I have a very large and swirling essay taking shape that may take awhile to work out so my posts are going to be short right now.
There was a horrible story over the weekend here in Brooklyn that made the national press. A three year old boy was apparently so horribly abused by his guardians that they killed him. It also seems that people in the neighborhood were aware of the abuse and did not report it. My son is three. My first thought was, I would have taken in this child.
My husband and I have spoken in vague terms over the years about becoming foster parents somewhere down the line. We've now agreed to find out what that would entail and if we could make it work. If we can't, we will then find out what form our desire to personally affect children's lives in a positive and nourishing way would take.
Here's what I want, Interverse.
I want to have a direct effect, through direct action, on changing the horror out there in the world. One tiny piece. Whatever I can handle. Give me the thing I can change, whether it is an action I can take or a person I can love. I'll know it when I see it.
And if you can work it, I'd like to see the horrible stories in the news affect others this way too. I'm tired of hearing people sigh and gasp over things that are horrible; I'm tired of reading blog rants that make the ranter feel like an activist when all they've actually done is relieve themselves of their rage.
Action. Action. Action.
Be well,
Jen
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Do You Really Want To Live Forever. . .
It's simmering outside here and my son is home sick from school. So I'm linking today to this nice bit of synchroncity and thoughtfulness from Peter Shankman's blog:
An Open Letter To The Two Kids On The M11 Bus This Morning
I especially like that the piece contains shout-outs to both karma and Marlon Wayans, not to mention an Alphaville reference. This is much of what I wish I'd known at 18, had I been willing or able to hear it. Go find an 18 year old and show this to them, even if they roll their eyes at you, and ask who the hell Alphaville is.
--Jen
An Open Letter To The Two Kids On The M11 Bus This Morning
I especially like that the piece contains shout-outs to both karma and Marlon Wayans, not to mention an Alphaville reference. This is much of what I wish I'd known at 18, had I been willing or able to hear it. Go find an 18 year old and show this to them, even if they roll their eyes at you, and ask who the hell Alphaville is.
--Jen
Monday, June 9, 2008
Hey Universe, et al
I walked out of this dark, warm friendly place about two and a half months ago into the glaring sun and tried to figure out exactly what I wanted when I came back here. I didn't. But I missed writing, and thank you to the people who wrote me to say the writing was missed.
Blogs are puzzling. You either chronicle your every waking moment, or comment snidely on someone else's every waking moment. Or you write about a broad obsession (food) or a narrow one (your adventures in becoming an expert in making, I don't know, vegan sausage, that then becomes a crazy trend in your tiny town and suddenly there's a 200 person waitlist to get into the monthly tempeh-casing-stuffing meet-up being held on your back porch). The word "I" makes many appearances. You only have to have opinions, or be a smarty-pants about something in an effort to be read by all the lesser smarty-pantses.
I started this blog with one intent: to trick myself into doing something (writing) that I feel guilty about not doing enough by setting a constraint (make a wish every day! piece of cake!). As tends to happen when you are me (just wait til you are me, you'll be glad I gave you these instructions), the simple trick unfolded into an endless moibus strip. Because now I don't just want to write every day to appease my sense of guilt*. I want to write my way out of a corner and into the everything. I want to write my way into understanding what we want as individuals, as members of the American family and as a planet. I want to be one window into understanding the meaning of life and what our purpose can be -- and I know there are already many windows out there, but it looks to me like many more are needed.
My hope, Universe, is to become one more window into you. And to write the word "I" alot less. And for this to eventually be what I do all day long.
I know this is vague, but like everybody else, I'm struggling to find the words to describe the mystery. In the meantime, send a postcard. A care package would be nice too. If you sent me a query for the universe and don't see it here, resend it. My computer died and is being revived in Memphis, TN. Hopefully it will get to visit Graceland when it's feeling better. If you want something and think God 2.0 might hear you if you yawp it out in cyberspace, send that here too.
