There hasn't been a Diamond Organics box in my house for a month now.
When Papa first took over the cooking duties, he found our produce bin stocked with lots of carrots, some celery, and some zucchini, along with onions, shallots, and garlic in the onion basket. One night he sauted zucchini, carrots, and shallots. Another night it was carrots and onions. He tossed chopped carrots and celery into every salad he made. It was all good.
He's been out for groceries once a week since then, and he's sticking to the basics. He buys carrots, celery, onions, and whatever else looks good...which has been zucchini, yellow squash, and broccoli. Last week he bought mushrooms too. Several nights a week he sautes veggies in olive oil, and they are delicious. There is a simplicity to having a just a few different veggies in the house.
I do miss the box of fresh organic vegetables delivered to my porch each week. The variety was stunning and the produce amazingly fresh. Most of the time the produce is grown in central California, so it is relatively local. Still, it is expensive.
Now that Papa and the boys do the shopping (on their bikes) I don't need the convenience of the box. What I do need is the quality, and perhaps a bit of the variety. Although Papa likes cooked greens, he hasn't actually bought any. Our Diamond box usually had so many greens that we had to cook them everyday. Kale is one green that the local HFS usually has several varieties of, so I think I'll add that to this weekend's list.
I don't get to go grocery shopping. That has become a bicycle errand and I'm not allowed to ride yet. I have, however, been given permission to drive to the farmer's market (we usually walk) and go to a few stalls. I'm hoping my favorite organic grower is there tonight, and that she and her husband have pomegranates and avocados. Anything else will be a bonus.
The box? I don't imagine I will stop ordering, at least once in awhile.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
In Case You Were Wondering...
I work on what I write for days before I post it. No, I didn't write all of today's posts today.
Too Much Time On My Hands
A long convalescence usually means you have plenty of time to think. Sure, I can read, and knit/crochet, and make lists, and blog, but I still have plenty of time. I have been completely freed of any household tasks. Papa is doing the laundry, cooking the meals, getting the groceries, doing the dishes, etc.
So I do some things, and I think. I think about what I'd like to be doing. I think about the changes I'd like to make in my life. I think about what we're doing right and what we could be doing better. I think about our family. I think about peak oil and sustainability.
I spend a lot of time reading what other people are doing. There are people who have joined The Compact, something I read about months ago after reading Not Buying It, and still really want to do. There is a mama who is trying to feed her family within the USDA's thrifty meal budget guidlelines. There are families who are homesteading, and families who live without cars, and people who get rid of 7 items every week. It is all exciting and interesting.
I've been thinking about our health. I'm reading John Robbins' new book, Healthy at 100, which encompasses so much more than diet. I had been slowly and steadily reclaiming my health before this little setback, so I was on the right path, but having a hysterectomy was a wake-up call. My body is already diseased. The good news is that already I have spent years reversing some of the damage done when I was a child (and later when I continued to eat dairy and eggs as well as foods I was allergic to), and I have many years ahead of me in which I can restore myself to vibrant health.
It's sort of like having nearly two months to research and choose you goals for the new year. After all, I won't be released to full activity until Christmas. So here are some of my plans and goals:
1) Join the Compact. I can't ask my whole family to do it with me because I believe you must be called to it. I'm still hammering out my ideas...look for an update post soon.
2) Aggressively adopt a car-lite lifestyle. Once I can return to activity I will build myself up again and we will walk and bike everywhere we can. Already the boys and Papa road their bikes to the HFS, which is 10 miles round trip. It is amazing how much freedom we gained with the purchase of a bicycle trailer.
3) Lower our food budget. I too would like to stay within the USDA Thrifty guidelines, and still eat organic. That means eliminating all convenience foods, but I think that would be part of the Compact, anyway.
4) Declutter and Simplify. Okay, this is always one of my goals. I'm thinking though, that with less stuff coming in that we can make progress this year, instead of just holding even.
