So, the theme of yesterday's memorial service for Joplin was taken from the words of one of the greatest teachers of all time: "Love thy neighbor." Of course, the teacher was Jesus.
Those of you who know the "agnostic" Sammi, may also know that in spite of my uncertainty that there is a higher power, I would never deny the validity and value of the words of a man who sought to teach his fellow men (and women) about compassion, forgiveness and doing the right thing.
I think we are all amazed in times of great crisis and tragedy how quickly people gather to lend a hand. I think the reason why we are all so amazed is because everyone was seemingly unaware of the person next to them until they were in great trouble. I think it's important to note that I'm not condemning humanity for this foible, I'm just talking about it.
I don't know why we wait.
I don't know why we only think about families in need at Thanksgiving and Christmas time. I don't know why there isn't someone ringing a bell with a red bucket on every corner every single day. I don't know why a tsunami has to hit the region of Southeast Asia before we care about the people there. I don't know why there has to be a genocide in Rowanda or Darfur before anyone is aware that someone is suffering inhumanity. I don't know why a chunk of a town has to be picked up, blended and scattered to the four corners to bring an outpouring of neighbor love. It just know that's what happens.
Last fall, I visited Baltimore, Maryland, and walked around in one of the poorest areas I have ever seen. This spring I walked through the poorest area of Denver, Colorado. I was moved by both scenes, but not moved enough to do more than reflect on it. In both instances, the only action I was moved to take was to hold my handbag closer to my body and to look around suspiciously, because I was in self-defense mode. I know it's normal to feel that way--scared that someone who has less is going to try to take what you have, or even harm you to get it. I just wish it wasn't.
As I see how social networking sites like Facebook connect Joplin ex-pats to their community and keep everyone abreast of what all of the needs of the community are, I think everyone watching is astounded. It's a true testament to the words President Barack Obama spoke yesterday. To paraphrase, he said that the heroic acts of those who died saving others is proof of the fact that humans are inclined to love one another and to want to help each other.
While I think that is true, and I am so glad that it is, I am still disappointed that for so many of us (myself included), it takes two-hundred mile per hour winds to breathe life into that part of our hearts that reaches out to a stranger.
There are two organizations that I didn't expect to receive as much attention during this time of tragedy, but then again, I think some of the lessons of Katrina may have finally informed us of the human/pet bond. The Joplin Humane Society Animal Adoption and Resource Center and Animals Lost and Found From the Joplin, Mo Tornado have been making regular posts on Facebook about what their needs are and subsequently regular posts about the things that are being provided to them. As a veterinary technician, I am so happy to see the success of these two organizations, because as I know with my own pets, the families and individuals in Joplin who have suffered greatly will be buoyed by the unconditional love and devotion of their pets when they are reunited. In the days, weeks, months and years to come, a cold, wet nose in the middle of the night when you can't close your eyes because you're afraid of what you will see, can make all of the difference in letting you know you are never alone.
Groups like the Red Cross and churches from all over are also receiving support to help get aid and donated items to victims quickly. I've seen many posts indicating that the sheer volume of physical donations is so great that finding places to store everything is becoming a difficulty. So, I am sure that their requests that for the time being new donations come in the form of financial assistance still will be met with a positive response.
Insurance companies are on site to provide help with filing claims and, I am told, some even have on site mental health professionals available for people to talk to. I think many of us would agree that insurance companies don't exactly have the reputation of being compassionate and caring, so seeing this side of them is so encouraging. Jeph tells me that in the areas where people are clearing rubble, trucks come by with people offering food, drinks and whatever is needed to keep the people going in the thick of the damaged areas.
This truly is a time when humanity shows its best side. I am happy to see it.
But, at the same time, I think about the times I see the humane organization posting signs in the building I work in about how desperately they need money to provide much needed care or surgery to a pet that is being fostered. I think of the humane organization that does an "adopt one, get one free" cat drive at least once a year because the number of kittens and cats they have to care for far and away exceeds the funding they have to provide that care. I think of individuals who have hit upon hard times and their pets are the only bright spot they have in their day-to-day, but when their furry friend is sick, they have no means to provide the care that is needed.
I think about single moms in shelters at night, staying awake to watch over their children to make sure they are not harmed by anyone and that the meager items they may have been able to hold onto are not stolen while they sleep. I think of the mentally ill veteran who wanders aimlessly through the downtown area of whatever city they are in all day because they don't have a place to be until it's dark outside and the shelters open again. I think about those people who buy a Coke at the McDonald's in Baltimore and drink it as slowly as they can so they can stay inside where it's warm a little while longer.
I think I don't understand the part of human nature that doesn't see these everyday tragedies. There isn't anyone to film them. Anderson Cooper isn't talking about the dog that has to be euthanized because the shelter is overrun by pets that need to be cared for and this one has been here too long and likely will not be adopted. Brian Williams isn't around to talk about the child whose gets one extra meal for the day as part of the school lunch program, but that same child will not have a lunch all summer.
