"And as far as I can tell, most everything means nothin',
except some things, that mean everything..."
I've listened to this song about 100 times now and this line finally stuck out the other day. It is the simple truth and when you find the things that mean everything, you'll know. After that, it's just a matter of being honest enough with yourself to let go of the rest.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Ocean View
It is amazing to me how simply standing by the ocean can put things into perspective. Not only are we reminded of how very small we are, but at the same time of how very big the impact of our actions can be.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Melting Pot
My father is turning 80 this August and as part of his gift, my sister and I have been working on a family photo/history project. As a result, I've spent a substantial amount of time today on an amazing site...EllisIsland.org...where one can search relatives that came to America through Ellis Island in the late 1800's-early 1900's. I may be a bit wierd when it comes to this stuff, but looking at copies of ship manifests and seeing the names of my ancestors in print sent shivers down my spine. It is really impossible for me to imagine what they were thinking and feeling when they arrived here from Southern Italy full of youth, hopes, and imaginings of the American Dream. From what I hear and read, the conditions on those ships left something to be desired and leaving family behind in a culture that is built upon it, must have taken some kind of conviction that I'm not sure I possess. (BTW, the ship manifest also contains passenger's answers to questions like: "Are you a polygamist? and "Are you an anarchist?"...when I realized this, I scoured several documents looking for a "yes" answer to either of those questions and never found one...hmmm.)
What really astounds me, though, are the sheer numbers of people listed on any given day. Even looking up just one last name resulted in pages of entries. Immigrants all. As I gazed at the list of names on the same page as my grandmother's, I couldn't help but wonder how many of them were going to be reunited with spouses that had preceeded them on the journey in order to establish themselves and start earning a living wage as my grandfather had. I wondered how many would go on to learn English from radio shows and comic books as my grandparents did. I wondered how many of them might be coming to America expecting an easy ride. I wondered how many of them prospered and how many failed. Mostly, though, I wondered where America would be without them.
Europa...the ship that brought my grandmother to America
What really astounds me, though, are the sheer numbers of people listed on any given day. Even looking up just one last name resulted in pages of entries. Immigrants all. As I gazed at the list of names on the same page as my grandmother's, I couldn't help but wonder how many of them were going to be reunited with spouses that had preceeded them on the journey in order to establish themselves and start earning a living wage as my grandfather had. I wondered how many would go on to learn English from radio shows and comic books as my grandparents did. I wondered how many of them might be coming to America expecting an easy ride. I wondered how many of them prospered and how many failed. Mostly, though, I wondered where America would be without them.
Europa...the ship that brought my grandmother to America
Monday, July 16, 2007
SAHM
I have been a stay at home mother for 6 years now and while there have been a handful of those "I wouldn't miss this for the world" moments, for the most part it has been hellish. Now, don't get me wrong, I have two wonderful girls and wouldn't trade them in for the world. The past six years have taught me invaluable lessons and seeing things through a child's eyes brings so much clarity to the confusion and chaos that is life. The problem is that I have had this constant internal struggle to avoid defining myself solely as a mother. I fear losing myself, the things I stand for and the dreams I have not yet accomplished. Sometimes, when people say to me, "you are so lucky that you can stay home with your kids", I want to scream. I understand the comment, but honestly luck has nothing to do with it...sacrifice, hard work and a very tight budget is what it amounts to. I don't always feel lucky, either...and most days I'm not sure that my kids are so lucky to have me around 24-7.
What I have found out, is that when I am away from them-even for a few hours a day, I am a much better Mother. We miss each other and we appreciate each other more, which makes it easier to give 100%. Maybe it should not be that way. Maybe I should not need to have a purpose outside the household in order to feel good about my purpose in it. But I do.
Here's a snippit from a CNN article quoting Salary.com on what stay at home mothers are worth...
The typical mother puts in a 92-hour work week, the company concluded, and works at least 10 jobs. In order of hours spent on them per week, these are: housekeeper, day-care center teacher, cook, computer operator, laundry machine operator, janitor, facilities manager, van driver, chief executive officer and psychologist. By figuring out the median salaries for each position, and calculating the average number of hours worked at each, the firm came up with $138,095 -- three percent higher than last year's results.
Hmmm...perhaps $138,095/year would be purpose enough?
What I have found out, is that when I am away from them-even for a few hours a day, I am a much better Mother. We miss each other and we appreciate each other more, which makes it easier to give 100%. Maybe it should not be that way. Maybe I should not need to have a purpose outside the household in order to feel good about my purpose in it. But I do.
Here's a snippit from a CNN article quoting Salary.com on what stay at home mothers are worth...
The typical mother puts in a 92-hour work week, the company concluded, and works at least 10 jobs. In order of hours spent on them per week, these are: housekeeper, day-care center teacher, cook, computer operator, laundry machine operator, janitor, facilities manager, van driver, chief executive officer and psychologist. By figuring out the median salaries for each position, and calculating the average number of hours worked at each, the firm came up with $138,095 -- three percent higher than last year's results.
