The last day of Kindergarten ::: ever! (Here is the 1st day of school!)
How to amuse 12 kids while awaiting the Space Shuttle!
There it is!
The Shuttle Explorer
There it goes! On to Space Center Houston, the official visitors' center for the NASA Johnson Space Center.
The last day of Kindergarten ::: ever!
How to amuse 12 kids while awaiting the Space Shuttle!
There it is!
The Shuttle Explorer
There it goes! On the Space Center Houston, the official visitors' center for the NASA Johnson Space Center.
The last day of Kindergarten ::: ever!
How to amuse 12 kids while awaiting the Space Shuttle!
There it is!
The Shuttle Explorer
There it goes! On the Space Center Houston, the official visitors' center for the NASA Johnson Space Center.
We went skating once before Christmas. I'm in Houston, remember. They super cool the rink to 22 degrees in upwards of 70 degree weather. It's a little embarrassing to think of the energy that is utilized to enable us subtropical people to experience the joy of an outdoor skating rink. You also put oneself at considerable risk by going out on the ice with a crowd comprised on 98% first time skaters. "Skaters" who make every novice mistake possible such as holding hands four across, skating clockwise when the set up is for counter-clockwise, crossing in front of people to get the the perceived safety of the side rail, and such. I'm thrilled people have the chance, but it makes for quite a unique skating adventure.
I grew up in Wisconsin and places north, so a skating rink for us was a plowed area of the lake or a section of river that is frozen all winter long. We skated outdoors and most frequently at night. I always felt this delicious mix of excitement and fear--you never quite knew where you'd find the boundary of safety. If the hockey puck drifts away from the plowed area is it safe to go get it? If you leave the circle of light, does that mean the ice is thinner or no one will see you/hear you if you fall in? How do they know the river is frozen thickly enough? Was that the sound of cracking ice I just heard? We were of course regaled with horror stories of the one time someone fell through, and don't we all remember the image from "It's a Wonderful Life" in which George saves his brother after falling through the ice?
Nonetheless, I have terrific memories of being hot and cold at the same time, of gently falling snow lightly blanketing the surface of the ice, of holding hands through arctic-thick mittens with my eighth-grade boyfriend when we hoped no one was looking, of wondering if my hand-me-down winter coat was too dorky or the wrong color. . . .
So, it's with these memories in mind that I take my son to the rink at least once or twice each season, so he can experience the excitement and novelty of ice, develop some skills that may serve him later in life, and form his own sensory memories of the cold slush that accumulates on the blades, of teetering on ankles that don't quite know what to do, of slipping and falling, and wanting to practice turning and spinning before skating straight is mastered.
We spent part of this past Saturday at the rink. We arrived just a couple of hours after the U.S. Olympic Team Trials for the Marathon, which were held in Hosuton for the first time. We were among the few odd balls who weren't in running gear and sweats, carrying gym duffles and swag bags from the nearby running convention at the George R. Brown Convention Center. We were on the ice with our sweaters and mittens to protect our hands from falls.
This was our second trip this year. The first trip was amazing. It was a cold day and we stayed on the ice from 4 p.m. until after dark. The city's holiday lights were all around us and they were getting ready to show "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", I think, on the big screen in the park. The ice wasn't crowded, it was cold enough that it stayed smooth, people were in good cheer and we met a friend of Silas's by happenstance. He happily let me do lap after lap forward and backward, while he experimented in the kiddie zone on single-bladed skates for the first time. He joined me every so often to test his skills on the large rink. I felt great, hot and cold at the same time and full of all those sensory memories from my childhood. My legs were strong, I was steady on my feet, and I didn't fall. I remember wishing I had my current "boyfriend" with me so we could hold hands....
This time was a little different. We arrived near mid-day. We were in a bit of hurry because we had somewhere to be at a certain time. Silas only wanted to practice spinning in the kiddie zone. The novices were out in force, turning my relaxed and glorious lap after lap into a series of spontaneous and ever-changing obstacle courses which required constant vigilance to protect myself and others. The sun was out, turning the surface of the ice into a choppy mess and increasing the hazards between Zamboni runs. I fell not once, but THREE times.
The final fall occurred as I was exiting the rink for the final time. I lost my attention for a moment and, smash-ola, I landed squarely on my behind. I hobbled up, did a little body check to be certain emergency treatment was not needed, gathered our stuff and hobbled to the car for the 30-minute drive home. I have been nursing what appears to be a sprained bottom every since. I can't help giggling as I say it. Sprained bottom. Bruised coccyx, strained ligaments, gluteal pain-o maximus. At 49 grand years of age, I wondered, "Should I have skated?" "What if...it doesn't heal...I broke my hip...I'll never be able to do this again...I'm getting too old????"
