americans cannot make up for all of our early historical mistakes. And this modern American is not going to waste time trying. I’ll spend tomorrow revelling in the modern customs and rituals that are meant to invoke that spirit of gratitude within me and my offspring. I will give thanks for my family and my life with reckless abandon. And I will continue to strive to raise children who, with any luck, will turn out to be the type of Americans who can successfully lead this nation through their contemporary history-making events, learning from previous generations’ mistakes and moving forward into a brillant future.
Happy Thanksgiving!