With love for everyone, everything,
Jen
-----
*And I could cop out here and say it's Jewish guilt, which for me would be more like culutral quarter-Jewish guilt, but really it's not. It's the guilt of a native New Yorker, the guilt of not having as much ambition as everyone else who came here to get themselves on every square of the Monopoly board. As a result you berate yourself about not having the ambition, or you fake the ambition, or you move to the suburbs. EOM.
Blogs are puzzling. You either chronicle your every waking moment, or comment snidely on someone else's every waking moment. Or you write about a broad obsession (food) or a narrow one (your adventures in becoming an expert in making, I don't know, vegan sausage, that then becomes a crazy trend in your tiny town and suddenly there's a 200 person waitlist to get into the monthly tempeh-casing-stuffing meet-up being held on your back porch). The word "I" makes many appearances. You only have to have opinions, or be a smarty-pants about something in an effort to be read by all the lesser smarty-pantses.
I started this blog with one intent: to trick myself into doing something (writing) that I feel guilty about not doing enough by setting a constraint (make a wish every day! piece of cake!). As tends to happen when you are me (just wait til you are me, you'll be glad I gave you these instructions), the simple trick unfolded into an endless moibus strip. Because now I don't just want to write every day to appease my sense of guilt*. I want to write my way out of a corner and into the everything. I want to write my way into understanding what we want as individuals, as members of the American family and as a planet. I want to be one window into understanding the meaning of life and what our purpose can be -- and I know there are already many windows out there, but it looks to me like many more are needed.
My hope, Universe, is to become one more window into you. And to write the word "I" alot less. And for this to eventually be what I do all day long.
I know this is vague, but like everybody else, I'm struggling to find the words to describe the mystery. In the meantime, send a postcard. A care package would be nice too. If you sent me a query for the universe and don't see it here, resend it. My computer died and is being revived in Memphis, TN. Hopefully it will get to visit Graceland when it's feeling better. If you want something and think God 2.0 might hear you if you yawp it out in cyberspace, send that here too.
With love for everyone, everything,
Jen
-----
*And I could cop out here and say it's Jewish guilt, which for me would be more like culutral quarter-Jewish guilt, but really it's not. It's the guilt of a native New Yorker, the guilt of not having as much ambition as everyone else who came here to get themselves on every square of the Monopoly board. As a result you berate yourself about not having the ambition, or you fake the ambition, or you move to the suburbs. EOM.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Universe, Please Bitchslap The Stupid
An extra request from The Husband. In general, having stupidity met with a neverending backhand sounds like a good idea, but I love the specificity (although I cannot pronounce 'specificity') of asking the Mighty Nothingness to collar four idiots who perpetrated an idiotic crime, and one that is plain embarassing to fellow humans.
Boston, we still love ya. I'm WELL aware that NYC has its share of people who do dumb things (see: former Governor Spitzer, for one). And sure, was it smart to wear the Yankee cap into the bar? No. But was it about a thousand times stupider to beat someone to a pulp because he likes a sports team you don't like, according to his hat? Yes, a thousand times stupider. And assault-ier, and crime-ier, and hopefully jail-time-ier.
EDIT: And one more thing. On the long list of How To Fight Fair, kicking someone in the head while he lies on the ground is at the absolute bottom. Cowards.
From The Husband:
When you have a moment, would you please ask the Universe to identify to the Boston PD the four idiots in the article below? Not because they are Boston fans, but because this sort of thing needs to stop and maybe an arrest and actual time served might do SOMETHING to deter others. Crap like fanatics and mob mentality actually makes me nauseous.
Today's Sports Idiocy, courtesy of Pregame.com .
Red Sox Fans Send Yankee Fan to Hospital
by RJ_Bell on 03/09/2008 9:03 AM
(from the web) Cambridge - The official start to the 2008 baseball season is about a month away, but the age-old rivalry between the Yankees and Red Sox is already getting ugly.
A group of men some with Irish accents beat up a 23-year-old Cambridge man and sent him to the hospital after they spotted him sporting a Yankees baseball cap.
