Thinking About Service

Empowered Souls met yesterday. We’re on Lesson 3 in Breezes of Confirmation, where Musonda tells her cousin Rose that she’d like to be a nurse someday so that she could help people. What a great conversation starter! We talked about what everyone in the group thought they might want to do for a career when they grew up, and most importantly, why.

Most had dream careers based on their natural inclinations and talents, ranging from chemist to journalist to taking over her father’s real estate business. And I loved seeing how they didn’t feel pressured to have goals that were similar to each other, or based exclusively on money or prestige.

After that, we played a game. Everybody wrote down a different job on a piece of paper. Then everybody took turns drawing one, and explaining how someone in that position could be of service to others … in under 10 seconds. They did a great job with it, but I noticed an interesting trend.

This particular group of 11-12 year old girls, many of whom are involved in community service through their schools, tend to see “service” as a separate, stand-alone activity. For example, they recognized immediately that a singer could hold a benefit concert to raise money for charity, or visit people in the hospital and sing for them, but they didn’t mention the fact that singing could simply make people who heard them happier on an everyday basis. There’s definitely an event-oriented, rather than process-oriented culture surrounding them. This is the sort of thing it’ll be good to keep in mind as we continue forward in study and service as a group.

After that, we played charades with the occupations (watching people trying to mime “meteorologist” and “chiropractor” is pretty hilarious!), and then went outside to run around. We ended up inventing a meandering game with a soccer ball and a volleyball called volleyboccer, which inspired me to teach the girls about Calvinball. Yes, I played Calvinball with my junior youth group. Such a proud moment!

This group is such a great mix of deep and silly. Sometimes they seem very adult, and at other times they’re very, well, twelve. I can’t wait to see how they grow over the next three years.

Sometimes It Looks Like Fun.

I started a book club.

There are four members right now, and our focus is pretty narrow. We read only Newbery Award and Honor books. Basically (for those who aren’t familiar with the Newbery), we only read the best quality American juvenile literature ever written.

Sometimes I feel guilty for taking time in my schedule to do things like sit around a table, drinking hot chocolate and discussing children’s lit. I could be teaching, or organizing, or writing. I could be doing a hundred useful things.

But building community means having meaningful and distinctive conversations with people. And a lot of the time, meaningful conversations look an awful lot like fun.

Right now, we’re reading My Side of the Mountain, a 1960 Newbery Honor book by Jean Craighead George. George just passed away last month, and we wanted to honor her. And since all of us already read Julie of the Wolves in around 5th grade or so, this was the natural choice.

George’s books nearly always have one thing in common: a courageous youth who spends time in the wilderness, finding inner strength and a keen appreciation for the natural world in the process.

So I imagine we’ll spend some time during our next meeting discussing things like

• moral and personal development
• ecology
• the personal effects of one’s environment
• children and youth
• nontraditional learning
• self-reliance
• good writing

Let’s face it, these are subjects I wish I could bring up with everyone. But I don’t get to walk up to people on street corners and ask, “Hey, what do you think about the psychological effects increasing urbanization might be having on children, and how can we remedy that on the local level?” But now I get to do it over cocoa. With books!

Just because it’s fun doesn’t mean it’s not  important. Bringing former strangers together for any positive reason, even if it’s just to play a game or share a meal, isn’t going to devolve into a life of meaningless chitchat. More likely is the possibility that the social bonds created will give my work of community building further reach and deeper meaning.

So what if it looks like fun?

That’s because it is. The world I want to live in contains people who talk about really good books.

I’m already one step closer.

Scintilla: No Trespassing

Scintilla prompt: Talk about a time when you got away with it.

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.”
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

-from “This Land is Your Land,” by Woody Guthrie

Hardly anybody knows all the verses to that song, but I love that one in particular.

Most of the time (at least most of the times when there’s actually something interesting to see), “No Trespassing” is a way of keeping you safe, or at least a way of keeping absentee owners safe from liability if you’re determined to do something stupid. There’s almost never anyone around who cares enough to enforce what’s on the sign. There’s nothing to take but photos, so what, besides you, is there to protect?

My first experience with exploring forbidden places was in college. I had a group of friends who loved to get into places. We started with the steam tunnels under campus, then explored places in town like the abandoned greenhouses at an old state hospital and the gutted remains of a factory. A mission to a never-completed nuclear facility was scrapped due to security, but camping and even caving were a part of the group’s repertoire. While all of us live in different places now, most of us still have a penchant for adventure.