5) Begin preparations for peak oil living. This means putting in a garden this year, no matter how I feel about bugs. Learning herbal medicine, reducing our vehicle usage, learning to make things or do without, simplifying, getting rid of things, establishing connections...it all fits in. We also need to research where we might choose to live when suburbia falls apart. Even if our town reverts to small town status, it might not be sustainable because of the lack of water.
6) Reclaim our health. Eat even more whole foods, and make sure it's organic. Eat less. Exercise more (hopefully making exercise a lifestyle and not an activity to pursue). Create strong relationships. Cultivate community.
7) Live more. I enjoy the computer, really I do. It can be a source of information and inspiration. It connects me to people, truly kind people. With the computer I find artisans, chefs, friends. However, it is not living. I had moved away from the computer before I got stuck in bed, and I will move away again.
It's all big picture stuff right now...I have plenty of time to break the goals down into doable plans of action.
So I do some things, and I think. I think about what I'd like to be doing. I think about the changes I'd like to make in my life. I think about what we're doing right and what we could be doing better. I think about our family. I think about peak oil and sustainability.
I spend a lot of time reading what other people are doing. There are people who have joined The Compact, something I read about months ago after reading Not Buying It, and still really want to do. There is a mama who is trying to feed her family within the USDA's thrifty meal budget guidlelines. There are families who are homesteading, and families who live without cars, and people who get rid of 7 items every week. It is all exciting and interesting.
I've been thinking about our health. I'm reading John Robbins' new book, Healthy at 100, which encompasses so much more than diet. I had been slowly and steadily reclaiming my health before this little setback, so I was on the right path, but having a hysterectomy was a wake-up call. My body is already diseased. The good news is that already I have spent years reversing some of the damage done when I was a child (and later when I continued to eat dairy and eggs as well as foods I was allergic to), and I have many years ahead of me in which I can restore myself to vibrant health.
It's sort of like having nearly two months to research and choose you goals for the new year. After all, I won't be released to full activity until Christmas. So here are some of my plans and goals:
1) Join the Compact. I can't ask my whole family to do it with me because I believe you must be called to it. I'm still hammering out my ideas...look for an update post soon.
2) Aggressively adopt a car-lite lifestyle. Once I can return to activity I will build myself up again and we will walk and bike everywhere we can. Already the boys and Papa road their bikes to the HFS, which is 10 miles round trip. It is amazing how much freedom we gained with the purchase of a bicycle trailer.
3) Lower our food budget. I too would like to stay within the USDA Thrifty guidelines, and still eat organic. That means eliminating all convenience foods, but I think that would be part of the Compact, anyway.
4) Declutter and Simplify. Okay, this is always one of my goals. I'm thinking though, that with less stuff coming in that we can make progress this year, instead of just holding even.
5) Begin preparations for peak oil living. This means putting in a garden this year, no matter how I feel about bugs. Learning herbal medicine, reducing our vehicle usage, learning to make things or do without, simplifying, getting rid of things, establishing connections...it all fits in. We also need to research where we might choose to live when suburbia falls apart. Even if our town reverts to small town status, it might not be sustainable because of the lack of water.
6) Reclaim our health. Eat even more whole foods, and make sure it's organic. Eat less. Exercise more (hopefully making exercise a lifestyle and not an activity to pursue). Create strong relationships. Cultivate community.
7) Live more. I enjoy the computer, really I do. It can be a source of information and inspiration. It connects me to people, truly kind people. With the computer I find artisans, chefs, friends. However, it is not living. I had moved away from the computer before I got stuck in bed, and I will move away again.
It's all big picture stuff right now...I have plenty of time to break the goals down into doable plans of action.
Thinking About the Division of Labor
A friend posted on a message board about a dilemma she has. She is going to school so that she can share in paid work with her husband. The schooling causes a time crunch which means she has less time and energy for her daughters. She is also uncertain about the career path chosen.
But really, I'm not thinking about those things. As long as I have known her, this mama has shared parenting duties with her DH, and when her first daughter was born he arranged his schedule to be home as much as possible. They sold their house and bought somewhere much less expensive so that her DH could take a sabbatical and be with the family.