Witnesses told police the group of apparent diehard Red Sox fans beat up the victims after an argument inside a Central Square bar. The group then ran away on Mass. Ave. towards Harvard Square.
The Yankees fan was transported to the hospital March 2 at 1:41 a.m. for medical treatment for head injuries, including swelling over his entire face and several facial cuts, according to police reports.
The victims sobbing girlfriend told police the couple went to the Cantab Lounge at 738 Mass. Ave. midnight Saturday. The couple was inside the bar for a while when a large group of people came up to them and started arguing with the victim because he was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap, according to police reports.
The couple left the bar without further confrontation, but the group allegedly followed them outside on the street as they walked home, according to reports.
Then the mob of Red Sox fans allegedly threw the victim to the ground and repeatedly kicked him. The girlfriend and a couple of women who were with the suspects unsuccessfully tried to pull the Red Sox fans off the victim, according to police reports.
The victim told police he could not clearly remember what happened and only recalled getting into an argument about his baseball cap, leaving the bar and lying on the ground while the men kicked him in the head.
The attackers are described as four white men. One of the men was last seen wearing a blue and white striped shirt.
Boston, we still love ya. I'm WELL aware that NYC has its share of people who do dumb things (see: former Governor Spitzer, for one). And sure, was it smart to wear the Yankee cap into the bar? No. But was it about a thousand times stupider to beat someone to a pulp because he likes a sports team you don't like, according to his hat? Yes, a thousand times stupider. And assault-ier, and crime-ier, and hopefully jail-time-ier.
EDIT: And one more thing. On the long list of How To Fight Fair, kicking someone in the head while he lies on the ground is at the absolute bottom. Cowards.
From The Husband:
When you have a moment, would you please ask the Universe to identify to the Boston PD the four idiots in the article below? Not because they are Boston fans, but because this sort of thing needs to stop and maybe an arrest and actual time served might do SOMETHING to deter others. Crap like fanatics and mob mentality actually makes me nauseous.
Today's Sports Idiocy, courtesy of Pregame.com .
Red Sox Fans Send Yankee Fan to Hospital
by RJ_Bell on 03/09/2008 9:03 AM
(from the web) Cambridge - The official start to the 2008 baseball season is about a month away, but the age-old rivalry between the Yankees and Red Sox is already getting ugly.
A group of men some with Irish accents beat up a 23-year-old Cambridge man and sent him to the hospital after they spotted him sporting a Yankees baseball cap.
Witnesses told police the group of apparent diehard Red Sox fans beat up the victims after an argument inside a Central Square bar. The group then ran away on Mass. Ave. towards Harvard Square.
The Yankees fan was transported to the hospital March 2 at 1:41 a.m. for medical treatment for head injuries, including swelling over his entire face and several facial cuts, according to police reports.
The victims sobbing girlfriend told police the couple went to the Cantab Lounge at 738 Mass. Ave. midnight Saturday. The couple was inside the bar for a while when a large group of people came up to them and started arguing with the victim because he was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap, according to police reports.
The couple left the bar without further confrontation, but the group allegedly followed them outside on the street as they walked home, according to reports.
Then the mob of Red Sox fans allegedly threw the victim to the ground and repeatedly kicked him. The girlfriend and a couple of women who were with the suspects unsuccessfully tried to pull the Red Sox fans off the victim, according to police reports.
The victim told police he could not clearly remember what happened and only recalled getting into an argument about his baseball cap, leaving the bar and lying on the ground while the men kicked him in the head.
The attackers are described as four white men. One of the men was last seen wearing a blue and white striped shirt.
The Yawp Gets Returned
A beautiful gift came into my email inbox this morning. It is a gift to PB from a fellow traveler, a gift to you, and certainly a gift to me because I'm still fighting a bad cold and can't get my whoses and whatsis together enought to write anything intelligent, plus the cold medicine makes me feel like I'm typing with my elbows. It is a rumination from my beloved RR, and reminded me that in additional to all the other logical magic she brings to me on a regular basis, she's a knockout of a writer.
