The kindness piece of a few weeks ago is moving around a little bit. To review and remember, it was first published in our school newsletter. Then, a friend and Randall parent, Sari Judge, used it in her online newspaper column: http://www.isthmusparents.com/articles/article.php?article=41987. Last week, Ed Hughes, a school board member in Madison, incorporated it into his latest blog entry: http://edhughesschoolblog.wordpress.com/2014/02/20/kindness/
I like believing in the ripples.
Random thoughts through morning meditation and now during breakfast.
Last weekend’s conversation with Julia before meditation:
Julia: Can I think about Harry dancing with me at the Yule Ball?
Me: No. This is a time to think about your breathing. In and out. Blue and green.
Julia: No daydreaming?
Me: You can daydream after we meditate.
Julia: Ok. I’ll do that.
And it dawned on me that she knows, at least on some level, how to control her mind. I have wondered about this. Wondered if Julia was doing anything close to mindfulness when we sat in the morning. Sometimes we are quiet, sometimes I ask her to visualize colors and track her breathing but I don’t really expect that she does. A long time ago I decided that sitting quietly with me would be enough. This is not lowering my expectations for her but deciding that practice, whatever it was to her, would come far before meaning. Intention in this case starting on the outside and perhaps working in.
A simple exchange and perhaps something amazing.
I got an email today about a research project that is looking for participants. It is focused on caregiving for the caregiver and includes meditation. For a moment, it was like a knife through my heart. Umm, just a bit of hyperbole. Someone else is doing what I want to do!! And there must only be room for one project of any kind — that success will mean my failure. So, most of that was hyperbole but in the direction of my feelings. I live in fear of the scarcity of grace, I can’t yet trust abundance. My friend, Steve, post a quote on Facebook:
“Man, my friends,is frail and foolish. We have all of us been told that grace is to be found in the universe. But in our human foolishness and short-sightedness we imagine divine grace to be finite. For this reason we tremble. We tremble before making our choice in life, and after having made it again tremble in fear of having chosen wrong. But the moment comes when our eyes are opened, and we see and realize that grace is infinite. Grace, my friends, demands nothing from us but that we shall await it with confidence and acknowledge it in gratitude. Grace, brothers, makes no conditions and singles out none of us in particular; grace takes us all to its bosom and proclaims general amnesty. See! that which we have chosen is given us, and that which we have refused is, also and at the same time, granted us. Ay, that which we have rejected is poured upon us abundantly. For mercy and truth have met together, and righteousness and bliss have kissed one another!” ― Isak Dinesen, Babette’s Feast
So, I will rearrange Friday’s schedule a bit, send an email to the organizers, and join the focus group workshop. When I went through Andy Paulsen’s workshop, Pockets in the Rocks, last year, I was both enthusiastic and jealous as all get out. I wanted to be leading it! My walk away added to my ideas and I learned from his leadership style. In truth, it probably doesn’t interest him to run workshop after workshop. He seems to be a big picture person. I saw plenty of room for both of us.
Why after demonstration after demonstration do I need more affirmation? I sense that deep down I want to the “fame” of being an innovator, but deep down I also just want to do the work. How much is stale and ineffective ego? Part of me can celebrate.
Cheshire and Linde were due to come for the weekend Thursday evening but because of a big snow storm headed for NYC, Cheshire changed her flight to Wednesday. What a gift! This visit is my birthday gift from these young women and nothing could be better. It is wonderful to have their spirits in the house.
Julia’s first cello concert was last week. It was a class performance and only for other classes — not even the entire school — and parents who could make it during the day. They played about eight tunes — some a line long. I still think that the strings program strives to quantity over quality, but it was great to see about 30 kids playing together. Julia did a very good job. Her aide sat beside her but Victoria did not need to do much queing at all. Julia payed attention to the music and the teacher as she conducted. Divided attention! Something that her therapists and I longed for for a very long time. Her playing was not perfect but when she got behind I could see her skip a few notes to catch up. She did not rush ahead and she did not play during any rest.
Yahoo! I do not think that she is at the bottom of her strings class. She is playing with peers! I am sure that we do a lot more work at home, plus her private lesson, than many of the other kids in her class, but I am so encouraged that she can keep up. And very encouraged that she is interested and enthusiastic about continuing.
The middle school search continues. Conflicting reports from different parents and educators reflecting their own experiences and some of what they’ve heard. Right now, I don’t see any school as being a perfect match and sorting through strengths and weaknesses has not produced a winner.
