Grantmaking in the Shallows

I just finished reading The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr. Fascinating read for anyone interacting with the web (you, perhaps?), and particularly engaging for those raising future generations whose brains are rapidly being remapped. The book provides a stimulating romp through the history of information technology and discusses how our current intellectual ethic is not only being transmitted via the internet into our individual minds, but this combo is also restructuring our environment and changing the rules that create and maintain our culture. The internet is not merely a tool, a conduit for content, it is the content; and interacting with this tool is rewiring how we see the world. Although this is true of all tools that humans have created, there is a subtle difference in the ways we are changing through internet usage. Our current intellectual (from the above link) "ethic is the ethic of the industrialist, an ethic of speed and efficiency, of optimized production and consumption — and now the Net is remaking us in its own image. We are becoming ever more adept at scanning and skimming, but what we are losing is our capacity for concentration, contemplation, and reflection."

So, of course, this all made me think about grantmaking. The process many foundations are going through to maximize their impact closely resembles this current intellectual ethic and it’s interesting to consider how it might be tied to the rise of our internet culture. I was struck by Carr's correlation between Google and Taylorism, an -ism I hadn't given much thought to since my graduate studies. Carr states: “Google holds to its Taylorist belief that intelligence is the output of a mechanical process, a series of discrete steps that can be isolated, measured, and optimized … In Google’s world, which is the world we enter when we go online, there’s little place for the pensive stillness of deep reading or the fuzzy indirection of the contemplation. Ambiguity is not an opening for insight but a bug to be fixed.” How often in meetings did I remind volunteers and staff members that grantmaking was a mix of science and art, that there rarely was a 'right' answer when the question was which agency should receive funding. Yet, wasn't it me that was leading the charge to create systems that would help show us the big picture in order to prove our community was 'getting better'? What about ambiguity as an opening for insight? What about that fuzzy indirection of contemplation? Part of the challenge of grantmaking is that real world problems can't wait - there isn't a lot of time to be introspective and still when attempting to keep the lights on at the homeless shelter. Yet, it is the introspection and stillness that allows space for insight and genius to emerge.

After being out of the grantmaking trenches for 2 years I've had a bit of that introspection. The quiet of thinking and reading about grantmaking removed from the mechanical process of grantmaking has given me some new insight. I believe more than ever that grantmaking is about relationships and just, ... well, just giving the money away. Get to know the smart people in your community, the ones that are connectors and entrepreneurs and thought leaders, and give them money to make it happen. And, although this "internet culture" might be adding to the frenzy over how we quantify and monetize our grantmaking, it is also creating a culture of connection and relationship (though sites like Kiva and Donors Choose). So how do we maintain that balance when we're making grants? How do we keep from over thinking and over working the process? How do we, as grantmakers, hold the whole community in mind while discussing the intricacies of one issue, without isolating that issue from its interdependency on everything else?

Grantmaking, like the internet, is a powerful tool. And as long as we maintain a healthy skepticism about that power, we might be able to use the good (illuminating the musty corners of a community that need further exploration; promoting great new ideas that solve entrenched problems) while keeping the bad (over reliance on data; placing more faith in the measurements of success than individual success) in perspective. I also think it has a great deal to do with scale: being able to make system wide changes for the long term while also ensuring individuals live better today.

And finally, I think of the beautiful chaos of nature and how humans continually try to impose order. Perhaps the "bug to be fixed" is actually something that needs to remain messy. Maybe the homeless shelters are our real world fuzzy indirections, meant to slow us down and provide reflection. Perhaps if we were to "fix the problem" of homelessness, hunger, domestic abuse, we'd complete our transformation from contemplative human beings to pixels in an optimized Net.

just one word at a time

So, ugh, remember how I said one of my goals for 2011 was to complete the first chapter of my novel? And then remember how we bought a house and I got pregnant and I stopped writing altogether? Well, I just did something crazy to remedy this little predicament: I signed up for national novel writing month. This participation dictates that I write an entire novel in November. Yessiree, starting November 1 I will attempt to write 50,000 words in 30 days. And if I only get a first chapter out of the exercise? Golden.

I realized this week that although I'm incredibly happy from the outside-in, I've lost my way in how to be happy from the inside-out. Being in the trenches 24/7 with a toddler has wrecked havoc on my self esteem; having very little control over the outcome of anything in my day has begun to make me feel invisible. I need to do something completely for me as I close out this year. I'm the only one responsible for that journey and I'm hopeful that this commitment will force me to look fear and failure in the face. Stop thinking about the damn story and write it!

The revolution will be led by a 12 year old girl

In 1998, to supplement my sporadic film production work, I picked up a few gigs as a substitute teacher at a private school. I had no idea how mesmerized I would be by the honesty and moxie of the girls in middle school. I had heard that girls at that age were horrible, but I was smitten. It seemed clear to me that they sat at the nexus of change for our society; that within their emerging womanhood they held the real solution to all of our problems. There was a light unfiltered, and a story unfolding, that felt like a glimpse into possibility. Perhaps 'horrible' was the dark side of possibility unexpressed, muted, ignored.

