"Babies know: a little dirt is good for you" was the headline -- New York Times, 01/27/2009, p.D7. The article was in the Science section and discussed the "accumulating evidence strongly suggest[ing] that eating dirt is good for you....in the development of a healthy immune system."
The article was interesting enough. What was more interesting, though, was my memory of an old saying. When I was young(er) -- and children put dirt in their mouths -- the old folk used to say, "Don't worry about it. We all gotta eat a peck a dirt before we die." 'Course, that always begged the question, "How much is a peck?" We never got an answer to that, but truth be told -- we didn't need an answer to worry a lot less about the babies playing in the mud or getting a little dirty.
I love that science has a way of catching up with the wisdom of my forefathers and mothers.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Unintentional Preparation
Having the layoff possibility laid out for me – after years of (unconscious, subconscious) wishing and hoping and (unintended) preparing….
Every time I thought to leave, or tried to leave, this institution, several exit meetings would automatically be scheduled. And somehow, some other position, some amended list of duties, some new and “exciting” opportunity, and/or some more money would appear – and I would stay on. The years slid by.
The new College president and the economic downturn knocked the wind out of everyone’s sails – and essentially allowed me a step toward a freedom that I didn’t even know I was seeking.
As I walk around the corridors this afternoon, doing my usual meet & greets, I feel myself smiling inside. I suddenly realize that I won’t miss this place or these people at all. I don’t share the values or the passions of the folks around me -- nice though they may be. I've sidestepped their extracurricular activities and consistently viewed the work through a very different lens. While, on the one hand, that made me valuable to the team, it also spoke of a failure to fit.
OMG, I never really belonged here! That’s why I wasn’t happy here! I thought I didn’t belong here because I didn’t belong anywhere. I thought I wasn’t happy here because I wasn’t happy. So I repeat -- OMG!
And now I’m gonna be free! In these next months, opportunities within the College are likely to come up – and I’ll think about and consider them when they do. But for now, I’m looking at freedom. And I’m writing!!!! I'm writing a lot and every day! I’m writing because I can – because I want to – and because it helps me.
Preparation.
A few months ago, I actually stopped writing because a good friend of mine admitted to me that she didn’t read me. My December 10 blog entry read:
I'm ba-a-a-ck
"...last publshed on August 1..."
What in the world have I been thinking!?!
I've been thinking a lot of things, actually. I just haven't been sharing any of them. No, I haven't been busy. And no, I haven't lost interest. I lost something though. A good friend of mine confessed that she just doesn't read blogs. She didn't want me to take that personally (?) but blogs just weren't her thing. Too deep, too thought-provoking, too who-knows-what. 'Course she LOVES getting letters from me, but that's different. (?) I really TRIED not to take it personally -- but if my friends aren't reading me, then why -- and to whom -- am I writing?
I write because I like to write.
I write because I have something to say.
I write because I can.
I write because I am.
So I'm back. How are you?
A couple of weeks later – when construction repairs in my house forced me to move everything I owned into one (surprisingly comfortable) room, I wrote in my journal about downsizing over the years. I had gotten rid of so many things – books, furniture, clothes, appliances, music – but never notebooks or pens or paper or anything I ever wrote. “A clue! A clue!” read my journal. It was this entry that prompted me to redesign my living space and create a designed office/writing space for myself.
Today, a small article in AMNew York caught my eye (Overcoming your fear of failure, 01/12/2009, p.21). And I quote: “I believe gaining trust in oneself to land safely in any situation is one of the most important lessons we need to teach ourselves if we want to pursue our passions and goals with the vigor needed to snag them.” Now I might take issue with the “teach[ing] ourselves” part – (because fear of failure is often sub- or un-conscious) -- but I definitely think that the essence of this statement is important and true.
THEN I open my friends OPRAH MAGAZINE. I don't subscribe anymore but there was an article my friend wanted me to see on anxiety so she loaned me the whole magazine. While perusing, an altogether dfiferent article than the one she intended caught my eye. "Miserable with their jobs, relationships, or daily routines...[m]ost people are trapped in prisons made of mind stuff...mind cages....When the alternatives are staying in the familiar cage or facing the unknown,...most people choose the cage -- over and over and over again....liberation is only a few simple steps away."