The open call still stands, folks, and it has resulted in at least one other guest post that I'm hoping will be ready to go up by tomorrow. Be well.
-----
From MBRR:
Having been in PB's shoes, or at least similar places of flux, at various times in my life, I can understand what she is going through. Closing your eyes and taking a giant leap of faith to change your life always has repercussions, but unfortunately they aren't always the one's we think they will be when our feet first leave the ground. When those repercussions turn out to be not what you planned, it can make you want to shake your fist at the universe. Come on, universe! You want to say, I did the hard part already! I made the decision. I landed here. Now it is your turn to bring serendipity to my side. Consciousness and mindfulness, rather than acquiescence to the status quo brought me this far, now I should be rewarded for my bravery. Shouldn't I?
I have been contemplating this question in particular for the last several days because I too recently made a decision to take my life in a certain direction, one that I felt was right in my gut. Yet I have been faced with the harsh reality that the universe has more or less taken my decision and thrown it back in my face. For 3 days I have been railing inside- my thoughts black and spiteful and unproductive. Ef you, universe- and Ef your mother, too! I have been eaten by the unfairness of it all. Everyone, and I mean everyone I know agreed that the decision to do a PhD was the right one for me. People who have known me a long time said they always thought that I would, and wondered why it took me so long to figure it out. People at my job said absolutely. It is the right path for you. Academics told me I was a virtual shoe-in, what with my experience, grades, and knowledge. I was a rare candidate, indeed. Universities would probably throw money at me and beg me to come study. And so I was sure. My gut told me it was the right way to go. And I had external validation and support for my decision. What other signs could there have been, or could I have read? And yet, here I am. 3 out of 4 applications rejected. One more pending and not a shoe-in or a sure thing by any means.
And so while I wait for magic #4, I have been forced to deal with the question that I really never thought would come up. What will I do if I don't get in? Some people have suggested that I wait and re-apply next year. This seems to be how the game of graduate school gets played these days. And re-applying may be a test from the universe about how loud my gut was really speaking to me. If it is the right path, the universe seems to be saying, you can wait. And yet, I can't. Maybe others can, but I cannot. I went through a huge amount of personal upheaval to arrive at this decision, and I am just about worn out. Doing the PhD was to be the new path, the one I chose after almost 2 years of hard soul searching and heart wrenching decisions of all kinds. It was to be the answer I tore the rest of my life apart looking to find. Now I just don't have the stamina to wait another year, and go through another round of applications, to have it come out wrong all over again. I just don't think I have it in me.
Nevertheless, once I decided that the PhD was the path I wanted, I came to see it as not just the answer to what I would do, but the answer in some way to who I am. For the last year, since I decided that it is what I would do, I have held the decision and the idea of it close to my chest, and defended it as a part of my identity- the true identity I had been growing into for all these years. My chance to become the woman I always knew I could be. And in the waiting, I have gone into some dark places. Each rejection a personal affront, and my life hanging before me like a butterfly inside a cocoon, doomed to be forever unrealized.
Today though, I realized something for the first time. Whether I do or whether I don't get accepted, a PhD is not who I am. I am not the sum total of the knowledge I possess, the opportunities I have been given, the rejections I have received. I am also not how I look on paper; I am not the deficiencies on my resume, nor the antithesis to those who have gotten what I wanted. I am not the praise I have been given, nor the shock of others who were also convinced I would get in. I am greater than all these things, and all these moments. And I am enough. As I am, with all the knowledge, and experience, and education I already have. I am enough. Somewhere in the universe there is a place for me to pursue and create the life of the butterfly I am capable of becoming. Even if it doesn't turn out to be where and as I, and my gut, thought it should be. All I can do is trust that the universe knows better than I what my fate should be.