There is no one to shine the light on these tragedies. There is no one to shine the light on these things that happen every single day. They happen in all of our towns. They happen to people we never meet. They happen to the proud person in line behind us at the grocery store.
Barack Obama said something at the end of his speech yesterday that impacted me with almost biblical clarity. "We aren't going anywhere!" He repeated it several times, almost like a chant. I love that he said it. As someone who thinks of Joplin as a second home town, I hope it's true. I hope that everyone who is needed is there to lend the hand for as long as it is necessary--which will be a very long time. I hope that when the news trucks leave and the Facebook posts start to be a slow trickle, instead of a minute-by-minute ticker tape that fills our home pages, someone will still be looking out for those who need it most.
I still have hope that in spite of the historical evidence of humanity, that when the light is out, a little piece of the spirit that brings us together in horrifying tragedy will linger, and will help us see the need that is there all the other days and that we might lend a hand more often.
http://youtu.be/XgyF1yW8h5Y
Monday, May 30, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
May 27, 2011--Normally, I would be talking about other things.
So, the last week has been anything but "normal."
This time last Friday I was waking up after about four hours of sleep and feeling horrible about facing the day at work. A couple hours of deep conversation with Jeph brought home some harsh realities about choices I need to make and a new way of life I need to figure out how to live if I want to move forward. Every day seems to throw something new at me that I don't want to catch--ball mitt or not. I realize that sounds lame, and I always feel guilty when I am lame.
I feel guilty, because I survived a pretty rough childhood, and theoretically, adult life shouldn't be able to throw anything at me that I can't deal with. If I had a penny for every time someone told me how strong I am, I would never have to work again, and some days, I feel like if I hear it again I'm just going to vomit. I know people think they're paying me a compliment when they say it, but what they're actually doing is throwing down an expectation. "There's no room for you to have weak moments," they seem to be saying. If I was like everyone else, and had never faced abuse and possible death, could I just wallow in self-pity for a day? Would that be okay?
I've spent a lot of my adult life trying to develop a comfortable normal. At the same moment I was feeling horrible last Friday, I was anticipating a weekend trip with Jeph to Denver to have the closest thing to a religious experience I think I'm capable of--I was getting ready to commune with U2 for a seventh time. My new normal is lows and extreme highs. I realize my good fortune, and the expectation of my strength makes it difficult for me to accept when I have to give up on something. How could anything be so bad that I can't hack it?
The concert was a huge bright spot after some long months of gray and sometimes black. Nothing does my heart better than an hour or so with Bono. I have yet to experience a U2 concert without that all too familiar lump in my throat forming. I am so moved every single time. It was a good weekend.
The pendulum swung dramatically the other direction within an hour of our arrival home, as we learned that a giant chunk of Jeph's hometown had been destroyed by a deadly tornado. Suddenly I was watching Jeph fill with worry, nostalgia and a deep sense of confused loss. I say confused, because I think there was no way to fully grasp the gravity of the situation from two hours away.
His loss, again, made it difficult for me to stay in my moments. How could I be sad about my issues in the face of something so horrible affecting the person I love most? I guess it's just life.
This week, another milestone came and went. Love her or hate her--and I have done both--Oprah signed off Wednesday. Damn her, if she didn't leave with a message that we all forget. "The universe speaks to us in whispers." She goes on to remind us that if we fail to listen to those whispers, they will become painful, jolting, screams. If something feels extremely wrong or extremely right in your life, you have to listen to what the universe is telling you about that.
I hope it's not normal to have to recover from a rough childhood, because for me, that's just unacceptable. It's not normal to question your words and actions everyday because you worry others don't understand your motivation and see you as a threat or a thorn.
It's not normal to see the place you grew up happily turned inside out and destroyed.
Or is it? Could it be that life is exactly normal, no matter what is happening to you?
Things happen everyday that we don't understand, we don't want to deal with, and sometimes that are overwhelmingly and surprisingly wonderful. Life is every thing we have to live, no matter how good or bad those things are.
Night before last, Jeph asked me if I thought he was going back to Joplin this weekend to help someone else or for himself. I told him that he was going for himself, but it's okay, because the side effect is that it will help someone else. I think my words made him feel selfish, even though that wasn't my intent. I thought it was important for him to be able to look at the situation with truth in his heart, because I think that's the only way any of us can move on from a tragedy. We have to know why it is we do the things we do. We then know what we are giving and receiving.
It's normal to need to be in the eye of the storm in the town you grew up in and with the people you know and love. It's normal to need to face it. And I think for me, it's normal to see what is happening around me and to believe it has a message for me too.
