Winter reflections

After a beautiful golden fall, winter came on us freezing and furious. People in the city have adjusted, somewhat grudgingly, and life goes on despite every sane animal instinct that says stay inside and hibernate. Illness is going around too, whether the now familiar plague of Covid variations or something else.

There is much to be grateful for but it hasn’t been an easy few months. My mom moved to supportive living last summer, and while it was absolutely the right decision and overall things are much better, there’s been some painful weeks where she was struggling to adjust. And there’s a lot for me and my brothers to keep learning and trying to cope with emotionally. We have each other anyway; I’m very grateful for siblings in this situation.

Work has been crazy. I was extremely lucky the past couple years to co-teach with an amazing woman who became a close friend. We weathered a lot of challenges together and innovated in ways that we probably wouldn’t have individually. But life is complicated and this past spring she decided she needed to leave special Ed. We are still friends and work in the same school and she continues to be a huge support.

Unfortunately, her position was filled by a person who is really not competent at all. This can regrettably happen with unionized jobs.  I’ve worked successfully with all sorts of personalities, and I was prepared to do so again. But it’s been seriously impossible, and I’ve gone from tight collaboration to asking for a “work divorce.” Mercifully, this has gone through in the past week. While the situation is not ideal at least there is more separation of responsibilities and therefore more accountability.

Halloween has come and gone, and a certain sweetie’s October birthday. As soon as November comes I find myself looking for the twinkling lights of Christmas in the long dark evenings. As of this weekend I’m all in, and currently under a blanket crocheting busily. I’m a rather shiftless crafter: sometimes I’m really into it and sometimes  months go by when I don’t touch yarn or fabric. But there is something about winter nights that tends to inspire. 

My project at the moment is to crochet twelve Christmas stockings.

One reason for this undertaking is we are flying to the USA for Christmas to visit my mother in law and my brother in law and his family. It will be our first trip there since 2018 and also our first time flying since then. Twelve family members total together, and one stocking each!

I’m maybe equal parts excited and anxious. A chance to travel is not something I’m prepared to turn down. My mother in law is a queen among hosts. And we have a new (ish) little nephew we’ve never met. But I’m more uneasy a traveller than I’ve previously been. I’ve heard a lot of travel horror stories. Intellectually I know things still go smoothly more often than not, but I just don’t take for granted anymore that complex systems usually work.

Even more intangibly, I’ve become comfortably, perhaps smugly parochial in the past 2 years. (Which feels much longer than 2 years, more like ten. Or at least 5.) On my own home turf, not a lot scares me. I look straight into the chaos and the abyss and I say: You will find me your equal and more. Or I run to my cozy home and hide, which is also good. Things might be crazy and tragic here, but it’s a familiar crazy tragedy. The notion of crossing several borders to a foreign land and encountering some alien form of craziness is a lot more terrifying. Yes, sorry Americans, you are foreigners to me now. But to put it in perspective, I could barely stand being in the downtown of my own city last year.

Perhaps this trip is exactly what I need to get some of my former openness back. It’s happening anyway, regardless of how many alarming scenarios run through my head. I’m coping by crocheting and preparing for the trip like we are leaving for the final frontier versus a (presumably) civilized country. We’ll be prepared for lost luggage, being stranded in airports, trapped in a cabin with contagious diseases, and whatever else I can think of. Hopefully not violence, but I am certified in Therapeutic Crisis Intervention, and traveling with a psychologist.

Back to my socks now, and hoping for a peaceful wind down of the year! May Light prevail over Darkness (and we know it will).

And now it is October (reprise)

Eight years ago, preparing AJ’s golden orange room. Lately we are talking about moving, getting a new house with more room to grow into.

But today, a breathtakingly beautiful golden October day, no need to do more than live in the present.

Closing the circle

Eight years ago this fall, we were preparing for the arrival of our baby, “Ember.”

There was excitement, resolve (eventually), anticipation, and a good deal of anxiety.

Everything from clearing a room in the house to hiring a doula to making the first purchases of baby gear seemed fraught with terrific significance.

Finally, we were “kinda sorta almost” ready with a fully furnished “nursery” that was unnaturally tidy and organized.

By this time in 2014, I could just visualize that a baby would soon be joining Mr Turtle and I, and most of the time I figured we would probably be alright.

What was beyond me was to imagine life with our daughter. I have heard that people speculate about and imagine their future child, but I never did that when I was pregnant. I never really talked to her either, except maybe some prayerful pleas to “baby”, as much directed at a frightening, uncontrollable, incomprehensible universe as at her.

Today, I can still recall the feeling of being on the cusp of parenthood. Every life has moments of change and transformation: these are not unique to having a baby. Each transition recalls the others.  What is harder to remember now is what we were leaving behind: the life without AJ, and later Dani.

AJ and Dani are full personalities now. On this, a random Sunday, I did the following:

• Made the girls their two bowls of oatmeal for breakfast, and instant coffee for me
• Took Dani to a birthday party
• Chatted on the phone with the friend I have known since AJ was a toddler
• Laundry…..so much laundry 
• Walked to the house of another friend of AJ’s and spent the afternoon while the girls played (her mom is a friend too)
• Listened to AJ singing “Part of my world” (she wanted to take voice lessons this year)
• Helped Dani with her music practice (she started Yamaha lessons this fall)
• Ate Mr Turtle’s delicious tacos and talked around the table 
• Participated in a rather long Zoom meeting with the board of AJ and Dani’s dance organization

Also today, a colleague of Mr Turtle’s came with a pickup truck and took what was left of the baby gear, including all the furniture.

Mr Turtle’s colleague is a first time mom expecting twin girls. She was willing to take everything and sort it later. It is perfect. And apart from a couple of bins of mementos (ok, more like four) we have now cleared most of our baby/toddler gear.

Is it sad? Not really. It was due to happen. I could have kept the crib and change table, maybe for future grandchildren. But the thought of them being used for real infants versus collecting cobwebs in the basement is more appealing. It was the same when we gave away the bassinet a few years ago.

I know in my heart that the real treasure is AJ and Dani.  And they did not come from a cruel, confusing world by random chance. Whether I can fully perceive it or not, they are part of a beautiful, unfolding pattern that touches my life and others. Whatever material things have passed through their lives, it’s ok to let them go into other lives. I’ve never really wanted money for their baby stuff, either. Whatever good energy has come into my life, I only want to pass it on.

