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.