I have always admired this. In my mind, I created the goal that DH might someday be able to reduce his hours at work. We are already partners in so much, and this would be one of the final puzzle pieces.
However, on the post, someone criticized my friend's DH for not wanting to shoulder the full financial responsibility for his family. I wanted to respond, to defend both his feelings and her choice, but it wasn't mine to defend.
I don't know many mamas who don't think that a little help would be nice. We recognize that being a mama and a homemaker is a huge task. Depending on how the home labor is divided a mama may find herself doing the cooking, the provisioning, the cleaning, the laundry, the finances, the day-to-day child rearing, the kin and holiday work, the educating, and much, much more. In general, the attitude I get from mamas is that they have a hard job, and that their partners should pitch in and do some of it. To be expected to do it all is putting us into a 1950s housewife role.
At the same time, however, many mamas expect their partners to support them financially. There are many reasons for this, one being the idea that children thrive best when they are raised by a parent that stays out of the paid workforce and devotes a significant amount of time to the children each day. In the beginning, when babies are newborn, it works out best biologically for the breastfeeding mother to be the one that stays home with the baby. Also, we may have come a long way baby, but most women with the same education as a man still make less than 75% of what a man does for the same job. These two things together usually result in the breastfeeding mama staying out of the paid workforce in the children's early years.
We don't to be subjugated, we don't want to have to do it all, but we want our partners to stick with the 1950s breadwinner role. Society still looks down on the man who doesn't choose to work full time. Men who are financially supported by their partners are regarded as lazy.
It's crazy, really. We're wrapped up in some way for thinking that hasn't even applied to most of the human race for more than 100 years, and even now it doesn't apply to most of the human race. Men and women (or men and men or women and women) have always worked together, dividing the labor in ways that made sense. Once the use of money replaced bartering most women still needed to find ways to produce income. It might have been a cottage industry, or factory work, or service (taking in washing, etc.), or selling off surplus eggs and butter.
Families have to work together. Recently my sister was teasing her mother's helper (now foster daughter) about how she really liked the baby only because she got paid to care for her. The girl told her, "No, I really like the baby. I had to give the money to my mother." That's life, that is reality. Everyone pulls together.
We've been reading/re-reading the Little House books. The family works together. The days are long, and sometimes Pa is so tired he can't tell stories or play his fiddle. But mostly there is time for stories and music. Pa is home nearly everday for breakfast, dinner, and supper. They all work together, at first it is mostly Ma and Pa, but the girls have things they do that help. Later, as Laura gets older, she works hard and her money is put away so her sister can go to college. Can you imagine a 12 year old now doing that? Well, she wouldn't be allowed to labor in the same way, but certainly many middle class tweens expect any money they earn to be theirs.
Women work. Men work. There is no law out there that says a man is required to financially provide for his partner. I applaud a man who wants to spend more time with his children, and I admire a woman who is willing to step aside and let him truly share that role in the children's lives, and who will even seek paid work so that it can happen.
But really, I'm not thinking about those things. As long as I have known her, this mama has shared parenting duties with her DH, and when her first daughter was born he arranged his schedule to be home as much as possible. They sold their house and bought somewhere much less expensive so that her DH could take a sabbatical and be with the family.
I have always admired this. In my mind, I created the goal that DH might someday be able to reduce his hours at work. We are already partners in so much, and this would be one of the final puzzle pieces.
However, on the post, someone criticized my friend's DH for not wanting to shoulder the full financial responsibility for his family. I wanted to respond, to defend both his feelings and her choice, but it wasn't mine to defend.
I don't know many mamas who don't think that a little help would be nice. We recognize that being a mama and a homemaker is a huge task. Depending on how the home labor is divided a mama may find herself doing the cooking, the provisioning, the cleaning, the laundry, the finances, the day-to-day child rearing, the kin and holiday work, the educating, and much, much more. In general, the attitude I get from mamas is that they have a hard job, and that their partners should pitch in and do some of it. To be expected to do it all is putting us into a 1950s housewife role.