(Dani loves her new big girl bed, too. She had refused to sleep in the crib/toddler bed for several months, first sleeping on the mattress on the floor, then in her sisters’s bed, then on the couch.)

AJ and Dani, enjoying musical moments in 2022:

Conversations

Well, it’s been an…interesting…school year so far. Not terrible, but with unique challenges due to changes in my work team.

I relate to this statement because it is something I’m trying to do, not because I’m really good at it yet. I tend, I think, to be very accommodating and collaborative, except when I’m pushed to my limit then I become quite abrupt. I need to practice graceful ways of saying No, I think.

One day the mountain

Feels like wisdom to remember anytime, and at the beginning of the school year especially!

Every once in a while

 

From a friend. Words to live by, as good as any I think!

Seeking the beautiful

Life has been a mix of pleasant activities and a few stressful issues to deal with: so, rather emotionally exhausting. I haven’t accomplished much of anything around the house or yard, though we still have a pretty garden of flowers and herbs, similar to last year. If I could have anything I wanted, time to “putter” would be high on the list.

Sometimes though we do get away from it all. Here are a few photos from a recent hike that was good for body and soul:

Can you spot the bighorn sheep in that photo above?

I’ve also been trying to capture nature sounds when I find a remote place. Of course it can be challenging when you have people interrupting with silly sounds and giggles:

Finally this was a lucky shot of the girls when they were having an affectionate moment.

Parenting advice 1: independence and autonomy

The title is quite ironic, since I have never been much into advice. There are zero parenting books in my house. I suppose I have a parenting philosophy, which I could explain in a few sentences on a good day. I have questions about life, to which I seek answers, or just better questions.  But I don’t have A Method That Works, especially not when it comes to the forces of nature that are my daughters.

However, people have often commented on our daughters’ independence, and I might have something helpful to say about that. From the time they were small toddlers, they were both good at playing on their own (and after Dani’s birth, with each other). As a caveat, I cannot say for sure that anything I did or didn’t do helped with this independence. It may be genetics and have little to do with my actions. But we may have at least encouraged it, so that is what this blog is about.

Pictured below: Lego is a popular toy in our house, so this is a common scene:

Recently I had a conversation with one of the girls’ friends. It went something like this:

Me: “We have a big bin of Lego we like to play with!”

Him: “All the Lego is in one bin?”

Me: “Yes.”

Him: “We have one too, except the sets [to build something specific] are separate.

Me: “Yeah, we have some of those sets too, but we just put it all in together!”

Him: “All of it?!”

Me: “Yeah! Then we just use it to make whatever we want.”

Him: (Mind blown) “My dad keeps the sets in their own boxes.” (His dad, listening to this conversation, stares at me in shock.)

Pictured above: A thick, detailed manual from Disney/Lego, with step by step instructions on how to build the castle from Beauty and the Beast, which I will never, ever do. Also, I’m certain a few pieces have been sucked into the vacuum cleaner. I don’t even know why this is manual is still in the house. I suppose, for the chance that my daughters one day decide they want to A) sort out all the castle Lego from the other Lego and B) follow step by step instructions like those below to build it. Anything, after all, is technically possible.

Just to be clear, I know there are grownups (like our friend) and possibly children (?) who are willing to put time and energy into keeping different sets of Lego separate, for whatever reason. I am not, and this is consistent with both my desire to spend my time on more interesting (to me) things and with my “parenting philosophy.” Part of this philosophy is to respect my children’s choices as much as possible, and to pay attention to when my own neuroticism might be intruding on them.

I have used Lego as an example, but in all situations, we make a point of letting the girls play the way they want to, as long as they are not hurting themselves, hurting anyone else, being anti-social, or destroying anything important.*

Another example: if we go to the playground and AJ ignores the equipment and searches the gravel for half an hour looking for “gemstones”, I’m cool with that. If Dani climbs all the way up to the slide and then turns around and climbs all the way down again, I don’t coax her to go down the slide or demand she justify her decision. (Other people might. That’s fine too. She can learn that different people have different beliefs about sliding.)

*What is acceptable risk is a whole other topic. If I feel like writing more parenting advice I might tackle that one. Hahaha! Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Sometimes we only become aware of what we are doing by watching how others are different. And I have noticed parents who are much more involved, either calling out suggestions to their children frequently from the side, or actively playing with them (and I don’t mean something like board games where everybody has a role, but trying to involve them in the kind of play that kids typically do with each other). Again, I don’t know every family’s situation and there could be very good reasons for this approach. But my question, which every parent has to ask and answer of themselves, as it’s very personal, is this: What is the purpose of me directing my child’s play?

Personally, I see very little reason to be involved in my  daughters’ play. If I am tempted to interfere, it’s for reasons that have more to do with me than to do with them. I may notice that other children are being physically active on the playground and wonder why my daughter is sitting playing with rocks. Doesn’t she need my help to be more like the others? I may feel its my job to encourage my other daughter to go on the slide, because otherwise she can’t possibly be having fun, can she?! And while I’m ok with the mixed up Lego, I have an interest in fashion and pay a lot of attention to how clothes look and fit. So it’s sometimes harder to accept when the doll clothes get all mixed up and put on different critters. 

Pictured above: Dinosaurs wearing Elsa and Anna dresses from princess dolls. I am totally ok with this (well I’m trying).

As I thought about it, I also noticed that a lot of the toys are created by corporations. They are a specific brand. Those corporations have an interest in making me and my children aware of their brands and focused on buying more. So they also have an interest in promoting a certain kind of play (such as building Beauty and the Beast’s castle, versus a rocket ship, or playing Elsa and Anna dolls, versus whatever is going on with the dinosaurs). So by enforcing categories such as this-Lego-goes-with-this-Lego-set, and this-dress-goes-on-this-doll, I am enforcing the way corporations want my children to play and behave.

Nope, I don’t need to do that. Also, I have better things to do.

I also hypothesize that this consistent, mostly hands off approach has helped my kids to become people who are very good at amusing themselves. In addition, they show confidence in their own choices. After going up the steps of many, many slides and then back down the steps, Dani eventually did go down a slide, and loved it. She did not need me to help her to slide, and she knows it.  Both the girls are also comfortable joining other kids to play together, and they engage their imaginations and their physical energies with those of their peers.

