(What is) A Successful Day

Today G was home sick, again. Or, at that stage, anyway, of still needing more rest, but moving at the speed of normal life (with slightly puffy eyes and sniffles proclaiming his progress through the house). Best guess is a sinus infection that just doesn't want to let go.

It's a struggle for me when one or both of the boys are home sick from school. Being an introvert, I soak up those quiet times with no interruptions and the ability to make unilateral, not multilateral decisions. Beyond that, I love routine, I love knowing what to expect, and when that expectation is turned on its head, it drops me on my head, too. Still. Even after six years. You'd think that I might have adapted a little more by now. But I haven't, and it does.

Some days I recover better than others, and thankfully this was one of them (having gotten over the bulk of the frustration yesterday). In a lot of ways, it was actually a really good day. Having dropped D off at school, G and I had a good chunk of time to spend at home, minus a doctor's appointment. I have an unreservedly prolific patch of lemon balm that I've been eying for a while now, to begin to prune back and replenish my supply for tea, and this morning I did, after a game of “helicopters” with G, which consisted entirely of me watching him drop whirlygigs off the top of the play-set and pretending we were riding inside them. Later he helped me hold the stems as I tied them in bunches to hang-dry. He eagerly helped me make granola. He brought me an experiment out of his chemistry kit and I actually said ok, even though I was doing at least two other things as well. And so we made an egg float in salt water. He was so proud and big-boyish in many ways that he helped me with little things all day long, and tried to figure out (using Wildcraft cards) what could help with his brother's mosquito bites, and did we have any of them? He also talked non-stop, which is his want, thereby giving me a chance to practice my patience a time or two...

It was a good day. It was like a little window: see, it can be like this. Tending to the basic, and then a little, needs of the home, putting up some of what we have grown to take in as sustenance, working alongside and together with G, weaving in and out.

As I was leaving for a meeting and then some time to myself this evening, I glanced at my to do list for the day (which I knew was at least ambitious, even when I made it this morning), and there were three glaringly clear tasks, no lines to be seen. Three. That's it. But those three things glared at me and no matter how much I rationalize them (contradict them with reality), with the extra not-listed things I did, with the reduced time and ability to focus – they still bring me down. From their perspective, my day was not so successful.

I do this a lot: focus on the nots to the exclusion of the rest. Even one small not is enough to shift my perspective on the day. I realize this is not a good way to be, especially given my proclivity for wildly ambitious, lengthy to do lists.

It's something I have been thinking about these past few weeks. The way I wanted to go about this experiment was to take each day as if it was a normal day – what would it be like if this was daily life? What would be realistic, sustainable? As opposed to looking around me at all the things I'd like to have done and diving in head first expecting significant, eye-popping changes at the end of the month. That is so tempting to do! Goodness knows I could come up with quite a list (see what I'm saying?). But what I really want to know is what would it be like to live with my focus being tending to our home(stead) and our family. Putting my heart and mind into the purposeful work that can begin to change this haphazard, teetering on complete chaos, often resented and neglected space into one that is cared for and respected, treated with a certain reverence and intention that in turn nurtures us. What goes into the space is what comes back to us.

But we are inundated with the message that to be successful we have to do more, have more to show for our time and our efforts. Be productive. It's the same for time: every minute must be accounted for, filled and justified. That message worked its way deeply into my thinking over the years. The thing is, as I've been thinking about it, it is pretty much antithetical to what I just described. There are two ways to look at my day today. From the message of do more and have the results to show for it, my day was only marginally successful. (Not even getting into the whole issue of value (or not) placed on different kinds of work...) Which leaves me frustrated (at myself and at G) and discouraged. But if I step back and look at it from a holistic perspective, it was a pretty darn good and successful day and I feel proud of it: I cared for my son, and really worked with him, giving him the chance to shine and be reminded of and strengthened in his growing abilities, and giving me the chance to feel a deep pride in him and his abilities. I tended to our home. I returned to the practice of self-sustenance through the lemon balm in my hands and now hanging from the drying rack and in the cloches we managed to scavenge and place over a few of the pepper plants. I was curious with my son, in his chemistry experiment, as we wondered what healing herbs we have around our home and as we talked about getting some books out of the library on Mars.