Good or bad, living life is the thing we normally do.
http://youtu.be/U3jzvVPWy2I
This time last Friday I was waking up after about four hours of sleep and feeling horrible about facing the day at work. A couple hours of deep conversation with Jeph brought home some harsh realities about choices I need to make and a new way of life I need to figure out how to live if I want to move forward. Every day seems to throw something new at me that I don't want to catch--ball mitt or not. I realize that sounds lame, and I always feel guilty when I am lame.
I feel guilty, because I survived a pretty rough childhood, and theoretically, adult life shouldn't be able to throw anything at me that I can't deal with. If I had a penny for every time someone told me how strong I am, I would never have to work again, and some days, I feel like if I hear it again I'm just going to vomit. I know people think they're paying me a compliment when they say it, but what they're actually doing is throwing down an expectation. "There's no room for you to have weak moments," they seem to be saying. If I was like everyone else, and had never faced abuse and possible death, could I just wallow in self-pity for a day? Would that be okay?
I've spent a lot of my adult life trying to develop a comfortable normal. At the same moment I was feeling horrible last Friday, I was anticipating a weekend trip with Jeph to Denver to have the closest thing to a religious experience I think I'm capable of--I was getting ready to commune with U2 for a seventh time. My new normal is lows and extreme highs. I realize my good fortune, and the expectation of my strength makes it difficult for me to accept when I have to give up on something. How could anything be so bad that I can't hack it?
The concert was a huge bright spot after some long months of gray and sometimes black. Nothing does my heart better than an hour or so with Bono. I have yet to experience a U2 concert without that all too familiar lump in my throat forming. I am so moved every single time. It was a good weekend.
The pendulum swung dramatically the other direction within an hour of our arrival home, as we learned that a giant chunk of Jeph's hometown had been destroyed by a deadly tornado. Suddenly I was watching Jeph fill with worry, nostalgia and a deep sense of confused loss. I say confused, because I think there was no way to fully grasp the gravity of the situation from two hours away.
His loss, again, made it difficult for me to stay in my moments. How could I be sad about my issues in the face of something so horrible affecting the person I love most? I guess it's just life.
This week, another milestone came and went. Love her or hate her--and I have done both--Oprah signed off Wednesday. Damn her, if she didn't leave with a message that we all forget. "The universe speaks to us in whispers." She goes on to remind us that if we fail to listen to those whispers, they will become painful, jolting, screams. If something feels extremely wrong or extremely right in your life, you have to listen to what the universe is telling you about that.
I hope it's not normal to have to recover from a rough childhood, because for me, that's just unacceptable. It's not normal to question your words and actions everyday because you worry others don't understand your motivation and see you as a threat or a thorn.
It's not normal to see the place you grew up happily turned inside out and destroyed.
Or is it? Could it be that life is exactly normal, no matter what is happening to you?
Things happen everyday that we don't understand, we don't want to deal with, and sometimes that are overwhelmingly and surprisingly wonderful. Life is every thing we have to live, no matter how good or bad those things are.
Night before last, Jeph asked me if I thought he was going back to Joplin this weekend to help someone else or for himself. I told him that he was going for himself, but it's okay, because the side effect is that it will help someone else. I think my words made him feel selfish, even though that wasn't my intent. I thought it was important for him to be able to look at the situation with truth in his heart, because I think that's the only way any of us can move on from a tragedy. We have to know why it is we do the things we do. We then know what we are giving and receiving.
It's normal to need to be in the eye of the storm in the town you grew up in and with the people you know and love. It's normal to need to face it. And I think for me, it's normal to see what is happening around me and to believe it has a message for me too.
Good or bad, living life is the thing we normally do.
http://youtu.be/U3jzvVPWy2I
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
May 17, 2011--Sometimes the good guys have to lose in order to win.
So, I've been thinking about something a lot in the last six or seven months. It's very personal to me, and at the same time very tightly connected to who I am professionally.
When someone is right, why is it that the people who need to realize it just don't?
I think the short answer is that life isn't fair.
Last Friday was the thirteenth of May. Not the Friday the Thirteenth of October, 1307 when the Knights Templar were forcibly disbanded and many members were arrested, tortured and executed, but Friday the Thirteenth nevertheless.
The Knights Templar originated, in part from the remnants of the crusades. They were men on the side of righteousness. Their sworn purpose was to fight for, and protect the Holy Land and its many treasures. In many ways, they were God's army in flesh.
One could make the argument that the Templars were corrupted by their power and the very righteousness of their purpose. In a sense, they came to think of themselves as untouchable and beyond reproach. Obviously, that perception was anything but reality in the face of a French King who was deeply in debt to the Templars, and looking for a way out. Opportunity became the Templars' greatest and most insurmountable foe.
