Tennis balls :)

C'est vrai, mes amis, c'est vrai.

Tonight, the stars aligned and I remembered something my yoga studio does, and I did it at home. We often bring tennis balls along with our blankets, blocks, etc. and use them in class as weird pain-providing devices of torture wherein we place them under particular parts of the body (tight parts), and lie on top of the ball, allowing the full weight of our bodies to press down on the ball, creating a pressure to break up the tension. It can be quite painful, not in a bad way, but in a "this-part-of-my-body-has-never-felt-this-much-pressure" sort of way.

I went into the garage, knowing deep down that I'd seen a tennis ball somewhere. And alas! I found it! And I laid on top of it, with the ball beside my shoulder blades, and I swear to you, I can't remember the time my body felt so relaxed and just good.

Anyhow, you should try it. Peer pressure. Do it. Do it now. Or tomorrow. Whatever.

Haiti relief - Part 1

This has been lookin' pretty on my dress form lately :)

There's a This American Life episode about Haiti (written transcript here) I reference frequently. It's about relief agencies, mission organizations, and NGOs working in Haiti over the last several decades, and how it appears to have affected the nation. In sum, Haiti's economy has gotten worse, significantly worse, as the number of aid organizations in the country has increased exponentially.

The problem is that missionaries, for many years, have given to people what people should be able to provide for themselves. For whatever reason, the served became unable to serve themselves (war, famine, disease, etc.), and very well-meaning people come in to help. But the mere act of helping changes the very human dynamic of day-to-day life, and over time, changes the way people function overall, changing their beliefs about themselves and their own abilities and capacity.

After the 2010 earthquake, billions of dollars from around the world went to Haiti. But relief was slow. It was almost as if the nation itself could not rebuild, because they'd been trained not to. The following excerpt from the TAL episode describes the ideal solution:

...You teach the people of Haiti how to do all these things. You use this rebuilding process to give Haiti the ability to build itself...This option, capacity building, do I even need to say it? It takes a long time and it's really, really hard. You need foreign money and you need Haitians to believe in the projects and to participate fully...

It's a complicated problem with an equally complicated solution. Change is difficult. A doctor is interviewed in the episode. He does the very hard work of allowing Haitians to fail in hopes that they might learn from their mistakes (as many of us do), and that these failures would result in greater systemic strengthening. Worst case scenario for this doctor? People die.

Haitians are not the victims in this situation. We all play a part, and Haiti's situation is cloned around the world. People feel sorry for other people...and so it goes.

Milk Cartons

Vintage "Compu-Mug". I've found others, and they all have fun sayings :)

Cartons are recyclable, like juice boxes and milk cartons, but not all cities offer carton recycling. You can find out if your community offers carton recycling by going to The Carton Council's website. I'm considering starting a petition to my city (I don't know who I'd petition, the city council, perhaps?) to ask them to begin providing carton recycling. I don't know how much it would cost to add that kind of technology, but cities do make money off of their recycling programs.

The school where I work doesn't have milk cartons. They have milk bags. It's really amazing how school cafeterias work. If you're going to change the world, I think you have to start in a school cafeteria, because that's where you'll find the most people.

Anyhow, check the website and see if your city recycles cartons, and if they do, then recycle them!

I am bad at being patient.

After waiting two years to find these in my size, when they arrived, all I could think was, "Meh"

So I moved into my new office today, and found that in spite of my saying that "yes, that's okay with me", it did not feel okay to have someone else's things in the office. The previous occupant needs a little bit of grace to move her things out. And in that moment (which extended into a school-day long of feeling crappy and anxious), I realized, "Hey Megan, you're not as patient as you thought you were." Shit. I was afraid of that.

I have waited for a lot of things in my life, and for some of them, I am still waiting. Scratch that. I've been waiting for a lot of things for my whole life. I thought that this waiting was making me a patient person, but in fact, it isn't. I've become angry about the waiting. I'm angry with God for the hand I was dealt. I'm angry at God for not plucking me out of my own life, and giving me a similar, but easier, alternate reality. Instead of being an adult about the whole thing, I've allowed my three-year-old self to run the show, and she's constantly asking, "Are we there yet?" And I don't know what to tell her. "No, we're not there yet. I don't know when we're going to be there, or if we'll ever get there, or if I even know where it is we're supposedly going." Is that what I say?

Whatever I end up saying, I want it to be something that helps me to be more patient, that points me in the right direction, instead of where I am at the moment, the decidedly wrong direction. Somehow, I need to learn to be patient for the things I want. But it's so hard. I want it now!

Also, I'm terrible with change, so that might not be helping the situation. Prescription? More cowbell!

Black-and-White Thinking

I have not been able to find information on the artist :(

Last summer, almost a year ago, I decided that I had enough oomph in me to tell an ex that I'd been in love with him for a very long time. I'd never told him because it seemed so silly. As time had passed, from teens to twenties, it became more crazy a thought. Then suddenly, one Saturday afternoon in July, I had a chance, and I took it.

Boy did I ever take it. When I got him in front of me, I dumped a decade of thinking on him in a single evening. All of the things I never thought I could say, I said. Suddenly, I had no shame. Those years were behind me; there was no future between us. I figured I would live in the moment and do the thing I thought I'd never be able to do. Except he didn't leave. He stayed and listened. He was kind. And that's where everything went wrong. He told me we could be friends. I told him I could never be his friend - that was the whole point - and then the next day wanted a response. I poured my heart out! I wanted a response! We disagreed vehemently, and that was it. We didn't speak again.

It took me a year (I had to finish graduate school, after all) before I realized what I'd done, that I'd thrown away a relationship just because it didn't fit the mold I wanted it to. I wasn't mad at myself. I understood why I'd done it. I was scared, so very scared, and it was the bravest thing I'd ever done. But the year between then and now was a huge year of emotional growth for me, and suddenly I had more oomph left in me. I called him a couple weeks ago and said I was ready to be friends.

So now I'm trying, in spite of my emotional limitations, to be a friend to someone who I didn't think I could ever feel friendly towards. But somehow my capacity for patience has increased dramatically, and I'm recognizing that relationships can be tricky suckers, and that my black-and-white thinking has kept me from being with people I love. So it's worth the not-knowing. It's worth the gray areas, I think, not because it's easy for me. It's never easy. But I wanted something so much, I think I was willing to let go of my stubbornness. I want to be a person who has good with people, who doesn't have broken relationships all over the place. So, as it often does, this means that I have to let go of unrealistic expectations and go with the flow a little more.

Phew. Life is hard work, folks.

Dumpster diving

Do you ship stuff? Do you dumpster dive for cardboard boxes? If you don't, I think you should. I get mine from an elementary school cafeteria. They're constantly throwing out boxes because of the amount of food they go through, and then I only take the ones that work for me. Oftentimes, there are produce boxes, and those don't work so well because of all of the holes. When there are small ones, I take them all. I don't take any that are gross, because that would be, well, gross.

In doing this, and combining that thrown-away cardboard with my all-recycled paper tape, somehow I am reducing my carbon footprint with my shop. Maybe no one notices, or even cares, but it matters to me. It matters that what I'm calling "recycling" is in fact, recycling, and that what I use is biodegradable and/or recyclable. When I'm at the post office, I take the Priority Mail boxes that other people have tried to use, but have thrown away. I really need to get a stamp to put on all of my boxes and packages that reminds people to recycle or reuse the packaging (I really want to buy this one).

Share your unique ideas for recycling shipping supplies :)

Too busy to care

My idea of Hell is to be young again.

- Marge Piercy

As I get older, I find that life is never what I expect it to be. It is always more difficult. It is always more complicated. This past week, I have found myself at an end I've never experienced before, some sort of emotional place I didn't know existed, where life can be physically exhausting, and still continue. I can be more tired than I've ever been before, but still go to work, and still be good at my job.

Everyone is limited. We are human. But to choose to live in that imperfect humanness, accepting all of one's faults and limitations, allows us to be who we were truly meant to be. For me, that means that I am less able to be "on" than other people I know. I have less energy to give than other people I know. And every effort I make to fight that reality just puts me further behind.

Today, I didn't go to church. I felt guilty. There are things I need to take care of, and people expecting me to take care of those things. But I only have what I have. I can only give what I am able to give. The past few weeks have opened me up to a new reality of understanding what people mean when they say that the older they get, the less they care about what other people think. Older people also say that they like themselves more than they did when they were younger.

It's way better being a grown-up.

It's too bad I'm not urban.

I am so enjoying my tiny little apartment. It's really too bad that it's not ideal for a long-term solution. The space itself is okay, but not having a kitchen is clearly a problem, as is being connected to someone else's garage. I'm starting to dream about a tiny little place of my own, but I think that a small place in a good location would be difficult to find. I think that there are a lot of mother-in-law places on my street, but I don't know if that would be a good long-term solution either. I want something that I can stay in. I want to have enough space for my stuff, and a little wiggle room, but not too much. I like to feel cozy.

I used to have a one bedroom place. It was a duplex. Later I lived in a studio which was also a duplex. I preferred the one bedroom. It was small, but very well organized. My kitchen was large enough to cook, and I had a washer and dry hooked up in there as well. The trouble with that place was that the landlords were ridiculous about the lawn, but refused to put in sprinklers. So in the end, it was a battle over me not wanting to water crab grass in 110 degree weather, and them wanting the crab grass to be green. I'd come home to a threatening hose on my front porch as a warning. Ridiculous.

I have a lot to say about landlords, and some things I've been thinking about in terms of ethics and city planning. Perhaps tomorrow...

Cheers!

Bootstraps, anyone?

 

This story kills me.

People offer us love, and we deny it. People offer us help, aid, and we throw it away, saying we'd rather find it ourselves. I have an image of a toddler in my head, practicing the art of independence-"Do it myself!"

There's a TED talk on vulnerability I'd like to watch today and perhaps respond to tomorrow.

Sometimes I say "yes", when I want to say "no", not because "no" is the right answer, but because I know that I am resisting the love of another person, wanting to avoid attachment. Sometimes we need to accept the love that is offered to us, even if it comes in a form that is unpleasant (e.g. I give my neighbors meat even though I don't believe I should; I buy Hershey chocolate because the man that put up my shelves asked for it, even though I believe that they practice slavery). Sometimes I think we need to take more time to make decisions. Sometimes those decisions will end up bringing us closer together.

And we need eachother. Life is tough, remember?

Shame in me

Shame is an awful thing. I can feel it in my chest. It's like a fist grabs my heart, and then wrenches it to the right. Ouch.

I am feeling shame at this very moment, and I am trying to talk myself through it. I feel the shame of a little kid who is tattling, something I don't directly remember doing, but imagine I did quite often. Doing the right thing is very important to me. And when I see it out there, possible, I want to grab it and make it mine. I want to own the essence of being right. I want to own it and let it define me. I want to be right. I want to be right. I want to be right. Ad infinitum...

Being right makes us feel safe. It makes us feel in control. When that is questioned, when we make small mistakes, we are struck with the uninvited wrenching fist in the chest.

I have to talk to myself often, remind myself that I am fallible, remind myself that I cannot know the right and perfect way to do everything. All I have is myself, and whatever faculties are available in that particular moment.

In all reality, I am human and flawed, and I never do the right thing. But so are you, so at least we're all in this thing together.

Nothing you can own...

"And I realised, there is nothing, anyone can really own"

That's the line that made me post the song. I get more out of it every time I listen to it.

I have a friend who is going through an unbelievably hard time right now; and it just keeps getting worse, like a Peter Sellers movie where nothing goes right (e.g. The Party). I keep thinking that life is just about holding on, that we have no control over what happens, over what other people do. All we have is how we choose to respond to the shit in our lives that falls in droves from the sky.

Oh yeah, and suicide isn't an option, because it just kills more people and keeps the death spiral going. Sucks, don't it?

Life sucks. But at least it's long, right?

Thrifting and flirting

I have no social life outside of my friends who also have no social lives. So when we get together, it's the same group, every time, and I've decided that we get some new friends, if for no other reason than to give me someone to make out with at parties.

Here are the players:

1. I am going through the silverware bins the other night, when I come up and there is a man walking towards me with a grand smile on his face. He has chin-length dark brown wavy hair, and a dirty "maybe-I'm-a-craftsman-of-some-kind" look. His smile was amazing and bright, and I couldn't stop thinking about him for the next half-hour as I browsed.

2. Another night; another store. I am also going through bins, now looking through piles of Christmas stuff. There is a man standing next to me that I think is mumbling to himself, but he's really just talking to me and getting up the nerve to make it audible. I'm singing along to the song that's playing in the store, and he asks if I like Elvis. At this point, I'm not really paying attention to the song, so I'm starting to think this guy is just crazy.

"Oops"-Elvis is singing, and I'm singing with him, and this was a legitimate question. I say something lame like, "Isn't everyone required to like Elvis?" and soon non-crazy man walks away saying, "Well have a lovely holiday season." Oh, wow. He did so well.

3. Totally cute guy who works at my old favorite store (which has become emptier of late, and thus has lessened in my mind as a worthy favorite) who is now sporting a beard and it looks really good. We never talk though, beyond a discussion of the coupon/sale situation happening that particular day. Plus, this is the store where the women talk about "gringas" under their breath, so I'm not entirely sure I'm appreciated.

I will keep you updated. Obviously, not so hot and steamy, but definitely progressing. I've moved into full-on eye contact and occasional greetings.

I'm done hiding my crazy.

 

My new motto is just to own the crazy. "Do what you feel!" I say. There is only so much emotional health I can cram into my body. Eventually, I have to just roll with it.

I've spent the past few decades over-analyzing every thought and feeling, and I'm just done with it. So I love someone I shouldn't love. What of it? I was in love with my ex-boyfriend for ten years after we broke up, and I spent way too much of that time thinking about it. I never did anything about it. I never talked to my therapist about it. It just sat in my gut, and in the dark parts of my brain, embroiled in guilt and shame. By the time I broke down and confessed it, it made no sense to anyone because I'd never been honest about it. I'm done with living that way.

Now I'm going to be honest. I love who and what I love, and not everyone understands, but I'm done hiding. The honesty isn't always pleasant, but it's way better than holding onto secrets because I'm so afraid of what people will think, or what it means about me as a person.

Oh my goodness! Who cares what it means about me as a person?! It's just a feeling. I'm not any crazier than anyone else.

So I'm just leaving behind all of the extra crazy that comes from thinking I'm crazy, and just owning it. Everyone can think whatever they want to think. I know who I am, and I'm okay with it.

Costly, long-suffering, hope

After this weekend's horrible events in Northern California, I've really been struggling to hold on to my stringent peace position. I have made my life about the work of peace and justice in the world, and for the first time, I'm wavering. I'm beginning to understand those who call cops "pigs". I'm losing my grip on my own beliefs. When I see indifferent violence being carried out in my own world, to my friends, my brain gets fuzzy.

Please recognize that I know that there is horrific violence in the world every day. I know that in my being; I have known it my whole life. And short of banging on soft surfaces with my fists and screaming alone in an empty room, I am not a violent person. I don't believe in violence. I think it's silly, that we as a species would resort to harming one another to solve our problems. I actually don't understand it. I resist it in my very soul. But something changed inside of me when I saw that video on Saturday morning. Perhaps the door in my heart, that I'd shut long ago, had been opened, and I began to see that violence is not just something I hate, but something that is real.

This is not a naive experience for me. I was not born into my beliefs; I have had to earn them. And they have come at a very high price. Violence is real to me, but perhaps I've been looking at it with compassion all this time. I try desperately to understand the aggressor in every situation, to feel compassion for them, to find empathy for the pain that they must experience as a perpetrator, and then later as a survivor of that perpetration. But to see the indifference with which that cop calmly shook that can...my soul cannot contain it.

I wish that I could give you some kind of resolution to this issue (I myself have found a little here and here). I wish I could give you all the hope you need for your own life. That is my life's work. But today, I will fail you. I'm so very sorry.