Crescent Lunge

I was in yoga yesterday morning...much needed after a ladies' weekend road trip to Chicago. Yoga is also my running hobby's soulmate. I have been practicing yoga on and off for about 18 years and regularly (minimum once a week, preferably more often) for the past five plus years...I tell you this only to illustrate the fact that I am not a beginner. So, yesterday morning I was in class and several times during the flow we were in the crescent lunge pose (see picture).

Now, crescent lunge is not exceptionally difficult to get into. I will say that as my yoga practice has deepened, I have realized that no pose is "easy" and every pose can challenge even a seasoned practitioner in ways previously unthought of or experienced (there are yoga nuances on breathing, intensity, muscle engagement, mental and spiritual presence and other significant characteristics that I am not addressing here). However, for the purposes of this blog post, most readers could probably get into what would visually represent a crescent lunge fairly easily.

So...I was in what might have been my fifth or sixth crescent lunge of the practice. Again, those familiar with yoga will know that the instructor usually reminds everyone that what happens on her/his mat is in that moment, in that day, and is ours personally...the practice has nothing to do with anyone else inside or outside of that room or moment. I found myself unheeding that advice. I was in crescent lunge, a pose I could literally get into after three glasses of wine and stay balanced, and I looked over at the woman beside me (in crescent lunge, your head is aligned with your spine, looking straight ahead). And I wavered and put my hand down to steady myself...again, I will remind you, in a pose I could hold without wavering while also holding a wine buzz.

I had become distracted. I was distracted from what was happening on my mat, in my life and self at that moment, by my sideways glance at the woman next to me. I lost my balance, I lost my focus. I've noticed I have the same thing happen when I'm really stressed and/or my mind is not fully present in the practice. When I'm thinking about the future or what I have to do for the day or "if this, then that", I waver in a pose and I lose my balance. Sometimes I waver and catch myself and sometimes I fall to a knee. Either way, I've lost not only my balance, I've also lost my engagement in my practice and in the present moment.

For me, what I've come to know and relate with this experience I've just shared with you is that this phenomenon is not unique to a yoga practice...physically or mentally. I've thought about this quite a bit and I've noticed what my physical body can and cannot do when I am stressed or anxious. I am unbalanced when I'm stressed or anxious...physically, as in a yoga practice when I topple, and mentally, when I metaphorically topple...when I am stressed or anxious, I am not my best self, which is my balanced self. My balanced self is the me that allows me to feel my emotions and not react impulsively on them. My balanced self is also the self that allows me to feel my emotions and react in a way that takes care of myself...and that might be in a stern, boundary setting fashion...but not in a way that makes me feel small and mean or is harmful to another.

There are many outside and inside influences that contribute to my balanced or unbalanced self...honestly, each individual's influences are likely individualized arrays of incoming and outgoing triggers, emotions, gifts and recharging respites. What I would like to emphasize with this post, and what I think is universal, is that when we are concerned with what another is doing, when we are comparing, when we become distracted from "becoming our best crescent lunge", we falter. We falter from our path and that which is our authentic self. Sometimes we even fall down and sometimes it takes a while for us to get back up. 

I am not saying that we cannot take guidance from others...during a yoga practice the instructor provides plenty of guidance that deepens my practice. I am saying there is a difference between distraction and guidance and in our own lives, only we know what that looks and feels like and only we know which attempts at guidance are distractions and which are useful to take with us on our life journeys. It remains, however, that for me the parallels are here in this story, in my yoga practices. The times in my life I have thought maybe I should be doing what someone else is doing instead of what I'm doing (in my personal, professional, you name it parts of my life) because I've "glanced over at their crescent moon", I have faltered and fallen from my path and betrayed my authentic self. The times when I am happiest in my life is when I am enjoying my own practice, my own path, my own moments and am delighted and blessed with my own "crescent lunge", no matter what it looks like that day.