Patience.
Last week of the Fundamentals course at Mindfulschools.org. I will skip the next round of the curriculum course and pick that up later in the spring. I need time to digest what I’ve been practicing and also to spend time with the material that I’ve gotten from the woman who I will be doing my final LEND internship with. As that opportunity becomes more defined, I’ll write some of it. Right now, we’ve had two meetings a few months apart, the last one last week with a list of possible tasks for me and a pile of books to read and sort out.
More patience.
Last week, in the freezing cold, the eight other kids at the school bus stop stood back to let Julia get on the bus first in order to avoid having her sit with them. I wanted to do something . . . no, I don’t expect to change THE world or even OUR little corner, but I’d like us to be part of the solution. And so, I put this piece in this week’s school newsletter:
What did you do that was kind today?
Imagine that every parent in our Franklin Randall community asked their child this question at the end of the school day or at the supper table or before they turned out their child’s bedroom light.
What did you do that was kind today?
Our schools do all they can to teach and encourage kindness and to discourage bullying. My daughter’s teachers at Franklin and Randall have gone far beyond their job descriptions to instill the ideals of inclusion and open heartedness among their students. And I have often pondered what more can parents do? How can I reinforce the character building that she is learning at school?
What did you do that was kind today?
This morning I observed once again that the kids on the school bus went to great lengths to avoid sitting with my daughter.
My daughter is one of those kids who will always be picked on and excluded. Someone will be mean to her perhaps every day for the rest of her life, and she is not the only one. My heart hurts for her and it also hurts for all the others. I can’t stop other kids from excluding, segregating and being mean. As a parent, I’ve felt powerless in the face of mean girls and cool boys.
But I can teach my daughter about kindness. I can teach her how to create the world that will include, nourish and cherish all people. I want to build on what she is learning at school. I want her to help bring an inclusive, loving community into existence.
And so, I will begin asking her every day when we sit down to talk about her school day, “What did you do that was kind today?” I will ask her if she saw anyone who needed kindness, and I will suggest how she might be kind tomorrow. Further, I will intentionally model kind behavior and I will talk about that behavior with her.
Will you join me?
What did you do that was kind today?
It is cold. With windchill, it may be -40 tomorrow. I have a chicken mole recipe that is done in a crock pot and makes enough to freeze a meal or two after supper.
Lately, no, recently, no, today, I was thinking about whether I could live with another adult again. My cooking, choice of meals, is very dull. I mean this mole is not bad. I serve it to Julia with rice and fresh spinach. Tonight, with a little cauliflower and a few garbanzo beans. With rare exceptions, Julia eats what I serve to her. I do think about her dislikes when I cook but her range of foods is pretty broad. I try to avoid bread, starch and cheese. Julia eats without comment. If she does not disapprove, she just eats. And so, I don’t please her.
“Julia, do you like what you are eating?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell the cook.”
“Mommy, the food is ok.”
Cheshire and Linde are coming to visit in a few weeks and I was thinking about cooking for them. For a few moments, I was intimidated just imagining trying to please them. The reactions makes me feel like a bit of a hermit. I need an adult roommate.
School was called off for tomorrow around noon today. And today was only a few degrees better. We will do our weekend list of school related work. I had Julia start painting her bed this afternoon and wouldn’t you know that she does a good job putting on a first coat of paint. I was working on the headboard and was rather casual with my first coat. When she was done with what I had given her, she asked if she could “fix” mine. She used to ask the same thing when David or I tried to make play dough dinosaurs with her. I did not show her how to brush evenly, I did not tell her not to put paint on the end pieces. She just seemed to know. She is a visual learner but I never imagined that she looked at painted furniture and somehow learned or understood what it took to make the piece look like that.
I am sitting in a bar on the way to Racine for the Quest winter retreat. I actually managed to leave so early as to give myself time to stop on the way for lunch. I’ve never done it this way before. My usual way is to pack up very late and/or very early before retreat, cram something into the beginning of the day, start out just a bit late and become utterly frustrated when traffic slows my frantic pace, and finally, arrive at best just as the first meeting begins and at worst, after supper. This behavior makes it impossible for me to settle in and prepare for the experience. Some fear, some apprehension, some betrayal of self.
And today — well, I’ve been cutting expectations all week. Didn’t “finish” Julia’s room, didn’t go to the seminar that I didn’t want to attend, didn’t even hang the four little pictures that I finally framed this week.