Five years later, as a part of my graduate studies, I wrote:

I believe that a girl’s experience provides a mirror on our culture’s desires and downfalls ... In Action Learning: A Holographic Metaphor for Guiding Social Change it states, “A hologram is a photograph, taken with a lens-less camera, where the whole is represented in all the parts. If the hologram is broken, any piece of it can be used to reconstruct the entire image. Everything is in everything else; just as if we are able to throw a pebble into a pond and see the whole pond and all the waves, ripples, and drops of water generated by the splash in each and every one of the drops of water thus produced..." And indeed, what might we learn if we used the two entities, the larger cultural self and the individual self of the girl, to reflect back to each other the present we are fulfilling and the future we are attempting to create. I want to explore the current literature and research available about the development of girls because I think we can illuminate a broader perspective in which to view current culture by seeing girls as a holographic metaphor. By establishing a foundation for healthier women we would in turn be creating a healthier society, and vice versa. 

I spent my time in graduate school focusing this belief by mentoring middle school girls, starting a nonprofit to support high school girls, and reading and writing about how girls are affected by government decisions and media blitz and how they can create change for society.

As I transitioned into my role as a grantmaker I realized the power philanthropy held in this conversation. I witnessed how philanthropy targeted to the needs of women could unlock many of the social problems we faced in our community. The nasty problems, the ones without an easy solution, the ones that are so inextricably linked to everything else that it seems like untangling a rats nest of necklaces. Hunger, homelessness, child abuse … all of these things had a similar leverage point. Get to the young woman, give her an education, a sense of self worth, the opportunity to make choices about childbearing and partnering, a chance to give back to her community, and you see a ripple of change take hold in her family tree. The facts are clear and the studies continue to support this belief. The exciting bit here is that there are now numerous opportunities for philanthropists of all abilities to get involved and make an investment in the revolution.

I am proud to support The Girl Effect. Ridiculous to think it could be this easy, and yet, the message resonates so deeply in my bones as a known truth it feels like something rustling in the wind from long ago.

Watch the video. Consider making a donation. Join the revolution.

Oh, and if after watching that video you're inspired to write your own response to the girl effect, you can do so for the rest of this week and be included in the 2011 Girl Effect Blogging Campaign (where you'll get linked in with all the other bloggers writing about it this week) Be a part of the movement!

Joy, Integrity and Truth

I went to a talk last week given by Bill Grace, the founder of The Center for Ethical Leadership. I’ve had contact with this group before, having worked with them on the Youth Against Violence initiative a couple of years ago (which I wrote about here), but I’ve never had a chance to meet Bill or hear him speak. It was an interesting evening, a discussion of ethical leadership and the need for individuals to access their core values in order to guide their personal journey into leadership. Toward the end of the evening Bill led us through an exercise that would highlight these values for each of us. From a list of 20-30 words we were asked to select the top 10 that resonated for us. From there we had to narrow to 5, then 3. The list I ended up with surprised me. It was late in the evening; I was tired and didn’t want to think too much about the exercise … which is probably the best way to tackle it. I just went with my initial gut, even when my gut was like, “ugh, joy? really? joy is one of your top 3 values? so soft” Yet when I put the 3 values together I was able to see a complete picture of who I am; they created the space in which I set my passions. Between these three words I can weave all sorts of stories and past histories and personal challenges.

Joy embodies all that makes life beautiful. It carries the spirit of thanks and gratitude, an expression of creation and fulfillment. Joy brings the circle around to completion; it is an act of appreciation and awe. I think of the song we sing as we exit mass on Christmas eve, Joy to the world … let heaven and nature sing. Being joyful comes so naturally in children and it’s something to emulate as adults. When my son is joyful, which he was this morning as we walked to school, he skips and sings and twirls around. He runs up to the other kids and giggles and says ‘oh hi!’ He is the first at the door waiting for the teacher and runs up the steps, pulling his jacket off as he goes. Witnessing joy is contagious. It holds within itself peace and grace and all things that make life good.

Integrity is something I certainly value but it never occurred to me that it was one of my values. Are my words aligned with my actions? Are my thoughts aligned with my true self? When I am in sync with myself, aligned from the inside out, all systems are go. I can feel this buzzing that resonates with the world around me. It’s like the barrier of my skin no longer keeps me separate from everything else; there is a merging with my environment that feels like prayer. These moments are strung out along the timeline of my life, certainly not a constant state of being. Maintaining that kind of integrity is a challenge, but I like to think it’s a spectrum, with the hovering, buzzing days as the pinnacle of enlightenment. This isn’t a place you can live, but you can strive for it every day.

Truth really struck me as an odd choice as a value because I don’t believe in an absolute truth. Placing truth as a value seems like a slippery slope. I don’t believe there is one right answer and some of us have it and others just need to be brought around. I think of truth as a splintered prism of light: we each have a piece of it and together these truths create a framework of humanity. Being aware of your own truth and being true to yourself takes a lot of courage. Speaking your truth, being authentic and living with intention is another value I struggle with and try to bring into being every day. “I hold these truths to be self evident” is the same as saying This I Believe, which is really a challenge to illuminate your values. A full circle, again. It’s liberating when you look at the core of what you hold as truth in your heart. And once you’ve arrived at that place, it is divine to begin living it, speaking it, and acting on it.