Beautiful Chaos: Reflection from a First Year Teacher

This blog post was written by Dissident Daughter Kristen, but posted by Anne due to Kristen being on her way to Mexico!!!

Hey y’all! First off, I want to tell you that I’m currently writing this blog post in the Charlotte Airport because I am on my way to Riviera Maya, Mexico (woot woot). Second off, I want to tell you that it’s finally my summer vacation and the reason I’m headed to Mexico is because I finished my first year of teaching!!!

For those of you I may not talk to on a regular basis, after college (exactly a year ago), I moved down to Memphis, TN to teach high school Spanish in a low income, inner city community. Now to most of you that really means nothing. The words Memphis, low income, and inner city are just words that make up the English language and lack a wee bit of your perspective. For those of you that which this is the case, I’m not blaming you. I myself was blissfully ignorant to the situation I was getting myself into. I thought I would go and teach kids who were a little behind grade level, would sit there silently and engaged while I taught them, and most importantly, would have a burning passion to learn, achieve, and get out of the only world they’ve ever known one day.

For my teacher friends reading this, at this point you’re probably either shaking your head or laughing uncontrollably right about now. My preconceived notions of what this experience would be like is not even close on the accuracy spectrum.

When it comes to this past year of teaching, I honestly cannot remember as much I would like, probably because I tried to forget my entire first semester of teaching because I had no idea what I was doing yet, which to be fair, I still don’t know everything but I’ve learned a hell of a lot from the past year.

This past year has challenged me in more ways than one. One of my biggest challenges and realities I had to accept was that I wasn’t going to be liked by everyone (students and faculty included). This was a harsh reality for me to face because I have always been good at building relationships with various types of people. I’m in the army, did a wide array of activities throughout high school and college, studied abroad, worked multiple jobs, etc. and had never had a problem getting along or being respected by people. But when my students walked through my door the first few weeks of school and look at me like an alien, refused to shake my hand or make eye contact, I knew I was going to be given a run for my money.

Another challenge I’ve faced this past year of teaching is accepting that even though I am a teacher in contrast to being a salesperson, education is still a business and you cannot take anything personally. When it comes to teacher ratings, staff meetings or constructive criticism, you must remember than none of this is a knock at you as a person, it’s simply an evaluation of the world you do and how well you do it by certain standards. It has nothing to do with how valuable you are as a human being.

Finally, this year has challenged me to look at growth versus mastery. Coming from a competitive background and having the desire to be the best at everything I do, I constantly compare myself to others and strive for perfection. This year I had to throw everything dealing with that out the window. In order to stay sane and passionate in this work, you must accept that you will never achieve perfection. That, however, does not mean that you are not doing a good job and are not improving your teaching practices everyday. There were some days at the beginning of the first semester where I would be standing in the front of my classroom literally teaching to a wall. None of my kids were looking at me or listening to me. I tried to get their attention multiple times with “Teach Like a Champion” strategies, yet their voices and cell phones drowned me out. I felt like nothing. I felt like a failure. I felt worthless. I never gave up, though. I never gave up on myself as a teacher or human; and most importantly, I never gave up on my kids. If it was going to take me 175 days of getting drowned out by their 35 voices to get 5 days where I got through to them in some way, shape, or form-I was willing to conquer that. Toward the end of the first semester and beginning of second semester, I got my classes to take notes silently, listen o me when I gave instructions, and most importantly, stay seated for an entire class period. This didn’t happen every day, of course, but it did happen more often than not second master. That was growth, not mastery, but that does not lessen my accomplishment.

All in all, this year has been a year of struggle for me. I have never struggled so much before in my entire life. I have never felt so incompetent and invaluable. I have never laid on a cold tiled floor crying because of 35 young humans. I have never felt so defeated and driven at the same time. Some days, I don’t want to look or speak to my students. Some days, they infuriate me to the point where I lose my courage to keep speaking. And some days, I feel like I’m drowning and losing an uphill battle. Then, there are some days where I receive the warmest hugs from my students as they say “I love you, thank you for teaching me.” There are some days where my students get what I’m teaching and kick ass on their exit ticket. There are some days where I get to teach a bomb lesson because I’ve gotten 100 percent silence. There are some days where I get to see the little impact these kids have had on me and I’ve had on them. Those days are good days.