And it is all ok.
Perhaps I am taking something of mindfulness in. Unmindfully, judgementally, I might add, Finally!
So, sitting in this bar and at first feeling guilty and uncomfortable being here. As if lunch (with a diet coke) is some kind of ultra indulgence that I have no right to. The physical feelings — part of the week’s assignment in the online meditation course I’m doing — are a queasiness starting in my diaphragm and moving out to the edges of my sides as if not really inhabiting my whole body.
But I settle in, order lunch (and my diet coke) and open email. We are asked to be computer-less for retreat and I comply to the best of my ability although I am planning on doing some course reading at night and last retreat I wrote on the keyboard instead of a notebook. Checking email is far away from the spirit of the law, let alone the letter.
In my box, is an email with attachments from my friend whose mother died last week. She sent the order of service, written tributes and obits for her mum. This is a woman who I liked so very much. We met when her daughter was our exchange student and she came to visit. During our first evening together in Indy, David, she and I went to an Indian restaurant and had planned to go to the symphony. We ate and talked and missed the music all together. She was one of those very precious people with whom conversation was effortless. I have not known many. So many people knew her so much better than I did, but I was not wrong at all for wanting to know her so much better than I did. Her husband used the words “generosity of spirit” in describing her. I have used those words to describe what I want to grow into. I am not surprised.
I sit in a bar, with a few tears falling into my diet coke and a headache from not having a good, long cry. I hurt for them, I hurt for myself. How many times do I need to be reminded to seize life and suck it all dry!? If I am going to have to hurt this much, I have to suck out all the joy when it is there for the taking. I am reminded of day lilies — blooming furiously for one day. Blink, walk quickly, wait and they are gone.
I am exhausted and when I am so tired, my tipping point between whelm and overwhelm is close. Tonight, I have the feeling that there in no way – some ice cubes chance — that I will do all that I want to. I need rest.
Julia and I went to Chicago today to her eye doctor and then to Ikea. Dr. Zelinsky changed her glasses — we’ll get new lens in the mail and find a shop to insert them into her frames. Dr. Z suggested a massive therapy day with four therapists, including herself, to provide a re-setting of Julia’s core functions. God! I understood it when she said it and now I cannot write a word about it. I need to call the office on Monday and have it reexplained to me.
A while ago, 2 years or more ago, Ellen told me that Julia’s spirit guides felt that she needed to be corrected in some basic way, re-setting to a ground point. I wonder if this is what they were talking about.
Dr. Z also suggested that after we did the four way therapy session, that we might do a therapy called Interactive Metronome. Our old OT, Annie, is listed as a practitioner. I trust Annie. I will talk to her.
Our post intensive therapy plan is not at all straight forward. Much like Julia herself. I question where to put our energy and time. Right now our week has three sessions of group social skills work, attachment/trauma therapy, speech therapy and cello lesson in it. With practice and home work, there is not enough time for fitting in the physical therapy that we began last summer. Julia gets precious little down time. I don’t see how we could fit in another thing, but then I wonder if we are spending this time appropriately. Now that finding the appropriate balance for Julia’s time is completely my responsibility, I cannot feel sure that I know what would help her the most. I loathe to waste time. I want it all to count.
Written 15 January 2014
Today, I was busy all day going from task to task with incredible efficiency. I am still smarting from yesterday’s discovery that Julia is once again scratching and picking on the sores on her arm. Last night after her shower, I rubbed her down with baby oil, gave her an extra antihystimean (She is taking one a day but can go up to three. So, I am going to try two although I still find it hard to believe that anything itches.) I put a bigger bandage on her wrist that included her palm, and this morning I gave her fingertip-less gloves to wear in school. The report from school today was that she left her sores alone.
Yesterday, Marilyn tried to get me to opion on what started this round. It started in school, but she quickly began doing it at home, so it is not just a school thing. It is this behavior more than any other that drives me insane. Marilyn also said some real zen-like thing, urging me to take this behavior as a practice.
All I can do is try again.
Julia will be 13 tomorrow. We are redecorating her room — she wants a Harry Potter room to replace her dinosaur room. I was a bit concerned about the all encompassing obsession but a part of me was pretty relieved. Julia is (1) not using her room, (2) has no intention of ever sleeping there again, and (3) it is not at all appropriate for a 13 year old thinking that she may eventually really have a friend to invite over. But I wasn’t going to change it on my own partly because I had no idea of what to do. But last week she came up with the Harry Potter theme and I jumped on it.
