Perception is Everything

(This  blog entry was originally made back in July 2014, and for whatever reason, recently I found it was no longer on my page so I'm reposting it.)

Sitting here in this chair on my deck in the sun, periodically adjusting the umbrella when it get's too intense; I miss my Mom.  Technically, my grandmother, as she was my father's mother; but as she raised me,--she was mom.   All of this first spring without her, I have sat in "her" spots in the back yard.  The ones I constantly had to shade with the umbrella, or coerce her to move from,  often moments away from disaster.

You see, she was 102 when she passed from this world last October, and for the last 9 years of her life, she lived with my family and me.  Her favorite thing in the world, (well, besides flowers and baked potatoes), was to be warm.  And where better to do that than in the California sun which beams brightly on our backyard for a majority of the year? Only problem was,--when she got too hot, she fainted.  But she didn't care.  As soon as she had dressed and finished breakfast each morning, out she would go to the deck, to sit in the sun and read, and later, when her eyesight was failing, just to sit in the sun.  More times than I can count, I came upon her just as she was losing consciousness from the heat.  She went to the hospital on more than one occasion, when I came out too late.  She always recovered,  with no memory of what had happened. So, as I have been basking in the sun these days, missing her; I have come to appreciate the risk she took.  I get it.  Sometimes doing what you love is worth the risk.

Now, to zero in on the point of this post and acknowledge that my mom is only one of many loved ones that have recently departed from this plane.  In the last 5 years, we have "lost": my father, 2 of my aunts, both my husband's grandmother and her mother, and all three of our dogs.  Each one, whether human or not, had a special place in our hearts and lives.  My mother, my husband's great grandmother, and our final beloved dog all have died within the last nine months.  Additionally, my father's sister is ailing and a my maternal grandmother has inoperable breast cancer and is declining despite having been quite well for a year.

There have been times recently when my husband and I have looked at each other and just said, "please, no more, it's too much to take."

These experiences have done two things for me.  They have given me the kick in the pants that I needed to be serious about getting fit again, so that, hopefully; I can live to a ripe old age in good health, (more on that in my next entry).  Secondly, they have gotten me to really begin thinking about this thing we call loss.

Two days after our dog died, I was walking with some members of GirlTrek, (a fitness group that I belong to), and I had a bit of an epiphany.  As people often do when talking to someone who has lost a pet, one of the women asked if I was going to get another dog.  I said,  "no, not right away", and she went on to say that she was holding off on bringing another pet home because she couldn't stand the feeling of loss when they pass.  To a certain extent I agreed with her, --the feeling of having a piece missing, can be so hard to bear.  But as we continued walking and talking I came to the conclusion that, to quote Tennyson, " 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.", and I expressed this sentiment to her.  These thoughts may or may not have come into being due to a recently renewed meditation practice, and an interest in exploring the concept of non-attachment. Nevertheless, they were real and new to me.

Upon further reflection, I began to think about people who have lost much 'more' than a pet, say their spouses, homes; or as has recently happened to an old friend and also to a cousin of mine, their child.  How do they go on? How do they cope?    

What came to me that day was that my mindset on the situation was in error.  Even with all the evidence to the contrary, I have been acting like objects and people are permanent, and that furthurmore, they are something that we can actually possess, --that we are capable of losing.  That maybe infants are onto something and perhaps Piaget should have kept his observations to himself...  But seriously,  but then and there  on that trail, I realized that all the pain of loss stems from these two beliefs or feelings.  As I walked on, a sense of calm and gratitude swept over me.  I realized that if I thought of my time with my dog as a gift, a happy accident, I could be grateful for the time that I had with her.   

So now, lately, as my emotions catch up with my intellect and I stop waiting for my mom to return from wherever it is she has been since October.   I become fully cognizant of the new reality of our family unit and sometimes a sad, helplessness, creeps in.  At these times, I actually start thinking about what I could have done differently,  how I could have "saved" her. I have to say to myself, almost out loud, "it's done."  It's been hard, but getting easier to shift to being grateful for the blessing that she was in my life for almost 50 years and to how fortunate we were that our souls crossed paths. This emerging new way of thinking has cleared a path for me to be able to be with my remaining grandmother in the moments that we have left and just enjoy her; rather than avoiding contact in order to steel myself against yet another perceived impending loss. I think that in the end we all are better served by this shift.