Hmmm...perhaps $138,095/year would be purpose enough?
Friday, June 1, 2007
the tube
I have decided to try something new. It has been rather difficult lately to find the time and inspiration to sit at the computer(or anywhere else for that matter) and write. My fear that I would abandon my blog and never return to posting on a somewhat regular basis led me to one of my favorite sites, The Quotations Page. I've decided that when material is hard to come by, I will pick a quote that speaks to me and write about that...so here is the quote for today:
"I hate television. I hate it as much as I hate peanuts. But I can't stop eating peanuts."-Orson Welles
This one made me laugh out loud and I'm sure that if my husband and daughter (both of whom I am constantly reminding of the need to "kill our television") knew that I was writing this, it would send them both into hysterical fits. I have often wondered why it is, despite the fact I have threatened more than once to throw our television into the street, that whenever I have the house to myself the first thing I do is grab a blanket, head for the couch and grab the remote. The quote by Orson Welles holds the answer. I hate television for the same reasons I crave it...it is a mindless addiction. I don't particularly like peanuts, but put a bowl in front of me and I will eat them...because...they are there...and they are salty, and crunchy and they are there. Likewise with the tv.
It may not be salty and crunchy, but worse, it requires no energy on the part of the watcher(I don't count pushing buttons on the remote), the programming is filled with escapism of every kind, including watching other people's "reality", the choices are seemingly endless and the news channels...oy, don't even get me started. It seems to me we have built an empire on turning one person's misery into everyone else's entertainment.
Of course I realize that balance is the key, as it is with everything else. I don't crave television at the beginning of my day, when I am full of energy and would much rather read, exercise, go outside or play games with my kids. It is only after I spend a full day trying to convince the other members of my family that they need to be doing those things instead of watching tv, that I feel the craving for the mind-numbing properties of that shiny silver box. Then, when I wake up with a tv hangover from falling asleep on the couch in front of cheap entertainment, I regret the headache, the irritated eyes and most of all, the time that's been wasted that I will never get back.
"I hate television. I hate it as much as I hate peanuts. But I can't stop eating peanuts."-Orson Welles
This one made me laugh out loud and I'm sure that if my husband and daughter (both of whom I am constantly reminding of the need to "kill our television") knew that I was writing this, it would send them both into hysterical fits. I have often wondered why it is, despite the fact I have threatened more than once to throw our television into the street, that whenever I have the house to myself the first thing I do is grab a blanket, head for the couch and grab the remote. The quote by Orson Welles holds the answer. I hate television for the same reasons I crave it...it is a mindless addiction. I don't particularly like peanuts, but put a bowl in front of me and I will eat them...because...they are there...and they are salty, and crunchy and they are there. Likewise with the tv.
It may not be salty and crunchy, but worse, it requires no energy on the part of the watcher(I don't count pushing buttons on the remote), the programming is filled with escapism of every kind, including watching other people's "reality", the choices are seemingly endless and the news channels...oy, don't even get me started. It seems to me we have built an empire on turning one person's misery into everyone else's entertainment.
Of course I realize that balance is the key, as it is with everything else. I don't crave television at the beginning of my day, when I am full of energy and would much rather read, exercise, go outside or play games with my kids. It is only after I spend a full day trying to convince the other members of my family that they need to be doing those things instead of watching tv, that I feel the craving for the mind-numbing properties of that shiny silver box. Then, when I wake up with a tv hangover from falling asleep on the couch in front of cheap entertainment, I regret the headache, the irritated eyes and most of all, the time that's been wasted that I will never get back.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Time Flies
Wow, I've been trying to get back here for a while...life sometimes gets in the way of life, if you know what I mean. Most of you know that my youngest daughter broke her leg in a playground accident and was in the hospital for two weeks. We are home now and on week three of the spica body cast...which has to rank in the top 10 most cruel contraptions ever created by man. (OK, maybe it is only in the top 50, but still.) I have hesitated to write about the experience only because it has been very difficult to find the positives in all of it and I don't want the blog to turn into an avenue for negativity.
So, rather than rant on about the inefficiencies of the health care system in this country and the trials of diaper changing and rash care in a body cast, I have found a couple of happier thoughts on which to focus. The first being taking healthy risks and the second being finding out who is truly in your corner.
I've never been much of a risk-taker. In fact, as my sister pointed out, the idea of risking anything at all was never particularly encouraged while we were growing up. We were somewhat "sheltered", for lack of a better word and I owe that to nothing more than my parents trying to do the best they could by us with what they had...financially, emotionally, spiritually.
My last year of high school and my college years ended up being one experiment in risk after another as a form of rebellion and self-expression...sometimes the payoff was good and sometimes not so good, but there was always a payoff. In more recent years, as I have tried to embrace a more Buddhist philosophy, I realize that all experiences are learning experiences just as everyone we meet is a teacher. Even if the only thing we learn by risking something is to NEVER EVER risk it again, we have still grown as human beings and are better for knowing it.
