Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Ritual and Change

I am not much of a routine-loving person. I hate the idea of going to the gym and working out on the same piece of equipment every day or every other day. When I was working a job that required me to do the same things pretty much at the same time every day or every week, it wasn't long before I got bored to tears and quit to find something else. Even as a writer, I'm much more productive when I write as inspiration strikes instead of sitting down in the same place at the same time every day.

However, I do love rituals. My coffee routine is the same every morning and when it isn't, I often feel as though something is off. Often, on weekends, Bubba and I will get up with the sun and walk a couple of miles to our favorite coffee shop and back before the girls are even up, but even though the coffee and the company are exquisite, as soon as I get home, if I don't get busy doing something else pretty much right away, I begin to feel as though I need to make myself coffee at home, too.

I also love the predictable things that come around once a year - my sister-in-law's annual Easter dinner and egg hunt that includes a different mix of friends and family every time, but is always fun and festive; the way our neighborhood comes alive in the evening just after Daylight Savings Time when parents and kids are out playing catch or walking the dog and visiting on the sidewalk with other folks who are taking advantage of the fact that it isn't dark at 5pm anymore. There is something comforting and grounding about those occasional events that I forget about and then find myself welcoming back.

I think it is against the backdrop of those rituals that I can feel confident about big changes. Lola is graduating from middle school this year and heading off into the world of high school. Eve will soon have her driver's license and is increasingly away from home doing things with friends. My work seems to be on the verge of something big as well, but instead of feeling overwhelmed and freaked out, the touchstones of family dinners at Easter and cherry blossoms bursting out all over have given me a safe container in which to sit.

The trick, I think, is to spend as much time honoring the rituals I love as I spend thinking about the new, exciting things that are to come.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Mind.... Blown

*
I remember hearing, back in September or October, a report on NPR about microchimerism of mothers, and it is one of those things that has stuck in my craw for months. Basically, there is evidence that when a woman is pregnant, not only do things pass from her to the baby via the placenta and umbilical cord, but that fetal cells can cross the placenta and circulate in the mother's body as well. There is also evidence that these cells can lodge in the mother's body and morph into new cells, integrating themselves into the mother's tissues and dividing along with the rest of her cells.

Yeah.

Whoa.

I think that means that I not only have parts of Eve and Lola in my actual body, but that Bubba is in there as well.

And I have to say that, as this notion has been stuck in my craw, turning around and around in some remote corners of my brain, it has conjured up all sorts of flashes of weirdness.

Like, there is part of me in my mother, too. Which has me thinking about the cycles of mother and daughter and mother. And that leads to the idea that no matter how much we rail against becoming our mothers, maybe our mothers become us a little bit more, too, and so there's just no escaping the eventual similarities. It puts me in mind of parallel lines that aren't quite parallel, so that at some point in the distant future, they will touch, if only for a brief moment.

And it makes me think that (as much as I think my mom would hate this idea), there is some of my Dad floating around in her, too, since she had two kids with him. And, while it is of some comfort to me that I carry some of Bubba with me wherever I go, I wonder how much it would bother me to know that, had I not chosen to have a child with someone (for example, if I were sexually assaulted and it resulted in a pregnancy), that I might always have some part of them in me.

Beyond that, it makes me wonder about whether Lola carries some part of Eve in her thanks to being the second child. Were the cells from Eve so much a part of me by the time I got pregnant with Lola that some of them transferred into her sister? I think I might have to wait for just the right time to broach the subject with them...

And is there some evolutionary purpose to all of this? Does it exist to make the familial bonds stronger? To bind parents together more tightly? To bind mothers and children together in some elemental way? To tighten the strings of sibling connection? I have often noticed that when my children are in pain, I feel it, and even, to some extent, when Bubba is suffering, I have the sense that I am commiserating on a deeper level - something that goes beyond empathy, it seems to me. Could this be because I have had children with him?