My kids are awesome human beings. They try me, but at the end of the day, we’ve developed this mutual feeling of respect which wasn’t there in the beginning. It is hard, oh so hard, but it is damn worth it. My kids are worth it. Memphis is worth it.

Funniest Teacher Moment of 2015-2016 school year:
Block three was paper macheing balloons to make piñatas. This was a project that required a lot of patient, resources, and detailed instruction for this to work. Block three was my most difficult block from day 1 until 185. There were a lot of playful kids in that block and even when we had developed a mutual feeling of respect, they still consistently tried me. Anyway, we were about to start distributing the materials for the piñatas and even after I explicitly stated that no students have permission to stand up during the activity because of the possibility of spills and destruction, one student refused to sit down. The student was actually running around the room in circles, poking every student he ran by and getting into another student’s face for no reason. After giving the student 3 opportunities to sit down, I finally raised my voice, marched him to his chair and said, “STUDENT NAME, IF YOU DON’T SIT DOWNRIGHT NOW I WILL GIVE YOU AN AUTOMATIC ZERIO FOR THE DAY (actually a lie). I was pretty close to the student and fairly loud. Now, most of you might expect a student to say “yes ma’am,” or “sorry” when a teacher gives them an angry command. This student, however, turns his head, shakes his hand in front of his nose and yells, “Bruh, you need a tic tac or sum!” I was so angry in that moment, but could not stop laughing on my way home from work that day. Lol.                                     

Fighting Family Insulation

I am…strongly concerned…about family structure in the United States. There are many issues that one could critique regarding this topic, but in this blog, I am primarily concerned about what I am calling the insular nature of the “nuclear” family. I write “nuclear” family in parentheses as it is debatable as to what even constitutes a nuclear family. Additionally, I am well aware that there is increasing diversity with family setups in terms of lesbian/gay partners, stepparents, single parents, child-free, etc. When I say “nuclear” families, I am referring primarily to the immediate family structure... Ah hell. I can’t even define what I mean without a thousand disclaimers. Just let me explain what I mean with some examples.

I experienced firsthand an irritation with the insular nuclear family a couple of years ago. I was in a significantly different place in my life then than I am now, but I am still frustrated by the implications of this scenario. I was talking with some coworkers about Christmas plans, and one of my coworker was complaining about her parents. She said, “I mean, don’t they understand that my priority is to my own family now? I have a fiancé, and that’s my first family.”

I immediately felt as though I had been punched in the gut. You see, I was extremely single at this point, and so I viewed the statement through that lens. The implication from that statement was that everyone’s first and primary family was the one that they had with their partner. And so if someone didn’t have a partner, such as myself, then they weren’t the top priority for…well, anybody. They were the second priority and afterthought. It was a peculiar and gut-wrenching thing for me to think about. You see, I had grown up with four beautiful sisters, and so my primary family had always felt so large and welcoming to me. And yet…if we were to live by the implications of my coworker’s statement…I wouldn’t be a priority for my sisters once they had their own families. I felt so sad and invaluable when I thought about this. However, even in my emotional state, I had the cognitive wherewithal to question why we needed to place hierarchies on family members’ importance. Couldn’t we just say that family was important, and not try to rank people in terms of priority?

Two years later, and I’m in a different place in my life in a variety of ways. And yet- the insular nature of the nuclear family in the United States has grown increasingly troublesome to me. Now, I have even more examples of why I am concerned.