I'd pick the latter any day. When I lay it out there it seems so obvious. But working out those hooks of the expectations of others, of the entrenched need to prove how good and successful I am by the amount I can cross off a list at the end of a day; that is going to take some time, I'm sure, and not a few days of wondering why I just “can't” “measure up”, and berating myself over it much too harshly. It's interesting how easy it is to believe one thing deeply (the ideal), but when it comes right down to it, to come up against the opposite, throwing up walls and making it hard to wholeheartedly, in confidence, follow through.

A Reminder Why

Tonight I took my dinner to the park and read some more of Rhythms of Learning while I ate. I'm struggling through Steiner's lectures, because I just can't get on the same page with him on some of his more esoteric ideas (which really form the basis for how he came to think about education, which is interesting to me – how am I drawn so strongly to his educational philosophy but really not to the spiritual basis of his thinking?). At any rate, I am enjoying the introductions to the lectures by the editor, and as I was reading tonight, I came upon this:

“'Love is something that extends to everything, is the inner-most impetus for action. We ought to do what we love to do. Duty is to merge with love; we should like what we are duty-bound to do.'

Teachers can develop their students' sense of duty through their own example. How teachers approach their daily tasks and...responsibilities...acts powerfully upon the students.”

Where of course he's talking about education, substitute homekeeping and you've got one of the major reasons I decided to go for it with this experiment. The first part is a reminder, an affirmation of what I want to believe: “Love is something that extends to everything, is the inner-most impetus for action. We ought to do what we love to do...” The second part speaks to what I want to see grow: that the way I approach my daily tasks and responsibilities would be an example worthy of G & D following. That I could actually live most of the time (not just give lip-service to) “an attitude of respect and reverence for the natural world and for the work of human beings.”.

It's not as though I have been devoid of this, but it has been lacking for sure. I have felt it building in myself for a long while, this uncomfortable place of trying to do too many things and not being able to do any of them well, not being present, really, in any of them. When working on sewing to bring in money, I felt the weight of all the house work that was not getting done; when doing house work I felt so impatient with the “waste” of time when I should be doing something more “profitable” (or at least potentially so).

The example I have been giving when it comes to work, love and duty has been one of scattered, frantic resentment and burden. Of that wide-eyed panic of more expectations and needs than one could possibly meet. (Again, I don't mean to be totally down on myself – there are certainly things I do well and places where I see that I am a good example for the boys. This is just not one of them.)  That's just not where I want to be. 

I know that's sort of what's expected of us - that we be so busy all we can do is run around explaining how exhausted we are and how we wish we could [fill in the blank], but there's just no time...(secretly feeling more important and valuable the busier we are).  And its expected that we be efficient and productive, the value is in the result (which must be tangible to count).  I generally go around with this invisible panel of others - people I admire, specific or some conglomeration thereof - over my shoulder, always ready to give me my "score", to let me know where I stand (generally where I am falling short).  Never mind that this panel and their imagined judgements are entirely fictional, and if I stop to think about it, entirely irrational.  

But this experiment is about stepping back from that, letting it go, being intentional, present, and seeing the value in purposeful work that does not necessarily produce tangible, monetary results.  Seeing what of deeper value might change as a result.  Learning how to get past that invisible panel, past the collective urgency to do more, faster and more remotely.

It has been interesting listening to the questions and issues and realizations that have been popping up over the past week and a half as I go about my work.  There are a few that are old stand-bys, and some that have surprised me.  For now I'm letting them float a bit rather than trying to pin them all down. 

It has been a rocky start to this second week, with G coming down with a cold of some sort over the weekend.  I so struggle with changes, and it was even rougher this time, in relation to things I'd been thinking about over the past week, and where I thought my reaction wouldn't be what it was.  I'm not sure that made any sense to anyone not in my head... but it would take another whole post to explain.  At any rate, it was a rough start to the week.  Which made it that much more relevant to come upon that passage this evening.  A reminder of the quieter, deeply grounded reason I am in this place, testing the waters; of where I hope I might be headed.

