Donuts on the Desk, A Glass of Water, and A Human God

So, not that I have so many blog followers to notice, but I didn't really update as I said I would during my 40 days of Living Consciously. I'm not a very consistent person. I'd like to spin that and say that my spontaneity and unpredictability is one of my greatest charms, but truly it is often a great weakness. However, while I did not post very much during this time, I would like to highlight the following moments:


DONUTS ON THE DESK

Every Friday my advisees and I have "Food Fridays" for which someone brings in donuts or cookies or some other kind of Food for breakfast. So, my advisees brought in two giant boxes of donuts and there were a ton of them left. And the box ended up sitting on my desk all day. Every now and then a student in another class would ask for some, but there remained a significant amount of donuts on my desk pretty much all day. At the end of the day my two favorite kinds of donuts remained. And I didn't have one. That was a pretty memorable challenge of these forty days. But it made me think that sometimes, if you face your fears and challenges by just placing them right there on the table, they actually become more manageable. As opposed to avoiding them or hiding them, then when they rear their ugly head you are caught off guard. Isn't there a saying "keep your friends close, your enemies closer?" Perhaps a temptation on the table keeps you much more conscious. 



A GLASS OF WATER
This may seem like a silly observation, one of those "duh, who doesn't know that" kind of situations. But drinking water solves a lot of issues. I know this because I don't drink enough water and I have a lot of issues. It should seem an easy routine, wake up in the morning, drink a full glass of water. But I cannot seem to make that my daily routine and I know I need to. On the days that I was more conscious, I DID drink a full glass of water before anything (well, sometimes the dog won't let me even get that before his walk). And I always felt better. Water is a precious gift and I need to always make "hydrate" a morning mantra, a real, attainable and healthy one.

A HUMAN GOD
So we are coming to the end of the Lenten Season. It culminates in my absolutely favorite bundle of three Mega-Masses known as The Triduum: Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Vigil. I feel so fortunate to be in an awesome and active choir, because although I will spend more time in church these next three days than I have in the last four months, I will have the opportunity to sing some really lovely and meaningful songs.

Holy Thursday is by far my favorite of the three Mega-Masses. And I was actually thinking deeply tonight about why I like it so much. I'm sure it started back in 1974 when I had my First Communion and I was chosen with 11 classmates to have our First Eucharist at the Holy Thursday Mass. We sat on the altar like 12 little disciples. This was clearly the beginning of my desire for full and creative participation in the Mass. Yay, for the progressive priests of SCB in Cinnaminson. I don't think they ever did that again, but it was a pretty impressionable moment for me, and likely the origin of my love for that holy day.

However, there is a great deal more to my affection than nostalgia. The realness of the humanity of Christ is what makes the Holy Thursday Mass so poignant to me. That Jesus calls us to serve one another in the symbol of washing one another's feet is incredibly powerful. Tonight, at our new parish, they do the foot washing with three different stations and anyone who wants to get their feet washed just goes on up there, but in return they wash the feet of the next person. And while my 15 year-old had said, "I'm not touching anyone's feet", I looked out from choir and saw my 8 year-old have the courage to get her feet washed by a stranger and then, in return wash another person's feet. Got a little choked up, must say. I find that idea of serving as the ultimate show of a true leader, most powerful.

Holy Thursday also has the heightened awareness of the Eucharist. Again a really powerful symbol of sacrifice, unity, communion. We recognize Christ living in and among us in the Eucharist. We recognize that we are all called to have Christ's love nourish us, and we in turn must be willing to be Christ for others. I know that Roman Catholic communion practices can seem very odd and voodoo. But truthfully, the theatricality of it all has always been what has made it the most real for me.

Above all, when I reflect upon Holy Thursday, I think of how the Mass closes in all that Roman pagan incense and pomp, carrying the Eucharist around with an ancient Latin chant, but then the Eucharist comes to rest in a small chapel. No closing song-- so as to mark no real "end" to the sacrifice. And then you can sit in silence there, in simplicity, you and Jesus, contemplating, praying, the way he did the night of his betrayal and arrest. This is when I feel we see the most human Jesus, the Jesus who says "If this cup could pass me by, I'd be quite ok with that, but your will be done." He experiences sorrow, betrayal, denial. He is faced with mortality. And he's scared. And I love this Jesus because he is real, and calls us to be real for one another. 