Here’s another example of an issue, although it is with a completely different family setup. I have many friends that have children while both parents work full-time. I don’t know all the details from firsthand experience, but I do know that it can be very challenging to try and manage everything. To work a demanding job, to raise children, to maintain a clean household, to invest in your relationship with your spouse, and to try and find some time for yourself in there. I just think that those demands are a lot to ask of the “nuclear” family unit. That’s a lot to ask of one household- to be able to accomplish all of those physical, emotional, and spiritual tasks and to rely primarily on each other to do so. Sure, there’s some help in there- daycare, coworkers, friends, grandparents, etc. But ultimately, our society is structured so that the immediate members of the nuclear family are responsible for fulfilling the majority of the physical, emotional, and spiritual needs of the other members of the household. Wow, the weight of that felt even more intense after typing all that.

Here’s the other issue that I witness with this particular family structure setup. My full-time job is to support people that are grieving after the death of their loved one. And many of the people that I work with are grieving the loss of their spouse. And again, here is where our insular family structure has a negative impact on individuals when they do not fit within it. Many people feel so incredibly lonely after the loss of the their spouse. Now, don’t misunderstand - obviously, the loss of such a significant person in one’s life would engender feelings of loneliness. But I think that the loneliness and emptiness is exacerbated by societal structure.

I’ve worked with countless people that tell me that they are lonely because their own kids are grown and “are busy with their own families.” It’s ironic and sad, isn’t it? The same kids that were once prioritized as a part of the parents’ own nuclear family eventually start THEIR OWN nuclear family, and this seems to sever some of the original bond and sense of priority. And so, these men and women are left feeling as though they are their own single-person family unit after their spouse dies. I have countless people tell me that they feel like an “add-on” at family gatherings. I’ve had countless people tell me that they just don’t “matter to anyone” now that their spouse is gone.

I gave three very different examples in the blog post- one of singleness, one of working full-time with children, and one of death and grief. All three of these examples illustrate very different life circumstances, but I think that they are all united by the fact that they are limited and challenged by the insular nature of our culture’s family structure.

I write this as a pointed societal critique, which means that we are all subsumed under its implications. Do I think single people are bad people? Of course not. Do I think it’s bad to work full-time and have kids? Of course not. Do I think that it’s bad to feel sad after losing a spouse? Of course not.  Moreover, I could give several more examples that I didn’t even choose for this post- I am more than aware of the diversity of families and their makeup. When issues are this deep and structural, we are all victims of the issue.

The problem is in the way that our society structures its families. The family units are SO INSULAR and there is such a narrow understanding of what constitutes our immediate family.

   

I’m not sure what the answer is to address this issue. I do think that it would be helpful if we altered our living arrangements, and maybe we were more intentional about living with or by one another. I think that living closer to one another would help us feel more like people were a part of our daily lives, and thus an integral part of our “immediate” family. I also think that it would help out in terms of support and chores, particularly with the raising of children.

I also simply think that a cognitive shift is necessary as well. Do we really have to divide our family into hierarchies? If/when I get married, I don’t want to suddenly have my sisters become the second tier of importance in my life. My spouse would be very important, AND SO WOULD MY SISTERS. I wouldn’t necessarily need to rank them- I would just know that all of those people were very near and dear to my heart.  Maybe we just need to continue to expand the number of people that we love, and this means creating even more accommodations and compromise.

What thoughts do you have? 

Grateful

Almost a year ago around this time, I wrote a blog post surrounding the question I was receiving most often at the time: “How’s married life treating you?” You can read the post here: https://dancingdissidentdaughters.blogspot.com/b/post-preview?token=yr7i7lQBAAA.bX-Ds7G0iYETi01P2jI43KzWgHk1gvIsDLaBxrq7mQKI-kuR5mPYW7JS3KshiqOhJGjAvjjOHZQd83ESvPM7Xw.2wORIMW0IhTND2byC9l-YA&postId=3610647231355431445&type=POST but to sum up the blog, I kept responding to people with “It’s good. Not a lot has changed but it’s good.” I elaborate in the post and go on to say why that was a piss poor answer but the moral of the story was that I was in fact, really just HAPPY and didn’t feel the need to effuse too much.