So that’s my parenting advice, from someone who never reads the instruction book and rarely listens to advice. (I will not be giving advice on how to put together IKEA furniture, ever.) I have called this blog “Parenting Advice 1” just in case I decide to write more, but I may not.  After all I’m still trying to figure out other things, like how to teach my kids to pick all that Lego off the floor and put it back in the box.

Road trip

The girls and I just got back from a “glamping” trip with another family we have been friends with for most of the kids’ lives. Mr Turtle wasn’t able to come due to work and lingering illness (boo). But we had fun, made memories and deepened connections.

Our first destination, a yurt:

AJ and Dani walking at sunset:

I finally was able to calm down on this trip, moving away from the feeling that I am perpetually chasing or being chased by something. We’ll see if it lasts.

My solo driving experience also gave me time to meditate on questions that are ever present in my mind, which I wrote a little about over on my other blog.

Finally, my favourite road trip song (“Road Trip,” by Runrig). “Get free, believe, go real”….. A worthy goal for summer!

Books and things

There are any number of things I could write about: half finished thoughts that start as a comment on something, then lead me to realize I have a lot more to say. That’s kinda cool. But summer is so new, and I’m not much in the mood for anything too serious yet.

I have been feeling a bit of unreasonable irritation toward people who too enthusiastically wish me a happy or fun  “summer vacation.” I am dealing with a few things that are neither particularly happy, fun or “vacation” oriented. Yeah I’m not teaching right now but life is still going on. The stress hasn’t just melted away.

But in all fairness there are happy and fun things happening too. I’m not miserable; I’m just oscillating a lot between happy/grateful and overwhelmed/grumpy.

Something lovely coming up is my friend/colleague’s wedding. Our friends and family who intended to marry all tied the knot between 2005 and 2015, so I wasn’t expecting to go to any more weddings for another decade or two. But here we are. Also my girls will have a chance to see a wedding, which is nice.

My friend has an attachment to stained glass because her late mother created art with it. So I made her a stained glass cookie window. (Gluten free too.)

The vision was bold, the execution was decent and the cookies taste good. I had hoped it would stand upright but it was not quite sturdy enough haha. The recipient (and her nephews and niece) were delighted.  I appreciated the “good stress” of figuring out this project. As opposed to the stress of things just coming at me.

Other than that, and many many cleanup jobs around the house and yard*, it’s summer so time to try to read some more books I guess. Here’s what I’m thinking: 

Historical(ish?) fiction from Paul Kingsnorth, whose essays I’ve enjoyed. First of a trilogy so if I like it, that’s great

Re-read a classic from my childhood. My oldest brother bought this for AJ a while back when he travelled to PEI. It has been chosen for a Facebook book club. My Facebook activity is very limited but I figure I can login a few times to keep up with the club. Also AJ might be old enough that I could read it with her. That could be fun.

I re-read parts of Anne of Green Gables not too long ago; it might have even been last summer. It was interesting reading it from an adult mid life perspective. I love Maud Montgomery’s work and can easily get captivated by any of her stories, even starting randomly in the middle of something. I’ve read most of everything she wrote, multiple times.

However, what struck me as unique about Anne of Green Gables is how much of the story is told through dialog. None of Maud’s other books rely so much on conversation. The story is basically different kinds of people who don’t much like or understand each other reaching a state of empathy, self-awareness and mutual understanding. It’s really quite inspiring and timely.

* I’ve asked Mr Turtle to take me in a hot date to the dump sometime. Decluttering would make me so happy. Hopefully we make that happen soon.

I’ll end with this sunset from the other night:

Seeds in my mind

  Spring and summer are the seasons of growing. I plant flowers and sometimes herbs and vegetables. I try to pull out most of the weeds so there is space for what I want to grow.

I have been also paying attention to what I plant in my mind, or what others try to plant in my mind. Here are some of the seeds currently growing in my consciousness (and perhaps also in my un-consciousness.)

Why is it that the world of people often feels noisy, very noisy, but also lonely? So many opinions, so many emotions, so many experiences and things to say about them. But every so often, there's a person whose words resonate. I think it has to do with humility and honesty and being willing to share that vulnerability of being human and open to learning. What does that tell me about how I should be?

Water always flows downhill. So imagine a rainstorm, a babbling brook, a river, a violent storm, a sewer, a flood, a leaky faucet....all that water, all making its way to the ocean. It's going to the same place. That's how it feels to me when I start to see a pattern in my life.

Someone said this: "being like water is a metaphor for the principle of wu wei, which is sometimes described as "doing by doing nothing". Just as water flows downhill effortlessly, moved by the forces of nature rather than its own effort and volition, and simply goes around obstacles rather than trying to tear them down, one is advised to move through life in the most natural way that is harmonious with one's environment - the path of least resistance - allowing the universe to move you where it will." 

How many "solutions" do we accept that involve control and violence? Is it possible to have control without violence? (I am thinking about this and I can't think of an example. Other than maybe self-control). Why do we accept violence and control as normal? Is there another way?

Everything is temporary. Every material item, every thought, every feeling, every skill and piece of knowledge. Every relationship. Some last longer than others, but change always comes. How do I want to live my life with this knowledge of change and ultimately loss? Who am I going to be in 10, 20, 30 years (if so fortunate). What's going to matter to me at the end of my life, when I have lost or let go of everything I currently consider important and am about to say goodbye to anything that remains? (Which could be sooner than I think....nobody actually knows). 

Most people would not describe me as a quarrelsome or aggressive person. Probably quite the opposite. But, a conversation recently made me aware that I actually do quarrel with people often....in my mind. Just thinking of certain people or situations can cause a physical defensive reaction. It is interesting to become consciously aware of this. The person I was describing this to wrote (after expressing understanding and admitting to the same behaviour): "I try to reframe it from wasteful internal conflict to useful scripts to begin practicing enough that they become natural to say out loud." That is something to think about.