So what is it that has tossed around for me about PB's post? I guess it was that I wanted to say to her, let go a little. Desperation won't help, but money is the same color no matter where it comes from. Take a job waiting tables if you have to. Sign up with every temp agency you can find. In desperate times, any job can be the job, until the right one comes. In the meantime, remember that the money that feeds you, isn't who you are. And just to show that I know all this is easier said than done, I once worked folding shirts and greeting customers at The Gap, even though I had a master's degree and 5 years professional experience in my back pocket. I needed money badly, and I couldn't face receiving unemployment. After a month, I left the shirts to start the job that, 7 years later, is my career.
Finally, for both PB and myself, the mantra I have been trying to hold onto in a very uncertain time is a quote from Rilke. "...And for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is right, in any case."For PB and myself, I sincerely hope we both get what we want, but even if we don't, none of us is only our wishes or desires, realized or not. We exist outside of wanting. And we are enough.
The open call still stands, folks, and it has resulted in at least one other guest post that I'm hoping will be ready to go up by tomorrow. Be well.
-----
From MBRR:
Having been in PB's shoes, or at least similar places of flux, at various times in my life, I can understand what she is going through. Closing your eyes and taking a giant leap of faith to change your life always has repercussions, but unfortunately they aren't always the one's we think they will be when our feet first leave the ground. When those repercussions turn out to be not what you planned, it can make you want to shake your fist at the universe. Come on, universe! You want to say, I did the hard part already! I made the decision. I landed here. Now it is your turn to bring serendipity to my side. Consciousness and mindfulness, rather than acquiescence to the status quo brought me this far, now I should be rewarded for my bravery. Shouldn't I?
I have been contemplating this question in particular for the last several days because I too recently made a decision to take my life in a certain direction, one that I felt was right in my gut. Yet I have been faced with the harsh reality that the universe has more or less taken my decision and thrown it back in my face. For 3 days I have been railing inside- my thoughts black and spiteful and unproductive. Ef you, universe- and Ef your mother, too! I have been eaten by the unfairness of it all. Everyone, and I mean everyone I know agreed that the decision to do a PhD was the right one for me. People who have known me a long time said they always thought that I would, and wondered why it took me so long to figure it out. People at my job said absolutely. It is the right path for you. Academics told me I was a virtual shoe-in, what with my experience, grades, and knowledge. I was a rare candidate, indeed. Universities would probably throw money at me and beg me to come study. And so I was sure. My gut told me it was the right way to go. And I had external validation and support for my decision. What other signs could there have been, or could I have read? And yet, here I am. 3 out of 4 applications rejected. One more pending and not a shoe-in or a sure thing by any means.
And so while I wait for magic #4, I have been forced to deal with the question that I really never thought would come up. What will I do if I don't get in? Some people have suggested that I wait and re-apply next year. This seems to be how the game of graduate school gets played these days. And re-applying may be a test from the universe about how loud my gut was really speaking to me. If it is the right path, the universe seems to be saying, you can wait. And yet, I can't. Maybe others can, but I cannot. I went through a huge amount of personal upheaval to arrive at this decision, and I am just about worn out. Doing the PhD was to be the new path, the one I chose after almost 2 years of hard soul searching and heart wrenching decisions of all kinds. It was to be the answer I tore the rest of my life apart looking to find. Now I just don't have the stamina to wait another year, and go through another round of applications, to have it come out wrong all over again. I just don't think I have it in me.
Nevertheless, once I decided that the PhD was the path I wanted, I came to see it as not just the answer to what I would do, but the answer in some way to who I am. For the last year, since I decided that it is what I would do, I have held the decision and the idea of it close to my chest, and defended it as a part of my identity- the true identity I had been growing into for all these years. My chance to become the woman I always knew I could be. And in the waiting, I have gone into some dark places. Each rejection a personal affront, and my life hanging before me like a butterfly inside a cocoon, doomed to be forever unrealized.
Today though, I realized something for the first time. Whether I do or whether I don't get accepted, a PhD is not who I am. I am not the sum total of the knowledge I possess, the opportunities I have been given, the rejections I have received. I am also not how I look on paper; I am not the deficiencies on my resume, nor the antithesis to those who have gotten what I wanted. I am not the praise I have been given, nor the shock of others who were also convinced I would get in. I am greater than all these things, and all these moments. And I am enough. As I am, with all the knowledge, and experience, and education I already have. I am enough. Somewhere in the universe there is a place for me to pursue and create the life of the butterfly I am capable of becoming. Even if it doesn't turn out to be where and as I, and my gut, thought it should be. All I can do is trust that the universe knows better than I what my fate should be.