Anyway, here we are, a year later. Again, there is a single question that is dominating my interactions with friends and family. That is:

“How are you feeling?”

I suppose that question dominates a lot of people’s interactions but in my case, they are referring to how I am feeling toward the end of my pregnancy (I’m due in 2 days!). And here we are, once again, with me giving piss poor answers to that question. Most of the times I say, “I’m good. I’m just tired but otherwise I feel really great.” Don’t get me wrong, that’s not a lie. I am tired all the time and in general both physically and emotionally I feel really great. However, I don’t really feel like it’s a genuine answer.

I don’t know why it’s so difficult to answer the question authentically. Maybe it’s partially due to me thinking that people really don’t listen to your response anyway (#Aleschproblem?). But I think the greater issue is one that affects everyone in our society today. So many times we are almost scared of expressing our feelings of joy or happiness because right along with that joy and happiness we have this fear that it will be suddenly taken away. Brene Brown has some great lectures and books surrounding this topic and we could probably write endless blogs on this topic alone. However, she recommends expressing gratitude as a way of holding on to that joy and happiness that we may be fearful of losing. She says, “For it is not joy that makes us grateful; it is gratitude that makes us joyful.”

So to answer ALL of the “How are you feeling?” questions I have received over the past weeks and months….

“I am feeling extremely GRATEFUL.”

I could fill up three pages of stuff that I am grateful for and I’ll surely miss something or someone but I do feel like I need to mention a couple of items for when I go back and read this years later….

First and foremost, I am grateful to have been blessed with this healthy pregnancy. Second, I am grateful to be experiencing this special 10 months with my over-the-top supportive, loving husband. If you read my blog from last year that I referenced above, you’ll know I’m not one to gush about the details of our relationship. Suffice it to say he is as “dependable as the moon and sure as the stars”. Third, I am extremely grateful for all of the support from our family and friends…..

My immediate Iowa family preparing to take time off from work and booking expensive flights to be able to spend time with me and help after the baby is born, my in-laws throwing me the most beautiful baby shower, my sister Jill flying all the way out just to attend my baby shower, my mother-in-law making me food on the weekends, my girlfriends celebrating me with a brunch and giving me gifts to pamper myself (everyone gives the baby gifts but can often forget about mama!), my girlfriends who have visited me at the house in order to still have “girl time” but while I’m in my pajamas, friends and family sending notes of encouragement from all over the country (one of my biggest supporters lives all the way in Seattle!), my coworkers throwing me an unexpected and very thoughtful baby shower at work (I always say support in the workplace is invaluable!), etc, etc, etc.

And of course, all of the advice I have received. That’s right. Whether solicited or unsolicited, I have been grateful for it all. It’s funny because I have glanced at so many articles and feeds on the internet about how to politely reject unsolicited advice when one is pregnant. I guess I don’t feel the need to do that. In the end, people aren’t trying to tell you how to do things. They are just trying to be helpful. I bank the information that I think will be useful and just listen to the rest knowing that they are just trying to connect with you and your experience. After all, as I’ve said many times in my posts, that is what life is all about. Human connection….and lots of gratitude! J