How often do I curse and why? I don't go around screaming epithets at people (not so far). I tell my children that it's not helpful or kind to call things "stupid." "All you are doing is telling someone you don't respect them or you don't respect the thing they have created. How is that good for you or anyone else?" But I do curse. I curse jokingly with my friends and colleagues (I use black humour a lot). I curse at aggressive or clueless drivers. In frustration, I curse situations I find myself in. Just hearing or seeing certain people's names is enough to cause an internal cringe and/or curse. What is this behaviour actually doing in me and in the world? What is the alternative?

The colours of summer are really, really beautiful right now. Greens, blues, golds, highlights of white. It is such a gift. 

Answering Lynnette’s question

A few days ago I happened upon Lynnette Horner’s blog entitled: “The Pandemic is Kinda Sorta Over. Have we learned anything?”

Her blog is not about case numbers or hospitalizations or anything like that. It’s about what people have - or haven’t - learned about themselves, and how they treat each other. To put it simply.

Lynnette’s question is big, and provocative. She does her best to answer it for herself. There is something very moving about a person honestly talking about the state of their mind and soul. I guess I can start by saying one thing I have learned from the pandemic, is how healing it is to interact with people who are willing to share and explore this vulnerability.

Lynnette writes extensively on how important it is to pay attention to what we are paying attention to:

To be “slow to judge, quicker to make allowances for people under stress, and more prone to turn to God than to fear and anxiety,” as Lynnette hopes she does, requires one to swim against that current of negativity. Certainly this is true in my experience. I also deal with a variety of challenging people every day. The good part is that I get lots and lots of practice. The less good part is that it does wear me down. I’m feeling quite exhausted right now: for over a month, actually. There are a few people that I have been really struggling to relate to positively. When I try to think of an alternative all I can come up with is “I’m tired. Too much!”

In some ways, the “end”* of the pandemic feels harder to me than the beginning. In my part of the world, there are fewer specifically Covid-related interruptions to life compared to last year. Almost all restrictions have been dropped. Whether or not one considers that a good thing, there has been more return to “normal,” and everyone I know has taken advantage of it, to varying degrees. They returned to recreational activities; they went to restaurants; they flew planes to vacation destinations; or they just visited friends and family more.

But everywhere people are worn out and worn down. Trust in everything and everyone is eroded. I dug a bit into that idea here, hypothesizing that trust is based in large part on tradition, convention and familiarity: we believe what authorities say because we have done so in the past and it mostly worked, and also they mostly say the same things. Covid-19 and the response upended that: it seemed like everything was questioned and done differently. There was an opportunity there: to do things differently and better. I know professionally, I have tried (and often succeeded) in improving my practice and relationships. But it’s hard (probably impossible) as an individual to overcome the systemic distrust. Like Lynnette’s daughter, I have witnessed people willing to just unload their rage and pain on the nearest target. It’s very destructive.

I have also come to the same insight as Lynnette: it is essential to be aware of what you are watching/viewing/listening to. Like her, I have become sensitive to fluctuations in my emotions, not (hopefully) with the result of becoming fixated on myself but to perceive how I am being affected by my physical, social and media environment. When I notice a lot of anger, despair or frustration it is a cue to switch my focus. Not to abandon the situation or whatever responsibility I have, but to adjust how I am interacting with it. This is not just about “self care”, though it is that. It’s also about being able to remain functional, responsive and integrated into my environment.  It’s about survival and the creation of reality.

Lynnette puts it more succinctly.

What have I been filling myself with?

• Being a “joiner” and participating in real world community. Family, work, recreational, and online to some degree (but very conservatively: I ceased most social media activity in January 2021)
• Depth reading and more writing and conversation. Avoiding the temptation to react impulsively, while paying attention to what the “big questions” in my heart are. (It gets easier with practice and encouragement.)
• I have been deliberately exploring Christianity in the past two years (longer than that if you count not being deliberate). Lynnette Horner’s article is of course written from an Orthodox Christian perspective,  and many of the writers and podcasters I read/listen to share that faith. I have found it helpful. What does that mean? One thing is that the ideas stick at least partly in my mind on my worst days, and it can make the difference between swimming and drowning. Another is I am more alert to patterns in the world and how I am participating in  them. Perhaps most importantly it’s a reminder that I can’t and I won’t do everything on my own, and I don’t have to.
• I am learning to give up the idea that I can or should control outcomes in the world. I try to act with good judgment and intention, more often than not. But after that it’s not in my control. Other people are not in my control. It is also not my job to punish or condemn them for not being what I want.** Something good about this approach: I have much less anxiety about being wrong. Often I am wrong, often others are wrong. It doesn’t stop me from doing some good in this moment.
• I am trying to get in the habit of offering real assistance to people who are struggling. Not just words, but a meal, or time, or effort. I’ve also let people do that for me. It might sound weird but this is not always easy for me as I tend to assume that my assistance is not wanted or needed, and I fear giving offence or being rejected. This is part of learning to accept that we all actually need each other, somehow. We can’t always just buy our way out of every problem, even if we are lucky enough to have a lot of resources (and that’s certainly not a given anymore). Everybody will one day have a crisis where they need the person next to them, whoever they are. (A good reason not to flip out at that person, too, or judge them on something stupid.)
• Because I’m doing my best to be honest, I have to say I also spend a lot of time thinking about my clothes and planning new outfits. I like to show up for my social, political and existential crises looking sharp, and Covid was no exception.***

I don’t know how to end this. Probably because it’s not over. Maybe this is actually a beginning. I never really know, except in retrospect. 50, 60 or 70 year old me (if I’m that fortunate) may look back and know exactly what was going on right now. I don’t have that perspective.

So I suppose I will just thank Lynnette, and everyone who has helped me so far, and also the people who have been difficult or in conflict (because in a funny way they end up having a part to play too) and carry on.

*I don’t know that it’s the end of people getting sick. Doesn’t feel like it: I have been sick A LOT, although not with Covid. But it does feel like the end of something. 

**One of my most horrifying and revolting experiences of the last 2 years was seeing how a mob behaves when they think they have justification to condemn and punish a person. I thought about it (if you can call such a process thought: it feels more like a kind of psychological death) and I know I can’t ever justify behaving with the same vindictiveness, not even to the worst in people. So I have had to look for a way of living that gives me a way out.

