Happy Graduation
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Happy Graduation

Happy Graduation

Happy Graduation
My brilliant and beautiful step-daughter graduated from Johns Hopkins University last week. She’s continuing on to the molecular biology and immunology program at the Bloomberg School, and from there to medical school. We’re very proud of her.
But even the joy of her accomplishments is eclipsed by something: her loveliness of spirit. Julia has worked with diligence and commitment to achieve her rite of passage. She’s shown a gift for deferred gratification, long-term goal-making, and personal sacrifice. More than that, she’s kind-hearted and grateful, loving and sweet-natured. It was exquisite happiness to share her moment with her.
My husband Sabin Howard’s sculpture
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My husband Sabin Howard’s sculpture

My husband Sabin Howard’s sculpture

He may drive me crazy: leaving his dirty bicycle shorts on the back of the dining room chair, turning off the heaters in the winter so that the apartment stays in the frigid 50’s, over-peppering the food he cooks until my tongue swells and I can barely swallow, staring at me blankly when I suggest that there is no such as thing as a Shopping Fairy who magically leaves groceries in the fridge for him to consume (has he never considered that someone, a.k.a. moi, lugs home the 5000 calories he ingests daily?)… But Sabin Howard is the greatest living figurative sculptor.

Sabin creates beauty, and I respect that.
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Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability | Video on TED.com

Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability | Video on TED.com

Over the last several years, I have been given a wonderful opportunity: I’ve been repeatedly attacked by someone in my life, through litigation, character assassination, poison emails, contemptuous letters, and screaming episodes that occur both in public and on the phone.
It has been unpleasant. Often sad. Certain therapists, who are infected with the false notion that “It takes two to tango,” eg, two parties necessarily participate equally in high conflict situations, refuse to see that it is happening. This is one of the problems with current psychotherapy. Fortunately, a few therapists are starting to see beyond those kinds of cheap, untrue platitudes.
So I know for a fact that, in a conflict, if one person wants to fight, the other person’s best efforts at conciliation may fail. Because despite years of my returning kindness for blame and excoriation, the persons involved in this situation are not amenable to any kind of peace. Some people are committed to their own malice, hate, and vengefulness.
The opportunity here, despite the profound discomfort, is to reaffirm my self-worth internally. It’s for me to see myself as worthy of love and connection in the face of someone desperately wanting me to feel unworthy. To do this, I have had to come to some awakenings. One is that other people’s feelings and actions have absolutely nothing to do with me. They do what they do because that’s who they are. Someone who acts with constant nastiness and negativity has that internally with which to act. It’s no reflection of me.
Another awakening is something beautifully articulated in the video above: “Blame is a way to discharge pain and discomfort.” I never articulated it to myself this way, but I had a sense of it. I came to this understanding, which correlates with the first one, by way of realizing that if even five percent of what these people say about me were true, I would be Adolph Hitler or Genghis Khan. I simply am not.
But they really, really want me to feel bad.
And that is about them, not about me.
So it has been a gift. And it is a gift that has led me deeper into my heart. Because it makes me feel vulnerable, to be so constantly attacked. And in that vulnerability, I have come to recommit to my own courage, to offer myself compassion, and to tell my story with my whole heart. I affirm my imperfections. I love with all that I am despite the lack of guarantees–though, to be sure, this is for me a daily practice, not a fixed endpoint. Another practice I cultivate is one of gratitude.
So I recommend the TED.com video posted above: it’s a shortcut to the learning that I came to via unpleasantness. And it’s great fun! May all who read this blog know their own self-worth, and find in their hearts both their frailty and their lovableness.
The Benefits of Radical Anarchy: Enjoying Family Dinners
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The Benefits of Radical Anarchy: Enjoying Family Dinners

The Benefits of Radical Anarchy: Enjoying Family Dinners

My blogs of late have emphasized my dissatisfaction with some thoroughly corrupt institutions in our lives: government and big business. Radical anarchy may be the only solution. And radical anarchy has so many applications. Once you get in the hang of it, it’s a useful approach to so very many situations. All this time I’ve considered myself a one woman stand against entropy. Maybe it’s time to rethink that.