So what is it that has tossed around for me about PB's post? I guess it was that I wanted to say to her, let go a little. Desperation won't help, but money is the same color no matter where it comes from. Take a job waiting tables if you have to. Sign up with every temp agency you can find. In desperate times, any job can be the job, until the right one comes. In the meantime, remember that the money that feeds you, isn't who you are. And just to show that I know all this is easier said than done, I once worked folding shirts and greeting customers at The Gap, even though I had a master's degree and 5 years professional experience in my back pocket. I needed money badly, and I couldn't face receiving unemployment. After a month, I left the shirts to start the job that, 7 years later, is my career.
Finally, for both PB and myself, the mantra I have been trying to hold onto in a very uncertain time is a quote from Rilke. "...And for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is right, in any case."For PB and myself, I sincerely hope we both get what we want, but even if we don't, none of us is only our wishes or desires, realized or not. We exist outside of wanting. And we are enough.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Universe, Please Make Me a Cup of Tea
I'm taking the day off, fighting off a cold after much excitement the weekend of my son's third birthday. Be well. I'll try to post tomorrow.
Friday, March 14, 2008
A Yawp For PB
In response for my open call to get on the bullhorn, my friend PB asked me to give the Universe a yawp for her.
PB is an awesome chick, a cool girl in the grrrrrl sense, a deep thinker, a friend to broken animals and a Dharma Punk. She has been a good friend to me and my husband, and particularly to my three year old son, who she calls The Dude.
PB followed Love and Her Heart down the Right Coast to from New York to Florida early this year but, so far, Money hasn't gotten on board for the ride.
As she put it to me: "Please ask the universe to help me find work, so I can help others and myself .. . Everything has been so wonderful in my world for the last few months that maybe its not fair for me to ask for more, but I need a job. It's starting to mess with my self worth and confidence."
And let me note that it's absolutely fair to ask for more. It's fair to be whole and well and working and living. When one person gets to the top, they can help the other people making the climb. (PB, I hope that imagery appeals to your Macchu Pichu climbing self and doesn't register too high on the schmalz-ometer).
So, Universe, please give PB what she wants and what will benefit so many other people -- a job. A job as a yoga instructor would be ideal, but any job that she will be served by and will allow her to serve others would be fine. She'll know it when she sees it, but as you know, circumstances are getting more dire as the days go on. Please untie her from the train tracks and get her new life moving forward, especially she has taken such a big and brave leap to get said new life in the first place.
PB is an awesome chick, a cool girl in the grrrrrl sense, a deep thinker, a friend to broken animals and a Dharma Punk. She has been a good friend to me and my husband, and particularly to my three year old son, who she calls The Dude.
PB followed Love and Her Heart down the Right Coast to from New York to Florida early this year but, so far, Money hasn't gotten on board for the ride.
As she put it to me: "Please ask the universe to help me find work, so I can help others and myself .. . Everything has been so wonderful in my world for the last few months that maybe its not fair for me to ask for more, but I need a job. It's starting to mess with my self worth and confidence."
And let me note that it's absolutely fair to ask for more. It's fair to be whole and well and working and living. When one person gets to the top, they can help the other people making the climb. (PB, I hope that imagery appeals to your Macchu Pichu climbing self and doesn't register too high on the schmalz-ometer).
So, Universe, please give PB what she wants and what will benefit so many other people -- a job. A job as a yoga instructor would be ideal, but any job that she will be served by and will allow her to serve others would be fine. She'll know it when she sees it, but as you know, circumstances are getting more dire as the days go on. Please untie her from the train tracks and get her new life moving forward, especially she has taken such a big and brave leap to get said new life in the first place.
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