Day 1 of Conscious Living

I was faced with a pretty incredible challenge last evening that created a great deal of stress and anxiety such that I was not able to sleep more than an hour. I actually had the thought, "Oh no! How am I going to Live Consciously tomorrow when I'm literally going to drop over UNconscious." And yet Providence shone upon me. I drank a big glass of water, I walked the dog a brisk mile, I got the kids to school without screams or curses. Faced further with having to confront last evening's challenge further this evening,  I found inside me, bolstered I know by the songs of Ash Wednesday, a strength to remain calm, to speak from a place of support and to see many sides beside my own. I am indeed very tired now. But I am confident I can chalk Day 1 up to very Conscious.

Here's one of the songs we sang tonight:

40 Days of Conscious Living

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday marking that time of year where Catholics "give up" everything they had already given up as a New Year's Resolution but didn't quite get it right in the preceding 10 weeks. What better time for me, then, to actually DO something since I don't really ever make New Year's Resolutions.

As I thought about what I wanted to do I recalled something I once heard a lawyer say in a mediated conversation I was in. My husband and I were becoming legally separated (we're back together now, so, yay for mediation over litigation everyday!) and the lawyer made us make a list of all the expenses we had every month all the way down to hair care products and toothpaste. This proved a bit hard for my husband as he could not recall the price of even a sandwich he had bought hours before the meeting. And I will always remember the lawyer saying, "So, you are an unconscious spender." It was that word "unconscious" that really struck me. That idea of being fully aware and awake in one's actions seemed to really resonate with that word. And I thought, wow. I do a lot of things unconsciously, too.

So I thought of that word again as I wanted to formalize my Lenten plan. And it seemed to fit so well with what I wanted to make sure I'm doing: being aware, being purposeful, being conscious. So here goes with the plan:

FORTY DAYS OF CONSCIOUS LIVING

because that's what Lent is for

COMMUNICATING CONSCIOUSLY
To God
I will greet each morning with a fully aware and heartfelt, "Thank you, Lord, for giving me each day." Knowing that waking up every morning is a gift.
To My Family
I will choose words carefully and make sure that what I am saying is not born of stress or anxiety, but in the light of truly conveying a message. I will choose positive over negative. I will let people know I love them both in words and deed.
To My Friends
While I am not "giving up" Facebook, I will be a much more conscious Facebook member avoiding being sucked into useless hours, when minutes can certainly suffice.

CONSUMING CONSCIOUSLY
Eating
I will make sure that what I put in my mouth is first and foremost fuel. That means I will eat when my body is hungry, not my mind bored.
Drinking
I will drink water before my body asks for it, remembering that hydration is the key to alleviate many problems.
Spending
I will buy only what is needed not what advertisers have designed and manipulated me into wanting. 

MOVING CONSCIOUSLY
I will exercise with purpose. While I am training for a 1/2 marathon, I will not only run, but I will do weight training, knowing that cross-fitness is the best fitness. When I feel I do not have ample time for exercise, I will do at least  40 somethings-- crunches, push-up, lunges--whatever it is, I need to do 40 of them.

CREATING CONSCIOUSLY
I will write, rather than just think about writing.
I will read, rather than just have books by my bed.
I will go to live music, theatre, dance whenever possible.


Ok. Let me just say as I finish my unconscious Dunkin' Donut-- it's time to get real, be aware and come to Consciousness.  I will report on my progress. 

Down In The Valley A Heart Remains

Thoughts that have been mulling in the noggin, but finally took form tonight.

  Down in that valley my heart remains

A piece forever stripped from me and

Laid bare, out on the terrace

Sitting on a green Adirondack chair

There pulses a piece of myocardium

in that tech booth laughing with creators

and dreamers

and shapers

of young women’s lives

and I wonder

if I need that part of my heart

in order to live

Like soldiers in a jungle or a desert

I was once part of

the band of brothers, sentry of sisters

fighting the fight to keep young women’s

hearts in tact

minds alight with curiosity

Asking ourselves if we were crazy

which we always knew we were

but a good kind

the kind that Ralph Waldo said

was what great men were

Misunderstood

And now in my civilian status I continue the good fight

of shaping the inchoate minds of our future

I still challenge them to challenge themselves

and let their gray matter vibrate to their own

Rhythm

But through open doors of wonder and new thoughts

New worlds

And Yet

I feel alone sometimes

Like no one knows what it’s really like

to have been there

only my fellow crazy soldiers who have ever

been in that valley

on the farm

could know, could understand, could empathize

Time is a healer.

