In 2003 I took a Dale Carnegie Class, paid for by my employer. The 12 week course promised overnight success in work and social situations. On the first night I learned ten topics that allow you to have great conversations with anyone, starting with saying their name. Then it went to where they grew up, family, vacations, hobbies, books, etc. The course focused on story telling and audience, which was helpful, but what I struggle with is how to be myself, given my habit of needing to please others. I can keep someone talking, but where do I engage and include my own life in the equation. I wondered after these seemingly successful interactions, if these people learned anything about me and if they would remember me from anyone else, given they were the only ones talking. They might have felt good about themselves, but I would leave feeling bland.
It is ingrained in me that I must please others, fill empty space, try to get people to feel comfortable, but I feel sad that once I am in the interaction, I sometimes turn off, because either the topic I inquired about is not interesting to me, or I think my work is done and I shut off my brain and nod my head methodically pretending to listen. In these moments I feel guilty, fraudulent and a strong desire to retreat.
As I ponder this wanting to please, against wanting to show up and be in relationships that are genuine, I can't help but reach for my DePaul textbook called, "How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci." The book is amazing and exhausting at the same time, given that da Vinci attempted to do everything all the time. In one sections on fostering curiosity, I am struck by how this leads to engagement with developing oneself and learning from others. I believe that people who value themselves and engage in meaningful dialogue are curious. This makes me think that if I engage from this place, I could have satisfying interactions. I have observed and enjoyed brilliant conversations with people who are so in tuned to me (or whoever they are talking to) and also dynamic, and I believe the reason is that they are passionate about specific things. My guess is they are happy being alone as well. They seem to be masterful in both valuing their point of view and also mine. Further, they enter the conversations with energy and defectiveness around what matters.
Here are questions I would like to answer: What am I curious about, What do I value in me, and How do I engage from that place? The book has exercises like, enter things from a child's point of view, realize your hobbies, build your own and nurture your emotional intelligence by studying others. I think I will try out the entering things from a child's perspective, given I have a 2.5 year old and could have fun getting into this role. So if you talk to me, beware, I might ask you things like, Where are you? What's that? What are you talking about? Where is [Name}?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 02, 2010
We Were Built to Create!
I want to make a note about being an Artist. I believe that we are ALL made to create!
This weekend a friend with a little vegtible garden commented that when she sees all of her plants, she wonders how anyone can question if there is a God. I had a similar thought while viewing thousands of animals at the 4H Fair last Wednesday. The spots and greys, thicknesses, hair types, noises, and smells all speak of an artist who is incredibly imaginative. Beyond the varieties and colors, are billions of personalities present in each horse, cow, lama, goat, chicken, and most profoundly in the proud children who raised them.
As I sit here writing, I give myself (and you) permission to create without guilt or a need to justify the time.
This weekend a friend with a little vegtible garden commented that when she sees all of her plants, she wonders how anyone can question if there is a God. I had a similar thought while viewing thousands of animals at the 4H Fair last Wednesday. The spots and greys, thicknesses, hair types, noises, and smells all speak of an artist who is incredibly imaginative. Beyond the varieties and colors, are billions of personalities present in each horse, cow, lama, goat, chicken, and most profoundly in the proud children who raised them.
As I sit here writing, I give myself (and you) permission to create without guilt or a need to justify the time.
Censorship (Do I Cower at Having Readers?)
So I think someone might be reading this. From the minute I posted my blog link on Facebook, it has been an amazing roller coaster in my head. Without thinking much, I decided to have the Guts to share with others. The initial responses were all so supportive. Then I had some people talk about how personally touched they were by it and I panicked. It is funny how I can share in a random text box, but it feels much more scary to actually talk about my struggles in person. For an hour or so, I wondered if I should re-read everything, edit it to death and then apologize to you.
It felt a bit like my Senior Art Show, where I posted personal struggles I had with men in my artist statement, only to go back and put up a more generic statement a few hours later. The funny thing was that the few people who read the original were so moved and able to connect and disappointed by the change.
For my Art Show, I starting making what I thought was a beautiful pregnant woman, only to be told by my mentor that the woman was not pregnant, but holding onto something. The final piece is a woman holding a hollow masculine mask. In my show as today, when I step out of a "norm" or say something weighty, I feel a bit sick. Instinct dictates that people might not like me, they might be offended and in the end, I will be alone, like Asher Lev. In the book, My Name is Asher Lev, Asher starts with this.