It is all pretty mind-boggling and, to be honest, I find it very entertaining to think about the possibilities. I know a woman who tried to get pregnant for years and couldn't, so she ended up adopting a fully fertilized embryo from a fertility clinic and she now has a lovely little girl whom she describes as a "great passenger" during the pregnancy. Does she now carry the DNA from two complete strangers in her body and will her subsequent children carry that, too? Whoa. Just, whoa.

It really does lend credence to this notion that we are all connected, and I have to say that I like it.

*I searched for pictures of chimera and was dismayed that all the ones I found were hideous and frightening. I chose this picture of a piece of art that hangs in The Louvre because, technically, it has Pegasus on it, so it qualifies, and it's beautiful.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

It's All Bringing Me Down

I'm having a hard time remembering to focus on the positive. I spend way too much time following this ridiculous presidential race and it is taking a toll on my attitude. I am like a moth to a flame, flitting around looking for warmth and illumination and banging into the bulb a few times before I remember it's not real. A day or so later, I do it all over again.

I watched the Democratic debate last Sunday and talked back to the TV screen. The girls rolled their eyes at me and admonished, "they can't hear you." I know, but somehow it makes me feel better to counter one candidate's point with my own response, especially when they don't call each other on their bullshit.

I am a firm Sanders supporter for a whole host of reasons, and I think he did well in Sunday's debate, but I have to caution myself that there is no one candidate with whom I will agree on everything. I fell in to that trap with Obama and found myself very disappointed from time to time. I don't know why I found it so surprising when he made a decision that ran so counter to my beliefs - cabinet appointments and trade agreements and energy policy. I have lived in this world long enough to know that I won't agree with anyone about everything.

I am so overwhelmed with the negative, though. The news (repeated news) from the Drumpf rallies of physical violence against protestors, both by Secret Service agents and random attendees, is so disheartening. The angry, hateful language that is inspired by all of the GOP candidates and reported with glee by media outlets is a tsunami that washes over my head every day. I heard a teacher say on the radio the other day how hard it is to talk to students about compassion and empathy for each other when the biggest bullies they see are famous for being bullies. These men who are loud and brash and don't give a damn about anyone but themselves, who are rich and powerful and disregard the rights or feelings of anyone else, whose names show up on TV and the internet all day long every day, they are the antithesis of empathy and compassion. I am used to seeing it in comments online, the trolling, the gas lighting, but to have it showcased from a stage with lights and flags and people clapping is disconcerting to say the least.

At this point, November seems like a very, very long way away. And as I listened to an interview with the head of MSNBC yesterday, defending their decision to fire Melissa Harris-Perry and substitute election coverage for her show's time slot, I shuddered with a premonition that I hate to even give voice to: that news outlets will get so addicted to ratings that come from covering hateful, yelling politicians that even after the election they will continue to spotlight the negative. Say it isn't so. It feels as though it has been heading that way for a long time, even before the election really heated up, and I wonder what it might take to interrupt the cycle. I can only hope that MHP finds another forum for her show, one that is committed to entertaining diverse, productive discussions and interesting discourse rather than reality-show-themed shouting and rhetoric.

I am heartened by the voices of those who talk of peace and democracy, and I suppose that is why I am such a fan of Bernie. While he could be seen to be the personification of patriarchy - white, male, older than 50 - his words and actions belie that description. He is, to my mind, more concerned with listening than with speaking. He is not convinced that he has all of the solutions, and his record shows a careful consideration of details and implications, and a distinct lack of interest in intervening heavily in the affairs of other countries to disrupt or "solve" issues that are particular to them. I am reminded that there may be issues about which we disagree, but I think that it is his approach, his entire ethic that excites me and not necessarily the nitty-gritty details.  I am holding out hope that his message will continue to make it through the noise and that those who are willing to pay attention will end up being the ones who make the difference in the end. And, I have come to the conclusion that I have to spend a lot less time listening to the chaos of the mass media if I am to stay optimistic.
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