So after writing all this down and puttering about in the space created between these values, a friend sent me the following video of Brene Brown (whom I’ve also written about here before). I just found it to be such lovely timing, to hear from Brene directly about vulnerability and see some of the same values highlighted in her research findings. What strikes me about all of this, particularly in rereading the posts I highlight here, is that I *know* this. I am saying the same things over and over again. What will it take for me to move my voice outward and begin the journey?

Enjoy.

My summer went something like this ...

Install hardwood on main floor. Move refrigerator, dishwasher and stove into kitchen. Hook up washer and dryer.

Lay carpet upstairs. Begin to unpack and put away clothes and toiletries.

Make several trips to IKEA and Home Depot. Install new light fixtures and find ways to organize in our new space.

Finally get the internet connected.

Get the previous owners to come back and remove their broken down van and hot tub from the backyard.

Celebrate Slade's birthday. Celebrate father's day. Celebrate my birthday.

Meet our new neighbors at a summer kickoff bbq and set up playdates with the kids across the street.

Find and visit our new pediatrician.

Step into the VP board position at ArtsEd Washington.

Set up a date night to see Titanic at Roosevelt High School. 

Bring in all remaining furniture from the garage.

Enroll Liam in a co-op preschool down the street.

These things all happened in the first 2 months of living here. We were rockin'. We were on the cusp of getting this place whipped into shape and I was enjoying feeling settled in after 3 months of packing, renovating and moving.

And then Fourth of July weekend: I take a pregnancy test and the universe stops moving. I proceed to spend the next 10 weeks in my pajamas, eating crackers and napping 3 hours a day while caring for an increasingly energetic 2 year old and moaning about how much I hate being pregnant (i really hate being pregnant and all i could find to be thankful for was that this is the last time i will be pregnant)

This week it started to rain. I couldn't be happier. I pulled out our boots and fleece jackets. Summer is over and I'm not puking anymore. Fall is good. I am thankful for Fall.

Let me be like Maude

Let me throw my most prized possession into the middle of a lake so I’ll always know where it is. Let me know that things will only be meaningful in my mind and my heart, not in my hand.

Last week my sister and I traveled back to Montana to spend Memorial Weekend with my 90 year old grandparents. The whole family went back, a planned visit when we could all be there, in order to go through their house and divvy up ‘stuff’ in preparation for their move to an assisted living facility. Problem was, Grandfather is in early stage dementia and had forgotten he’d planned this weekend, so we arrived like vultures picking meat off of the bones of a still living animal. He became sullen and angry, my mother got into an argument with her mother that ended with both of them in tears and my grandmother storming into her room and locking her door. Delightful. Meanwhile, the rest of us got into the scotch and watched Liam ride a cane around the house like a wooden horsey.

Let me remember as I age to begin parting with cherished items as I go: to children and grandchildren, my jewelry, my plates, and to friends and neighbors, shoes that don’t fit, handbags no longer necessary. Let me remember not to place too much importance on the material item. My mother just said to me today that her sister is getting all of the items that had belonged to Uncle Carl. She said, ‘Uncle Carl was just my favorite. He was grandmother’s favorite brother and I just loved him. He was my favorite. And I’m not going to get anything of his to remind me of him”. So without the ‘stuff’ (that she's never owned or had in her own home to see every day) she won’t be able to remember him? It becomes more competition between siblings, more proof of favoritism, more fodder for hurt feelings. There’s this little voice inside saying, “I want it I want it I want it” which sounds childish and feels wronged. I experienced it while I was there. I could feel the pull of the undercurrent, taunting me that I wasn’t going to get anything if I didn’t speak up. I took some time to walk through the house looking at everything with the eyes of wanting and I could see a few things that I wouldn’t mind having. But I also felt the deep pain of a losing game : as soon as I became invested in wanting something I was setting myself up for getting hurt by not getting it. I started repeating in my head, ‘I have everything I need already. I am so lucky. I have everything I need and more already.’

Much easier in theory than practice, but practice will help. After these visits with my grandparents I become absorbed with thoughts of how to age gracefully; how to let go of the things I could once do, the things I once had, while watching the younger ones soar into the height of their energy and success. How do I cultivate joy in passing the baton to the next generation? How can I be more like Maude?

Taking a break ...

I'm stepping away from my goal of posting once a week, just for awhile.
We bought the hoarder house and are in demo and renovation mode.
Here's what the living room looked like when we got the keys on Tuesday:

 And here's what it looked like 4 days later:

No doors, no floors, no railings. There is a hole in the master bedroom floor into the kitchen and the french doors in the master bedroom have been pulled out. We have drywall guys and painter guys and carpeting guys and furnace guys all coming around to give quotes ... we have a large hole in the hallway closet, pictured above, that is filled with rat poop. We have 2.5 weeks to move in. That's right, 2.5 weeks before we hand over our current house keys to the new tenant.

Beyond the fear and stress of the house though, I have to say I am more and more excited about the new neighborhood. It was a beautiful afternoon yesterday, all the cherry blossom trees were dropping pink petals and kids were running out to meet Liam. Neighbors were streaming over to greet us and tell us how great the block is and how happy they are to see us. I keep telling myself "you can fix the house, you can't fix the neighborhood", and I think we lucked out. Right now I'm busy researching stair railings and packing up the house, so blogging will either be an afterthought or a place to document some of this change. I'll be back later this Spring/early Summer!