***if you could see inside my brain on any given day: 1/3 is thinking about spiritual and religious stuff, meaning-of-life matters. Because that is where I’m at. 1/3 is planning my next outfit. And the last third is just dealing with what’s coming at me in the moment.

Elevate

Life has been a lot lately, for many reasons. But this past weekend (and there’s a whole day of it left, yay) has been a much needed catharsis and rest.

Mr Turtle and I spent a couple of nights at a higher elevation, at a cabin in the mountains! Silence, trees, birdsong (still a bit of snow, too).

We elevated our minds and hearts and connection with great conversation that was helped by the time away and beautiful surroundings. I also really enjoyed the restaurant at the resort. Because of stress and anxiety I don’t think I’ve appreciated food for a month at least. So it was amazing to just sit in a peaceful place and taste and fully experience a delicious meal. It helped me feel human again.

Before we left town, however, we shared another very special event with our children and extended family:

AJ and Dani and me after their year-end dance show. All their hard work and passion was displayed in a fun and moving performance that showcased all the studio dancers. 

Then - the girls went home with their grandparents and Mr Turtle and I drove off into the sunset for our weekend haha! So fun. Of course everything was planned down to the last detail but it still felt spontaneous to just leave town after the show, still feeling the natural high of joy and accomplishment.

I have been having some trouble sleeping lately and find myself listening to a lot of fake nature sounds (or maybe not fake but from faraway places). So when I was present in real nature I made a point of listening and experiencing all the sounds. I particularly liked this brook on one of the trails we hiked. It was busy chattering away about the coming of spring and the melting snow.

Family resemblances revisited

 I'm taking one of those rare things: an sick day where I am not trying to do a bunch of stuff other than be sick. I'm fine, and only moderately uncomfortable, but I don't have the energy for much other than reading blogs. In addition to others, I sometimes read my own blogs.  And today I found this entry, from July 2015, when AJ, only child at the time, was 9 months old.

Family Resemblances

It's a short blog, and the main point is: although my friends and family saw all sorts of resemblances in baby AJ to me and Mr. Turtle and to others, I didn't see any resemblances, and I didn't think it was important.

What was important? 

".....what matters most to me is that I have a child who is her own individual, and becomes more that unique individual every day."

A lot of people seemed to like and agree with the sentiments I expressed in that blog. Which is fine. There is no right or wrong way to feel. Our feelings say something about where we are in life, and the lenses through which we see the world, and that is an interesting thing to try to understand. 

But nearly 7 years later, I no longer feel the same way. In fact, I would say the phase of "it only matters that she is an individual!" was quite short-lived.

Of course, it's great to be an individual. But it's not the only thing that matters.

What changed my mind? Probably the turning point  was my dad's death, just a few months later. In July of 2015 I had no idea he was ill, though the cancer was discovered only weeks after I wrote that blog. Today, I see a strong resemblance in AJ to my dad, and even more so to his sister, my Auntie R. It is meaningful, and it's something I frequently point out to her and to others. I also tell AJ that she, myself and her great-aunt all love to dance. We share that bond across generations. In addition, AJ took sailing camp last year, loved it, and wants to continue sailing. I make sure to tell her that this is something she shares with her Grandpa, though sadly she does not have a conscious memory of him.

As for Dani, right now I see a strong resemblance to Mr. Turtle's side of the family, especially his Auntie O. This aunt and her husband had lived in a different city for a long time. Recently, they moved back, and shortly after they returned, Auntie O invited me to go to the theatre with her. We agreed to meet in the lobby. When I got there, I spotted her immediately. She said: "I wasn't sure if you would recognize me!" I replied, "Actually it was easy: I see your face every day at home!"

I also see something of my mom in Dani. And in one of AJ's photographs when she was 3, I see the smile of my mother's eldest sister, who died at age 11, before my mother was born. It is uncanny, yet comforting. If sometimes ghosts walk with/in us, they are friendly ones.

I don't expect or want AJ and Dani to be clones, physically or in their personalities. There's a reason that humans don't (should never) reproduce by cloning. Each generation has to adapt to a different reality than their parents experienced (however they came by those parents), and each person is uniquely precious and irreplaceable. But, if we simplified this matter to two narratives:

1) I am an individual who  married and individual and who created two more individuals.

and

2) Myself and my children are part of a story that began long before us, and is unfurling in a manner that is sacred, mysterious, and revelatory. We experience our uniqueness, sometimes our solitude, but our lives do not "belong to us" in the sense that we are blank slates. 

Without a doubt, #2 is the narrative I now live by.

How does it influence my decisions?

Yes, I pay attention to the individual characteristics of my children. Do I nudge them towards activities and interests that connect them to their family and ancestry? Yes, I do. When time is precious, will I prioritize the traditions and activities that give them a coherent narrative across generations? Yes, absolutely. And furthermore, I see their longing for this coherency.

"You can have/be anything you want!" is a seductive message. And in a time of plenty (well, for now) it's still a somewhat true message. But only somewhat. I am not just a bundle of individual desires and idiosyncrasies, and I will do my best to teach/show my children that they aren't either. Of course, to do so I go up against a lot of powerful forces who would love for them to only see themselves as bundles of desires, because desire is marketable.

What do I want most of all? Multiplicity with unity, rather than fragmentation. The tree that grows in the shade of the forest, and reaches toward the sun.

Family Histories

 I found the time today to write a bit of a follow-up to my previous post on my family's experiences with (part of) the Ukrainian community in my city. A conversation with my older brother led to a story from our family history on my dad's side that I didn't know.  I set out to write about it and ended up meditating a lot more on how my perspectives are changing (really just putting into words a process that has been going on for a couple of decades at least). 

It's on my other blog, torthúil explores:

Link: Family Histories: The Russian Civil War and Greece

Yellow and Blue

This past Saturday we had the privilege of attending an event I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. It was AJ and Dani’s first dance performance, at a celebration called Malanka, a Ukrainian (and Canadian) tradition honouring the new year. The year is already well under way, but the original January date was cancelled because of, well, Covid. (Surprise.)

We don’t have any holidays or trips planned, and I can’t say I have a great desire to make any plans. Holidays tend to be framed as an escape from reality, and reality is just too real these days: I don’t believe there is anywhere you can go to escape it. But I had been anticipating Malanka in the same way I might have anticipated a holiday at one time. It would be an evening to enjoy the best things in life: eating at a big table, beautiful clothes and costumes, conversation, live music, and of course dancing.

