Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 14, 2025

The Anti-Social Century

"When Epley and his lab asked Chicagoans to overcome their preference for solitude and talk with strangers on a train, the experiment probably didn’t change anyone’s life. All it did was marginally improve the experience of one 15-minute block of time. But life is just a long set of 15-minute blocks, one after another. The way we spend our minutes is the way we spend our decades. “No amount of research that I’ve done has changed my life more than this,” Epley told me. “It’s not that I’m never lonely. It’s that my moment-to-moment experience of life is better, because I’ve learned to take the dead space of life and make friends in it."

-Derek Thompson, The Anti-Social Century (gift link)

Monday, January 13, 2025

The Right Reasons

"The pursuit of happiness is a toxic value that has long defined our culture. It is self-defeating and misleading. Living well does not mean avoiding suffering; it means suffering for the right reasons. Because if we’re going to be forced to suffer by simply existing, we might as well learn how to suffer well."

Wednesday, January 24, 2024

(No Wind, No Rain)

 (No Wind, No Rain)

No wind, no rain,
the tree
just fell, as a piece of fruit does.

But no, not fruit. Not ripe.
Not fell.

It broke. It shattered.

One cone's 
addition of resinous cell-sap,
one small-bodied bird
arriving to tap for a beetle.

It shattered.

What word, what act,
was it we thought did not matter?

-Jane Hirshfield

Monday, January 22, 2024

Snow

 Snow
 
Little soul,
for you, too, 
death is coming.
 
Was there something
you thought
you needed to do?
 
Snow
does not walk into a room
 
and wonder
 
why.

-Jane Hirshfield

Friday, January 19, 2024

Things Seem Strong

 Things Seem Strong

Things seem strong.
Houses, trees, trucks -- a chair, even.
A table. A country.

You don't expect one to break.
No, it takes a hammer to break one,
a war, a saw, an earthquake.

Troy after Troy after Troy seemed strong
to those living around and in them.
Nine Troys were strong,
each trembling under the other.

When the ground floods
and the fire ants leave their strong city,
they link legs and form a raft, and float, and live,
and begin again elsewhere.

Strong, your life's wish
to continue linking arms with life's eye blink, life's tear well,
life's hammering of copper sheets and planing of Port Orford cedar,
life's joke of the knock-knock.

Knock, knock. Who's there?
I am.  
I am who?

That first and last question.

Who once dressed in footed pajamas,
who once was smothered in kisses.
Who seemed so strong
I could not imagine your mouth would ever come to stop asking.

-Jane Hirshfield

Tuesday, January 09, 2024

Things I Wish I Could Say: Part 1

For months I have needed to say things to my 16-year-old child. However, just because I need to say things doesn't mean my child is ready or able to receive the message. So I'm putting it here.

-----------

My dear favorite child in the world,

I love you so. I want to share my heart with you. I hope you will read with curiosity and for understanding and take time to percolate on all I say. 

A few months ago, you asked if I think of you as my son. I evaded the question. I also happened to overhear a comment you made on a call with friends, talking about your transition, and you said something like, "And my parents! Well, it's like they're grieving. But I'm still me!" So I will answer honestly.

In fall of 2021 at the start of 8th grade, I picked you up from school and you declared to me, "I'm nonbinary. My pronouns are they/them." You said it in a firm voice verging on angry; the energy felt foreboding and defensive.

Six months prior you had attempted suicide. So the moment you announced this, I pivoted. I didn't want to lose connection with you. I didn't give myself any time to think about this, to examine my own paradigm, to feel my feelings. Instead, when you said you wanted binders, I took you to a place to buy binders. You changed your name, and I used your new name. I trained myself to use they/them. I supported you changing how you dress and style your hair. I contacted the school for them to change the roster to your new name. I affirmed you. Now, two and a half years later, you state that you are a trans man. You asked us to use he/him, but still accept they/them. You very much want to proceed with medicalizing, which to your irritation your father and I do not support doing at this time. Our reticence does not come from a transphobic orientation or a desire to thwart and oppress you. 