Eating Crow

My acupuncturist has advised me to eat some meat.

• She told me she didn't eat meat for 14 years and found there was a cumulative effect of poor health, nothing she noticed right away or on its own.
• She urged me to think about how the human body is built, that our teeth and digestive systems are designed to eat flesh.  
• She pointed out that there are benefits from meat, occasionally and in small amounts, that we can't get from other sources.
• She also talked with me about the climate we live in, and during these cold, wet months our bodies need to eat warmth in order to flourish.
• She provided me with a hand out, told me it was of course my decision, but she'd been down this path and really felt I should reconsider.

So, here I am, in limbo. Once you make the statement "I don't think meat will ever be a part of my diet again", whaddya do? It's not that I haven't had meat at all. There were some occasions over the holidays, a little turkey here, a little pot roast there. I didn't claim to be a strict vegetarian, but I was making more intentional choices around consuming meat, and for me that meant little to none.

I suppose, on a very basic level, I’m struggling with death and my contribution to the cycle of life. When I say that not eating meat allows me to feel that “I'm living my convictions, eating with empathy and thoughtfulness", I’m talking about honoring life. I'm grappling with whether its true that being of the human race makes me a carnivore. I do know that by just being alive I’ve benefited from death, ashes to ashes and all that.

Many themes of death and renewal for me right now, appropriately in the midst of Lent. The discussion of death always bring me back to evaluating ritual and prayer in my life. I'm still not sold on eating much, if any, meat, but I can at least make a re-commitment to ritual and prayer: if something died in order that I should live, I give thanks.

Mama's Got a Brand New Bag

While following Susan Wagner's What I'm Wearing pictures (addicted really, she's adorable, I love the cocked camera in the mirror, it's hard to look away) I came across her article about taking stock of what's in the closet. I was inspired. I knew there were some maternity pants lurking in the back and a few awkward sweaters my well meaning mother had given me for Christmas. I tried everything on. I was brutal, tossing things that I really thought I'd figure out how to make look good on my body someday, as well as shoes that I just love but have always given me blisters. But here's the twist: I added a step to Susan's instructions and included a clothing exchange party with some girlfriends. While I ate cheese and drank wine I watched the things that never worked on me take on new life.

oh that's how it's supposed to look

super cute as a preggo jacket!

It was such a fun afternoon, I highly recommend it. (And I actually didn't get a bag, I just liked the title. I did however get a coupla great sweaters, black flats and a cute red sundress which was a hit at my niece's 1st birthday party earlier this month.) We ended up with two or three hefty bags full of clothing to take to Goodwill, a bag for consignment and a special bag of formal wear and jewelry to donate to The Ruby Room. And we each walked away with a few choice pieces to add back in to the closet at home.

My closet feels streamlined and it's been a lot easier to get dressed in a hurry (which is the only way I get dressed now). There was some initial doubt about getting rid of a few items - nothing is more telling than watching a girlfriend try something on and say, this is cute! to make you feel that mine!mine! emotion. This is the very same emotion I'm watching develop in Liam (sans the pushing part) and it reminded me that although it's a human response, it is one we can mature beyond. Letting go and sharing, giving away and giving back, are all a part of our individual journey toward enlightenment (yep. i said enlightened. through closet purging) Being able to enjoy others appreciation for my stuff-that's-just-stuff, and really delight in seeing them shine in something that I could never make shine, was fascinating. It was liberating to let things go. Cleaning my closet was a very real-time, tangible lesson in taking a deep breath and letting go. Our possessions can become a part of the background, and when we stop seeing them, we stop appreciating them. Clearing out the clutter does more than open space in our closets and cupboards; it can freshen up the vista outside your window and open the door for something entirely new to enter your life.

(cue Babs)

What to do for Japan

The first one: a little rough.

In the face of such great damage and personal tragedy it's hard to know what to do and how to give. The flurry of news, being able to witness what was happening first hand from eyewitness accounts and every news outlet, made me feel helpless. And even though I have experience with strategic philanthropy I still get the feeling that I’m too far away for my $25 to make any sort of difference. Logically I'm thinking, there's still work to be done in Haiti, as there is still work to be done in New Orleans ... pick something to care about and stick with it. It feels fickle, jumping on the disaster bandwagon when there is still recovery work to be done in other areas. I realize life doesn't work this way; this is how systems play out, reverberating against each other. You don't get to solve one problem before another arises. Yet it contributes to the feeling of helplessness: are we just running around putting out fires or are we changing the way fires are started and dealt with? I have compassion fatigue. It's shutting me down and my money feels like the last thing that would help. I want to bring a casserole and a blanket, do the things that connect me as a human being.

So when I care deeply and I feel helpless, do I write a check? Whether that check actually makes a difference on the ground or the action simply makes me feel better shouldn’t negate the fact that I did something. Right? I think about giving with intention, which at its root is acting with intention. The simple act of doing something mindful directs energy toward the problem. I can't show up with a casserole and a blanket, but I can write a check. And if writing a check doesn't feel like the right response there are many other ways to direct my energy with intention. I was impressed with the campaign to fold paper cranes (this is a great site, love the creativity of young'uns!), and so, to keep my hands busy and my mind focused in prayer for those suffering, I started to fold.