Mostly I am grateful that I am strong and flexible. I know how to crash. I know how to use yoga to maintain my body when it is well and help heal it when it's hurt. I have strong bones. I have excellent health insurance if I need it. I don't depend on my body to earn a living. I have experience recovering from illness and injury and I have faith in my ability to do both. I have people at home who can be considerate of my temporary disability. And, I have the hope of skating again--maybe even in the snowy north someday. Skiing is also on our winter-spring agenda this year.
In the meantime, I get to appreciate and admire our bravery--Silas's in getting out there to do things he's never done before, and mine for not giving up on things that are exhilarating and fun despite some risk.
My dear husband celebrates a milestone birthday today. I have the flu and my men are not 100%, but we carried on with our at home party, complete with Martha's macaroni & cheese (a once-a-year event) and cherry pie. Silas insisted we all wear our birthday crowns. We don't look as sick as we are, and even though we are not well in body, our spirits are good and we are very happy and grateful for each other and for the joy and companionship we offer one another.
More festivities of an adult variety ensue tomorrow (hearing Bill Moyers speak) and Saturday (dinner with 10 of Scott's oldest friends -- they've all known him longer than I have!). I am hoping for a turn around in my energy and symptoms tomorrow, but at the very least I aim to get as much rest as possible and make the best of this once-in-a-lifetime celebration.
Happy Birthday, Scott....I love you.
Tuesday night I enjoyed the best night's sleep I've had in a couple of weeks. I got up to make my coffee and enjoy a few minutes of quiet reading. Through a series of missteps, I ended up with a burned hand and wet coffee and grounds everywhere in my kitchen. I'm not kidding. Five hours later I am still finding splatter up to 7 feet away from ground zero. I won't tell you how long it took me to clean up the stove and oven area. Not exactly how I wanted to start my day.
On top of it, when my poor husband came to find out what happened and began cleaning up, I took one of his statements as criticism and ejected him from the room. (I later apologized and acknowledged that he intented to help and I rejected him--highlighting my tendency/habit/pattern to not accept help.)
I am not proud to admit that I am a catastrophizer and an over-generalizer. This is typified by my reaction to this experience. All morning I've been asking myself, "What does this mean? What is the universe trying to tell me? How do I say 'thank you' for this experience?" My husband, by contrast, said, "The universe is telling you nothing. Just be more careful." Careful? Mindful? Aware? Awake?
So, after a great cleansing cry about the sorry state of my life, several applications of aloe vera gel and a lot of quiet time in the house doing laundry, cleaning up, changing sheets, etc., I realize there is a message from the universe in all this. The message is whatever I glean from it. And, perhaps there are several messages.
So, here some simple messages: "Do your yoga FIRST"? "Maybe you should consider nixing coffee again"? "Remember to take your hormone-balancing supplements."
Complex messages: "This is the best life you've figured out to date. It's not bad. It's better in so many ways to what I ever could envision for myself. And, it is so much less than I wanted/hoped for. Now what?" If I don't like something or want something to change, do something different.
I am so priveliged in almost every way. When I think of the devastation via natural and man-made disasters, I must be humbled. The worst calamities known to humankind -- starvation, disease, infant mortality, abuse, war, crime, isolation, lack of housing, etc., etc. -- are not part of my life or most people around me. These moments of self-pity and the quest for self-actualization stimulating messages from the universe are luxuries that only those who aren't worried about daily safety and survival can pursue.
I am humbled in the face of it all. Yes there was a message from the universe for me. Remember in each and every moment to treat all beings with kindness and tenderness for they are me, they are you, they are God. Vulnerable, beautiful, strong, powerful, courageous, and in need of sacred acknowledgement and connection.
How to begin...During our Waldorf kindergarten experiment I read a lot about media and the development of children's brains. I read pediatric literature, I read violence and children literature, I read all sorts of Waldorf theory about how the senses develop in children and why 2-dimenional imagery overstimulates certain aspects of the brain and cuts off the visual brain from emotion, results in less imaginative play, and prevents the child's body from moving as much as it needs to do develop the nervous system and habits of activity rather than passivity. Blah, blah, blah.
Our recent experience at the Space Shuttle launch gave me a visceral understanding of the difference bewteen two events experienced in different ways. Real life vs. reel life. This probably is not news to anyone, but there's nothing like being there!
Silas and I watched the previous launch live on the internet. We watched the recent launch from 6 miles away. The difference in the two experiences was indescribable. The experience of being there...really hearing the sound, feeling the heat, watching the fire and clouds of smoke, being outdoors, sharing the experience with lots of people, anticipating. It was a full-out sensory, whole body, whole mind, whole heart experience. It touched me emotionally.
By contrast, the live video on the computer screen was removed and flat. I was a mere spectator, not a participant.