Pride Goeth Before A Fail

I admit that this last year I haven't exactly been the picture of the Mamma Who's Got It All Together.  It has been a rough one, with caring for my paternal grandmother in her last days, continuing homeschooling our son, and helping my husband navigate what turning 40 means to him,--fashion has fallen by the wayside.  Today, in a effort to put all that behind me and turn over a new leaf.  I spent a little extra time getting ready.  I donned the good yoga pants and jacket, put a little product in my hair, even paid a some attention to my eyebrows.  Then off I went out into the public.  I went to the County Recorder, then to a lawyer's office to drop something off.  It wasn't until I stopped to get a little exercise  on the waterfront that I caught a glimpse of my reflection in my car window and I noticed my mismatched earrings...  This is not the first time I have done this.  This is not even the first time this month, I have done this.  Well, I whipped them off and went on about my business.   When I came home I took off my jacket before going to take out the recycling. It was out there that I offered some advice to a neighbor who is suffering from arthritis. I quickly went inside to get her a bottle of suppliments that had worked for my grandmother and several friends. When I returned, we talked at the bottom of my stairs for a few minutes and then parted ways.  Upon returning to my entryway I caught yet another glimpse of myself in the mirror there.   It was only then that I noticed my embroidered shirt was on inside out. Sigh.

The Only Thing Necessary For Evil To Triumph Is For Good Men (And Women) To Do Nothing

Let me just say from the start that her intent was not evil,-- quite the opposite, but her mindset was. Some people reading this may wonder what the big deal is.  It was an attempt at a compliment, clumsy, yes, but evil?  Anyway, I'll tell my story and let you all have your opinions on the matter.

Yesterday my son and I were strolling through the Farmer's Market in Marin.  We stopped at the mushroom vendors' table for an impromptu  math lesson on fractions, because we're homeschoolers and that how we roll.  While there, we sampled some Asian pears they were selling and decided to buy some.  As we were doing our transaction, the following exchange took place:

Vendor: "That your daughter?"

Me: "No, my son"

Vendor: "Ohhhh, beautiful hair. Your hair like that,"(flicks hand dismissively)"-- his hair sooo beautiful,-- sooo lucky."

Me: Blank stare, then tight smile and a remarkably violence-free, completed transaction, as she continued to gush in her native tongue and gesture to her partner about what a genetic bullet my son had dodged.

As we walked away, I continued to think about the ramifications of what had happened. The women casually gave my son a "compliment" while simultaneously dissing me.

I'd like to clarify that this is not the first time it's happened. Yesterday evening,  I realized it's not even the first time that this same woman has done that to us.  Neither my son nor I take anything people have to say about our hair personally. It's an opinion.  My son has been hearing the beautiful hair thing since the day he was born.  Literally, even at the hospital.  He finds the attention bizarre since in his mind it has nothing to do with him,  it just grows out of his head that way.  I began to think, however,  what if, the situation had been slightly different?  What if I had been with a daughter?  Someone who, due to her gender, will grow up more aware that people are often treated a certain way because of what their society has agreed is beautiful. What caused me to take pen to paper, so to speak, is that this lady truly thought what she was saying was a compliment.  Why would she or anyone with half a brain think that?  Of course the answer is staring us in the face, or should I say, is  not staring us in the face.  That's the problem.  I say that a system that makes a person feel unworthy based on how they look, or don't look in this case, is a form of evil.