By this time, I was almost glowing with excitement, elation, confidence and gratitude. There were myriad other signs, coincidences, serendipitous encounters and confirming comments too numerous and minor to go into here. So to top it all off, I fished around in my bag for the New York Times clipping I had shoved in there this very morning. It was a paragraph from a David Brooks op-ed on death that reminded me of an experience I had in the hospital when my biopsy came back. "...[at] the end of [the] vision, 'I pinched myself hard, and ran through the multiplication tables, and recalled the birth of my seven brothers and sisters, and my wits were vibrantly about me. The whole thing had lasted three or four minutes, maybe less. I RESOLVED AT THAT MOMENT THAT I WOULD NEVER, NEVER LET ANYTHING DISSUADE ME FROM THE REALITY OF WHAT HAD HAPPENED. KNOWING MYSELF, I EXPECTED I WOULD LATER BE INCLINED TO DOUBT IT.'"
You may be hearing more from me than you want to right now. I write to heal, lift and sustain myself – against many odds and many spirits that would have me doubt what I know to be true. I write to chronicle the unfolding chain of events that I trust will be my testimony to order, glory and wonder in the universe. (John 9:3) (Acts 12:23)
Every time I thought to leave, or tried to leave, this institution, several exit meetings would automatically be scheduled. And somehow, some other position, some amended list of duties, some new and “exciting” opportunity, and/or some more money would appear – and I would stay on. The years slid by.
The new College president and the economic downturn knocked the wind out of everyone’s sails – and essentially allowed me a step toward a freedom that I didn’t even know I was seeking.
As I walk around the corridors this afternoon, doing my usual meet & greets, I feel myself smiling inside. I suddenly realize that I won’t miss this place or these people at all. I don’t share the values or the passions of the folks around me -- nice though they may be. I've sidestepped their extracurricular activities and consistently viewed the work through a very different lens. While, on the one hand, that made me valuable to the team, it also spoke of a failure to fit.
OMG, I never really belonged here! That’s why I wasn’t happy here! I thought I didn’t belong here because I didn’t belong anywhere. I thought I wasn’t happy here because I wasn’t happy. So I repeat -- OMG!
And now I’m gonna be free! In these next months, opportunities within the College are likely to come up – and I’ll think about and consider them when they do. But for now, I’m looking at freedom. And I’m writing!!!! I'm writing a lot and every day! I’m writing because I can – because I want to – and because it helps me.
Preparation.
A few months ago, I actually stopped writing because a good friend of mine admitted to me that she didn’t read me. My December 10 blog entry read:
I'm ba-a-a-ck
"...last publshed on August 1..."
What in the world have I been thinking!?!
I've been thinking a lot of things, actually. I just haven't been sharing any of them. No, I haven't been busy. And no, I haven't lost interest. I lost something though. A good friend of mine confessed that she just doesn't read blogs. She didn't want me to take that personally (?) but blogs just weren't her thing. Too deep, too thought-provoking, too who-knows-what. 'Course she LOVES getting letters from me, but that's different. (?) I really TRIED not to take it personally -- but if my friends aren't reading me, then why -- and to whom -- am I writing?
I write because I like to write.
I write because I have something to say.
I write because I can.
I write because I am.
So I'm back. How are you?
A couple of weeks later – when construction repairs in my house forced me to move everything I owned into one (surprisingly comfortable) room, I wrote in my journal about downsizing over the years. I had gotten rid of so many things – books, furniture, clothes, appliances, music – but never notebooks or pens or paper or anything I ever wrote. “A clue! A clue!” read my journal. It was this entry that prompted me to redesign my living space and create a designed office/writing space for myself.
Today, a small article in AMNew York caught my eye (Overcoming your fear of failure, 01/12/2009, p.21). And I quote: “I believe gaining trust in oneself to land safely in any situation is one of the most important lessons we need to teach ourselves if we want to pursue our passions and goals with the vigor needed to snag them.” Now I might take issue with the “teach[ing] ourselves” part – (because fear of failure is often sub- or un-conscious) -- but I definitely think that the essence of this statement is important and true.
THEN I open my friends OPRAH MAGAZINE. I don't subscribe anymore but there was an article my friend wanted me to see on anxiety so she loaned me the whole magazine. While perusing, an altogether dfiferent article than the one she intended caught my eye. "Miserable with their jobs, relationships, or daily routines...[m]ost people are trapped in prisons made of mind stuff...mind cages....When the alternatives are staying in the familiar cage or facing the unknown,...most people choose the cage -- over and over and over again....liberation is only a few simple steps away."