The digitization of images and sound are wonderful for allowing us exposure to things we couldn't see otherwise, but they should never be confused with actually knowing what something is truly like. A recent study revealed that watching a video of a nature scene produced a relaxation response in people, but BEING in nature magnified that effect dramatically.
We don't really know the impact of all the 2-d or even 3-d digital imagery and digitized sound on the human mind, nervous system, heart and gut. We also don't know if there is a difference between 2-d/3-d imagery of the real variety (documentaries, IMAX movies, live events), and 2-d/3-d imagery of the live action or animated fictional kind. This is all relatively new in human experience.
I do know kids who often seem bored and passive. I do know kids whose play seems scripted or programmed by their media habits, whether they be super heroes or vampires. I know kids who seek to be entertained and expect immediate gratification. I do know kids who never want to go outside and play, who don't know where food comes from, who haven't dug in the dirt or laid in the grass. Is there a connection that is on a brain-wiring level, not just about habits or how we use our time? I don't know.
My point is, I want to maximize REAL experience.
Reel experience has it's place. We subscribe to Netflix and use the Red Box for our grown up R&R and continuing education. But, we have been an extremely media-limited family for a long time now. Even before we had our son we owned a tiny 13-inch TV that was hauled out for the Olympics, Oklahoma football, and major news events (this is still our only TV with no satellite/cable).
Our Friday night "movie night" tradition with Silas began a couple of years ago. Until recently it consisted of 20 minutes of "Kipper" or the orignal "Bob the Builder." He's seen a handful of longer format movies which we watch over two or three evenings. We are in the middle of the Cathy Rigby stage version of Peter Pan now, which is available for instant view on Netflix. But we are extremely choosy. Even "The Land Before Time" (dinosaurs!) which Netflix placed in the 2-4 year old age category scared Silas so much he insisted we turn it off after just a few minutes. He's been exposed to a Wii once, and it took us hours to debrief from a Star Wars-based war game. Nonetheless, it's amazing how much media-driven content enters his play by exposure to other children's viewing habits.
Sometimes its tough to not have the TV to turn to for some peace and quiet. But, I feel we are making a long term investment in Silas' mind and imagination by challenging ourselves to find ways of engaging with each other and with our world, developing skills, making art, sharing chores, playing together...that will pay dividends in the long run. There's plenty of time for media exploration....later. I don't believe he will "fall behind" in some dramatic manner by not getting his joystick or thumb-control skills at an early age.
I'm interested in others points of view. How much media? Which media? Any media? Do you see negative effects in your kids from their viewing/gaming habits?
Silas says: "The launch was the best thing I've seen in my whole life!"
Call it an hiatus or a sabbatical. I'm definitely in a time of reflection and renewal. Perhaps it has something to do with Silas turning four and his growing independence. Perhaps it's my own internal clock ticking and telling me that time is short. I want to use my days well. In any case I'm in the middle of it.
I attended a short permaculture discussion once where the facilitator made a distinction between what she called a sustainable culture and a regenerative culture. I'm currently reaching for a regenerative life. I don't want to merely settle for something sustainable. While exploring what this means to me, I've encountered deep pockets of hopelessness about the world--a feeling that the tidal wave of destruction and degeneration has crested and on its inexorable path toward the shore where it will wipe out humanity and cause a world of pain. Happy thoughts for the morning, no?
[This is leading somewhere good, I promise.]
So, allowing for the possibility that this is true...that a critical mass of insanity has actually been achieved, how do I live my days? In the face of certain failure, is there still meaning in what I do? What is my sacred duty? My dharma?
The answer is probably obvious to many of you, but I have struggled with meaning and purpose every day of my life. For better or worse, the disciplines and small joys of daily living and feelings of love and connection are often elusive, and somehow seem insufficient no matter how momentarily satisfying.
My current answer to these questions is to fully align with the forces that act in the world as if it's not too late. To, use my unique talents and gifts to bring light and hope and connection where I can. To assume that my efforts, small and large, are significant and will contribute to the collective karma of the planet. To acknowledge that the seemingly disparate paths I've traveled actually form a web of knowledge and skills that I can employ with integrity and joy to a greater good.
I'm reminded of the time my apartment was broken into and all my small electronics were stolen. My response puzzled some of my friends. I actually felt more secure in the world because it called my attention to the rarity of this type of event in the grand scheme. Most of the time (nearly all the time, in fact) people respect each other and their property. We tend to obey stop signs and stop lights. We get along.
Therefore, I have to allow for the possibility that the negative forces I see so boldly operating in the world may be quite small in comparison with those that are generally positive. This gives me hope and an impetus to journey on. And, even if all is lost, when it's totaled up at the end I want to count myself among those that tried.
So, I may be terminating this blog for a time as I embark on a new venture. We'll see how it goes.