 For as long as we have had print and other mass media as tools for information and entertainment, one very narrow standard of beauty has been held up as the ultimate to be achieved--by everyone. Regardless of any genetic predisposition to the contrary.  It's slowly changing,  you may say, but is it really?  We live in an age where just about every woman of color who comes into the public eye is first lauded for her unique beauty. Then, as she gains notoriety, we watch as she slowly morphs toward that thin-bodied, straight-haired, blond standard. (Shakira? Beyonce's new look, anyone?).  If she doesn't kowtow,  after the her newness wears off, we see less and less of her.  We live in a society where, comedian Chris Rock felt he needed to make a documentary call "Good Hair",  just  to help his daughter understand the corner into which we've allowed ourselves to be backed.   A society where a talented, drop dead gorgeous woman, like Viola Davis, can stun the press into a frenzy simply by showing up to an awards show sporting her hair the way it grows out of her head.   Last month she again made headlines, on the Huffington Post, for simply appearing on the cover of Essence,--a periodical written for Black women, wearing her natural hair!  If you don't find that ludicrous,  just imagine this headline: "Angelina Jolie Stuns Oscar Crowd By Sporting Brown Wavy Hair On Red Carpet!".  While in a way it's a step forward for the Huffington Post to acknowledge her beauty, and give voice to her desire to raise her daughter with a healthy attitude towards her hair.  Wouldn't it be nice if that wasn't an issue at all, her beauty wasn't painted as shocking, and she was simply being interviewed about her work as an actress? Don't misunderstand me, I'm not putting down any one's choice of hair style, including the above mentioned.  After all, political and societal implications aside, how people decide to wear their hair comes down to what makes them feel comfortable.  If a person is appears comfortable in their own skin, (or hair in this case), other people tend to mind their own business.  Seeing yourself reflected in popular media can go a long way towards facilitating that comfort. It's just painful  to see that so many women have been made to feel less than, by a culture that values the attributes that they have, (curvy bodies, dark skin, full lips, thick curly hair),  just not on them.

Madison Avenue seems to be beginning to understand that people come in all colors, shapes, sizes and hair textures.  That they will more readily spend their money with companies that bother to represent them in their ad campaigns.  Hollywood,  however,  just keeps missing the memo.  Call me silly, but would it kill them to show the girl with the Afro making everybody swoon,  just once?  The argument that the American people just aren't ready, needs to be retired.  As the girl with the Afro, who regularly gets genuine complements on her hair from men and women of all ages and races, I am here to tell them that people are more ready than TV and  movie studio executives think.   Furthermore, if the successes of shows like Modern Family and Dexter have taught those who control the images we see anything, it's that audiences are malleable, and will watch a well written show as long as it is entertaining.

There is nothing more effective at changing collective consciousness than a prevalent media presence. Oprah, for example.  When she started out, afternoon talk shows were mainly hosted by males and watched mainly by women.  Now the genre is much more varied, as is it's audience, and nobody thinks anything of it.  That's just how things are. While I must note, that YouTube tutorials, and  online forums on sites such as Curly Nikki, have helped build understanding and self-love within the community of women with Afro textured hair.  The mainstream media could play an important role in healing old wounds and stopping people like the vendor I described here from inflicting new ones,  simply by broadening what it presents as being beautiful.   So what can be done to make sure this happens, you say?  Lots.   Educate your children not to deride someone for rockin' their hair as is.   If you've got it, and you think you might like to flaunt, but you're not sure, go head on.  I and millions of others support you.   Refuse to support companies and individuals that fail to see that the standard they are upholding is hurtful.  Speak up, with love,  to those who perpetuate the tired belief that only a select group of people with narrowly defined physical characteristics are beautiful. ( I know the next time mushroom lady opens her mouth in my son's presence, she's gonna get an education, lose a customer, or both) Lastly,  let Hollywood know what's up.  Go to the opening day of movies that represent women of color and their beauty in a positive and inclusive light.  Refuse to attend those that have a narrow view of what's beautiful. The more of us that do this,  the sooner things will change.