Sometimes I wonder how having the world this connected (allowing us to emotionally participate in all the grief that's fit to print) is changing us. Will it deepen our ability for compassion? Or to the realization that the lines we draw on a map are arbitrary? It's given me the chance to think about how I can channel my sadness and fear. What action will do the most good? Right now its in folded bits of paper.

**Here's a great pdf guide to folding your own paper cranes!**

Behind the Scenes

Three weeks since I posted, and I’ll be honest, it feels like two days. A whirlwind of activity involving a trip to California, many networking coffee dates, focused writing for the novel, some work on the business plan, fundraising for my board work … and quite frankly, I just haven't been in the mood to write here. The biggest event of the last three weeks has been purchasing the mother of all fixer uppers. I'm going to be hard pressed to accomplish my list of goals this year with this grand old lady on the horizon. Here’s to streamlining and being intentional with every bit of time I have …

There are many things I want/need to write about, not least of which are some thoughts on the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. But today I wanted to reflect on a recent episode of Anthony Bourdain in Haiti. It was a tough episode to watch, as it seemed to be a tough episode to film. There is a pivotal moment when Anthony decides to buy all the remaining food from a woman cooking on the street and give it to the kids standing around watching them film, kids who haven't eaten in days. And what happens? As the observer you can just see it coming. Long queues form, someone uses a leather belt to whip back the crowds, and, as Anthony says, “it all turned to shit” (watch it here). You get that knot in your stomach that tells you that your 'help' did nothing but make you feel good about yourself for a moment; its how I’ve come to define the difference between charity and philanthropy. Philanthropy gets to the underlying issues and solves problems long term while charity takes away the pain for a moment. In order for real change to occur there needs to be a one-two punch, artfully constructing a new reality by weaving philanthropy throughout your charity.

Most importantly, if you wanna help people, you've gotta get down in the trenches and be with them (lovely to see Sean Penn in this episode showing how this is done). Anthony muses on the fact that the problem was thinking with his heart rather than his head, but in these situations it’s imperative to do both. This is where working with those you’re serving is key. If Anthony had asked the woman serving the food how best to distribute it, I bet she would have had some good ideas. Or maybe he could have selected some of the kids sitting at the table with him to work with the crew for the week in exchange for meals. It’s an impossible situation, one that people the world over are trying to solve. How do you meet the immediate needs while building and sustaining a way for people to move beyond immediate needs? It’s a balance between serving with your head and your heart, working logically with compassion.

Giving What We Can

I've toyed over the years with giving away ten percent of my earnings, yet have never felt that I could really afford it. There are the car payments and the student loan ... and yes, well, the nice dinners out and the vacations. I don't feel we live a wealthy life, we're modest in our purchases and save quite a bit, but we do live well, I'm aware of that. And although giving ten percent is a goal, today it feels even more difficult because we're living on one salary and in the process of buying a house. But the truth is, we're making a choice, either to do it or not to do it; and because philanthropy is my bailiwick I lead the troops in this choice. If I just had a way to visualize what kind of sacrifice we were talking about here ...

Enter the How Rich Am I? tool. Plugging in our household numbers illustrated that we are in the richest 3% of the world's population. You kinda think that space is reserved for people like Bill Gates and Oprah and it's intimidating to think you could have the same kind of impact with your earnings if you were thoughtful and intentional about it. The space between how well I live compared to the person down the street who built a million dollar house suddenly grows very slim. The following page provides a pledge calculator to show what you could contribute over your lifetime and how this amount translates to lives saved, years of healthy lives saved and years of school attendance produced. Really good stuff.

It's a choice, like everything else: one day you just make a different choice, no big deal. I like to think we're making steps in the right direction; this year we gave the largest gift we've ever given. I won't lie, it's hurting a bit, but I don't regret it. It's our baby step toward bigger gifts, to pushing the envelope even further so we always feel a bit of that pinch. It's refreshing to say to myself, you can't have an espresso today because you made a choice to support arts education instead. That doesn't feel like a sacrifice at all; it feels like a gift.

Meat Eatin'

In reviewing my journey in blogging last year I realized that without too much thought I accomplished something I mentioned in one of my first posts: in October I stopped eating meat.

This has been much less of a challenge than I thought it would be. I haven't missed meat at all; in fact, I'm enjoying food a whole lot more. I've discovered some great bean and tofu based recipes and I'm feeding the whole family on these. My husband will occasionally cook himself some chicken or beef and we make an effort to give this to Liam as well (though we're finding he spits it out every time, stuffing his face with veggies and beans and cheese). I still eat fish, and over the holidays I did eat some meat that was prepared by my hosts. This was due in part because I wasn't quite prepared to tell them I was a vegetarian. And this was because, well quite honestly, I don't consider myself a vegetarian. It's semantics I'm sure, but I don't see my choice to not eat meat as a category I now fall under. I'm afraid the label will define me in a way that I don't feel defined. My choice is not to never eat meat again, it's to minimize meat eating (which most of the time will mean that I don't eat meat). I want to feel that if at some point I'm presented with a steak it wouldn't be a huge deal if I decided to eat it ("omg, when is the last time you had meat? so are you not a vegetarian anymore?") It feels like a private choice, not something I want to broadcast or be judged by. Eating meat is just something I don't want to do anymore.