I finally finished watching all of the miniseries "The Kennedys" tonight, and while I know that the wider world has pretty much honed in on its inaccuracies and the way it sensationalized many historical events of the era, one thing seemed to ring true--John F. Kennedy was a formidable man who never got to fulfill all of his potential, and his brother Bobby was possibly a great man who never got to fulfill all of his potential. As I watched the scene in which JFK was gunned down, I was emotionally flat. When I watched Bobby gunned down, a lump rose in my throat and I had to wipe away tears.
Jeph and I also just finished watching "Survivor: Redemption Island." "Boston Rob" finally won, and he did so in ruthless style. He figuratively steam rolled over the entire playing field. There was another guy who didn't make it to the final three who battled valiantly, and in many ways was one of the greatest representations of the "Survivor" experience I've seen. Matt, who spent the majority of the 39 days at Redemption Island didn't get to play a social game. He was alone a great deal of the time. The challenge of being alone so much of the time tested him and his faith tremendously. I'm not a person of faith, but I respect that in the face of the unknown, and deep loneliness, it can't be a bad thing to have something upon which you can cling. After four attempts, I thought Rob was due, but there was a part of me that secretly wanted Matt to win.
There's a boy in Connecticut who recently committed an act of vandalism that I'm pretty sure any woman, young or old, would completely relish. He asked his girl to prom by taping the words in giant letters to the side of the school building. Nearly 200,000 people on Facebook have expressed their view that James Tate should be allowed to attend his prom in spite of the fact that he was suspended for the vandalism, and that it is school policy that he not attend. I think James Tate is a good guy--at the very least, he's a romantic. I think Dr. Beth Smith, the school's headmaster is a "good guy" too. And I think both Tate and Smith are losing.
It's hard to be right when it seems like nobody cares. I find myself in a career that's meaningful, even though I think it's the wrong one. I've always been invested in being on the side of what's right in my actions and words--even when it has cost me personally. I think a lot of us find ourselves in that situation. We find ourselves so invested in what is right that we become lightning rods for criticism and even unfair scrutiny. We are backed into a place where we can no longer stand up for what we believe in without falling on our own swords.
I want to believe that sometimes good guys have to lose in order to win.
As the centuries have passed, the Knights Templar are still a subject of great interest and mystique. Most of the trumped up charges brought against them at the time of their disbandment have been dismissed by historians as unlikely and ridiculous. Many believe that in spite of the terror of the time, the Templars secretly survived in some form. One may even be protecting the Holy Grail at Petra. I hope so.
The Kennedy family still stands for many as a shining example of what is to be esteemed. There will always be a sense of regret and the question of what might have been. To be sure, the Kennedy men were anything but perfect, but they had a vision for our nation that was lost--hopefully not forever. As they struggled to ensure that James Meredith was allowed to enroll in classes at Ole Miss, I can't imagine how proud they might have been to see an African American sit in the Oval Office.
Matt Elrod didn't win a million dollars on Survivor, but he didn't lose the person he was and his integrity to take home a bucket of cash. Who knows, his winning spirit may bring him back to Redemption Island again someday.
Who knows how James Tate and Dr. Beth Smith's standoff is going to play out in the end? I suspect that Tate will not be allowed to attend prom, no matter how many pleas are made. He has lost that once in a lifetime experience. He's young. It's too early in his life to know what will happen between him and his lady love, but for now, he has most certainly won her heart. Dr. Smith has lost the battle of public opinion, but she has won in the battle of leading in the face of backlash and standing for the principles of the institution she represents.
Everyday, we each have a battle to fight. Some battles are bigger and more important than others. Do I go five miles over the speed limit, because I've left the house ten minutes too late to get to work on time? Do I protest when I think the load we have puts important factors in danger for those I have vowed to care for, or do I turn myself inside out, work without recognition and sometimes pay to ensure that I don't sacrifice what is really important? Do I lose so I can someday find a way to win?
I don't know what the right answer is. Sometimes I think the only way for me to win is to lose my current battles. If I lose these battles, I have the opportunity to heal and regroup. I have the opportunity to rebuild the army of myself.
http://youtu.be/MPSE_cbPLZc
When someone is right, why is it that the people who need to realize it just don't?
I think the short answer is that life isn't fair.
Last Friday was the thirteenth of May. Not the Friday the Thirteenth of October, 1307 when the Knights Templar were forcibly disbanded and many members were arrested, tortured and executed, but Friday the Thirteenth nevertheless.
The Knights Templar originated, in part from the remnants of the crusades. They were men on the side of righteousness. Their sworn purpose was to fight for, and protect the Holy Land and its many treasures. In many ways, they were God's army in flesh.
One could make the argument that the Templars were corrupted by their power and the very righteousness of their purpose. In a sense, they came to think of themselves as untouchable and beyond reproach. Obviously, that perception was anything but reality in the face of a French King who was deeply in debt to the Templars, and looking for a way out. Opportunity became the Templars' greatest and most insurmountable foe.