I know that to be true.

Time creates the distance necessary

To make a new place home

A new work, mine.

But I still wonder about that piece of my striated muscle

that continues to throb in the room behind the great window

where that hodgepodge family sits for mass meals

Or up in the fields where the deer roam with soccer net turbans

Or up in that large room where I sometimes sighed

sometimes huffed

sometimes laughed

and often pleaded, “Be Honest with Yourself, Have you really given your best effort?”

All I know is, I did

give my best

In the lifetime of years where I shapeshifted from friend

to sister

to mother

from teacher

to coach

to director

from neighbor

to colleague

and now,

visitor

outsider even.

I do think it may be similar to what returning troops feel

Once discharged

Back in country

A little directionless and

feeling a hole in one’s heart

the kind not easily healed 

A piece forever was stripped from me and

Lives down in that valley

Laid bare, out on the terrace

Sitting on a green Adirondack chair

There pulses a piece of myocardium

in that valley laughing with creators

and dreamers

and shapers

of young women’s lives

and though I know I don't

need that part of my heart

in order to live.

I wonder will it continue to beat

outside of me

so others can 

hear the spectral love

the way I heard it from my predecessors?

And I think, maybe that's why from my first day 

traversing from the plantation home

across the quad

past flagpole and into the creative arch 

I felt the special

that is that place

where hearts remain

though people move on.

What a day this has been . . . .

Can't even process the series of strange events today. . . . finding it hard to sleep. So the day starts out with me walking the dog very early in the morning so I can crunch the ice off my car. Driver's door is frozen shut so I have to climb over the stickshift from passenger side. Whatever-- I'm used to this.  Kids not ready when I finish walking dog, taking out trash, thawing car, taking shower. I flip a gasket. Again--been there. Blast the kids to school so I can get to a conference up at Far Hills Country Day. Get there. It's cancelled. Apparently an e-mail came to me last night at 11:15--- but I went to bed at 10:15 (I know, that is the piece that's weird and never happens.) Anyway--awesomely I get to see Maedean Kramer at FHCDS for a hug, eat a Cocoluxe Breakfast Pizza and pop in to see my peeps at Purnell. SOOOOO awesome to see everyone even if briefly, but surreal too, like I was just gone on a long vacation or something . . . love me some rolling hills especially in the lovely snow. . . so that was weird, but weird good -- anyway THEN I'm driving back and feeling hungry and I have two chocolate croissants from Cocoluxe I could eat, but I bought them for the kids as a memento (because we used to go there for a treat) and I'm like DO NOT EAT THE CRIOSSANTS-- because I'm feeling bad about the gasket I flipped on the kids this morning --- and so in driving past Cheesequake Rest Stop-- I'm like-- I've got time, I'll grab something to eat and look how cheap that diesel is!! Let me get some of that, too, since my tank is less than 1/4.  So I pull up to the pump that has diesel (and other fuels) -- but there are only two that have diesel and I pull up to the one with the diesel because my car is diesel. And I say "$30 diesel please". And the guy fills up my tank and I pull away and I'm like 500 yards into the rest stop parking lot and ENGINE LIGHT---- DEAD CAR. What the )(@*$@#(*?? I look at the receipt-- HE PUT REGULAR IN MY CAR!!!!!!! This has never ever, ever, ever happened. I'm livid because I know this has effectively busted my car in a big way! AND now I'm not going to make it back to my afternoon classes-- I might not even make it back to pick up my kids!!  So after putting my hazards on and running down to tell the guy who filled my car he's an idiot and him telling me, "don't tell anyone, lady, I'll lose my job" I'm like-- you make this right and I won't tell anyone, dork, and you can't make it right because now I have to get towed, and you know what AAA won't come because I'm the the GSPkway!!!! Gah. So I call 911 and the "Parkway Authority" sends out a tow guy (who is AAA certified, just saying) and I tell him what's what and tow truck guy knows the Sunoco  manager who is very accommodating and sets all straight at least in terms of the "We'll pay for everything, don't you worry" part of things. But he's out for blood and wants to know "who did this." And not that I want to throw anyone under the bus, but this is my Jetta we're talking about and you don't mess with my Jetta-- "It was Dave." "Are you sure? Because the number on your receipt is Mike."  And for a second I start to doubt myself, but I'm like no, Dave handed me my receipt. I will not swear that Dave pushed the button, but he is the one who finished out the thing. So this is a hooked up operation and manager guy pulls up "the video" because he still thinks it's Mike. BUT-- video shows-- it IS Dave! So perhaps Dave KNEW he screwed up and when he punched the receipt he tried to frame Mike? Who knows--- but I don't forget a face-- especially when it's like 5 SECONDS prior!! Geeeeeez. So my little Jetta is at the VW hospital and the guys at Enterprise and I are on first name basis now since I have had rental cars more times in the last five months than EVER.  Oh my. . . .and do you think it ends there??? Um. No. But for the other piece you'll just have to wait and see if I post in my Mommalescence blog-- because that is all teen craziness. . . . This part -- this was, I believe, as my car has done pretty much since I've owned it-- absorbing all the bad vibes and taking a hit for the team. I KID YOU NOT!! Any time something has happened to my car it's been on a day when I flung invectives to the universe-- and then UDA 42R, as I affectionately call her, has conked out. Weird? Perhaps.