At the same time, however, many mamas expect their partners to support them financially. There are many reasons for this, one being the idea that children thrive best when they are raised by a parent that stays out of the paid workforce and devotes a significant amount of time to the children each day. In the beginning, when babies are newborn, it works out best biologically for the breastfeeding mother to be the one that stays home with the baby. Also, we may have come a long way baby, but most women with the same education as a man still make less than 75% of what a man does for the same job. These two things together usually result in the breastfeeding mama staying out of the paid workforce in the children's early years.
We don't to be subjugated, we don't want to have to do it all, but we want our partners to stick with the 1950s breadwinner role. Society still looks down on the man who doesn't choose to work full time. Men who are financially supported by their partners are regarded as lazy.
It's crazy, really. We're wrapped up in some way for thinking that hasn't even applied to most of the human race for more than 100 years, and even now it doesn't apply to most of the human race. Men and women (or men and men or women and women) have always worked together, dividing the labor in ways that made sense. Once the use of money replaced bartering most women still needed to find ways to produce income. It might have been a cottage industry, or factory work, or service (taking in washing, etc.), or selling off surplus eggs and butter.
Families have to work together. Recently my sister was teasing her mother's helper (now foster daughter) about how she really liked the baby only because she got paid to care for her. The girl told her, "No, I really like the baby. I had to give the money to my mother." That's life, that is reality. Everyone pulls together.
We've been reading/re-reading the Little House books. The family works together. The days are long, and sometimes Pa is so tired he can't tell stories or play his fiddle. But mostly there is time for stories and music. Pa is home nearly everday for breakfast, dinner, and supper. They all work together, at first it is mostly Ma and Pa, but the girls have things they do that help. Later, as Laura gets older, she works hard and her money is put away so her sister can go to college. Can you imagine a 12 year old now doing that? Well, she wouldn't be allowed to labor in the same way, but certainly many middle class tweens expect any money they earn to be theirs.
Women work. Men work. There is no law out there that says a man is required to financially provide for his partner. I applaud a man who wants to spend more time with his children, and I admire a woman who is willing to step aside and let him truly share that role in the children's lives, and who will even seek paid work so that it can happen.
Why Would You Make It?
This is a phrase I encounter often, spoken or unspoken. Many, many people don't understand why you would make something you can buy, be it food, clothing, a quilt, candles...whatever. The other half of the phrase is when you could buy it?
I remember the first time Papa made homemade soup for my mother, and the best compliment she could give it was that it tasted very much like Campbell's. Not that Papa's soup wasn't delicious, because it was. My mother is just of an age when soup in a can meant freedom for her mother.
There was a time when a woman wouldn't have time to sit and write in a journal every night. A time when her every waking hour was spent working to keep herself and her family alive and well. Of course, that doesn't apply to my grandmother. However, as more and more time-saving devices and products became available to the middle economic class (and eventually the lowest economic class), I think perhaps two things happened. One, our standards went up, and two, our standards went down. For example, we expect our clothes, our homes, and our bodies to be far cleaner than was expected 100 years ago. We don't expect our food to be as good tasting and nutritious, and we don't expect our clothing to last. Heck, we don't expect a lot of things to last.
I know plenty of people who don't understand cooking and baking from scratch. Of course, that has a different definition now; most of us aren't growing our own wheat, milking our own cows, and making our own sugar. Still, I have friends (and relatives) who think that homemade cookies come from a roll of Pillsbury dough. Soup and beans come in a cans. Homemade chili involves dumping cans of tomatoes and cans of beans into a pot with some chili powder and ground beef. Even the great hallowed feast of Thanksgiving, if the full carts seen at the grocery store have any meaning, involved boxed stuffing, canned yams, jarred gravy, canned cranberries, frozen green beans, prebaked rolls, and Mrs. Smith pies.
Sure, preparing food can be hard work. We hosted a vegetarian Thanksgiving at our home once, and we did make everything from scratch. Cranberries with orange zest and Grand Marnier. Pearled onions in a sauce of real cream. Sweet potato soup made from real yams. Real mashed potatoes. Homemade rolls. Stuffed butternut squash, a lentil-nut loaf, homemade mushroom gravy. I even made the pies, starting with the crust. It was a superb feast. I know it was, because it happened 12 years ago and I still remember every food detail.