My name is Asher Lev, the Asher Lev, about whom you have read in newspapers and magazines, about whom you talk so much at your dinner affairs and cocktail parties, the notorious and legendary Lev of the Brooklyn Crucifixion.
I am an observant Jew. Yes, of course, observant Jews do not paint crucifixions. As a matter of fact, observant Jews do not paint at all--in the way that I am painting. So strong words are being written and spoken about me, myths are being generated: I am a traitor, an apostate, a self-hater, an inflicter of shame upon my family, my friends, my people; also, I am a mocker of ideas sacred to Christians, a blasphemous manipulator of modes and forms revered by Gentiles for two thousand years.
I took a risk in the Spring when I shared a story about a childhood Spanking and sweat bullets as I read it, thinking people would treat me like I had leprosy. The amazing thing was that every one of my classmates wrote comments back saying that they had had similar experiences. I was shocked at the connection and thankful that I took the risk.
Should I go into hiding and pretend I did not write a blog and retract my invitation to share or should I risk exposure in hopes of having a deeper relationship with myself, with you and with God. My real desire is to dialogue with anyone who wants to talk, either about what I have written or what is on your mind. So I will do my best to speak truthfully, so that real work can be done towards enlightenment, change and deeper engagement about things that matters.
It felt a bit like my Senior Art Show, where I posted personal struggles I had with men in my artist statement, only to go back and put up a more generic statement a few hours later. The funny thing was that the few people who read the original were so moved and able to connect and disappointed by the change.
For my Art Show, I starting making what I thought was a beautiful pregnant woman, only to be told by my mentor that the woman was not pregnant, but holding onto something. The final piece is a woman holding a hollow masculine mask. In my show as today, when I step out of a "norm" or say something weighty, I feel a bit sick. Instinct dictates that people might not like me, they might be offended and in the end, I will be alone, like Asher Lev. In the book, My Name is Asher Lev, Asher starts with this.
My name is Asher Lev, the Asher Lev, about whom you have read in newspapers and magazines, about whom you talk so much at your dinner affairs and cocktail parties, the notorious and legendary Lev of the Brooklyn Crucifixion.
I am an observant Jew. Yes, of course, observant Jews do not paint crucifixions. As a matter of fact, observant Jews do not paint at all--in the way that I am painting. So strong words are being written and spoken about me, myths are being generated: I am a traitor, an apostate, a self-hater, an inflicter of shame upon my family, my friends, my people; also, I am a mocker of ideas sacred to Christians, a blasphemous manipulator of modes and forms revered by Gentiles for two thousand years.
I took a risk in the Spring when I shared a story about a childhood Spanking and sweat bullets as I read it, thinking people would treat me like I had leprosy. The amazing thing was that every one of my classmates wrote comments back saying that they had had similar experiences. I was shocked at the connection and thankful that I took the risk.
Should I go into hiding and pretend I did not write a blog and retract my invitation to share or should I risk exposure in hopes of having a deeper relationship with myself, with you and with God. My real desire is to dialogue with anyone who wants to talk, either about what I have written or what is on your mind. So I will do my best to speak truthfully, so that real work can be done towards enlightenment, change and deeper engagement about things that matters.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sleepless Stupor
I just love this verse from Job 10: "You will forget your misery; you will remember it as waters that have passed away. And your life will be brighter than the noonday; its darkness will be like the morning. And you will have confidence, because there is hope; you will be protected and take rest in safety."
Right now misery is all about a crying baby and very little sleep and the promise is that it will be gone tomorrow, as I know it will. I have no memory of the early struggles we had with David, but I am told they were just as challenging.
In a recent sermon I heard, our talked about how life is not about being happy. The pastor said that if it were, we would all be disappointed most of the time, in marriage, friends, our success, etc. I believe this is true and hope to live fully, without the expectation of everyone and everything turning into a fairy tale, which would be so boring anyway.
Right now misery is all about a crying baby and very little sleep and the promise is that it will be gone tomorrow, as I know it will. I have no memory of the early struggles we had with David, but I am told they were just as challenging.