Like family dinners. Getting all 4 of my daughters to sit down to a meal with my husband and me is like herding feral cats. Two are in college and are often in their distant cities. Even when they’re around, this one is working, that one has dinner with the other parent, the other one has two parties and, like, six best friends who demand to see her!
There are always the emotional undercurrents of getting a bunch of women together, who’s mad at whom and why. There’s the emphasis on relationships, makeup, hot guys, relationships, clothes, and hot guys. Did I mention there’s a lot of discussion about relationships and hot guys?
It’s not like we don’t talk about other things as well. Books, movies, TV shows, politics, and the current topics in their majors, neurobiology and sociology. But sooner or later…
“Do you think I should cut my hair real short and wear a lot of eye make-up?” one daughter asks.
“Do you think I should get an apartment with my boyfriend this summer?” asks another daughter.
“Do you think it’s okay to date a guy if I’ve already dated his best friend slash roommate?” asks the third. “Does it matter if the guy I dumped is stalking me now?”
“Can I paint my fingernails and get a dress like Mary had on at the Christmas party?” asks the little one.
“Oh my god, it’s an estrogen-fest,” my husband Sabin moans.
Then the dog barfs on the floor after eating someone’s purse, and the 5 year old breaks a glass and turns off all the lights in the house. The Christmas tree falls over, disgorging its lights, and all the iPhones in the house beep with simultaneous texts. The middle daughter chooses that moment to explain exactly why her boyfriend should be so much more grateful and appreciative to be dating her than he is–all while she in-boxes three guys she’s keeping on the hook for later, maybe. Sabin stabs himself in the knuckles with a fork just to distract himself.
And if you are in the mental state to enjoy radical anarchy: it is a rich feast for whimsy.
Being Grateful
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Being Grateful

BEING GRATEFUL

This morning was the Thanksgiving assembly at my little daughter’s school. She came in holding hands with a partner, lines of Kindergarten girls walking two by two up the center aisle. They wore orange-red-and-brown headdresses in the spirit of the season and tried not to skip and giggle, but to conduct themselves with dignity.

 

Once in her appointed place, my little one spotted me, and promptly made gestures at me, waving her mischievous hands around her head. She told me later that she was trying to ask me via sign language if I was wearing my Spock ears. I have a pair that I have been known to wear around the house… But no, I informed her, pinching her nose playfully. I just had my hair tucked behind my ears and it made my ears look pointy. I was not wearing my rubber Spock ears.

 

The girls, K through 3rd grade, sang a few songs of gratitude, a tradition going past 100 years at this school. The sweetness of their tuneful voices uplifted me, set me to ruminating on the blessings and joys of life. We ended with “America the Beautiful,” and I am grateful to live here, even if the TSA gropes me next time I board a flight.

 

And I am grateful for my sweet little one with her Spock questions and dancing eyes. My unruly 16 year old who breaks my heart half the time and then the other half makes me laugh until I cry–she’s a gift. A bittersweet gift, but a treasured one. My step-daughter is loving, sweet, and considerate. I’m lucky to have her. My friend Gerda is one of the world’s great fonts of spiritual wisdom, UFOlogists, and lovers of chocolate: I am happy she’s in my life. Geoffrey, Debra, Lori, Marcia, gorgeous Sarah N. and even cranky Paul: individuals I’m fortunate to know and enjoy. Thomasananda, I wish I saw more of you, but still, its always a joy to connect with you. Dani, Komilla, Rachel: you’re great!

 

Right now, I’m also grateful for and to my husband. He spoiled me with a luxurious purse as an anniversary gift, the kind of gorgeous accoutrement that I’d considered out of reach just now. It’s beautiful! And generous of him. Most generous of all, he recently admitted to me that he hasn’t always treated me the way he wants to. He said he’s aiming to be a better husband. That kind of honesty and vulnerability take courage. It takes a great soul to openly claim that. I am grateful for him, and for his presence in my life.