I finally finished watching all of the miniseries "The Kennedys" tonight, and while I know that the wider world has pretty much honed in on its inaccuracies and the way it sensationalized many historical events of the era, one thing seemed to ring true--John F. Kennedy was a formidable man who never got to fulfill all of his potential, and his brother Bobby was possibly a great man who never got to fulfill all of his potential. As I watched the scene in which JFK was gunned down, I was emotionally flat. When I watched Bobby gunned down, a lump rose in my throat and I had to wipe away tears.
Jeph and I also just finished watching "Survivor: Redemption Island." "Boston Rob" finally won, and he did so in ruthless style. He figuratively steam rolled over the entire playing field. There was another guy who didn't make it to the final three who battled valiantly, and in many ways was one of the greatest representations of the "Survivor" experience I've seen. Matt, who spent the majority of the 39 days at Redemption Island didn't get to play a social game. He was alone a great deal of the time. The challenge of being alone so much of the time tested him and his faith tremendously. I'm not a person of faith, but I respect that in the face of the unknown, and deep loneliness, it can't be a bad thing to have something upon which you can cling. After four attempts, I thought Rob was due, but there was a part of me that secretly wanted Matt to win.
There's a boy in Connecticut who recently committed an act of vandalism that I'm pretty sure any woman, young or old, would completely relish. He asked his girl to prom by taping the words in giant letters to the side of the school building. Nearly 200,000 people on Facebook have expressed their view that James Tate should be allowed to attend his prom in spite of the fact that he was suspended for the vandalism, and that it is school policy that he not attend. I think James Tate is a good guy--at the very least, he's a romantic. I think Dr. Beth Smith, the school's headmaster is a "good guy" too. And I think both Tate and Smith are losing.
It's hard to be right when it seems like nobody cares. I find myself in a career that's meaningful, even though I think it's the wrong one. I've always been invested in being on the side of what's right in my actions and words--even when it has cost me personally. I think a lot of us find ourselves in that situation. We find ourselves so invested in what is right that we become lightning rods for criticism and even unfair scrutiny. We are backed into a place where we can no longer stand up for what we believe in without falling on our own swords.
I want to believe that sometimes good guys have to lose in order to win.
As the centuries have passed, the Knights Templar are still a subject of great interest and mystique. Most of the trumped up charges brought against them at the time of their disbandment have been dismissed by historians as unlikely and ridiculous. Many believe that in spite of the terror of the time, the Templars secretly survived in some form. One may even be protecting the Holy Grail at Petra. I hope so.
The Kennedy family still stands for many as a shining example of what is to be esteemed. There will always be a sense of regret and the question of what might have been. To be sure, the Kennedy men were anything but perfect, but they had a vision for our nation that was lost--hopefully not forever. As they struggled to ensure that James Meredith was allowed to enroll in classes at Ole Miss, I can't imagine how proud they might have been to see an African American sit in the Oval Office.
Matt Elrod didn't win a million dollars on Survivor, but he didn't lose the person he was and his integrity to take home a bucket of cash. Who knows, his winning spirit may bring him back to Redemption Island again someday.
Who knows how James Tate and Dr. Beth Smith's standoff is going to play out in the end? I suspect that Tate will not be allowed to attend prom, no matter how many pleas are made. He has lost that once in a lifetime experience. He's young. It's too early in his life to know what will happen between him and his lady love, but for now, he has most certainly won her heart. Dr. Smith has lost the battle of public opinion, but she has won in the battle of leading in the face of backlash and standing for the principles of the institution she represents.
Everyday, we each have a battle to fight. Some battles are bigger and more important than others. Do I go five miles over the speed limit, because I've left the house ten minutes too late to get to work on time? Do I protest when I think the load we have puts important factors in danger for those I have vowed to care for, or do I turn myself inside out, work without recognition and sometimes pay to ensure that I don't sacrifice what is really important? Do I lose so I can someday find a way to win?
I don't know what the right answer is. Sometimes I think the only way for me to win is to lose my current battles. If I lose these battles, I have the opportunity to heal and regroup. I have the opportunity to rebuild the army of myself.
http://youtu.be/MPSE_cbPLZc
Friday, May 13, 2011
May 13, 2011--What about Blue? (insert any name, and the feeling's the same)
So, it's kind of an odd day here at the house. Jeph would probably call it a "soft day." I think we might define that term in different ways. For me, it means it's a little cool and overcast outside, and there's not an awful lot of structured activity going on.
Puppy's at the hospital for her recheck, so, it's just Blue and me. He's an odd little guy, and I think he's really okay with the fact that it's just the two of us today. It makes me think about him and who he is a little more than I usually do.