Silence is Golden

Sunday, May 15, 2015. Wake up at 6 a.m. Help husband get things packed for his competition. Let him steal my name tape from one of my uniforms. Must remember to get that back when he returns. Send husband off to week-long Army competition at 7 a.m. Watch five minutes of news and down one cup of coffee before eight-year-old Energizer Bunny on steroids wakes up jumping down the stairs three at a time. Two year old calls for Mommy shortly after. Run up stairs, grab two-year old and run downstairs because she has to potty. Throw Dora the Explorer adapter plate on toilet and put two-year-old on the toilet. Eight year old wants a movie on. Two year old wants breakfast. Put movie on and get two-year old breakfast, grab something for eight-year-old as well in anticipation of the, "Mom, I'm hungry" call that comes in five minutes. Shower while kids are eating, get kids ready for the day, finish watching movie. Meltdown No. 1 comes when I announce we have to leave for church. Throw three different snacks in purse and get kids in car. Two of the three snacks get eaten en route to church making stash dangerously low. Ponder how long the orange has been in my purse and whether it is a viable option in case of emergency. Laugh out loud at the prospect of peeling an orange during mass and dismiss it as an option even it were fresh. Arrive at church 2 minutes late which turned into ten minutes late because eight-year-old decided to climb on some rocks and two-year-old had Meltdown No. 2 when I tried to carry her. Double as a referee in church, anxiety skyrocketing as I realize we are attending both graduation mass and a baptism. Two-year-old burns through snack no. 3 - fruit snacks--and drops one on floor. Meltdown No. 3 occurs  when I won't let her eat it which is ridiculous because had we not been in church I would have let her eat it off the floor. Promised to take kids mini-golfing after church so hurry to the car until the eight-year-old decides to climb on the rocks again. Ten minutes later we are on the way to mini-golf. Play mini-golf where meltdown 4 (two-year-old hits head on something) and 5 (eight-year-old couldnt get the ball to go through some stupid ass glowing spaceship) take place. Meltdown 6 happens in car because two-year-old is hungry. Eight-year-old demands mac and cheese and specifies the elbow kind of noodle so make panic decision to eat at Noodles and Company. Pay for two mac and cheeses and chocolate no white no chocolate no white milk for the kids and a pad thai for myself. Return to car and drive to library because they each got to pick an activity and the eight-year-old picked golf and the two-year-old picked the library. Eight-year-old decides to climb on top of car. Two-year-old wants to climb too so both kids end up on car. Finally arrive in the library and meet Moe and Sherba the hamsters. After playing with Legos and puppets, kids go to computer games. The two-year-old wants to type and when I try to help her she looks at me and says, "What the fuck." Heads turn except mine which looks down at my eight-year-old's shoes which he has decided to take off for some reason. Remind self I need to watch my mouth more and that I need to discuss with eight-year-old  his habit of taking his shoes off wherever we go. Play games and then check out movies. Meltdown No. 7 happens because two-year-old pokes self in her eye. Meltdown 8 follows because the eight-year-old can't take the two-year-old crying and he runs out of the car. Get eight-year-old under control and soothe two-year-old who is still holding her eye and crying.  Start the car and begin to drive thinking two-year-old will stop crying if we leave. Have to stop five minutes later because eight-year-old alleges he is going to puke because of all the crying which has not stopped. Decide to bribe kids with ice cream and stop at DQ where two-year-old falls asleep. Return home and watch My Little Pony and Peppa the Pig. Get supper for the kids and begin to put on movie. Movie doesn't work because the remote for the DVD player got reprogrammed somehow. Meltdown 10 comes in like a lion because I can't figure out the programming in two minutes. Twenty minutes and three Google searches later, the remote is back in business. I begin getting my lunch and dinner ready for tomorrow. Eight-year-old has soccer practice tomorrow night so I have to cook for tomorrow in advance. Two-year-old informs me she is going to pee her pants so stop what I'm doing to put on Dora adapter plate. Meltdown 9 happens when the two-year-old bawls me out for not wiping her good enough. Two-year-old rips off pants and throws self on floor. Return to packing lunch and making supper for tomorrow. Eight-year-old decides he wants chocolate milk so I throw some Nesquick in a cup and pour milk over top of it. Realize milk is at the critical stage of not having enough to make Cocoa Puffs in a.m. Anticipate meltdown in the morning as a result. Note to self that we are low on milk. Need to get to store tomorrow. Lunch packed, supper for tomorrow made, clean kitchen, vacuum floor, and eight-year-old wants to play catch. Play catch, finish movie, pick up house, put laundry away, help kids brush teeth and put them both to bed. Meltdown 11 happens at bed time because the two-year-old thinks the eight-year-old doesn't have to go to bed. Sing Old McDonald for the millionth time and finally get two-year-old to bed. Tuck eight-year-old in and hear two-year-old crying. She wants her bunny and kitties which I find. I head downstairs, turn off the lights and turn on the TV. It is my favorite  show Dateline but as I settle into my recliner I remember I need to take the garbage out. Go upstairs and change trash liners. Go downstairs and repeat. Walk outside and pull trash bin to curb. Come inside and make coffee for the morning. Sit down for the last half of Dateline.