It comes from our lived experience. Our perspective is broader. I look at this transition from a fuller context.

Factor 1: life got very hard and complicated in 4th grade, and very bad that summer between 4th and 5th. We transferred you to a new school which we hoped would provide social/emotional support. Which it did to a degree (but not enough).

Things improved in 5th grade for many reasons -- identifying the root cause of your challenges and the coexisting mental health issues being primary. At the same time, there were social conflicts. In 6th grade bullying began intensely. I remember so well how distressed and angry you were, how overwhelmed, and how I could not improve the situation despite much communication with teachers and the principal. In January 2020 you called many days asking to be picked up from school early. I worried you might be on the verge of school refusal.

Factor 2: the summer between 5th and 6th grade your period started. Your body changed; secondary sex characteristics emerged. This is a huge change and challenging for every person who reaches adolescence. At first you were kind of positive about this change, this sign of moving toward adulthood. But I think at some point this shifted. I get why. It's messy and painful. Having breasts makes a person more noticeable to people (usually male) who have a sexual interest, which is often unwanted. Breasts are pointless to me, extraneous, except when I unsuccessfully tried to breastfeed you. Unlike many women, I would prefer to have a smaller bust. You inherited mammary abundance from me. As I've said before, it's hard to be in a body. All humans at some point have some dissatisfaction or struggle with the physical being.

Factor 3: the pandemic happened. It was traumatic. School shut down. We went nowhere for months and months. We did not see people socially in person, except a few times outdoors, distancing and wearing masks. The day of the shut down, March 16, was also the day my mother suddenly died. I am certain that my grief pervaded the house, adding to the distress.

A couple months later, three close friends moved away to distant places. A moved to Colorado, O moved to Fresno, and P moved to Texas. These girls were core in your life. About a year into the pandemic, another friend from school moved to Monterey and faded out of our lives. 

School went online in 7th grade. Social life went online. We opened up Discord, Toyhouse, access to social media. It was your primary source of social connection.

Factor 4: you became a teenager the fall of 2020. A time of identity exploration and development, uncertainty, intense need for social connection with age peers, a need for acceptance. This process was hobbled by pandemic isolation. Your option was to go online. This constrained you. The development into a functioning adult requires in-person encounters and relationships.

Factor 5: social media, cell phones, and tablets -- we gave you access, despite knowing (through our own experience) how addictive these are. AND... we live in a misogynistic world. Hatred of women is real. Women have to cope with this. I understand that the prospect of living female is not very appealing. 

Factor 6: 8th grade was in-person, and it was an awful year. You experienced exclusion and alienation in a small class; friends abandoned you. Your first romantic love abruptly ended your relationship and wouldn't give you a reason. This person was part of the school milieu.You were hurt to your core. These were days of rage. My goal was to survive your rage and maintain connection with you.

So, when I look at you now, I see a person whose maturation and growth was shaped by all these factors. When we have spoken about how you became aware of being nonbinary and later transmasculine, you said you had felt this way when you were younger. You just didn't have words for it. 

I get it. I felt similarly as a child. I was ambivalent about becoming a woman. I did not have interest in "typical" female things. I didn't grok the social dynamics of "typical girls." I was drawn to androgyny -- to people who looked that way, and to presenting myself as such, through my early 20s. Looking back, I understand that I was grappling with my sexual orientation (back in the 1980s when it truly was risky to be out), which in the end is bisexual.

In your young years, there was no evidence ever of you expressing yourself in a masculine way. You were quite typically feminine but not a super girly girl. You never announced to us that you felt like a boy, or asked when you would get a penis. Absolutely nothing like that ever. 

From where I sit, given all the factors, your self-identification as transmasculine does not feel utterly true and authentic. I think you believe yourself to be "a male in a female body," because that is what you've learned from the Internet and all your peers who are also on the Internet. I think the gender stuff for you arises from the intersection of factors: your anxiety disorder and depression, your autism, your body maturing, having been bullied, loss of friends, loss of social connection in person, the fear brought by the pandemic. And let's not forget the misogyny that pervades all cultures.