Blue's about fourteen and a half. Fifteen years ago, I wanted a dog more than anything. Jeph and I hadn't been married for very long and we had just moved to Kansas City. I really didn't have many friends, and at the time, Jeph worked like a crazy fool. Here's where I make the very convoluted statement that Jeph would not let me have a dog. The truth is, he just didn't know how much we needed one.
When Jeph finally relented, and agreed to at least start looking for a "child," we knew we would adopt. We didn't want to jump into anything. We went to a shelter just to get our feet wet. By the end of the day, the only thing more wet than our feet was the little black nose on a very shy, clingy little 6-month-old. His name was already Blue--after the color collar his rescue mom had given him just as she had done with his litter mates.
He was a handful that ended up changing both of our lives and my career. It's because of Blue that I became a veterinary technician, and it's because I became a veterinary technician that our family grew. In the years after Blue's adoption, we added Scrubbs and Audas to our family. As I think about Blue today, I have to acknowledge that I tend to anthropomorphise. One simple fact occurred to me today--we never asked Blue what he wanted.
Thinking about that makes me realize how often this happens in life. We never asked Blue if he would be happier as an only dog. On days like today, I think he would emphatically reply "yes." He's on the sofa just snoozing away with total contentment.
I wouldn't trade the years we had with Scrubby for anything. He was one of the coolest dogs I have ever met, and I miss him so much everyday. I didn't know it when he came home, but my life wasn't complete without him. There are many days I feel that hole. I miss his easy way. He didn't have a self-conscious bone in his body. He knew when he was needed and by whom, without being asked.
In recent years, Blue has gone through some changes. One of those changes is that he frequently whines about what we assume to be nothing. We offer him food, make sure he has water, and open the door to make sure that he can get outside before the urinary flood gates swing open. More frequently than not, none of these things makes the whining dissipate. I often ask myself "What the hell does he freaking want?" I wish he could tell me and I could give it to him. I love him. I just don't understand him. I think that happens in life a lot as well.
Audas, a.k.a Puppy Mo, added a dimension to our family I also didn't realize we were missing--sass. I'm pretty sure Jeph would argue that there was plenty of sass in the household just with me here, but the reality is that Mo is sass personified. If she were a person, I would say she is one of the only people I have ever met who not only asks for what she wants, she insists on it. If only we could all be so confident.
When it comes right down to it, I think we are all busy living our own lives and just trying so hard sometimes to make it through. Some of us are better at it than others. Sometimes we end up in places we never planned to be in, sometimes because nobody every asked what we wanted and really listened or understood. And then, when we most want to express what it is that we want, somehow, we just can't communicate it.
Both of those ideas make me sad on a soft day, but I want to believe that if you can recognize these truths, maybe there's something you can do to change them.
http://youtu.be/OzQKECQgjW8
Puppy's at the hospital for her recheck, so, it's just Blue and me. He's an odd little guy, and I think he's really okay with the fact that it's just the two of us today. It makes me think about him and who he is a little more than I usually do.
Blue's about fourteen and a half. Fifteen years ago, I wanted a dog more than anything. Jeph and I hadn't been married for very long and we had just moved to Kansas City. I really didn't have many friends, and at the time, Jeph worked like a crazy fool. Here's where I make the very convoluted statement that Jeph would not let me have a dog. The truth is, he just didn't know how much we needed one.
When Jeph finally relented, and agreed to at least start looking for a "child," we knew we would adopt. We didn't want to jump into anything. We went to a shelter just to get our feet wet. By the end of the day, the only thing more wet than our feet was the little black nose on a very shy, clingy little 6-month-old. His name was already Blue--after the color collar his rescue mom had given him just as she had done with his litter mates.
He was a handful that ended up changing both of our lives and my career. It's because of Blue that I became a veterinary technician, and it's because I became a veterinary technician that our family grew. In the years after Blue's adoption, we added Scrubbs and Audas to our family. As I think about Blue today, I have to acknowledge that I tend to anthropomorphise. One simple fact occurred to me today--we never asked Blue what he wanted.
Thinking about that makes me realize how often this happens in life. We never asked Blue if he would be happier as an only dog. On days like today, I think he would emphatically reply "yes." He's on the sofa just snoozing away with total contentment.
I wouldn't trade the years we had with Scrubby for anything. He was one of the coolest dogs I have ever met, and I miss him so much everyday. I didn't know it when he came home, but my life wasn't complete without him. There are many days I feel that hole. I miss his easy way. He didn't have a self-conscious bone in his body. He knew when he was needed and by whom, without being asked.
In recent years, Blue has gone through some changes. One of those changes is that he frequently whines about what we assume to be nothing. We offer him food, make sure he has water, and open the door to make sure that he can get outside before the urinary flood gates swing open. More frequently than not, none of these things makes the whining dissipate. I often ask myself "What the hell does he freaking want?" I wish he could tell me and I could give it to him. I love him. I just don't understand him. I think that happens in life a lot as well.