Which brings me to the current. The house is so quiet. I'm here all by myself in the peace and quiet. The silence is delicious and it rushes around me. The bathrooms could be cleaned, the rest of the house vacuumed, homework for my masters could be read, and yet...I do none of these things. I don't feel badly about it. I take pleasure in not having to share the remote, not having to do anything except what I want to do, which at this moment is to watch Dateline and relax in a recliner. I don't have to make small talk or worry if I fall asleep on the couch or feel bad for looking at my phone. No one is asking me for anything or trying to keep me up late or even speaking to me and I love it. I absolutely love the solitude. These times are rare right now but I know it will not always be this way. I wonder if the noise makes me appreciate the silence more.  Sort of like when you turn off the static from a radio or a TV, the silence sounds so much nicer. I find myself dozing off and remember I need to write the blog for this week. In reflecting on how content I am right now, I know exactly what to write about. It won't be poetic, it won't be earth shattering. But it will be real, authentic, and this asshole wouldn't change a single thing....except maybe to have another Dateline on after the one I'm watching is over. I'm amazed at how much I can handle. I have grown as a parent who couldn't deal with one meltdown to one who can take on double digit tantrums with two kids in one day. I'm not perfect but I'm getting better at this parenting thing. So i  have a two-year-old that knows how to correctly use, "What the fuck!" I overlook that right now and focus on what I have done - I have learned how to parent without completing losing it. I smile. I will take that win today. I have grown to appreciate these moments of madness. These moments are where we spend the great majority of our days. If these moments can be appreciated and treasured, then our hours will be good, our years will be great and our lives will be lived to the fullest. Real life doesn't happen when we are at our best or when we are achieving sterotypical greatness. No, life is lived in these moments of chaos, when things are their messiest. It is these moments that allow me to bask in the beauty of the silence that now envelopes me as I head up to sleep and get ready to do the same thing tomorrow.

Stop to Smell the...Dandelions

Me: "Oh, wow!!! That's such a beautiful plant! Do you know what it's called?"

Colleague:  "Yeah...it's creeping Charlie and it's actually considered a weed."

I was left wondering how something so beautiful could be labeled with what has become a dirty word in our culture...weed. What was a seemingly innocuous conversation came to be another one of those defining moments that I distinctly remember. First, a little background...although I was born and raised in Iowa and have lived in this state for all but five years of my life, until I was in the Sustainable Agriculture PhD program at Iowa State, I knew little to nothing about Iowa's landscape and agriculture and clearly had paid no attention to lawns and the menacing creeping Charlie. However, I was aware of the homeowner's constant seasonal battle with the other plague on the "perfect" lawn, the dreaded dandelion.

Who decided dandelions and creeping Charlie were unacceptable inhabitants of Midwestern lawns? What child hasn't picked dandelions and presented them lovingly to their mothers and nurtured them (usually for less than 24 hours, ha ha) in a glass of water? As children, we think they are beautiful flowers. As adults in charge of meticulously cared for grass that isn't even native to the state we live in, what was once beautiful becomes the bane of an acceptable lawn's existence. I still think they are both beautiful. I think dandelions smell beautiful-on those summer days that are just warm enough to elicit the dandelions' smell and carry it on the breeze, I love breathing in the smell that reminds me of the joys of summer and evokes a feeling of nostalgia. I even think seeding dandelions are pretty (an unforgivable offense, I'm aware).