When I experience you talking about gender, I notice it comes from a place of anger and defiance. As if you expect to be dismissed and oppressed. Like you're ready for a fight.

My experience of your gender identity/expression is that it doesn't arise from a place of discovery, of "this is who I am" as much as it focuses on how others perceive you. That they misgender you. How you feel disrespected and are angry about that. It seems you are entirely concerned with the world's perception of you, more than you are living from a place of knowing and relating to yourself.

So, no. I do not think of you as my son, and I am grieving.

I've told you and others this story before, of how you came to us. In my early 40s, I had two miscarriages. We went to a fertility clinic that told us at my advanced maternal age, the possibility of success with my own eggs was less than 5%. So I went home to think about that; I decided that I wanted to carry a pregnancy, and I could live with it being another woman's egg. Not long after deciding, but before we began the treatment, I ended up pregnant, with you. I jokingly say I had one good egg left. Natural conception at 43 is fairly rare (1 or 2 percent). You are meant to be here. I grew you in my body. The amniocentesis DNA testing showed you to have XX sex genes. Your body developed perfectly, beautifully, in the womb and out of it. You were born as my daughter, and I delighted in my daughter.

My grieving comes from sadness about how all these factors in the world have shaped you to hate your essential embodiment. I am sad the world feels so daunting -- for you and for me.

You are still you, and yet you are changing into a person I don't recognize. This masculine you is brash, defensive, looking for a fight, performative, and misogynistic. You swear like a sailor. I have heard you say hateful things about females. Remember, I am among the group whom your hatred targets.This is not how we raised you.

I would rather you become my son from a place of authentic emergence, not from stuff you've learned on the Internet, a reactionary response to a scary world. I would rather have a son who is sensitive, thoughtful, and kind. The boy/man you present to the world is combative and invested in how unfair and mean the world is.

For 14 years I knew you as my daughter. Right now you cannot see a way to continue living as a woman, yet I can see it. And... I recognize I have no power over what you choose to do eventually. I simply wanted to share how I experience you and the world.

You know about brain development. About how the adolescent brain basically goes haywire and isn't finished until the mid-20s. So I have given space for your exploration. My refusal to consent to your taking testosterone and getting a double mastectomy comes from knowing that this is a time of change. What feels true to you now might change. If it IS genuine, it will be true in the future. Life is a process of becoming. There is no need to rush.

I will write another letter about my practical concerns regarding medical transition. There are many serious side effects and potential health issues that come with this. So if when you turn 18 you are determined to do it, I want you deciding with informed consent. I want you to understand what you are taking on. But this letter is long enough as is.

I love you. I know you know this. I'm grateful that you read this.

Monday, September 25, 2023

This Morning

 I slept well and woke refreshed.

My cup of coffee was particularly delicious. As I poured from carafe to mug, I noticed how smooth it was, how the aroma wafted up to me.

My child and I enjoyed some bantering and conversation preparing for and driving to school. 

It was a peaceful, quietly joyful morning.

These observations are worth noting and appreciating, because doing so reinforces them. This post is an antidote to the doomscrolling, the slightly tight and tense way I inhabit my body, the default position of general, low-level foreboding.

"Yes, and the luminous and shocking beauty of the everyday is something I try to remain alert to, if only as an antidote to the chronic cynicism and disenchantment that seems to surround everything, these days. It tells me that, despite how debased or corrupt we are told humanity is and how degraded the world has become, it just keeps on being beautiful. It can't help it."
 - Nick Cave and Seán O'Hagan
Faith, Hope and Carnage
booklover
& still, the waves

Friday, June 24, 2022

Like Sands Through the Hourglass

Today is my 59th birthday. It's not a milestone number, but in reality I'm entering my 60th year of life. So I have a birthday wish, and since I didn't wish it while blowing out birthday candles I can say it here. 