Audas, a.k.a Puppy Mo, added a dimension to our family I also didn't realize we were missing--sass. I'm pretty sure Jeph would argue that there was plenty of sass in the household just with me here, but the reality is that Mo is sass personified. If she were a person, I would say she is one of the only people I have ever met who not only asks for what she wants, she insists on it. If only we could all be so confident.
When it comes right down to it, I think we are all busy living our own lives and just trying so hard sometimes to make it through. Some of us are better at it than others. Sometimes we end up in places we never planned to be in, sometimes because nobody every asked what we wanted and really listened or understood. And then, when we most want to express what it is that we want, somehow, we just can't communicate it.
Both of those ideas make me sad on a soft day, but I want to believe that if you can recognize these truths, maybe there's something you can do to change them.
http://youtu.be/OzQKECQgjW8
Sunday, May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011--Thor--the thunder is really in the storm of our souls.
So, "Thor" is probably not the most predictable subject matter for me, but I find myself very contemplative about soul-searching these days, and I often locate nuggets of the same effort in odd places.
Obviously, on the surface of things, "Thor" is an action-packed, special effects power punch with a beautiful leading man. But, interestingly, I found in "Thor" a common struggle. John Lennon once said "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." The plot thread of "Thor" is a perfect representation of Lennon's quote in action.
Despite the presence of his brother Loki, Thor reaches adulthood drawing the foregone conclusion that he will replace his father as king. His whole existence centers around his pride as a warrior and a future king. The thought never crosses his mind that he could fail, and everyone around him feeds into his arrogance and presumption. Everything he has lived and planned for comes crashing in around him, and he finds himself set adrift, exiled and lost.
If we reflect on ourselves with honesty, many of us have probably faced such failures in our own lives. It's the failure of confidence and pride gone awry. That's not to say that I advocate for us to stay within our shells and never take any risks, but as Thor learns, the hard way, everything we do in our pursuit of the foregone conclusion should be weighed and measured carefully--and then meted out with thought and caution.
At the risk of sounding paranoid, there is always someone or something watching us more closely than we are watching ourselves, and waiting for our missteps. If we lose ourselves in our own glory, we truly lose ourselves, no matter how pure our intentions. We find ourselves the monarch of our own undoing.
It can be difficult to recognize within ourselves the possibility that our very convictions make us such easy targets for self-sabotage and the whims of others. It can be difficult to let go of those pieces of ourselves that we have collected in our pursuit of the foregone conclusion. Isn't it natural to cling to the things that gave us the power of our beings--like a hammer? Isn't it difficult, sometimes, to understand that sometimes, our very makeup is the weight, impossible to lift?
I've been the victim of foregone conclusion multiple times, and at multiple hands. Each time, I believed myself to be certain of who I was and where I was going in my life, only to be gravely disappointed. I think all of us have been there. The difficulty is finding what it is we are supposed to learn from our losses. Sometimes, I feel I must be one of the most arrogant people on the face of this earth. Either that, it's supposed to take me a lifetime to figure all of it out.
I guess I'm still searching for my "hammer."
http://youtu.be/eLOqEpvpvUk
Obviously, on the surface of things, "Thor" is an action-packed, special effects power punch with a beautiful leading man. But, interestingly, I found in "Thor" a common struggle. John Lennon once said "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." The plot thread of "Thor" is a perfect representation of Lennon's quote in action.
Despite the presence of his brother Loki, Thor reaches adulthood drawing the foregone conclusion that he will replace his father as king. His whole existence centers around his pride as a warrior and a future king. The thought never crosses his mind that he could fail, and everyone around him feeds into his arrogance and presumption. Everything he has lived and planned for comes crashing in around him, and he finds himself set adrift, exiled and lost.
If we reflect on ourselves with honesty, many of us have probably faced such failures in our own lives. It's the failure of confidence and pride gone awry. That's not to say that I advocate for us to stay within our shells and never take any risks, but as Thor learns, the hard way, everything we do in our pursuit of the foregone conclusion should be weighed and measured carefully--and then meted out with thought and caution.
At the risk of sounding paranoid, there is always someone or something watching us more closely than we are watching ourselves, and waiting for our missteps. If we lose ourselves in our own glory, we truly lose ourselves, no matter how pure our intentions. We find ourselves the monarch of our own undoing.
It can be difficult to recognize within ourselves the possibility that our very convictions make us such easy targets for self-sabotage and the whims of others. It can be difficult to let go of those pieces of ourselves that we have collected in our pursuit of the foregone conclusion. Isn't it natural to cling to the things that gave us the power of our beings--like a hammer? Isn't it difficult, sometimes, to understand that sometimes, our very makeup is the weight, impossible to lift?