Until the point of the incident described above, I had been involved in conversations regarding the perception and definition of beings, beliefs and conclusions in our world. In one of the courses I took, I was made aware of the ridiculousness of our lawns and I could write and entire blog or book (people have) on that concept. I hadn't experienced the shock that accompanied living such a vivid contrast...I'm not trying to sound dramatic but imagine being so captivated and made happy by a thing of beauty only to be told it is defined as something that our society deems ugly and invaluable. For me, luckily this occurred with something I had little personal investment in. Let me clarify, although the larger idea of definitions and labels and judgments is a passionate one for me and one that I AM personally invested in, creeping Charlie wasn't a physical, emotional or spiritual feature I personally owned.

But what if it was? What if my "creeping Charlie moment" was the idea that light skin is prettier than dark skin or that big boobs are preferable to small ones or that women who keep their mouths shut and play nice all of the time and play a little dumb so as not to be intimidating are preferred over women who actually have a personality and opinions and have the audacity to voice them? Or that men have to be macho and not show emotion and bro friendships are based on discussing sports and women and hair is a necessity to be an attractive male and pink is okay if you wear it as a shirt now but not if you buy a pink bike or order a drink with an umbrella in it? In truth, I have had many of those moments, I just wasn't aware of what they were until I was older and exposed to enough ideas and experiences to know and understand. We are inundated with these concepts on a daily basis and many of these messages are subtle. Many of these messages are passed on by well-meaning people we look up to who haven't actually thought about the larger message they are sending.

Who decides what we are taught to see when we look at something? Who decides what judgment is made as to whether an innocuous trait, presence or belief is good or bad? What are the repercussions for living beings? What is the history of the decision making process in question? Who benefits from the definition and the judgment? Do these definitions and judgments still make sense and what are we teaching our children? One of the questions that is helpful in beginning to answer many of these other questions...who are the ubiquitous "they" usually credited with saying and doing most things we don't care to dig into deeper?

I cannot imagine my two year old niece, Brooklyn, picking dandelions or  creeping Charlie for her mom and dad or grandparents and being told they are just "weeds". I can't bear to think of her receiving the message that straight hair is preferred to the beautiful, wild curls she is blessed with. I can't bear to think of her being told that she's crazy because she's a woman and she's angry about something and she dared to express it (angry while female). It makes me sick to think that my sweet, sensitive nephew Trevor, with his old soul, might be given the message that his long hair he is so proud of isn't "manly" or that he's a "girl" (the fact that this is still an insult...to be called a girl...wtf) if he wears it in a pony tail. It breaks my heart to imagine him being told he's a girl or gay or less than because he likes the color pink and chose pink soccer cleat accents (a real concern voiced by his mother) (and less than what? why is someone better because they are male and don't use the color pink? have most people actually ever questioned the ridiculousness of these ideas?). Many of these determinations differ from place to place and culture to culture and history to history. This in and of itself should tell us everything we see in front of us hasn't always been that way and the things we have been taught haven't always been believed. At the very least, as thinking beings, I would hope this would prompt us to examine what we accept and own in our own lives and belief systems.

As for me, I'm going to keep enjoying the smell and sight of "weeds" where I live...when I have a lawn I care for, it's going native, which is better for our environment and ecology and health and which I think is aesthetically more beautiful than the uniform, high maintenance short grass lawns that have become the norm in the Midwest. And I will continue to question and examine things "they" tell us and determine who benefits and who has a voice in the designations and judgments. I will continue to challenge the people I encounter to do the same and I hope that I have the fortitude to address inaccuracies, misinformation and falsehoods when I am confronted with them. In the meantime, I'm going to stop to smell the dandelions.

Show and No Tell

Hey ya'll! It's my week for the blog and unfortunately I have zero time to crank out an 8 paragraph blog post this week. I will however show you some of the pretty cool things I've been up to this month!