One of the things that appealed to me about the dance organization where I enrolled AJ and Dani are the celebrations around seasons and holidays. I want that kind of ritual marking time. Without it, time becomes amorphous and slips away. I don’t know anyone who does not feel dislocated in time right now. Days feel like weeks, weeks like months, memories sink to the bottom of consciousness like soggy blankets in a swamp. It takes physical effort to dredge them up, to explain coherently what I think I was doing last week. But when I can look forward to a New Year’s celebration, a spring festival or two, a year end show….well, somehow the future becomes something I can grasp, and the present fills up with interesting details.

Friendship, celebration, a little exploration of the Ukrainian half of the girls’ cultural identities, which we hadn’t really introduced them to previously: that’s what I had in mind when I registered them for classes in August. It sounded delightful, and it has been. They are both loving their classes. As February went by and Covid was waning (or something) Malanka looked like it would really finally happen. The girls’ first ever chance to perform, the first event in two years for the organization. Amazing! Then February 24th, Russia invaded Ukraine.

I had been almost totally oblivious, not going to lie. When I started paying attention to the news, I realized my daughters, and by extension me and Mr Turtle, were in the middle of a community that was intensely, personally affected. We don’t know anyone in Ukraine, ourselves (people sometimes ask now). But many in the dance organization do. The board of directors struggled with the question of whether to carry on with Malanka. They decided they would. It would be a show of solidarity, of hope.  And of course a fundraiser. I was glad they decided to go ahead with it. If my children are to develop a connection with the people around them, some understanding of what they are going through, it has to be through experience.

Plus, I still wanted the joy and celebration. For the girls. For the family members I’d invited. For myself.  For the children who had been working so hard on their dances. I love that they hold hands and dance together in formation. In the era of Covid that is (was?) considered a risk: if so, it’s one that’s completely worth it, in my view.

A few days before their performance I thought I should discuss with AJ some things she might hear talked about at the event. “Oh, I know about the war,” she responded to me. Of course, that was what her teacher had been telling her group about when they were sitting solemnly in a circle at the beginning of class. She told me one of her classmates knew someone who had died in Ukraine. AJ is still very gentle in how she expresses herself. Anyone doing something unpleasant through to violent is “rude.” So Russia is being “very rude.” We talked some more. I remembered the time AJ was quite a bit younger and had found models of battlefields at the local museum. She had asked why so many of the toy soldiers were lying on the ground. Certainly we have talked about war since then, but this time was much more immediate. And of all things, it is her dance class that has made it personal.

At long last, the first weekend of March was here. The girls had picked up costumes; I had learned how to put them on; they had posed for studio pictures in them. I had bought and distributed tickets to grandparents and uncles, sold my allotment of raffle tickets, been assigned a volunteer job, mostly read and remembered all the instructions. I got there and was still overwhelmed with a feeling of “How do we do this exactly?!”

Between taking tickets and getting the girls ready, I didn’t get to our table till the program was almost starting. With a celebration like this (and I had almost forgotten the feeling) it is like being inside of a story. What was going to happen? What part would I play? How would my children feel? How would they be changed? Because of course they will be. This is something they will remember their whole lives, whatever happens.

The first item on the program was playing the Ukrainian national anthem. I am not even used to hearing the Canadian national anthem any more. (Where do you hear it except at events with lots of people? There haven’t been many of those lately.) Now here I was with a whole lot of people listening to a foreign anthem.

The glory and freedom of Ukraine has not yet perished

Luck will still smile on us brother-Ukrainians.

Our enemies will die, as the dew does in the sunshine,

and we, too, brothers, we'll live happily in our land.

We’ll not spare either our souls or bodies to get freedom

and we’ll prove that we brothers are of Kozak kin.

Well, that puts the news into context, I thought as I listened. All the people, including me, who had been shocked by news of war really shouldn’t have been. Clearly, this is a conflict that has been going on for a long time. Also I wondered what exactly I had gotten my family involved in. Was I going to hear a recruiting plea for foreign soldiers next? That would be a bit much. My mom is descended from Russian pacifists  (you can imagine how popular they were in their homeland) and my dad was deeply disturbed by his experience of war and strongly disliked nationalism. Also, the most assertive line in the Canadian national anthem is “O Canada we stand on guard for thee.” Canada must have one of the mildest, least rude national anthems ever composed.

But though the tone was set, the program moved on. There were a few short speeches, and children and youth representing the dancers were given the last word: “We don’t have money to give, but we can dance with joy and lift your spirits” (words to that effect). And talking with AJ afterwards, I found myself reinforcing this point: yes war is terrible and suffering is real, yes Malanka had the goal of supporting Ukraine in the conflict.  But the thrill and kinship AJ and Dani feel with their fellow dancers as they move in synchrony, the affection and respect they begin to feel for the dances and their teachers: this is something older, stronger, and more transformative than any present conflict or problem. (So I want to believe.) Such power can temporarily be harnessed in service to a cause, but treated with appropriate respect, it tells a story that encompasses and transcends the events of the moment.

AJ and Dani were beautiful. I don't think Dani really understood that she was going to dance in front of everyone, before it happened. But she went out on the floor with her group of preschoolers, beaming, and they did their dance. AJ has a lot of poise already. Her eyes shine and her smile reaches out to everyone. After their part in the program was finished, both girls watched the rest of the dancers, entranced. When the band started, they didn't stop moving until we left. Dance, tag, hide and seek, chatter, laughter, mystery. It was a bigger party than they've ever experienced, they were among friends and deeply safe, and they made the most of every minute of it.

So what does this all mean? I don't know. Right now, I am reluctant to say of these experiences: "This is what it is truly about." All I can say for sure is that is whatever is going on, I am doing my best to show up for life.   What do you pay attention to when there is too much information? I live in a kind of enhanced sensory alertness, which can be exhausting and confusing at times. But it is infinitely better than being saturated in cortisol and anxiety. There are a lot of problems in the world, and I am not going to think my way out of any of them. Nothing is going to change because I am "informed," because I have the "right" opinions, because I take some kind of "action." I am not the middle manager of reality. But I am part of the story.