An Experiment

This week marks the start of an experiment.  I've been settling deeper and deeper into this place of paralysis; stymied by a whole lot of things, real and imagined.  Two pages worth, in fact, I wrote them all down.  Which, as it happens was a good thing, being that it gave me that final nudge (kick in the pants) into action.

At some point in the last couple weeks, this idea came to me; one of those that just appears without having to force it into being.  What if.  What would happen if I made the decision to conduct an experiment for a month, if I decided to stop letting myself be pulled (or pulling myself) in opposite directions and just be a homemaker.  What if I gave myself the freedom to let go of trying to make an income, and of trying so hard to figure out what my purpose is, and just give it a shot.  A month to be more cohesive, to focus on tending our home (both the physical and intangible) that has been so neglected and resented and so often not the nurturing, purposeful place I want it to be.  What if I let myself really believe and work from a place where this work of tending this place and to D & G was of real and far(ther) reaching value?  I keep wishing I could, and what's stopping me - really - for a month?  An experiment.  An experience; present and active.

As it turns out the timing is perfect (the way sometimes things work themselves out).  I had a week to get a few more things listed in my Etsy shop and at the boys' school store where I have some things on consignment, and to even have two semi-vacation days while the boys were off school for conferences, then, now, a whole month until school ends for the summer.

There's a lot I could write, about my reasons and big questions; I'm so tempted to write a long, expansive post.  I'm hoping to take notes as I go: observations on the experiment, and share some here.  But for now I'll just share some of my intentions for the month, and leave it at that.

I am hoping...
:: To live this month fully and observantly in all its parts (good and bad, easy and hard)
:: To leave our home a better place than where it started
:: To hold this time open for
     ~ being present and being one (not divided)
     ~ experimenting and observing; being curious    
     ~ purposeful work
     ~ tending to our space, physical and not
:: To cultivate and nurture pride (quiet, grounded) in the work I do, not just for the work's sake, but also for
    the effects it has beyond the task itself.

Lately

Lately here has been...

throwing open windows and breathing in the fresh air

planting, some, even when I feel totally intimidated and inept at the thought:

          peas (which did poorly, but a few hardy sprouts braving the otherwise bare bed)

          turnips (the same)

          radishes, kale, spinach, chard

          and carrots

          oh, and onions last night.  Some herbs as well that will be a small miracle if they come up

discovering a sweet mama robin has built her nest right behind where we park, happily she's gotten used 

     to us and no longer flies away (four perfect blue eggs hiding under her fluffed up feathers)

and bees, two packages arrived this week to replace some of those lost over the winter.  D swam happily 

     in his birthday bee suit to help install them.  At the end, he knelt down in the swarm, hands out to watch 

     them land on his gloves.

G popped the box tops with his screwdriver then he and I watched from a safe distance (and picked  

     flowers)

the last May Day in the meadow and the sun was shining.

school will be ending so soon...after a short school week and this weather, you could convince me it is    

     already summer break.

a full weekend ahead, bees and birthdays (and hopefully one or two suspended, not rushing, moments as 

     well).

Hope your weekend is full and good...

This Moment :: First One Gone

Away, Away

After a long time of being unable to, this past weekend Jim and I had the gift of getting away for a night while the boys enjoyed a sleepover at Grandma & Grandpa's: win-win.  It was a rocky and tenuous path up to the last minute, but then it was, and it was so good.  How could it not be with the scene above out our window?  The quiet peace of this spot never fails to do wonders on stress and worry - at least for the time we are there.  And all accounts are the sleepover was a happy success.  One thing Jim and I, and the boys had in common was the feeling that it all went by too quickly!

Coming back is mixed: some goodness remains, but all the rest that slipped off my shoulders for that bit of time slips right back on, so easily and familiarly. 