I've been the victim of foregone conclusion multiple times, and at multiple hands. Each time, I believed myself to be certain of who I was and where I was going in my life, only to be gravely disappointed. I think all of us have been there. The difficulty is finding what it is we are supposed to learn from our losses. Sometimes, I feel I must be one of the most arrogant people on the face of this earth. Either that, it's supposed to take me a lifetime to figure all of it out.
I guess I'm still searching for my "hammer."
http://youtu.be/eLOqEpvpvUk
Friday, May 6, 2011
May 6, 2011--Mother, may I?
So, a friend posted a status on Facebook today about her mom. Moms are a touchy subject for many of us.
Maybe it's a woman thing, but it seems like your experience is either fantastic or horrible, with very few moments in between. With the approaching holiday, no matter your experience, it's not surprising that Mom is on your mind. I know mine certainly comes to mind.
There are as many different types of mother as there are women who become one. There are few ground rules, and some mothers fail to even to follow those. Oprah always says that she views motherhood as being the most difficult job on earth. She's taken on so many jobs on this great planet, she must be right, since it's one of the only things she hasn't tried her hand at.
Motherhood changes a woman's make up, from the inside out. From the very moment of conception, the body and its chemistry become something wholly other. For the more spiritual, one might even say "holy other." It seems impossible that such a physical change could fail to do anything but completely transform everything else about a woman, too. I don't speak from experience.
As someone considering motherhood, I often reflect on my mother. I think about the happy times when I was her confidante and best friend. At nearly forty, I think about the ways in which I wish she had been more of a mother to me and less a friend. I wonder if it's possible to strike a perfect balance. Then I get caught up in the meaning of the word "perfect," and the complete nonsense of such an idea. There is no such thing as a perfect mother, only flashes of good and shades of bad. My guess is that mothers generally hope that there are more flashes than shades.
I think about the roughness of my childhood, and how I want my child to know safety, love, security and hope. These seem like minimal things, but when you watch the evening news or open a newspaper, the reports of children lacking these basics is unfortunate proof that they can't be taken for granted. As I look at my current life, I also want my child to be fearless, confident and free to explore every possible dream, not finding herself so bogged down by worries about security and stability that she fails to do everything possible to make her dreams come true.
Most parents say they want their children to have more opportunities, and to live even better lives than they did growing up. The true challenge of motherhood is to be pleased when that actually happens. It's a testament to love--how much one loves her child, versus how much one loves herself. I believe the only way to be a successful mother is for that love to be as close to equal as possible.
As Mother's Day fast approaches, maybe those of us who aren't yet mothers should take stock of our own lives and remember those dreams we left behind in favor of something more secure. If we want our daughters and sons to follow their dreams, isn't following our own dreams the best way to show them how?
http://youtu.be/Zz-DJr1Qs54
Maybe it's a woman thing, but it seems like your experience is either fantastic or horrible, with very few moments in between. With the approaching holiday, no matter your experience, it's not surprising that Mom is on your mind. I know mine certainly comes to mind.
There are as many different types of mother as there are women who become one. There are few ground rules, and some mothers fail to even to follow those. Oprah always says that she views motherhood as being the most difficult job on earth. She's taken on so many jobs on this great planet, she must be right, since it's one of the only things she hasn't tried her hand at.
Motherhood changes a woman's make up, from the inside out. From the very moment of conception, the body and its chemistry become something wholly other. For the more spiritual, one might even say "holy other." It seems impossible that such a physical change could fail to do anything but completely transform everything else about a woman, too. I don't speak from experience.
As someone considering motherhood, I often reflect on my mother. I think about the happy times when I was her confidante and best friend. At nearly forty, I think about the ways in which I wish she had been more of a mother to me and less a friend. I wonder if it's possible to strike a perfect balance. Then I get caught up in the meaning of the word "perfect," and the complete nonsense of such an idea. There is no such thing as a perfect mother, only flashes of good and shades of bad. My guess is that mothers generally hope that there are more flashes than shades.
I think about the roughness of my childhood, and how I want my child to know safety, love, security and hope. These seem like minimal things, but when you watch the evening news or open a newspaper, the reports of children lacking these basics is unfortunate proof that they can't be taken for granted. As I look at my current life, I also want my child to be fearless, confident and free to explore every possible dream, not finding herself so bogged down by worries about security and stability that she fails to do everything possible to make her dreams come true.
Most parents say they want their children to have more opportunities, and to live even better lives than they did growing up. The true challenge of motherhood is to be pleased when that actually happens. It's a testament to love--how much one loves her child, versus how much one loves herself. I believe the only way to be a successful mother is for that love to be as close to equal as possible.
As Mother's Day fast approaches, maybe those of us who aren't yet mothers should take stock of our own lives and remember those dreams we left behind in favor of something more secure. If we want our daughters and sons to follow their dreams, isn't following our own dreams the best way to show them how?
http://youtu.be/Zz-DJr1Qs54
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