Exploring the steam tunnels under campus.

I was pretty cautious, as adventurers went. First Aid certified and a Red Cross volunteer, I became known as the person who always had something on hand for scrapes and scratches, and the occasional burn. I remember being terrified, attempting to walk along a pipe that crossed a ravine late at night on a cold, furiously windy night. I worried I might fall and die. But I didn’t. And I walked that pipe many times afterwards. The spirit of my friends did me a lot of good.

Luckily for me, I married a man whose spirit of adventure outpaces mine more than enough to keep me on my toes. Whether it’s a half-built castle in the backwoods of Ohio (yes, you heard that correctly) or just a ridge in the park that begs to be climbed, we’re there.

Telling about “the time I got away with it” is like telling about the time I sang along to the radio, or the time I walked to the store. I don’t run around telling lies or stealing or anything dramatic like that. But I do prefer to read the backs of “No Trespassing” signs, which don’t say anything.

Because that side was made for you and me.

The Life and Times of a Contemporary Teetotaller

I’ve never had an alcoholic drink in my life.

Okay, I’ve had a couple of sips accidentally. But never an entire drink, and never on purpose. And yet:

• I can dance my butt off at weddings.
• I can sing karaoke, despite the fact that I stink at it.
• I can go to bars with friends.
• I can enjoy a nice Italian meal.
• I can talk to members of the opposite sex.
• I can go camping.
• I can hang out with my in-laws (who are actually very cool).

These are all things people have told me they can’t do without drinking.

Know what else I can do for fun?

• Play on playgrounds
• Practice my ukulele
• Grab a random book from a shelf at my local library
• Take walks around my neighborhood
• Volunteer
• Write
• Play Boggle (which I usually win), Scrabble (which I always lose), and Bananagrams (50/50) with my husband.
• Go contradancing.
• Climb on the giant rocks in and around the Rocky River

Aside from being some of my favorite activities, what do these have in common? They’re better without booze.

For some reason, people find the fact that I don’t drink alcohol stranger than the fact that I don’t eat any meat, eggs, or dairy. I’ve never understood this. It’s not like I need to take B12 supplements to make up for my lack of beer. Vegan is strange, but also trendy, in a hippie sort of way. Dry is just not on the list of hot lifestyle choices.

I love how much less money I spend at restaurants. I love how, when I’m feeling socially awkward at a party, I just leave. Because I can, you know, drive. I love being able to feel proud of the new things I try, knowing that it was my own courage, and not dulled judgment that allowed them to happen. I love being able to trust myself, whether I’m feeling spontaneous or responsible.

Being a teetotaller gives me more choices, not fewer. I don’t expect the whole world to follow me, but I would  like the world to know that when you feel disgruntled about drinking around me when I’m sober, it’s not my sobriety that’s the problem. I’m having a great time on the dance floor, and I know how I’m getting home tonight.

You might give it a try sometime. I’ll be here with my board games when you’re ready to have a go.

Scintilla: All Grown Up

Scintilla prompt: When did you realize you were a grown up? What did this mean for you?

I was on the plane before I realized what was happening.

It was May, 2007, and I was flying from Albuquerque to Newark, where I would go through half an hour of extra security measures before boarding an El Al flight for Tel Aviv.

Only a few months earlier, I bought the ticket with my own money, earned at the first full-time job I’d ever held for an entire year. I arranged for my own passport, made my own reservations at a tiny inn in Haifa, and purchased a new pair of shoes that would look respectable with a skirt, but would also allow me to get up and down Mount Carmel with ease.

I did all this without letting my parents know I was going on a ten day pilgrimage to Israel.

I was 24.

I’d already moved across the country, lived in my own apartment, attended (and dropped out of) college, held jobs, bought a car, and generally functioned in the world of adulthood. I was considering opening a Roth IRA. But it wasn’t until I boarded that airplane, buckled my seatbelt, and counted the rows to the emergency exit that the reality hit me:

I was traveling alone, by my own decision, with my own resources, to the other side of the planet. Because I wanted to. And that was a totally normal thing to do, because I was a grown-up.