  

More Than Meets The Eye

I had an encounter today that so richly illustrated how easily we can be misled by what we see.  I was rushing off to pick up my son from soccer camp, and as I approached the stop light I saw a young, black boy, who was in his late teens. In light of recent events I couldn't help but feel a surge of motherliness as my car pulled up alongside his parked car.  He was sitting on the hood looking at a big beautiful dog. The dog was standing next to the car with it's paws on the hood.  As I approached I thought " awww,  how sweet are this boy and his dog, playing!"  Then, I looked again and everything shifted.  I saw the boy's rather frantic expression, that the dog was a big pit bull, and that there was another boy further up the street, --way further up the street, gesturing and laughing.  Now the momma in me really kicked in. This boy needs rescuing, I thought. I stopped, rolled the window down, and asked him if the dog had cornered him. He slid off the hood with a sheepish grin, and said yes, and that he realized it didn't bite and that he was 'just being superstitious'. ( In the time it took me to brake and roll down the window, the dog somehow lost interest and wandered off.) With that he hurried off to catch up with his friend and I drove on to pick up my son.

A kind of comical misunderstanding all around. No harm, no foul.

My point is this. We both reacted to something we thought we saw; I, to "heartwarming scene", the       boy, a "vicious dog". To me there is such a parallel between this little vignette and what happened in Sanford, Fla. The difference is,  today,  the boy and I took a closer look at the situation, and questioned our assumptions. 

Bird

I think I may need to wear my glasses full time.  I filled my prescription last year at about this time, after holding onto it for a full year before that. Denial,  anyone?  So I've worn them the past year, for reading only at first, then for eating, too.  Lately I've found myself uncomfortable if I don't put them on shortly after I rise in the morning.  However,  since I don't need them to drive I've been able to delude myself into believing that I don't "really" wear glasses.  But an incident this past week has brought me ungracefully into unavoidable reality.  Observe. 

My son is a budding birdwatcher so I am always on the look out for a cool new sighting in our neighborhood.  A couple of days ago I was sure that I had spotted a great one on our neighbor's roof, first thing in the morning, while I was emptying the trash.  I raced into my house to grab the camera and shoot it before it flew away.  I hurriedly threw on the the telephoto lens so I could capture it from our porch. Click. I got it!  The first picture below is pretty much what I saw with my naked eye, some sort of giant mockingbird,---standing very still.

This is what I saw when I put on my glasses and zoomed in on the viewfinder....

Now You Know What I Did Last Summer

I case any of you were wondering if I had fallen off the face of the Earth or maybe had just plain given up my blog, neither is true.

My family and I kept it kind of close to home this summer, no far flung adventures, just home improvement nesty kind of endeavors.  We repainted our deck and went on a fruitless search for outdoor furniture cushions.  This was an excuse for me to get a new sewing machine-- which I love!  Who knew the technology had so far to advance?  Before, I was happy to have my grandma's "new" machine (25 years old), that made button holes automatically.  My new machine does that too,  plus threads itself, tells me what pressure foot and needle to use for any given stitch, and probably would give me relationship advice if I asked it--. Suffice it to say, it made making new cushions for our patio furniture pretty easy.

I also decided to take my love affair with fresh produce from the farmer's market to the next level...canning.  Through all my formative years growing up in my grandmother's house, I watched her faithfully "put up" oodles of stone fruits from the local orchards and boysenberries  from our own backyard every summer. We would eat them joyfully all winter long.  It seemed like a daunting, complicated endeavor, but for some reason, this summer, I felt like I was up to it.  It was really fun, relatively easy, and now I'm kind of obsessed. I've got two new problems, though, not enough storage space, and trying not to open and eat everything before winter.   Not that everything turned out perfectly,  I made an awesome marinara,  a tasty salsa, and some of the best strawberry preserves I've ever had.   A peach preserve that I my son loved, but that I felt could be improved. Then one that I liked, but he hates, and an EPIC failure of a cherry preserve.  It tastes good, but it's so firm I'm not sure how we are going to get it out of the jar, maybe with heat and a sledge hammer?

Anyway here are a few pictures of the fruits of my labor, (pun intended).

A Different View of the Eclipse

Psychedelic paint job?  Nope, just the sun and the moon dancing in the trees.

After having had a rather un-fun afternoon of mediating a play date between my  grumpy son and his sweet long -suffering friend.  I needed a bit of a break.  Shooting these interesting shadows during today's eclipse, cast on various objects around the outside of our home, were the highlight of my day.