The thing is, the food is worth it. It is worth it not to take in too much sodium. It is worth it to not ingest artifical colors and flavors, and other food additives. It is worth it to not consume hydrogenated fats and high fructose corn syrup. It is worth it to not poison ourselves with pesticides, herbicides, and chemical fertilizers. Plus, the food tastes so much better!
There are many other things that people make because they want to. Why do I want to make the bulk of our holiday gifts? I want to show people, especially my children, that not everything comes from factories and stores. I want to give gifts that aren't emblazoned with logos. I want us to give of our time, our energy, and our talents. I don't want holiday giving to be about shopping and spending money. Perhaps long ago a premade present from the store meant something because it was probably made in the USA and crafted by an artisan. Artisan gifts are still special.
But really, what does it say if I give a microfleece hooded sweatshirt with the letters G A P embroidered across the chest? Maybe it says that I want you to stay warm. Maybe it says that I am hip to whatever the culture deems cool. Maybe it says that I know that kind of thing is important to you. Maybe it says I could afford to spend $50 on a sweatshirt. Maybe I don't mean it, but it says that I don't care about the company's labor policies. It also says that I don't care about synthetics and the fact that they are unsustainable, and it says I don't care if you have that against your skin.
Maybe all it really says is that I was out of time, I needed to buy a gift, and there was a display of these hoodies in front of the store.
Why make things? Because I can. I can buy or grow herbs and make my own blends for infusions and decoctions. The herbs are fresher and the packaging is minimized. It saves money too. I can use the same herbs for herbal medicine and personal care items. Why make herbal medicines and toiletries? The quality is better and it costs less. I think the skills are worth having, too.
I can knit a hat, and it is exactly the color and fiber I want it to be. Same for scarves, blankets, and other knit/crocheted items. I know the items weren't made in a sweatshop. I personalize the object made for each person, and I find that I think about them as I knit or crochet. Oh, I'm not perfect...I make stock-up gifts as well...but most of the time I do use my crafting time to meditate upon the recipient.
Why, oh why make candles? For one, it's an easy craft to do with my boys. Rolling beeswax requires manual dexterity, but not huge amounts of skill. The oys are proud when they make a candle, proud in a way that they wouldn't be if we bought one at Target. They can give the candle as a gift and know that they are giving a little piece of themselves a well. Again, we get a quality product. We'll be branching out to dipped and poured candles for next year.
The theme repeats over and over. Homemade cleaners are cheaper and safer for your family and your planet. Really, how hard is it to mix some liquid castile soap and some baking soda with tea tree and lavender essential oils? It takes me less than 5 minutes; I couldn't bike to the HFS in that time. Heck, that same "soft scrub" I make is safe and gentle enough to use on my body.
Why do I make things? Because I can...
I remember the first time Papa made homemade soup for my mother, and the best compliment she could give it was that it tasted very much like Campbell's. Not that Papa's soup wasn't delicious, because it was. My mother is just of an age when soup in a can meant freedom for her mother.
There was a time when a woman wouldn't have time to sit and write in a journal every night. A time when her every waking hour was spent working to keep herself and her family alive and well. Of course, that doesn't apply to my grandmother. However, as more and more time-saving devices and products became available to the middle economic class (and eventually the lowest economic class), I think perhaps two things happened. One, our standards went up, and two, our standards went down. For example, we expect our clothes, our homes, and our bodies to be far cleaner than was expected 100 years ago. We don't expect our food to be as good tasting and nutritious, and we don't expect our clothing to last. Heck, we don't expect a lot of things to last.