That was five years ago now. And although I still look about 17, the knowledge of my own adulthood never completely goes away. Sure, I put Twister on my wedding registry, but I also, you know, got married. Despite the fact that I never did finish my degree, I still managed to grow into something that actually resembles a career. I’m living out some childhood dreams (people pay me to write!) and some adult ones as well (the neighborhood development programs I’ve been nurturing are starting to take off!). While my teenage self never imagined the future would include complaining about the cost of purchasing private health insurance with pregnancy coverage, I also didn’t think much about booking international flights without consulting my parents first.

All in all, I’ll take adulthood over childhood any day.

Until the electric bill is due. Then I’ll race you to the swings.

Outside the Shrine of the Bab with a group of young adults who happened to be staying at the same inn. May 2007. We still keep in touch.

29

I’m 29 years old today. Here are 29 things that make me happy, right now.

1. There’s some blue in the sky today.
2. Two new people at the study circle last night. Our community keeps growing.
3. Birds chirping outside.
4. Victoria is at the hospital. Milo is going to share a birthday with me!
5. My family is really cool.
6. Vegan eggplant bake. Thanks, Heidi!
7. Making cinnamon toast for breakfast.
8. I have so many opportunities to be of service.
9. I live walking distance from an amazing public library.
10. (And also walking distance from a vegetarian cafe.)
12. (Which has the most fabulous Mexican cocoa ever.)
13. I sometimes get paid to write. This is a childhood dream come true.
14. I have amazing friends all over the world.
15. I’m married to one of them.
16. My children’s class is learning to sing “O God, Guide Me” in Chinese. Or rather, they’ve already memorized it, and I’m struggling to catch up.
17. I can do 20 push-ups now, up from only 8 in mid-December.
18. The days are getting longer!
19. Ayyam-i-Ha is coming up. Then the Fast. Then Naw-Ruz!
20. I’m having Thai food for lunch with my dad today.
21. There are so many people in Lorain county who want animator training that I might have to start two separate study circles.
22. Reliable heat, water, electricity.
23. I’m a prime number now!
24. I have copies of the new Ruhi Book 3s (grades 1, 2, and 3) to pore over!
25. I plan to teach myself all the songs in Book 3 on the ukulele this year.
26. Because I’m getting a ukulele!
27. The fact that we don’t have a lot of furniture in our living room means there’s enough space to do handstands.
28. I live a mile and a half from Lake Erie.
29. It’s my birthday!

I See You! Judgment vs. Empowerment

Two children, almost precisely 1 year apart in age, sit at a table and work on two, nearly identical 12-piece puzzles.

The younger child quickly begins looking for easy pairs, then adding individual pieces on.  He rotates pieces to try them out from different angles, then sets them aside for later if they don’t seem to fit the space he’s working on, quickly moving onto the next piece.  He is happy and engrossed, finishing the puzzle many times, saying “Yay!” and immediately dumping the puzzle out onto the table to try it again.

The older child begs “Help!  Help!”  He puts a piece where he believes it should go, then bangs on it and cries when it doesn’t fit.  He is frustrated and unhappy, unwilling to try new tactics, but also unwilling to let the puzzle go unfinished.

How would you judge these children?

What kind of capacity would you see in them?

What would you imagine their futures hold in store?

The younger child and the teacher begin helping the older child.  At first they put a couple of pieces in place for him, in response to his cries for help.  After that calms him down, they start coaching him.  The younger child sees that a piece the older child holds needs to be reoriented.  “Turn, turn,” he says.  The teacher asks, “Do you see a piece of the cow on that piece?  Where is the rest of the cow?”  The older child puts the piece into place and his face lights up: “Did it!”  He grabs another piece, and completes much of the puzzle on his own.

By lunchtime, both boys complete the puzzles with equal skill, focus, and excitement.

One only needed access to the puzzle.  The other needed help learning the process of spatial problem solving and a boost in confidence.

Both of them got what they needed: empowerment.

Some would have called the younger child intelligent, well-adjusted, self-motivated, productive.  Some would have called the older child needy, easily frustrated, melodramatic, or even ADHD.  But to see them only half an hour later, you couldn’t tell one puzzle-builder from the other.

Why do we judge children based on a few needs in their earliest years?  Why is it shameful to require human, rather than simply material, assistance in order to blossom into productivity and flow?

If one child’s mind is so wired that completing a puzzle is easy, let’s celebrate that.  And if another child has the capacity to accept the help of others in learning to complete a task that once appeared impossible, let’s celebrate that, too.