Birthday Poem for Dad

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All Bran and Beets

 (Happy Birthday 2013, Dad)

I would not eat the All Bran.

You said, “Sit there until you do.”

I sat. But would not eat.

I was late for kindergarten that day.

You finally brought me to school when it was painting time.

I walked away from you as I heard you explain to the teacher,

“A battle of wills.”

I thought I had won.

I would not eat the beets.

You said, “Sit there until you do.”

I sat. But would not eat.

Everyone left the table.

I finally took a bite because I wanted to watch Happy Days.

You came in baffled when I was finishing the plate.
“I like them.”

I thought I had won again.

What I won, I would not know.

Until I stood above a small child

And her plate of green beans.

A child who sat. But would not eat.

And I would think fondly

“A battle of wills.”

You made me strong.

Which made her strong.

Which means we all win.

The Year Without A Thanksgiving: A Speech

     The following speech was given on Monday, November 25th at the Annual Ranney School NHS Induction and Thanksgiving ceremonies.

First of all, I want to thank Mr. Zanowski and let you all know how honored I feel to be asked to speak today. However, when Mr. Zanowski asked me to speak, little did he know that I’ve actually been contemplating and reflecting about this holiday since 1981, which, for me, became the year without a Thanksgiving. I was a sophomore in high school, my older sister a senior. I was hyper-involved in activities like marching band and technical theatre, so Thanksgiving came upon us all somewhat unaware due to the chaos of the Fall term. That may seem familiar to some of you. My parents were equally busy handling not only two teenaged daughters but also my 10 year-old brother and our two-year-old sister. It was Thanksgiving morning and we were unaccustomed to the melee that ensued with all of us home at the same time. I am not sure what the initial argument stemmed from, perhaps not wanting to go to the in-laws for dinner, someone forgetting to unload the dishwasher, the other someone not appreciating the first someone, but my parents were in an increasing state of dissent. Without over-revelations, suffice it to say, that my older sister and I had seen enough of the parental dynamics over our short lives to know the ominous outcome was not going to bode well for a Norman Rockwell family dinner that night.

My older sister thought fast and got herself invited to a friend’s house. Her quick thinking paid off because by 3:00 that afternoon, my mother had already stormed up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door tight, simultaneously we heard my dad pull away in the driveway. My sister looked at me and our younger siblings with sympathy for a fleeting moment, but that did not stop her from bolting out the door when her friend’s car honked.

So there I was blinking down at my little brother and sister, thinking, mmm, I don’t think we’re having turkey tonight.  Now, I want you to know, at this moment I was neither distraught nor melancholy. I had prided myself on my existentialist philosophies at that age and was fond of saying “what’s the big deal, it’s just a day like any other day.” In fact, just two days prior I found myself in debate with my US1 History teacher about how fake Thanksgiving seemed to me.  I readily dismissed the trappings of tradition, pomp and ceremony that surrounded birthdays and holidays. Besides I never really liked turkey that much, anyway.