I know plenty of people who don't understand cooking and baking from scratch. Of course, that has a different definition now; most of us aren't growing our own wheat, milking our own cows, and making our own sugar. Still, I have friends (and relatives) who think that homemade cookies come from a roll of Pillsbury dough. Soup and beans come in a cans. Homemade chili involves dumping cans of tomatoes and cans of beans into a pot with some chili powder and ground beef. Even the great hallowed feast of Thanksgiving, if the full carts seen at the grocery store have any meaning, involved boxed stuffing, canned yams, jarred gravy, canned cranberries, frozen green beans, prebaked rolls, and Mrs. Smith pies.
Sure, preparing food can be hard work. We hosted a vegetarian Thanksgiving at our home once, and we did make everything from scratch. Cranberries with orange zest and Grand Marnier. Pearled onions in a sauce of real cream. Sweet potato soup made from real yams. Real mashed potatoes. Homemade rolls. Stuffed butternut squash, a lentil-nut loaf, homemade mushroom gravy. I even made the pies, starting with the crust. It was a superb feast. I know it was, because it happened 12 years ago and I still remember every food detail.
The thing is, the food is worth it. It is worth it not to take in too much sodium. It is worth it to not ingest artifical colors and flavors, and other food additives. It is worth it to not consume hydrogenated fats and high fructose corn syrup. It is worth it to not poison ourselves with pesticides, herbicides, and chemical fertilizers. Plus, the food tastes so much better!
There are many other things that people make because they want to. Why do I want to make the bulk of our holiday gifts? I want to show people, especially my children, that not everything comes from factories and stores. I want to give gifts that aren't emblazoned with logos. I want us to give of our time, our energy, and our talents. I don't want holiday giving to be about shopping and spending money. Perhaps long ago a premade present from the store meant something because it was probably made in the USA and crafted by an artisan. Artisan gifts are still special.
But really, what does it say if I give a microfleece hooded sweatshirt with the letters G A P embroidered across the chest? Maybe it says that I want you to stay warm. Maybe it says that I am hip to whatever the culture deems cool. Maybe it says that I know that kind of thing is important to you. Maybe it says I could afford to spend $50 on a sweatshirt. Maybe I don't mean it, but it says that I don't care about the company's labor policies. It also says that I don't care about synthetics and the fact that they are unsustainable, and it says I don't care if you have that against your skin.
Maybe all it really says is that I was out of time, I needed to buy a gift, and there was a display of these hoodies in front of the store.
Why make things? Because I can. I can buy or grow herbs and make my own blends for infusions and decoctions. The herbs are fresher and the packaging is minimized. It saves money too. I can use the same herbs for herbal medicine and personal care items. Why make herbal medicines and toiletries? The quality is better and it costs less. I think the skills are worth having, too.
I can knit a hat, and it is exactly the color and fiber I want it to be. Same for scarves, blankets, and other knit/crocheted items. I know the items weren't made in a sweatshop. I personalize the object made for each person, and I find that I think about them as I knit or crochet. Oh, I'm not perfect...I make stock-up gifts as well...but most of the time I do use my crafting time to meditate upon the recipient.
Why, oh why make candles? For one, it's an easy craft to do with my boys. Rolling beeswax requires manual dexterity, but not huge amounts of skill. The oys are proud when they make a candle, proud in a way that they wouldn't be if we bought one at Target. They can give the candle as a gift and know that they are giving a little piece of themselves a well. Again, we get a quality product. We'll be branching out to dipped and poured candles for next year.
The theme repeats over and over. Homemade cleaners are cheaper and safer for your family and your planet. Really, how hard is it to mix some liquid castile soap and some baking soda with tea tree and lavender essential oils? It takes me less than 5 minutes; I couldn't bike to the HFS in that time. Heck, that same "soft scrub" I make is safe and gentle enough to use on my body.
Why do I make things? Because I can...
Monday, November 20, 2006
Kindness
It's a big, busy world. Most of us barely know our neighbors. We have many acquaintances, but not many true friends. We think good thoughts, and we mean well, and then we tell ourselves that there simply isn't enough time.