One side effect that I hadn't given any thought is that I'm still losing weight, way past the baby weight and now pre-pregnancy pants are loose on me. I feel great, good energy and rosy cheeks. Mostly however, there's a real sense of balance, of feeling like I'm living my convictions, eating with empathy and thoughtfulness. It's not for everyone (some of my dearest friends tell me they feel faint if they don't have a little meat every day, and I totally get it) but for me, just for me, I don't think meat will ever be a part of my diet again.

Poking Holes in the Ether

Eternity is in love with the creations of time. ~ William Blake

At first I’m not so much struck by this statement itself, but in how Steven Pressfield, in his book The War of Art,* explains it. Pressfield takes delight in thinking of eternity as capable of being in love, an abstract being that takes “joy in what we timebound beings can bring forth into physical existence in our limited material sphere”. I reread Blake’s statement with greater understanding (eternity is an entity with the capacity to love and the entire span of history has been witnessed by this entity and the inventions and constructions humans and nature create bring delight) and I have to put the book down. I know this place, this space of eternity that is alive. It’s lovely to have it eloquently given shape and substance. The simplicity of Blake’s phrase unfolds to remind us where we came from and calls us to return to ourselves if we’ve lost our way. I get a peek over the hedge to that over there I know so well.

If eternity is capable of being in love -and my heart stops for a moment- everything will be ok. What I’m doing is delightful. What I create, whether crafts or businesses, is what it’s all about. Creation is what life is all about and the practice of sitting down at the table everyday and offering myself as a portal in which to bring forth creation is not about determination or skill or raw talent. It is not about discipline as a chore in order to get to the good stuff. It is a sacrament, a meditation, a melting away of self. This is a mandate I can work with. Writing is not a selfish indulgence; it is an urgent directive, my prayer for humanity.

And so, I’ve become swept up in the idea of eternity being in love, of eternity being the background space that holds all of this-that-we-know together, pulsing with warmth and light. I’m particularly taken with the imagery because of my fascination with the science of time and the thought that it may not be what it appears. Poking holes in the ether … bringing into being something that didn’t exist before, with the awareness that it’s always existed.

*A big thank you to The Minimalist Mom for this book recommendation.

And speaking of technology ...

No posting last week because we took a family vacation: one week away on an island, with coconuts and fresh fish and sandy beaches. And, we left our laptop and our blackberries at home with the intent of actually connecting with each other and the new place we were experiencing. We spent the days playing in the water with our son and the evenings reading and drinking wine and discussing what we wanted to do with the rest of our life.

And now we're back, slightly tan, not at all rested (vacation is a word thrown around much too casually when you're traveling with a one and a half year old), and with a whole lot of new reality to deal with ... more on that later. Leaving behind our tech devices and removing ourselves from the world of information for a week was cathartic. Mostly, it gave me the nudge I needed to step back from facebook, take a little breather, analyze why and when I feel like posting a status update or checking other updates. When I reflected on what I was posting I was a little embarrassed. I was assuming that my mundane or witty comments were interesting to other people, it gave me an audience to show off in front of, to illustrate how happy and successful and beautiful my family is ... why, it's a device to feed the ego! This, when I'm actively trying in other areas of my life to quiet the ego. So although this realization did not result in a deleted account (because, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I don't believe the technology itself is the problem, the problem lies in how I choose to use it), I have removed the facebook icon from my blackberry and am making a conscious effort to not update my status. I mean, my status? What does that even mean?

I've got some interesting topics to explore in the next few weeks and I'm looking forward to bringing new energy to my writing here. The tech-less vacation trip has brought more than one inspiration to light.

On Where We're Going

I find myself a little obsessed with how technology and social networking is changing us. I've read a lot of cautionary tales about how it's going to be our downfall, how we're forgetting to connect in real time, how kids today (always a red flag statement) don't have the community ethic or attention span. But I don't know. To some extent I do agree with all of this, yet I also don't believe we can know where we're going. Who knows what kind of world this will be in 100 years. It might behoove our race to not have an attention span long enough to read Crime and Punishment or know how to communicate with each other face to face. We might need to make quick decisions based on little information and do this without knowing the person we're deciding with. Although I immediately begin thinking of humans as energy sources for machines or living in pods underground, I wonder if that's because it's the only vision I've been fed. It might not be frightening to those living in that time. It could be that all this decentralization and speeding up of information is laying the groundwork for a kind of utopia we can't even imagine.

I'm thinking of this today because I've been converting all of our cds to mp3s (yes, I got there from here). I'm about halfway done and it's been a dozen every few days for the last several weeks. I'm thoroughly enjoying myself, as the task combines two of my favorite things: seeing progress unfold on a tangible sized job (like scrubbing down the refrigerator or deadheading the rhodies) and reminiscing about my life (Critters Buggin'! Slant 6! Screaming Trees for chrissakes ... the doc martins, the pitchers of Pabst at the Beav, driving sweet Blackie O) And as I methodically worked through the pile, thinking about who I was in the 90s and the explosion of technology that has happened in just this short amount of time, I began to wonder how my grandparents experienced this last 20 years. Or how my cousin, who will enter college soon, will experience the next 20 years. We are all, of a time, of a place. We think we know what's best for the next generation but we don't.