In a recent sermon I heard, our talked about how life is not about being happy. The pastor said that if it were, we would all be disappointed most of the time, in marriage, friends, our success, etc. I believe this is true and hope to live fully, without the expectation of everyone and everything turning into a fairy tale, which would be so boring anyway.
Parenting vs. Choosing Not to Have Kids
So, with a new son in our lives, I have to address the question of why people, or why I chose to have kids. This is also a response to some close friends who feel the idea of kids is appealing, but who might decide the work of child rearing is not for them, which equates to no kids. There is a sense that the rift between parenting and coupling w/o kids is so vast, that relating as adults across the kid decision becomes difficult. I feel defensive as I wonder about why there might be a rift, once you take a side. I also wonder about how people on either side of this argument seem to need to convince people that their choice is the better one. Even in the latest Sex in the City movie, Carrie and Big have to deal with another couple who thinks they must be empty for not deciding to be parents. Funnily, their lives seem a little boring or lost, which might imply they are, if it were not for Charlotte's major frustrations in mothering (i.e. her kids cry and scream a lot and she hides from them in the pantry). Is there more to this equation?
So many older woman I meet, tell me that I should enjoy my kids because they grow so fast. Do they remember how much work babies are? How you lose your identity, style, sense of time, etc. It is an immense amount of unidentifiable work being at home, following my kids everywhere, missing out on high society or "adult fun." I felt the most angst during David's sixth month through his second year. Somehow at two, a switch turned and realized how much I enjoyed waking up to possibilities, not have routine and his brilliant language and engagement with the world and me. I have doubts about my skill as a mom, but just appreciating his mind is blissful. I love his waking and not getting up, but calling my name, his super energy which he says comes from bouncing, and his passion. When he turns my face to look into his eyes and says something like, "that makes mommy sad," or "who put that [scary dream] in my head." He is an amazing kids and I just love him.
The baby is a baby. Loved for his smallness, his helplessness, my role in supporting his every need, etc. I look in his eyes and try to connect because that is what I am supposed to do, but it is mostly physical work and exhaustion. But I choose kids. I always knew I wanted them. For 9 years of marriage, I happily lived without them, but at this point I join all the annoying people who take a side and have to say why everyone should carefully consider kids.
Yes, there are sleepless nights for several months and complete loss of personal time and space (not to mention the pressure of actually nurturing them to greatness), but on the other side is a truthful awareness of my humanity, and a stretching in every way, all leading me to become a better person. For me it is loving beyond believing and of having a long term family. David changes my experience of life, holidays, eating, mornings, playing and all is exuberant and full of drama. He makes me realize how complex we are in developing and how much we are capable of connecting.
This lead me to personally proclaim that I would not trade David or Isaac for my independence.
So many older woman I meet, tell me that I should enjoy my kids because they grow so fast. Do they remember how much work babies are? How you lose your identity, style, sense of time, etc. It is an immense amount of unidentifiable work being at home, following my kids everywhere, missing out on high society or "adult fun." I felt the most angst during David's sixth month through his second year. Somehow at two, a switch turned and realized how much I enjoyed waking up to possibilities, not have routine and his brilliant language and engagement with the world and me. I have doubts about my skill as a mom, but just appreciating his mind is blissful. I love his waking and not getting up, but calling my name, his super energy which he says comes from bouncing, and his passion. When he turns my face to look into his eyes and says something like, "that makes mommy sad," or "who put that [scary dream] in my head." He is an amazing kids and I just love him.
The baby is a baby. Loved for his smallness, his helplessness, my role in supporting his every need, etc. I look in his eyes and try to connect because that is what I am supposed to do, but it is mostly physical work and exhaustion. But I choose kids. I always knew I wanted them. For 9 years of marriage, I happily lived without them, but at this point I join all the annoying people who take a side and have to say why everyone should carefully consider kids.
Yes, there are sleepless nights for several months and complete loss of personal time and space (not to mention the pressure of actually nurturing them to greatness), but on the other side is a truthful awareness of my humanity, and a stretching in every way, all leading me to become a better person. For me it is loving beyond believing and of having a long term family. David changes my experience of life, holidays, eating, mornings, playing and all is exuberant and full of drama. He makes me realize how complex we are in developing and how much we are capable of connecting.
This lead me to personally proclaim that I would not trade David or Isaac for my independence.
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