I didn't grow up with the kind of mother who baked pies for new neighbors or visited the elderly. We didn't donate to food drives, buy holiday gifts for underprivileged children, or deliver Meals on Wheels. I want to excuse this, to say that money was tight (it was) and that time was short (not so short that we didn't watch soap operas), but I know that what we were lacking was an abundance of kindness.
I believe kindness is learned. I can't fault my mother for not having it, because I know that often in her life it wasn't given to her. Later, after I left home, I saw more kindness develop in her life.
Kindness and obligation are not the same thing. If you help someone out, and complain about it later, then you acted out of some sort of obligation, but you were not kind. Kindness and generosity are not the same thing either, although they can appear in tandem. You can be generous and not kind; for instance, you might be generous with your money or your time, helping someone out but complaining about it. You might be kind, offering your sympathy at another's financial difficulty without having any money to be generous with.
I am reminded of something I read, about how presents are something you want the other person to have, and gifts are something you give them that they want, and how not all presents are gifts, and not all gifts are presents.
An act of kindness touched my heart today, kindness from a woman I have never met in person. For years we have hung out at the same little piece of cyber real estate. She knew I was hurting, and she offered kindness. I have no doubt that she is kind to people all over, those she knows personally and those she doesn't. She is kind.
Kindness has been creeping into my life over the past couple of years, mostly kindness given, but sometimes kindness received. Outside of my immediate family, kindness received is rare enough that it can still bring tears to my eyes.
Still, I am cultivating kindness. It was easier at first with online friends. Way back when I first got online I made a friend and started sending her handmade cards and care packages to cheer her up when she was low. I've sent many little packages since then. I had to learn kindness, to accept and to offer it; doing so with online friends was a low pressure way to move though the discomfort of learning to be kind.
I had to move on to my own community. One thing I decided to do is to offer kindness to someone that I had never been genuinely kind to, even though we are family!. I also extended kindness and understanding to another family member, erasing the unkind thoughts I had thought for years. I forgave my mother's best friend of a hurt my mother had forgiven her for years before, and offered kindness there as well. These were little kindnesses, experienced mostly in my heart, but the energy between us did change for the better.
There are little kindnesses and bigger kindnesses. When one friend couldn't find her iron and was planning a photo shoot that evening I dropped what I was doing and took my iron over to her, and kept her company while she pressed their shirts. When a friend experienced a miscarriage, instead of wondering what to do, I did something.
I said hello to a neighbor who is so shy that she avoided making eye contact for the first 5 years we lived side-by-side. It is a slow thaw, but she talks to my boys now, and a few weeks ago I heard her talking to the Girl Dog. I pause to catch the eye of the young man across the street, to wave and say hello to this man who is mentally disabled. I do it to let him know that not everyone in this world is afraid of him.
I am aware now that I must teach my children kindness. It is not enough to offer kindness to them, though they certainly deserve it. It is not enough to gently correct them when they are unkind (not to punish, but to guide). They must see kindness emanating from me. When they ask why kindness has been give I must give them explanations. Sometimes I am sad that my children have to ask why we are kind, because it means that they don't see it all around them.
It really is so easy. Little kindnesses can be offered everyday. I can say hello to people as I pass them on the sidewalk. I can smile at the postal clerk. When a cashier apologizes for a wait I can say that I understand, that I was fine with waiting, that I know it wasn't her fault. When people make mistakes I can remind myself that everyone makes mistakes, including me, and I can react out of kindness instead of anger or impatience.
When I make a soup I can make extra and freeze it to offer to someone who is ill. I can bake extra cookies and give them to my neighbor. One thing we do when we are walking in the morning is take newspapers up to the door/porch so that our neighbors don't have to walk to the curb to get them. If we know someone is out of town for the weekend we stack their papers neatly by the door (out of sight if possible).
We aren't at the new year yet, and certainly I don't mean to wait until then to start, but I have decided that 2007 will be a year of conscientious kindness for me.
Peace.
I didn't grow up with the kind of mother who baked pies for new neighbors or visited the elderly. We didn't donate to food drives, buy holiday gifts for underprivileged children, or deliver Meals on Wheels. I want to excuse this, to say that money was tight (it was) and that time was short (not so short that we didn't watch soap operas), but I know that what we were lacking was an abundance of kindness.