I read a post the other day by Renee where among other things she talks about the back and forth of pushing through when things get tough, and then letting go and resting, caring for ourselves, trusting in timing (that may not be on our schedule).  This makes sense to me, the rhythm of out and in, work and rest, express and build up.  But what I just don't get is how to know when it is time to let go.  When is the resistance to be embraced and tackled, and when is it a sign that you've run out of path and it's time for a rest before finding your way forward again?

Sometimes I think I give up too easily, turning around when a path fails to meet expectations or doesn't "feel" like the right path anymore.  Sometimes I think I try so hard - the figurative head-meets-brick-wall - and I just get nowhere.  What I don't understand is how to know where the line is between even the best path having some roots and rocks, maybe even a closed gate or two, and a rutted overgrown path that's just not worth the effort in the end. 

And then there are the times (like now?) when I simply stand in the middle of the diverging paths rooted in place with over-thinking and worrying.  Wanting to (feeling I must) make the right choice, longing to figure out which path it is that will be deeply familiar in its way, its purpose and landmarks because it is my path, that one that is out there waiting for me if I could just figure it out.  And realizing all the while that in my rootedness I am losing time that I could have if I just - let - go.  Perhaps this is a sign that it is one of those resting, caring, trusting times?

How do you tell when to push through and when to step back?  It is hard to trust that there is freedom and opportunity in stepping back; gain and not loss - that if I don't do or know something right now that it may not slip away, but maybe instead slip in, in the midst of the quiet and open heart.

Wandering Around in Circles

(apologies for the dark picture, something seems to have gone awry with the camera lately...)

My mind has been mighty full lately. Too full to be able to feel true in simply posting the happenings of our days, but too full to know where to start in putting any thoughts down on the screen (and unsure of which of those thoughts belong in blog format, anyway).

For the past few weeks, there has been a wonderful series going on (which you should check out, if you haven't already), by seven different bloggers about the reality of various aspects of their lives. This is something that always fascinates me, having the opportunity to hear what another mother's daily life is actually like. For many reasons, I suppose: it makes it more possible to connect to that person, being able to see a greater piece of the whole, it reassures me that mine is not the only life that doesn't look entirely like pretty blog photos, (ha!), and it gives me a chance to learn and find inspiration for areas in my life that I would like to change or grow into more gracefully. The pretty pictures are good, but “getting real” is so very satisfying.

So at any rate, as I read through this week's posts yesterday, I was struck by these words from Kyce of Old Recipe for a New World:

“What is the work I do each day, here in the life I have been given to live?

There is one task that guides all others: to create in my home a microcosm of the world I wish to inhabit....

…

My tremendous sense of purpose as a homemaker – a human being blessed to be employed almost entirely in bread labor, or work that is essential to life, but not

necessarily paid – comes from a feeling of having both a responsibility and an opportunity. I am given the gift of living this good life and in return I work to do it justice.”

Much of my thinking of late has revolved around this question of purpose and work and my place therein. This is such a big, amorphous topic with twisting tangents spinning off here and there and back around to entwine themselves together, that it is hard to know how to sort it all out, and fully.

I am not a person who knew what I wanted to be growing up and could head straight toward it, not looking back. I went through a series of at least four majors (considered if not declared) before settling on one that was very interesting to me, but with one slight problem (that was easy to overlook at the time): those jobs that most people sought out after completing said major? None appealed to me. And so after graduating, I had a couple good, mostly unrelated jobs, but nothing you'd call a career. And then D & G were born and I happily left my job to stay home with them. Six years blurred past, and here I am, still wondering where my place is and how to find it. Frustrated and discouraged at my floundering when most people around me seem to be either settled in contentedly (enough), or with their eyes focused on a place to settle.

Now that the boys are coming more into themselves, and becoming more and more independent (as independent as six-year olds can be), there is this space opening up, and into it are pouring all these questions of purpose and path and place that had been hidden away – hibernating – for years. Sometimes I miss office work and the structure that it provided, the compartmental nature of it: set hours, set tasks, set it aside and relax. But really that's not what I want. I've tried and am trying to make a go of my own business, attempting to earn some income from the creativity I love. And while the flexibility is great, and the ability to create is wonderful, I just can't stand selling. I struggle with reconciling the value I have for making my own and buying less with the necessity (if any real income is to be had) of persuading others to buy more. Then there is the fact that it is often so much stress and so much work for so little gain, and I wonder what is the point?