Dear Life,

For my birthday, I would like to ask for 30 more years of healthy living. There is so much to see and do: people to serve, books to read, a child to raise, a husband to retire with, art to make. And by healthy living, I mean in a condition where I can do activities of daily living, can read and hear (with aids if needed), some hiking and travel, without moderate to severe pain, and with any chronic medical issues managed and controlled. I know this is very specific, but I figure if I am asking you for this, it would help to be as clear as possible. 

With deep gratitude,

Aenigma

Wednesday, June 22, 2022

The Alphabet of Right Now

I want to write, but my thoughts wander off like toddlers. So I'm borrowing a technique from a friend.

A - Air conditioning: so very grateful for it, despite that it's not strong enough to cool the upstairs.

B - Birthday: mine is coming up, and for the first time in my life I feel disinterest in acknowledging or celebrating in any way.

C - Covid: no longer has my child in its grip, and Hub and I managed to evade it.

D - Dinner: will I cook tonight? Yesterday it was 102, just too hot.

E - Elusive: my motivation to create.

F - Fruit: enjoying this season's cherries, strawberries, blackberries.

G - Gender: an ever-present topic in the household, discussions driven by my child.

H- Household: it needs attention, particularly the cobwebs.

I - Ice Cream: what I had for dinner yesterday.

J - Joints: a little creaky today.

K - Klondike bar: mint chocolate chip, "making squares cool since 1922."

L - Lonely & Letters: feeling it around the edges of my life, writing snail mail to friends.

M - Monterey: new OS upgrade on my Mac, which has nifty features (or so it claims).

N - Nighttime: so enjoying how late it descends this time of year.

O - Observing: a practice I enjoy; right now out my window I observe a crow preening its wings as it sits at the top of a tree.

P - Purging: wanting to clear out bookshelves and closets.

Q - Quilt: trying to decide to let go of one used by my mother in childhood, to which I have no attachment and am tired of storing it in the closet.

R - Reading: voraciously, read 11 books in the last two weeks.

S - Sound: noticing the cries of crows, the tap of the keys, my husband talking in a meeting, my tinnitus ever-present.

T - Temperature: intensely hot weather, bleaching life of energy.

U - Ukraine: still at war, struggling.

V - Voluminous: how I'm feeling lately.

W - Water: lovely, cold, lifegiving; being sure to water trees and potted plants in the heat.

X - Xenolith: I had to look this up; a rock fragment within a rock; X is a difficult letter.

Y - Yes: what to I want to say "yes" to?

Z - Zazen: doing it regularly, and it's hard as ever.

Saturday, June 18, 2022

The Meaning of the Tag Lines

Here's an explanation about the taglines -- they are instructions to myself.

In July 2019 I made a commitment to myself to actually do my meditation practice daily. Up to that point, I waffled and paid lip service. I lowered the bar on daily meditation and decided that deliberately pausing for at least one minute counted. But I had to do it every day, and not fool myself. To give myself a visual reminder of this commitment, I had three small silver rings made with one of those statements on each. 

On the inside of each ring is a Buddhist word related to it -- a "secret message" to myself.

  • Do your practice - shikantaza, which is the Japanese translation for the Chinese term zazen, which means "just sitting."
  • Attention is love - samadhi, a Sanskrit word that means non-distracted awareness. My teacher often says, "What you pay attention to grows."
  • Listen to silence - bodhi svaha, the last words of the Heart Sutra, meaning awakening call (I read it's like amen. Of note is that bodhi is a feminine noun.) Meditation is silent awareness. That itself is enlightenment!

I used Insight Timer to meditate, which I find motivating because I can see the dailiness of it, and it reinforces my discipline. And for two years, I did keep my commitment to daily sitting. Then I decided Insight Timer was a crutch and I "should" just be able to sit without it. That experiment failed, and after a few months I decided that whatever supported my practice was acceptable! I am back to daily sitting. A colleague calls it "the holy pause."