I believe kindness is learned. I can't fault my mother for not having it, because I know that often in her life it wasn't given to her. Later, after I left home, I saw more kindness develop in her life.
Kindness and obligation are not the same thing. If you help someone out, and complain about it later, then you acted out of some sort of obligation, but you were not kind. Kindness and generosity are not the same thing either, although they can appear in tandem. You can be generous and not kind; for instance, you might be generous with your money or your time, helping someone out but complaining about it. You might be kind, offering your sympathy at another's financial difficulty without having any money to be generous with.
I am reminded of something I read, about how presents are something you want the other person to have, and gifts are something you give them that they want, and how not all presents are gifts, and not all gifts are presents.
An act of kindness touched my heart today, kindness from a woman I have never met in person. For years we have hung out at the same little piece of cyber real estate. She knew I was hurting, and she offered kindness. I have no doubt that she is kind to people all over, those she knows personally and those she doesn't. She is kind.
Kindness has been creeping into my life over the past couple of years, mostly kindness given, but sometimes kindness received. Outside of my immediate family, kindness received is rare enough that it can still bring tears to my eyes.
Still, I am cultivating kindness. It was easier at first with online friends. Way back when I first got online I made a friend and started sending her handmade cards and care packages to cheer her up when she was low. I've sent many little packages since then. I had to learn kindness, to accept and to offer it; doing so with online friends was a low pressure way to move though the discomfort of learning to be kind.
I had to move on to my own community. One thing I decided to do is to offer kindness to someone that I had never been genuinely kind to, even though we are family!. I also extended kindness and understanding to another family member, erasing the unkind thoughts I had thought for years. I forgave my mother's best friend of a hurt my mother had forgiven her for years before, and offered kindness there as well. These were little kindnesses, experienced mostly in my heart, but the energy between us did change for the better.
There are little kindnesses and bigger kindnesses. When one friend couldn't find her iron and was planning a photo shoot that evening I dropped what I was doing and took my iron over to her, and kept her company while she pressed their shirts. When a friend experienced a miscarriage, instead of wondering what to do, I did something.
I said hello to a neighbor who is so shy that she avoided making eye contact for the first 5 years we lived side-by-side. It is a slow thaw, but she talks to my boys now, and a few weeks ago I heard her talking to the Girl Dog. I pause to catch the eye of the young man across the street, to wave and say hello to this man who is mentally disabled. I do it to let him know that not everyone in this world is afraid of him.
I am aware now that I must teach my children kindness. It is not enough to offer kindness to them, though they certainly deserve it. It is not enough to gently correct them when they are unkind (not to punish, but to guide). They must see kindness emanating from me. When they ask why kindness has been give I must give them explanations. Sometimes I am sad that my children have to ask why we are kind, because it means that they don't see it all around them.
It really is so easy. Little kindnesses can be offered everyday. I can say hello to people as I pass them on the sidewalk. I can smile at the postal clerk. When a cashier apologizes for a wait I can say that I understand, that I was fine with waiting, that I know it wasn't her fault. When people make mistakes I can remind myself that everyone makes mistakes, including me, and I can react out of kindness instead of anger or impatience.
When I make a soup I can make extra and freeze it to offer to someone who is ill. I can bake extra cookies and give them to my neighbor. One thing we do when we are walking in the morning is take newspapers up to the door/porch so that our neighbors don't have to walk to the curb to get them. If we know someone is out of town for the weekend we stack their papers neatly by the door (out of sight if possible).
We aren't at the new year yet, and certainly I don't mean to wait until then to start, but I have decided that 2007 will be a year of conscientious kindness for me.
Peace.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Now Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming...
No more writing about surgery or recovery. I could pretend to put a natural/sustainable slant on it by writing about herbal medicine or rice-filled heating socks, but the fact is that reading about someone else's health problems is boring. So rather than bemown the fact that my body is currently broken, I think I'll just celebrate the fact that my brain isn't.
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