By this time, I was almost glowing with excitement, elation, confidence and gratitude. There were myriad other signs, coincidences, serendipitous encounters and confirming comments too numerous and minor to go into here. So to top it all off, I fished around in my bag for the New York Times clipping I had shoved in there this very morning. It was a paragraph from a David Brooks op-ed on death that reminded me of an experience I had in the hospital when my biopsy came back. "...[at] the end of [the] vision, 'I pinched myself hard, and ran through the multiplication tables, and recalled the birth of my seven brothers and sisters, and my wits were vibrantly about me. The whole thing had lasted three or four minutes, maybe less. I RESOLVED AT THAT MOMENT THAT I WOULD NEVER, NEVER LET ANYTHING DISSUADE ME FROM THE REALITY OF WHAT HAD HAPPENED. KNOWING MYSELF, I EXPECTED I WOULD LATER BE INCLINED TO DOUBT IT.'"
You may be hearing more from me than you want to right now. I write to heal, lift and sustain myself – against many odds and many spirits that would have me doubt what I know to be true. I write to chronicle the unfolding chain of events that I trust will be my testimony to order, glory and wonder in the universe. (John 9:3) (Acts 12:23)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Romans 8:28
Things have been in upheaval lately.
The flood that turned my home upside down and shook it like a cup of dice still has me living in a virtual construction site.
The myriad insights that such an event provide are rich, complicated and numerous.
How much more is home than shelter against the elements?
And is home just a house after all?
Many things have happened differently, or happened for the last time.
I spent Thanksgiving away from “home” for the first time – and loved it.
I spent Christmas the way I usually spend Christmas – and knew I would not do it again.
I waited for the anxiety of the annual job contract renewal – and found that I didn’t care.
I acknowledged the state of my existence; and I wept.
I examine the possibilities I could control; and I write.
I visited Ikea yesterday, and came away with an office – a space to work.
This morning, I found that my job would be cut down if not cut out in the next six months.
I still don’t care; and I write to keep it that way.
I plan to look back and find this to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
Rise or die.
I have worked 9-to-5’s for forty years now – punched clocks, had health insurance, stayed ahead of bills, and never left a job without having another job in hand.
I have been responsible, frugal and respectful.
I have been miserable.
Now freedom literally looms.
The Bible verse for today was Luke 23:33-43.
By accident, I turned to Luke 22:33-43 instead, where I found:
“…Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death.
“…And he said unto them, When I sent you without purse, and scrip, and shoes, lacked ye any thing? And they said, Nothing.”
The flood that turned my home upside down and shook it like a cup of dice still has me living in a virtual construction site.
The myriad insights that such an event provide are rich, complicated and numerous.
How much more is home than shelter against the elements?
And is home just a house after all?
Many things have happened differently, or happened for the last time.
I spent Thanksgiving away from “home” for the first time – and loved it.
I spent Christmas the way I usually spend Christmas – and knew I would not do it again.
I waited for the anxiety of the annual job contract renewal – and found that I didn’t care.
I acknowledged the state of my existence; and I wept.
I examine the possibilities I could control; and I write.
I visited Ikea yesterday, and came away with an office – a space to work.
This morning, I found that my job would be cut down if not cut out in the next six months.
I still don’t care; and I write to keep it that way.
I plan to look back and find this to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
Rise or die.
I have worked 9-to-5’s for forty years now – punched clocks, had health insurance, stayed ahead of bills, and never left a job without having another job in hand.
I have been responsible, frugal and respectful.
I have been miserable.
Now freedom literally looms.
The Bible verse for today was Luke 23:33-43.
By accident, I turned to Luke 22:33-43 instead, where I found:
“…Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death.
“…And he said unto them, When I sent you without purse, and scrip, and shoes, lacked ye any thing? And they said, Nothing.”
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Realationships
Relationships
It isn't you,
Nor is it me,
But it's the space between us.
We cannot be better than
Or different from
Exactly who we are,
But we can certainly improve
Or desecrate
That space that lives between us.
What we give to and take from
That full and vibrant living space
In a lifetime,
Makes us,
Breaks us,
Defines us and shapes us.
It is our spirit's sum --
What we inhale
And drink
And bask or bathe in.
It is a garden metaphor, true --
The place from which God tends us.
It is, my friend, my foe, oh my!
The space that lives between us.
Gale/2001
It isn't you,
Nor is it me,
But it's the space between us.
We cannot be better than
Or different from
Exactly who we are,
But we can certainly improve
Or desecrate
That space that lives between us.
What we give to and take from
That full and vibrant living space
In a lifetime,
Makes us,
Breaks us,
Defines us and shapes us.
It is our spirit's sum --
What we inhale
And drink
And bask or bathe in.
It is a garden metaphor, true --
The place from which God tends us.
It is, my friend, my foe, oh my!
The space that lives between us.
Gale/2001
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