Sharing Malanka with my girls and all our family was a precious experience. I would do it all again, and I think we all grew, in one way or another. 

One month (ish) into 2022

 So....I don't like New Year's Resolutions, but I like to have Intentions. Although I don't commit to anything in December, because January and often February are tough months. It's cold, it's dark, sickness is everywhere, people are stressed....so who needs more pressure? Not me!

But, having gotten through January, and suffering nothing worse than a suspected sinus infection so far, here are what I've been pondering as Intentions this year:

I've been thinking more and more about actively participating in culture, and in creating reality. Jonathan Pageau is so good at articulating why participation is important. Listening to his ideas has helped me to understand and clarify what I think is the best use of my time. This is not really a new matter. Starting around 2015, I have been less and less interested in passive entertainment. Of course I will go see a movie on a date or with the kids. But I have almost no interest in watching or "getting into" a show, for example. The big techno-cultural institutions have no clue how to entertain me, and (no) surprise, I don't care. The only unfortunate part of this is I lose a whole area of small talk. My answer to "Oh, have you seen .......?" It's soooooo good!!" is some version of "No....and I probably never will, but go ahead tell me about it and I'll try to find something to relate to!" 

So, what do I do for fun? Well, I'm reading books, though I now need a reason for reading one, some sort of context to put it in. I'm more interested in the values of the writers and how they are participating in culture. Reading fiction in particular feels like renting out space in my brain and imagination to another person. I still enjoy doing that, but I'm not just accepting anyone as a tenant. So I'm most likely to read books I've heard recommended by people I trust, or writers who I hear interviewed on one of the podcasts I regularly listen to. It's about depth more so than breadth. Any sort of filter will have its limitations and flaws, I'm aware of that, but I don't have the attentional energy for anyone and everyone, that's reality.

I'm aware of and appreciating my community groups more and more. My stepdancing group is still going strong, and I seriously hope I'm dancing with these ladies into my 70s. Our teacher already works with seniors and is a role model for participation and activity at all ages. I love that there is a performance aspect to this group, though I think of it more as sharing tradition/creating culture versus "people looking at me." Which is as it should be.

This year my daughters are also involved in Ukrainian dance. They have been enjoying it so far, and I'm enjoying being a (chill) dance mama too! I was never into competition, and neither are the girls so far. But again, the focus of this organization is creating community and tradition, and I'm loving it. I have to do things like volunteer for bingos. I was dubious at first, but then I really enjoyed just being in a novel situation with people I didn't know and having to figure out a job together. I appreciated the people at the bingo hall. They are 95% female, mostly 50 and over I'd say. I would not want to be a bingo regular myself, I don't think. But even being there a few hours, I could see that the staff and the clients have a relationship. The time they spend together is serving them a purpose, and it's not all cynical and sad, not at all. Finally, I realized it doesn't bother me when people ask me to take on responsibility, to make a sacrifice of time and energy. That's what I genuinely want! 

Of course, there is a cost. Participation is much harder work. There are evenings where I only want to collapse in front of the TV. But I have a commitment to get myself or the kids to dance class so off we go.  When I am actively involved with an organization, I am also more aware of how difficult it is to keep institutions and traditions going. It's harder to take things for granted or ignore people, and all their baggage. It's harder to close the door on the world, even when I want to. But....that's also good, in the long run. And the world I'm letting into my life is not abstract, not hostile, not fear inducing (most of the time). It's people like me. People I relate to, and/or give grace to. 

I'm really looking forward to the girls' first performance, which has been rescheduled once, but will hopefully happen soon on the new date. But, I have also decided that I am not going to be cheated out of anticipation, in the performing arts or in general. I am going to believe and work as if all the good things and events I look forward to will happen. If they don't, well that's sad. However, I still will have the fun of anticipating, practicing, working with others. If I don't believe anything is possible, then I miss out on all that, and that's worse than a few cancelled events. 

At work. Oh, work is always interesting and complicated. I have a great team, and I'm very grateful for them and I think they are a positive influence on me, and I truly bring value. We have some great complementary personalities. We share a vision and a work ethic.  There are also personality conflicts and stressors and tense meetings within the larger organization. I could write a novel! or a reality TV series. There are big problems we can't and won't solve alone, or at all. There are people at the edge of their sanity, and no bloody wonder. There are people whose ideas I disagree with, even though I'd walk through fire with them. Reality, right?

I guess if I was to sum it up, it would be to keep finding and working with the "Yes people."  You know when you have an idea, there are people who will tell you all the reasons it won't work, or why they won't commit, and then there are people who just hear you and add something, then you add something else, and on it goes? Maybe it ends in an amazing project, or maybe it ends in a belly laugh all around. Well we need everyone I'm sure, but damn, I love the second kind of people! I call them Yes people. And of course not all ideas are good or happen. But when you have a collective of Yes people, everything feels lighter. And we can admit mistakes, and face difficulties, and change direction, when necessary, without rancor.

I should add, being a Yes person doesn't mean you agree to everything or try to do everything for everyone. That is crazy (though we all are crazy sometimes, maybe more often than not). It's more about maintaining openness, when surrounded by forces within and without that are trying to shut you down (anger, fear, doubt, anxiety, lack of faith in yourself, etc). It's not easy, but it's better than fighting with negative forces you probably can't win against. 

Well, this is very long and rambly. If I was to sum it up? My intentions for 2022 are to be as involved as I can, in things that actually build up my life and others', and that can be part of my life for a long time. It's to be a Yes person and find the Yes people. When the Yes people get talking, then things happen. And then things fall apart, but you laugh and hold each other up through the chaos and the reality warping. And then things start to happen again.

Turning 4

I remembered today I had written this entry about AJ the evening before she turned 4. So I took a couple of photos of Dani the day before she turns 4.

Four years ago? I was already asleep, but awoke at midnight to my waters breaking. A swift and straightforward labour followed (despite having a breech baby) and Dani arrived at 4:29 in the morning. There was a huge full moon in the sky.

Dani’s favourite food is still noodles, which we tend to  call by her baby word, noo-noos. Favourite movies are Chicken Run and The Croods 2. She likes the Frozen characters too. We don’t watch TV shows much but both kids like Battlebots (as do their parents).