Lately I have been holding thoughts similar to those that Kyce expressed in her post, in my heart, and pondering them. When I read her words, my first response was “Yes! That is it exactly!”. Because here is the thing: that is what I wish for. That is what I would like to be able to truthfully write about my own life. But immediately after that first response, all sorts of walls start clicking up into place.

There is the wall of society's devaluing of homemakers, and the way that (despite how vigorously I disagree) that sense of inadequacy, of a homemaker as something less worthy, of less value, has slid in and become an insidious little voice in the back of my head. There is the wall of isolation and lack of (ready and present) community. There is the wall of the requirement that to receive tuition assistance to send our sons to their current school both parents must be working (read, making money).

And here is where I have been hung up most recently, as it's the time of year to apply for assistance for next school year. Here is where I feel pulled in two, with no good answer (or maybe no easy answer). Because, if I am to trust (and can I?) that first, gut response to Kyce's words, and the gut response I have had to books like this, this, this and this, and to other bloggers and friends who I admire; if there is something to be learned from the lack of a clear career track, and the ratio of stress to fulfillment from attempting to run focused-on-profit businesses, then maybe my place, at this point in time at any rate, is to be a homemaker. A “happy generalist”, as Harriet Fasenfest put it in A Householder's Guide to the Universe. If I am to trust how luxurious it feels to think about being able to focus on tending and growing our homestead, on the things I could make for us: the sewing, growing, building, baking and the intrinsic, nourishing value that work has, then maybe that is where I find my sense of greater purpose – the need for which I am finding is hardwired into me.

So that sounds great, except for one *tiny* little snag. Schooling. When we were looking for a preschool for the boys, we stumbled upon the most wonderful school and educational perspective, that we love and are quite vested in – not just for the boys, but for ourselves as well, and that fits us and what we want for D & G just right. And so we have been scraping by, with help, to be able to continue to send them each year. (See, here is where it gets hard to know how to put my thoughts down in a reasonable and vulnerable way: I fully recognize that the fact that I have the opportunity to struggle over whether or not I can send my sons to a private school (I hate putting it that way, it makes it sounds so glitzy, when it's so not) or not and how that relates to my sense of purpose and my place here in this time in my life must sound to some so ridiculous and trivial. But the thing is, it is all bound up in these big questions of self-purpose and growth and fulfillment, and in the desire to provide for my kids in the ways in which I believe are most important, to teach them what I believe and what I want them to believe are of the greatest value.)

My conundrum is, as I have been thinking about all of this lately: in order to continue to send the boys to their school, we need assistance, and to get assistance I must be working in some way (as defined by the world's definition of worthwhile work being paid), and so cannot follow my gut and all-in pursue the work I feel this pull toward. In order to follow my gut and pursue the path of homemaker or “happy generalist”, we could not continue to send the boys to their school, and that would mean homeschooling them (because, having seen and experienced what is possible for their education, I cannot see sending them to our public schools (however “good” they may be) if I have any choice in the matter), and I am not sure that I am ready and able to take on that job as well. I love the idea of it, and there are a number of reasons I've given it serious thought, but I also feel inadequate to the task, and not a little overwhelmed. It's not off the table, but it would be a difficult leap of faith. And yet perhaps it would be worth it?  When a compromise must be made one way or the other, how do you decide which one?

There are so many different tangents that pull me here and there when thinking about this whole subject. It takes me around in circles, sometimes. (I will spare you more of those circles, for now at least.) My hope is that my suspicion is right and that something is moving, if slowly, and that if I can just remain open and listening to that soft, whispering voice, open to the words and stories and wisdom that inspires me and catches my breath, that maybe I'll figure it out. And in the meantime, I'll keep wandering around in circles, wondering what to do, and possibly thinking and rethinking about all of this a little too much.