She helped me clear everything out of the room. I picked out some straw colored paint — trying to use the dark red and gold of Gryffindor. I wasn’t going to redo the wood work but I never touched up the upstairs wood work after the floors were done. I had trim paint in the basement so I repainted. This had the feeling of really slowing down the momentum. I started the day today taping the ceiling, baseboard and around windows and door and then gave half the room a first coat. I bought a decent paint but I think I will still need a second coat. This weekend we go to Chicago to see the eye doc. I’m using that trip to visit Ikea and bring home most of what I don’t have at home — rug, throw for chair, duvet and drapes. I plan to repaint her bed and the ceiling fan, set up a real wooden bookcase, push a white-gold reading chair into her room, and drag my old travel chest upstairs (I’ll get help with that one). We ordered a sorting hat and a Gryffindor pennant. I’ll find some rustic shelves for the hat and her wand, and something with hooks to hang her robe on. She wants some stick on images but I want to wait until we get the rest of the stuff in the room to see what kind of space we have. I am hoping for a pretty quick transformation.
I wasn’t going to buy other birthday presents but I caved today. I bought very little for Christmas because of our trip and her wand. I hate to do that again for her birthday. So, I stopped in Old Navy for a sweater, two shirts, and pj bottoms, and Barnes & Noble’s for a CD and books.
After I painted some this morning, I baked cupcakes for Julia’s class. I’ll ice those tonight. I suspect that this might be the last of the class cupcakes. I remember missing that with Cheshire. I’m sure if I’m really aching to make cupcakes I can find some harried parent with a birthday kid. While the cakes were in the over, I rushed outside to shovel away our dusting of snow. I am rather impressed with myself for getting all that done and not being late for picking Julia up.
Julia a teenager. Amazing and scary. She is like no teen I’ve known and perhaps that is as it should be.
Written 10 January 2014
In double digits and the year is not quite as new as it was last week. Our construct of time is a strange entity. Even though I tell myself that dating is arbitrary and days are all the same, I cannot let go of the sparkle of a new year. I feel the chance to begin again when everyone else is beginning again.
Today is the first day of my online course with MindfulSchools.org. It came online at noon and I have not had time to sit down and read through orientation, let alone the first lesson. I am such a geek!
I had my engagement ring that was a moonstone in a gold band setting reset. I loved the ring but my knuckles are bigger than they were 30 years ago and the ring no longer fit on any finger, unless pinkies count but this was not a pinky ring. So, I found someone to redo it last month and she did a very nice job. I picked it up on Wednesday and started wearing it.
And no one said anything.
Well, I haven’t seen that many people in the last two days and I am wearing gloves a lot of the time and I can probably come up with more reasons no one noticed but the main reason that no one noticed is that there is no one who is committed to noticing — what I do, what I wear, and how I feel. This is a time of learning to do for myself and only myself.
It is true that on occasion Julia notices a little bit — a red sweater that she hasn’t noticed before, perfume — but generally I am unremarkable to her. I could make the same supper for her almost every day and as long as I switched out jasmine rice and noodles once in a while, she’d never notice. This is not much different from her typically developing peers but a typically developing kid might notice out of politeness if nothing else. This is a social skill that Julia is very far from understanding.
I guess . . . no, it’s true. I have been seeking approval and recognition forever! I don’t mean that I’ve never done anything for myself, of course, I have, but never completely. Everything was in some way in hopes of pleasing.
Where it came from is easy — mother. I had a mother I could never please. I knew that very early but I kept on trying. However, the more I tried, or rather, when I tired hard, whatever I was trying at was very far from anything that she would ever approve of. For a child yearning for approval, we were a mismatched pair. There were very few “good jobs” or high fives in our house. I brought my well-learned lesson to friends and lovers. I imposed it on David — I don’t think that pleasing him was his idea. It was very hard on my when he did not like/approve/enjoy because of something I did or some idea I had.
I could go on about this but the present lesson that I am learning is to please myself. Is this finding myself? It is very hard. Having no one to please has left a huge hole in the reason I wake up in the morning — why write, why clean, why cook, why accomplish. Slowly, very slowly, I feel a turning. The house is comfortable . . . for me. This redone ring . . pleases me. Travel that we do, clothes I buy, the big ginger cat that lies on my lap is for me. I wonder if I will come to enjoy this pleasing. If I can just enjoy what I do, how will I change?
Strange new world.
Chasing Joy 