There are some simple lessons here ... the first that comes to mind is to tread lightly. Underlying all of this talk of technology and what it's doing to us is the desire to ensure that the next 20 years comes, in whatever form. So, a separate conversation, but #1 is taking care of our home. Following this I'd say:

Keep up to date: do what you can to explore and understand (not necessarily master) new technology. I was anti Facebook for a long time until I heard myself say how unnecessary it was, that it would just go the way of Friendster and MySpace, so why bother. I realized that each piece of technology that I avoided because it might just be a stupid stepping stone to something else would eventually leave me in the dust. How could I understand this world of social networking if I didn't get in the pool with everyone else? With my current attitude I would quickly join the ranks of an 'old person', stubbornly clinging to the past while the future lives without me. I take my father-in-law as a good example of how to do it right. At 70+ years he is making videos with his new iTouch and sending them out to his kids ... he's way ahead of any of us and I really admire that.
Ask questions of those older than you: try to come to terms with how quickly time passes and how much changes in one lifetime. I can talk with my grandmother about playing in the train depot while she waited for her dad to get off of work, or my grandfather about the cost of his first car and how he would save to buy a new pair of shoes. What they've seen blows my mind. It makes me realize how similar we are and that when you look back over 90 years it quickly condenses down into a blip, just a moment in time. I am not the most important thing to walk the planet. My generation did not create the coolest thing ever. Every generation is cutting edge in context of their time spent here.
Ask questions of those younger than you: although every generation is cutting edge at their time, the younguns are definitely a part of the coolest right now. And right now is where we're living. I was talking to my 16 year old cousin about what music she listens to and all of a sudden I realized, it's less about what and more about how. I wanted to know if her friends made mixed tapes, er, cds, er, mp3 playlists ... and how did they transfer those to each other? Or was mixing music even something to do anymore ... maybe there are different things being 'mixed' right now that I'm not even aware of. I wanted to know how she discovered new music - radio? xm? amazon suggestions? Turns out, she's listening to the same radio station I did in highschool. Which, truly, that's kinda weird. The look on her face, well, now I know how I look to my grandparents. It was a cross between disbelief that radio existed so long ago and trying to imagine that I could have been anything like her when I was her age.

Understanding where I fit on the continuum gives me hope that each generation brings new material to the conversation. Each new phase of life on the planet evolves us toward something we cannot possibly understand or appreciate. But we can be present and continue to be curious and thoughtful about how we're evolving. Technology and social networking sites are not something to be afraid of or to stubbornly tune out. They are tools like fire and disposable mop heads, changing us for the better and the worse, depending on how we use them (this is maybe where the discussion is going, where my passion really lies - because how we use them is what is changing us).

Bottom line is that you must know what you're dealing with in order to be a part of the change and a part of the solution. We're on the frontier of something, that's for sure, and I certainly hope I get to be a part of it.

I walk into Liam’s room at 2am, responding to his wails with a sippy cup of water and the reassurance that it’s nighttime, go back to sleep, it’s nighttime. Without the lights on the smell of vomit is stronger, and oh man I’m tired. I turn the light on to see how bad it is, try to assess if this is going to be an all-nighter. Every few months he does this, pukes once or twice during the night and then is perfectly fine in the morning.

So I’m shuffling around changing the sheets and stripping off clothes when I hear his stomach lurch an adult size lurch and before I can prepare for it I’m covered in vomit, working my way slowly to the bathroom while I rub his back. Slade is up, takes over the baby while I strip down out of my pajamas and drape myself in a towel to begin the vigil. We rock, he moans, stomach rumbles and a little puke. He’s bright eyed but pale and listless. He sits facing me with his legs wrapped around my waist, tiny fingers playing with the trim of my tank top. All the while he’s looking at me, barely blinking, so miserable but calm, focused. For a moment I’m reminded of us in the beginning when we were together in the middle of the night, him looking up at me while breastfeeding. Through his gaze, once again, I’m transported to wherever he came from. I see it all so clearly, so simply. This is not about him. This is not about me. This is about being called to serve something greater than either of us alone. I’m the caretaker of this spirit for this period of time. What a gift I have been given, what a raw and awesome gift. Being a mother is merely an opportunity for me to be in service to the universe; and it is no more clear to me than in this moment, waiting to be puked on. When he finally settles his head on my shoulder and wraps one arm up and over my neck, I rock. I rock until his breathing deepens into dreams. I close my eyes then and continue rocking, keeping time with all the mothers up tonight, all the mothers holding vigil for little spirits awakening in this world.

Giving Thanks

When I was a kid we went to church every Sunday and said a prayer over dinner every night. These practices have fallen away for me and I've been torn about the role I play in bringing religion or spirituality to my children. Slade was not raised in a religious tradition and does not have the same desire to share this journey. I'm intent on finding some middle ground, bringing a level of appreciation and wonder for the world, a respect for others and self, a trust in a divine pattern of some sort. It will be an ongoing challenge for me I'm sure, but I knew from the beginning that I wanted our family to give daily thanks. So even though Liam is only a year and a half I have begun asking 'What are you thankful for today?' as we sit down for dinner together. It's much harder than I thought, coming up with something new to appreciate every day, but it's such a good exercise. I want it to be something that is second nature for Liam, something he instinctively does as he grows up.