So that night I heated up a can of Campbell’s split pea soup and sat eating quietly with my little brother and sister, thinking smugly to myself, see, who needs Thanksgiving anyway.

My older sister came home a few hours later and I handed off the sibling caretaking duties to her and left the house for a brisk autumn evening walk. And this is where I found myself slipping into my own bizarre nostalgic holiday film scene.

You know the moment I’m talking about:  lonely jaded person walking through the streets, hands stuffed into coat pockets, collar turned up, misty breath swirling out of lungs. Cue: violins or folky acoustic “poor me” ballad.  Lonely person looks from the sidewalk into the warm glow of other people’s homes, seeing smiling faces, imagining the sound of glasses tinkling, of laughter and love. Finally, lonely jaded person realizes the meaning of it all.

For sure, I had some strong emotions on that November night. At first, I was only slightly willing to acquiesce to the idea that Thanksgiving was necessary in any way, but my previous debate with my history teacher began to resonate to me “if you do not celebrate something, you’ve rendered it non-existent.” So when Mr. Semptimphelter put me on the spot that Monday morning,  “So, tell me about your Thanksgiving. . .”  There was an awkward silence.

“I didn’t have one.” And astonishingly to me, my eyes began to well with tears.

Mr. S. furrowed his brow questioningly.

“Yep, I didn’t have one,” and in a sudden epiphany, I added. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t want that to ever happen again.” 

My year without a Thanksgiving taught me to value tradition and celebration as a key human quality. Humans give special meaning to every thing in our lives. I would argue that creating meaning is the essence of humanity. It’s what gives us art and music and poetry. We name things, we establish habits and patterns, we give certain days weight above other days in a calendar. And it is important. It represents a kind of magic, I think. We can transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, just because we deem it so.  And this holiday, above other holidays with its emphasis on gratitude weighs heavier in meaning as I often think of the ultimate gifts for which I’m grateful and these are life and the family and friends who continuously shape me in this life.

I’m happy to report that I’ve never gone without a Thanksgiving again. Despite several years living away from my family in other states or foreign countries, I have made an effort to always celebrate this day, even if it has meant sitting in a Japanese KFC with colleagues going around the table with our drumsticks and mashed potatoes expounding upon the things for which we were thankful. My whole family, too, has come to see Thanksgiving as one of the most important holidays in our year. We have taken to a tradition of inviting different people to our house for Thanksgiving each year. And my father has now, at least since 1983 established his own tradition of reading Vermont C. Royster’s  “The Desolate Wilderness” and “This Fair Land” reprinted in the editorial section of the Wall Street Journal annually.  In our family this

has come to be known -- insert full eye roll here – as “The Reading”. And my siblings and I joke that we need to invite new people to Thanksgiving dinner every year, because no one would want to come back a second year, after having to sit through “The Reading”.

I will not indulge in excerpts of this piece, but you’ll see it in the Wall Street Journal this week, as it has been reprinted every Thanksgiving since 1961.  Although if there’s someone out there that knows exactly what I’m talking about, please find me after the assembly, we can commiserate, and know that  you’ll have a standing invitation to my parents’ home for Thanksgiving dinner.

In truth, however, I, personally, love and enjoy “The Reading.” I revel in the tradition, the pomp and ceremony, that surrounds the whole day, but especially this climactic moment after dinner, because it imbues the day with a meaning that becomes increasingly deeper each year as my parents age. The existence of the tradition insures that Thanksgiving will always happen, and will always have some kind of poignant meaning.

And so I hope if there is anyone among you who has scoffed at tradition, or asked “what’s the point of this anyway” that you were able to vicariously walk for a moment with me as the “lonely jaded person looking through the happy windows.” I hope you can recognize (without the split pea soup) that family matters, gratitude matters, and Thanksgiving,  because it’s a day that tells us to stop the frenzy, to slow down a bit and think about these things that matter in our lives – well,  this makes Thanksgiving worthy of all the pomp and ceremony it receives.