Dani is bubbly and social and has a talent for comic timing. She is full of observations, some of which only make sense from her own perspective of the universe but which are always entertaining.

Dani takes Ukrainian dance along with her sister and enjoys it a lot, and will hopefully have her first performance in March. She goes to daycare and enjoys being with her friends, and is very good at keeping track of all her stuff: nothing is ever lost. She has learned or inherited my utter intolerance of any dirt on her clothes (sigh). She would also have made a very good 19th century lady as she likes to layer clothes on top of each other.

AJ and Dani alternate between being best of friends and quarrelling, but very obviously love each other. And they light up the house with love, and turn it upside down.

Tea party!

January is not my favourite month of the year, as I’ve noted many times, but the 31st is definitely the best day in it.

Happy birthday big girl!

Venting and "Mad as Hell": A collage

Lately I had a couple of separate online conversations on the topic of anger and "venting", and some useful thoughts came out of it that I want to capture.

I think it's fair to say that there is a lot of....emotion...in our social world today (online, and off). A lot of negative emotion, a lot of frustration. I'm not passing judgment on the emotion itself or the situations causing it. The topic of who does or doesn't "deserve" to be angry is way too complex...if that even is a quagmire worth wading into, of which I'm not at all convinced. But either way, I don't have the attentional energy. I deal with things as they come up, and if I'm not directly involved, I try to give other people's anger a lot of.....space. For that matter, I try to give it space even when I am involved!

The first text is a quotation from from my (extraordinary) friend Diana. I read this and could immediately relate it to situations in my life:

"I think about the venting thing a lot, because I have moments I really want to just tell the world what I'm thinking and fuck decorum (which means, I think, fuck people's feelings). I've long believed that it's good to vent, but I'm not so sure anymore. That theory seems to be based on what we might call the Teapot Model, where we're like teapots that'll blow our tops if enough steam builds up, and venting is the only thing that will release the pressure.

I've been watching people and thinking about how they behave for a while now, though, and what I've noticed is that those who "vent" stay the angriest. It's almost like their ranting doesn't release the pressure so much as seek confirmation of their opinions which includes the justification of their anger. Venting also draws the approval of those who share one's opinions and anger, which also reinforces the sense that we *should* be angry.

I don't think that bit of received wisdom is right anymore. If there is a net positive to ranting or venting, I have yet to see it." (January 12 2022)

The next thing I read was a question from a friend: "Should we all be mad as hell?" I will leave out the context because honestly, anyone can think of something they could/should be "mad as hell" about. Like, go ahead and think of one....right now.

My friend also mentioned something unpleasant that happened in traffic, which I think is pretty universally relatable. So that was why I included comments on traffic. This is me:

 Traffic stuff terrifies me on a regular basis….though I continue to drive. (Avoiding driving caused such an escalation in my anxiety about it and irrational avoidance that I know that isn’t a good route to go either.) But I think about car accidents every time I get in the car (do other people do this? No idea how normal/abnormal I am) and I do something like pray….albeit not in a very ordered and conscious way, and often with a lot of profanity. I will add you to my driving prayers. Driving is probably THE most obvious example of individual action affecting collective well being, and vice versa (at least in cultures with a rule following ethic).

I’m not entirely sure of the direction of your thoughts in this post, but to address your question “should we all be mad as hell?” There is certainly plenty to be “mad as hell” about, but I’m less certain about manifesting that in the world. The most obvious problem for me is that it’s remarkably easy to be mad as hell, and that there even seems to be an addictive quality to it. By contrast calm people are harder to find, and stepping out of that anger cycle is much harder than stepping into it.

I also see people around me acting mad as hell, including many in cars (terrifying!) but I have no idea what they are mad about and what they imagine they are achieving by it. Perhaps they are mad about the same things I might hypothetically be mad about, and thus we are entirely in sympathy….but I can’t tell. There is no mutual understanding or responsibility.

Also, truthfully, the one thing that almost always alienates me from others is this “mad as hell” thing….for example I had to mute one of my group chats lately, because of the angry tone of the conversation and how people were choosing to express themselves. These are adults I consider kind and responsible, even exceptionally so. I have met them in person. We share a vocation and profession. I am deeply in sympathy with them and their struggles and frustrations, but….it was too much.

Do you (speaking to the person I was responding to) feel abandoned or excluded from the support systems in our society? ….or perhaps they are failing, the institutional ones at least. This is a serious problem. I don’t think anger is the solution, but it might be pointing to something important, something neglected. (January 15th 2022)

The final question is my attempt to find an alternative to shared anger, or to try to treat that anger not as an end in itself, but as a signal or signpost. Certainly, repressing or denying anger is not the (only) way to go, though it might actually the best choice in the moment. But constant anger or frustration is a signal of something that needs attending to. And if we are in a position to do so, perhaps taking some time to investigate is worth it. But, I think it is important to not just mirror back the anger, and if I feel a temptation to join in unthinkingly, well, I probably have to attend to myself first, before doing anything else.

Painting in the New Year

Last year each person in our family made a painting that represented (perhaps) one’s state of mind or mood going into the new year, or maybe just in that moment: see here

We enjoyed it so much we decided to try to make it a tradition and do that same thing New Year’s Eve/Day.

Behold then, the Turtles’ artistic responses to 2021.

AJ: Magical Dreams of the Butterflies

Dani: Polka Dot Shape

Mr Turtle: You Hung It The Wrong Way

Turtle: Still Life With Crumbs of Joy

Mine was way harder than I thought it would be: I had this plan in my head that seemed simple, but that I soon realized had waaaaay too much detail when I actually started. There were so many objects and it was so difficult to figure out what should be painted in what order. 

However, I still enjoyed getting into the process and engaging with the creation in front of me on its own terms. Part of the reason I like doing something hands on like this is it reminds me that reality is not in fact all in my mind. I might have a thought, but I’m not only interacting with my own thoughts, I’m interacting with creation itself, and the painting inevitably takes on its own character apart from what I had imagined. I have to adjust my approach and vision as I work through it. It’s much the same as raising kids, actually….

AJ did the final step for me: the crumbs under the table. I love those big joyous crumbs. They are going to remind me to seize happiness where I find it this year. 

Onward to a 2022 as happy and hopeful as we can make it!