We usually start, each of us talking about what we are grateful for that day, and then I turn to Liam. "What about you? What are you thankful for?" And the past two nights he has paused, but kept looking at me intently, and then said, 'cat!' He only has a handful of words (truck, cat, down, no, daddy, shoe) but I like to think he was sorting through those things to share which one he was particularly happy about.

The feeling, unfortunately, is not reciprocated.

When dreams become reality ...

The words we speak curl out in front of us, creating a new reality to step into. I'm reminded of this today, listening again to Dr. King's I Have A Dream speech. His words are instigators, building a common space where we can join together and get to work.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

The power of his dream, which is the dream we all dream, resonates across the years and now through youtube clips and highschool reenactments. He knew that his dream was the dream of a nation and the truth of his vision lives in my marrow. I know this dream.

Social justice begins when we dare dream of a better way. Speak the dream out loud and if it resonates as truth change begins to happen. It takes but one of us to have a dream. Challenge the status quo, question the systems we currently have in place. Do they serve us anymore? Be creative and thoughtful and intentional with your life. Take the time to dream of what could be.

I was watching Joy Behar interview Roseanne Barr last night and I started feeling depressed and anxious. Life is happening right now. Life is passing right now. Is this what I want to be doing? Am I doing what I want to do with my life? It became clear in that instant that the world is divided into two camps, consumers and creators. And right now, I am a consumer. My recent desire for simplicity goes way beyond stuff. When I read blogs or play around on Stumble Upon during naptime or stay up to watch sitcoms after the house is once again asleep, I am consuming without any output. And I don't want to be a consumer, I want to be consumed. I want to be a part of the conversation, not on the sidelines taking it all in. I know, I've been tired this year, creating a life and nurturing growth in a small child, but all this mindless consumption is numbing me. I'm afraid I'll wake up 60 years old wondering what the hell happened. I was going to write a book, start a business, produce a film ... if I don't start now when do I think this is going to happen?

So I'm giving myself some goals this year rather than resolutions. In writing, here we go:

1. Write the first chapter in my novel.
2. Host a simplicity retreat.
3. Post at least once a week.
4. Write up a business plan for philanthropy consulting.

That's a good start I think. A bit ambitious even, especially if we plan to move and get pregnant again. Geesh. But if I post these 4 goals maybe they will inspire me to do something when I have a free hour here and there, keep me on track with my creativity. I think part of the problem is knowing I only have an hour or two at a time, I mean, what can I get done in an hour or two? But if I see each hour as part of a larger goal ...

I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that. ~Mr. Dobler

Mesmerized

It's been 10 minutes and I can't look away from Breathing Earth ... I guess I've always assumed (wrongly, I know) that people die and are born in a balanced kind of way. I know statistically this isn't true, but it's hard to wrap my head around what this looks like. Fascinating to watch the discrepancy play out. Breaks my heart a little bit, to imagine the web of sorrow and joy each of those blips makes. Just a blip in a computer generated algorithm that represents a whole life, awakening or fading. I imagine there is something like this running on a huge screen in the background of our creator.

Creepin' myself out. Back to househunting.

Hoarding

We've been looking for a new home for nearly a year now. We've seen houses striped of all hardware and houses that don't have stairs to the basement level, we've been entangled in a possible short sale since July that has kept our hopes up and made everything else pale in comparison. It's been a year coming to terms with the fact that we might not be able to move back to the city.

Enter the new year. On Saturday we met our agent at a house that will be listed in a few weeks, after the current residents clean out their stuff in order for proper pictures to be taken. He warned us of the hoarding, that we'd have to have vision, that it wasn't for the faint of heart to see a house before it was ready for viewing. Fear not, I have an overabundance of vision - just sometimes not the cashflow reality to recognize that my 'creative fixes' will run another $50k. This wasn't a dirty home, it wasn't filled with garbage as far as I could tell; just boxes of paperwork, books, piles of clothes, unopened packages containing hundreds of packets of tea. You couldn't see the floor, you couldn't see the furniture. There were pathways and tunnels to get around the house. There were french doors to a lovely deck that you couldn't get to.

In a twisted way it feels like a sign that the current owners are hoarders. Like we could use this as an opportunity to take stock of our own possessions, and in turn make each corner of this house a sacred space, open and uncluttered. I can't imagine being trapped in this homemade labyrinth, yet I wonder if we aren't all, to some extent, burying ourselves alive. Sadness and grief, manifested as addictions, depression or a compulsion of some sort, shut out the light and drown us in our own undoing. If every disorder is a spectrum I'm aware that I share a gene with these people. Do I need 3 fleece jackets? 12 pairs of black pumps? I'm pretty sure it's a fine line between being a 'collector' of nuts and a hoarder.

So we're processing whether we can afford it, the price of the house combined with the vision of what it could be, but we're optimistic. There even seems to be a buzz of energy, a surge of potential that I haven't felt in awhile. So we'll see ... but I find it very interesting that as I'm coming to terms with my desire to create space for simplicity we tour the house of a hoarder, and after a year of looking it might just be the right house.