Together, these boys could make a fantastic team.  I fear the judgments that will soon be placed on them, and that surely have been already.  But in the meantime, I will give them everything I can.  I want so desperately for their lives to be full of that ecstatic expression upon sliding the final puzzle piece into place.  The look of pride, of competence, of independence, of sheer and unadulterated joy.

Reverb10: Body Integration

This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?

I wish I could contra dance every day.  Or at least a couple of times a week.  Unfortunately, the regular dances here in Cincinnati are on Monday nights, when I have Anatomy and Physiology class.  This leaves me going on Saturdays once a month (when I’m not out of town) and on those rare Mondays I have a holiday from school.

I love the way the physical and the mental are all caught up with each other in contra dancing.  There are so many complex patterns involving so many people, the math could make you dizzy if the twirling didn’t.  But the memory, the math, the anticipation and planning, they’re all rooted in the body.  And while you’re weaving complicated figure-eights around three other people at once (hey!) you’re also socializing, laughing, flirting, and letting your personality shine through.  Some dances are elegant, and some are goofy, and nearly all of them will leave you breathless.

It’s my body working in unity with a community of bodies, creating something big and beautiful.  It’s the dancer’s choir.  It gives my mind just the right amount of challenge to keep it from worrying, “Do my clothes look funny?  Why aren’t I as talented as her?  Do I have enough in my checking account to pay tuition next week?” giving my body the chance it needs to take over and do what it does best.

(Just a video for those who’ve never tried contra. It’s not a group of mine, although they’re very good!)

Reverb10: Wonder

How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

Wonder is a state of humility, of recognition of the beauty and mystery and grandeur in the world around us.  Wonder is a constant posture of learning, as taught in religion and the sciences and arts.  Wonder is surprise and awe.  Wonder is recognition of unknowingness, but devoid of fear.

I find wonder through the eyes of children. Five days each week, I play with blocks.  I look through prisms.  I dance.  I water plants and watch them grow.  Five days each week, I mine the gems hidden within the characters of tiny human beings who are still new to the wonders of the world.  I seek out their compassion, their gentleness, their curiosity, their powers of expression, and their thoughts.  Yesterday was the first snowfall of the year, and I was able to share it with an amazing group of two-year-olds who had no memory of seeing such a phenomenon before.  This is the embodiment of wonder: toddlers in the falling snow.

The child
is made of one hundred.
The child has
a hundred languages
a hundred hands
a hundred thoughts
a hundred ways of thinking
of playing, of speaking.

A hundred always a hundred
ways of listening
of marveling, of loving
a hundred joys
for singing and understanding
a hundred worlds
to discover
a hundred worlds
to invent
a hundred worlds
to dream.

(Loris Malaguzzi )

I find wonder in the natural world. The expansiveness of the galaxy and the delicate tracery of leaves on a tree.  I find wonder in the complexities of the human form; the unity of each part creating a mysterious whole.  I love that I exist in a universe that I will never fully comprehend.  I love that I exist in a world in which the quest for knowledge will never become outworn.

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed. (Albert Einstein)

I find wonder in the richness of faith. The names of God remind me: the unknowable Essence.  The Creator.  The most manifest of the manifest and the most hidden of the hidden.  Faith brings to light the significance of every act, generating wonder in the very nature of being and doing.  The wonderment inherent in active faith engenders the desire to experience still more wonderment, and the act of this search is itself a constant source of wonder.

All these states are to be witnessed in the Valley of Wonderment, and the traveler at  every moment seeketh for more, and is not wearied. Thus the Lord of the First and the Last in setting forth the grades of contemplation, and expressing wonderment hath said: “O Lord, increase my astonishment at Thee!”
(Baha’u’llah, The Seven Valleys, p. 32)

I find wonder in community. When human beings choose to step outside the insidious flow of cynicism and reach out to one another in mutual care and love, this is a cause for wonder.  There is a mysterious quality to the bonds of friendship that connect people across all barriers.  Strong families are a wonder.  Strong neighborhoods are a wonder.  My marriage has been a new source of wonder to me this year.  We’re still transitioning from good friends to lifelong helpmates, and there is no limit to the wonderment we continue to experience as we bind our respective paths of service to one another.

The Wild Rose

Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart.

Suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,

and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.

(Wendell Berry)

There is so much gorgeous truth in the world.  All we have to do is open our eyes.

Junior Youth Group at the Eco Garden: Images

 

We served:

 

We learned:

 

We played: