I was not expecting to have such difficulty with my 33 Acts of Kindness project. Yet it is already April, and I find that I am struggling.
One challenge that I'm running into is that part of my agreement in doing this was to avoid repeating the same act in different situations. That makes it particularly challenging. I'll be in line at Starbucks on one of my days home with the little one, and think, Hey! I know! I'll buy the order for the person behind me... oh, crap. I already did that one.
Do you see the irony here? I'm NOT doing acts of kindness that I would otherwise do because I've done them already and they won't "count" toward my 33 for the year.
Perhaps this is what happens when people are overly perfectionistic.
I have decided to revisit this entire project. I will continue to do acts of kindness, even if it's the same one over and over again. If something new occurs to me, I will do it. This takes me to my second issue which, oddly enough, was the reason I imposed the "don't do the same thing twice" rule to begin with.
Being kind in new ways can be anxiety-provoking.
It's like being new at anything. Whenever I attempt to do something that is outside of my comfort zone, it is exciting and frightening all at once. Buying things for people is a very easy way for me to be kind. Turning around at a church service to tell a young woman how inspiring and courageous I thought she was for leaving her native country due to the threat of persecution for her sexual orientation was much more challenging. In a way, it can be fun to challenge myself to do things in a way that is not the norm, and to see what happens. Often, I find that it opens doors that would have otherwise remained closed, or brings me closer to new people or opportunities that I might not have had exposure to otherwise.
This activity, the 33 acts of kindness, is interesting. It's bringing into focus some of the ways in which I sabotage myself and act in excessively self-limiting ways. It's amusing to see where I get stuck, and amusing to see how I haven't seen it before. It's also interesting and liberating to see what happens when I do things differently, and how tiny changes tend to have a ripple effect, creating a cascade of increasingly larger changes.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Saturday, April 13, 2013
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
I've read my fair share of love stories, some better than others. One of my main issues with love stories is that they tend to follow a predictable arc: boy meets girl. They fall in love. Guy becomes girl's reason for living. Drama ensues. They come out of it stronger. They live happily ever after. From time to time, that's just the kind of thing I like, but it was not what I was looking for when I happened to be ready for some new fiction to read.
When I picked up John Green's The Fault in our Stars -- a holiday season gift, and my first John Green novel -- I was reluctant to make the investment. I've started enough love stories with two-dimensional characters and rolled my eyes many a time at long, drawn out bedroom scenes and dull, uninspiring dialogue. It turns out that The Fault in our Stars made the #1 spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for good reason by taking familiar themes, adding less familiar twists, and defying predictability.
The Fault in Our Stars is an atypical love story from the start: the main characters are teenagers who meet in a cancer support group. Seventeen-year-old Hazel Waters is the edgy, sharp-witted, intelligent protagonist who has terminal cancer. Her life takes a turn for the more adventurous when Augustus Waters shows up to her otherwise craptastic support group. Gus shows up to the group in support of his and Hazel's mutual friend, Isaac, who is about to have surgery that will render him blind.
Although the story focuses upon Hazel and Gus's evolving relationship, a series of intriguing side plots are explored: Isaac's transition from sighted to blind; the eccentricities of Hazel's favorite author; and the ways in which cancer affects the lives of the teens and their families.
Throughout the book, Green transitions smoothly and suddenly into moments of devastating humor and devastating pain. He deftly creates snapshots within the story that draw upon the lives of the characters before the time of this story, infusing the dialogue with emotional depth and adding to the richness and complexity of the characters. One particularly potent example can be found in this exchange:
When I picked up John Green's The Fault in our Stars -- a holiday season gift, and my first John Green novel -- I was reluctant to make the investment. I've started enough love stories with two-dimensional characters and rolled my eyes many a time at long, drawn out bedroom scenes and dull, uninspiring dialogue. It turns out that The Fault in our Stars made the #1 spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for good reason by taking familiar themes, adding less familiar twists, and defying predictability.
The Fault in Our Stars is an atypical love story from the start: the main characters are teenagers who meet in a cancer support group. Seventeen-year-old Hazel Waters is the edgy, sharp-witted, intelligent protagonist who has terminal cancer. Her life takes a turn for the more adventurous when Augustus Waters shows up to her otherwise craptastic support group. Gus shows up to the group in support of his and Hazel's mutual friend, Isaac, who is about to have surgery that will render him blind.
Although the story focuses upon Hazel and Gus's evolving relationship, a series of intriguing side plots are explored: Isaac's transition from sighted to blind; the eccentricities of Hazel's favorite author; and the ways in which cancer affects the lives of the teens and their families.
Throughout the book, Green transitions smoothly and suddenly into moments of devastating humor and devastating pain. He deftly creates snapshots within the story that draw upon the lives of the characters before the time of this story, infusing the dialogue with emotional depth and adding to the richness and complexity of the characters. One particularly potent example can be found in this exchange:
Dad asked me if I was working on anything for school. "I've got some very advanced Algebra homework, " I told him. "So advanced that I couldn't possibly explain it to a layperson."
"And how's your friend Isaac?"
"Blind," I said.
"You're being very teenagery today," Mom said. She seemed annoyed about it.
"Isn't this what you wanted, Mom? For me to be teenagery?"
"Well, not necessarily this kind of teenagery, but of course your father and I are excited to see you become a young woman, making friends, going on dates."
"I'm not going on dates," I said. "I don't want to go on dates with anyone. It's a terrible idea and a huge waste of time and ---"
"Honey," my mom said. "What's wrong?"
"I'm like. Like. I'm like a grenade, Mom. I'm a grenade and at some point I'm going to blow up and I would like to minimize the casualties, okay?"
My dad tilted his head a little to the side, like a scolded puppy.
"I'm a grenade," I said again. "I just want to stay away from people and read books and think and be with you guys because there's nothing I can do about hurting you; you're too invested, so just please let me do that, okay? I'm not depressed. I don't need to get out more. And I can't be a regular teenager, because I'm a grenade." (p. 98-99)
As the story unfolds, Green deftly and skillfully weaves in several surprises. Some are pleasant ones, and others not so pleasant, but they are written in such a way that struck me as true to life. Perhaps it is trite to say, "I laughed! I cried! I felt like I knew the characters and I missed them when I closed the book! I couldn't put it down!" It turns out that all of these things were true. I encourage you to read -- and enjoy -- this wonderful story.
As the story unfolds, Green deftly and skillfully weaves in several surprises. Some are pleasant ones, and others not so pleasant, but they are written in such a way that struck me as true to life. Perhaps it is trite to say, "I laughed! I cried! I felt like I knew the characters and I missed them when I closed the book! I couldn't put it down!" It turns out that all of these things were true. I encourage you to read -- and enjoy -- this wonderful story.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Solitude and the New Mom
I wrote this post many moons ago about the reasons why solitude is such a great and useful thing. All of these things are completely true, and are major reasons why I think solitude is so grand. Of course, I was not yet a parent at that time, and looking back on it, I imagine that parents in the know may have wanted to laugh me off the face of the Earth.
"Solitude," I imagine some mother scoffing at me via her computer screen circa three years ago, hair greasy, wearing pajamas, and getting up for the third time in five minutes to deal with some child-related catastrophe before vacating the vicinity of her computer screen for six hours, finally coming back after the kids have gone to bed, sighing, and shutting down the computer while throwing a load of laundry into the washer.
Now that I'm that mom, I get it. I continue to need to adjust accordingly.
One of the most challenging things for me about solitude as a new mom is that my opportunities for it have dramatically decreased since the birth of my daughter, especially once I returned to work. For some people, perhaps this lack of solitude would be a welcome relief. For me and for others, the demands of being involved with others in a continuous way -- even those we deeply love and care for -- creates a practical challenge to a vital aspect of our self-care. In my case, lack of solitude makes it difficult for me to approach the tasks of my everyday life with the clarity and connectedness that I'd like to have. From there, it's only a matter of time before I wind up a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor, hair in a Medusa-esque pile on my head.
I am one of those people who cannot care well for my kid, my home, my job, or my relationship with my spouse without a little time to myself to fill my own cup, as they say. Otherwise, I have nothing to give. At first, trying to find time to myself was a daunting task, but I've managed to find it in a few places I wouldn't have expected before having kids.
1. The Workplace
Not every mother goes back to the workplace, nor had outside employment to begin with. However, for some women who relish solitude, going back to work in whatever capacity -- if you have the means and comfort to do so -- provides you with opportunities to be by yourself. Whether it's in the car, a few minutes with a cup of your favorite (work-appropriate) beverage, or the time between clients, a little downtime can be found.
2. Night Owls
For those who can wing it (ha ha, get it? Wings? Owls? What a hoot!), grabbing a bit of time after the kids go to sleep and before you go to sleep can help fill your own cup. Of course, if you'd just prefer to go to bed early, I'm certainly not going to blame you.
3. Early Birds
If you're this type, go ahead and get up before your kids if you like. Again, if you want to stay in bed, I won't judge.
4. The Car
For whatever reason, the car seems to work magic for my daughter, and for other small kids I know. You aren't exactly all by yourself, but a drive can give you a chunk of quiet time and space.
So I realize I'm not the first mother to ever walk the face of the planet, and I'm certainly not the first to come up with the above ideas. I have found, however, that you can do all of the above and not feel like you've really had any solitude. There are a couple of things I've learned about that, too.
1. Be Present!
I define presence as the quality of bringing your full attention to the task at hand and resting there. I have found that being by myself doesn't quite cut it -- I also need to be aware of the fact that I am in solitude and to fully engage it. I check the clock, maybe put on a timer or alarm, and let go of my to-do lists or other activities until the alarm sounds. By doing this, I get more out of the moments I do have, which leads me to...
2. It's Not the Time, It's How You Use It.
Even if you were accustomed to spending tremendous stretches of time in solitude pre-kids, as I was, the length of time you have available for solitude doesn't necessarily matter. Bringing presence to your downtime makes any time you do have -- whether it's three minutes or three hours -- more restorative and filling.
3. Solitude Is An Inside Job
One of the major lessons I've learned about solitude in the past four months is, by and large, solitude is an inside job. You can actually build a place of solitude within, like a wellspring or a reservoir, that you can draw upon to sustain you when even those brief pauses are difficult to come by. I imagine this ability is really helpful once you come to parenting toddlers, but I'll let you know if that's my experience when I get there.
I love solitude! I think it's great, and my consistent experience is that it helps me to stay calmer, more competent, and more sane than I would be without it. I am so glad to discover that I have been able to maintain some solitude in my life post-childbirth, although it looks different than it did before.
"Solitude," I imagine some mother scoffing at me via her computer screen circa three years ago, hair greasy, wearing pajamas, and getting up for the third time in five minutes to deal with some child-related catastrophe before vacating the vicinity of her computer screen for six hours, finally coming back after the kids have gone to bed, sighing, and shutting down the computer while throwing a load of laundry into the washer.
Now that I'm that mom, I get it. I continue to need to adjust accordingly.
One of the most challenging things for me about solitude as a new mom is that my opportunities for it have dramatically decreased since the birth of my daughter, especially once I returned to work. For some people, perhaps this lack of solitude would be a welcome relief. For me and for others, the demands of being involved with others in a continuous way -- even those we deeply love and care for -- creates a practical challenge to a vital aspect of our self-care. In my case, lack of solitude makes it difficult for me to approach the tasks of my everyday life with the clarity and connectedness that I'd like to have. From there, it's only a matter of time before I wind up a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor, hair in a Medusa-esque pile on my head.
I am one of those people who cannot care well for my kid, my home, my job, or my relationship with my spouse without a little time to myself to fill my own cup, as they say. Otherwise, I have nothing to give. At first, trying to find time to myself was a daunting task, but I've managed to find it in a few places I wouldn't have expected before having kids.
1. The Workplace
Not every mother goes back to the workplace, nor had outside employment to begin with. However, for some women who relish solitude, going back to work in whatever capacity -- if you have the means and comfort to do so -- provides you with opportunities to be by yourself. Whether it's in the car, a few minutes with a cup of your favorite (work-appropriate) beverage, or the time between clients, a little downtime can be found.
2. Night Owls
For those who can wing it (ha ha, get it? Wings? Owls? What a hoot!), grabbing a bit of time after the kids go to sleep and before you go to sleep can help fill your own cup. Of course, if you'd just prefer to go to bed early, I'm certainly not going to blame you.
3. Early Birds
If you're this type, go ahead and get up before your kids if you like. Again, if you want to stay in bed, I won't judge.
4. The Car
For whatever reason, the car seems to work magic for my daughter, and for other small kids I know. You aren't exactly all by yourself, but a drive can give you a chunk of quiet time and space.
So I realize I'm not the first mother to ever walk the face of the planet, and I'm certainly not the first to come up with the above ideas. I have found, however, that you can do all of the above and not feel like you've really had any solitude. There are a couple of things I've learned about that, too.
1. Be Present!
I define presence as the quality of bringing your full attention to the task at hand and resting there. I have found that being by myself doesn't quite cut it -- I also need to be aware of the fact that I am in solitude and to fully engage it. I check the clock, maybe put on a timer or alarm, and let go of my to-do lists or other activities until the alarm sounds. By doing this, I get more out of the moments I do have, which leads me to...
2. It's Not the Time, It's How You Use It.
Even if you were accustomed to spending tremendous stretches of time in solitude pre-kids, as I was, the length of time you have available for solitude doesn't necessarily matter. Bringing presence to your downtime makes any time you do have -- whether it's three minutes or three hours -- more restorative and filling.
3. Solitude Is An Inside Job
One of the major lessons I've learned about solitude in the past four months is, by and large, solitude is an inside job. You can actually build a place of solitude within, like a wellspring or a reservoir, that you can draw upon to sustain you when even those brief pauses are difficult to come by. I imagine this ability is really helpful once you come to parenting toddlers, but I'll let you know if that's my experience when I get there.
I love solitude! I think it's great, and my consistent experience is that it helps me to stay calmer, more competent, and more sane than I would be without it. I am so glad to discover that I have been able to maintain some solitude in my life post-childbirth, although it looks different than it did before.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)