So, what does all of this have to do with the past few weeks? Everything, really. When I was sitting in the hospital room feeling horribly guilty for letting my 2 year old climb on mini-monkey bars while I stood less than arms-distance away, my incredibly wise sister said to me that letting our children take reasonable risks was a good thing. This made so much sense to me as I thought about how much joy Chloe had experienced playing on those silly bars...it was the first structure she'd run to on the playground every day. She had so much confidence and pride in her ability to hang by her hands from a bar no more than four feet off the ground and one day she let go a little early and she fell in an awkward position and she broke her leg. She is healing and she can't wait to get her big bandaid off so that she can ride her own bike(as she said the other day while watching her older sister biking down our street). Who am I to take that away from her? The next time we are on a playground and she wants to play on the monkey bars am I going to have a panic attack? Probably. But that is mine to deal with, not hers. So, what is the point of all of this? Sometimes taking a risk lands you in the job of your dreams and sometimes it lands you in a hot-pink body cast...either way it's a learning experience.
Wow, I didn't really mean to ramble on so much on that first point. I hardly feel like I have the energy to move on to the second...finding out who is truly in your corner. I'll make it short, then. Pain, suffering, financial problems, emotional trauma...all these things are relative. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that there are many people in the world for whom having their child in the hospital for two weeks and then home in a body cast for four would seem like a blessing in comparison to their current reality. I never lose sight of that fact and yet still there are times when I feel like my world is crumbling around me. The past few weeks, I have been blessed in ways I never expected and by people whom I thought the least likely to lend a hand.
I have learned something about community, friendship and family and I have definitely been inspired by people who know what it means to "live" their Christian values rather than just talk about them. I started writing thank you cards to all the people who have touched my soul in a positive way this past month or two and it was overwhelming. When I offered to reciprocate a favor for one woman who had been particularly helpful, she said, "Just pay it forward." That, then, is what I shall do.
So, rather than rant on about the inefficiencies of the health care system in this country and the trials of diaper changing and rash care in a body cast, I have found a couple of happier thoughts on which to focus. The first being taking healthy risks and the second being finding out who is truly in your corner.
I've never been much of a risk-taker. In fact, as my sister pointed out, the idea of risking anything at all was never particularly encouraged while we were growing up. We were somewhat "sheltered", for lack of a better word and I owe that to nothing more than my parents trying to do the best they could by us with what they had...financially, emotionally, spiritually.
My last year of high school and my college years ended up being one experiment in risk after another as a form of rebellion and self-expression...sometimes the payoff was good and sometimes not so good, but there was always a payoff. In more recent years, as I have tried to embrace a more Buddhist philosophy, I realize that all experiences are learning experiences just as everyone we meet is a teacher. Even if the only thing we learn by risking something is to NEVER EVER risk it again, we have still grown as human beings and are better for knowing it.
So, what does all of this have to do with the past few weeks? Everything, really. When I was sitting in the hospital room feeling horribly guilty for letting my 2 year old climb on mini-monkey bars while I stood less than arms-distance away, my incredibly wise sister said to me that letting our children take reasonable risks was a good thing. This made so much sense to me as I thought about how much joy Chloe had experienced playing on those silly bars...it was the first structure she'd run to on the playground every day. She had so much confidence and pride in her ability to hang by her hands from a bar no more than four feet off the ground and one day she let go a little early and she fell in an awkward position and she broke her leg. She is healing and she can't wait to get her big bandaid off so that she can ride her own bike(as she said the other day while watching her older sister biking down our street). Who am I to take that away from her? The next time we are on a playground and she wants to play on the monkey bars am I going to have a panic attack? Probably. But that is mine to deal with, not hers. So, what is the point of all of this? Sometimes taking a risk lands you in the job of your dreams and sometimes it lands you in a hot-pink body cast...either way it's a learning experience.
Wow, I didn't really mean to ramble on so much on that first point. I hardly feel like I have the energy to move on to the second...finding out who is truly in your corner. I'll make it short, then. Pain, suffering, financial problems, emotional trauma...all these things are relative. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that there are many people in the world for whom having their child in the hospital for two weeks and then home in a body cast for four would seem like a blessing in comparison to their current reality. I never lose sight of that fact and yet still there are times when I feel like my world is crumbling around me. The past few weeks, I have been blessed in ways I never expected and by people whom I thought the least likely to lend a hand.
I have learned something about community, friendship and family and I have definitely been inspired by people who know what it means to "live" their Christian values rather than just talk about them. I started writing thank you cards to all the people who have touched my soul in a positive way this past month or two and it was overwhelming. When I offered to reciprocate a favor for one woman who had been particularly helpful, she said, "Just pay it forward." That, then, is what I shall do.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Surviving Texas
I recently received this in an e-mail from my older brother:
Due to the popularity of the "Survivor" shows, Texas is planning to do one entitled, "Survivor, Texas-Style." The contestants will all start in Dallas, then drive to Waco, Austin, San Antonio, over to Houston and down to Brownsville. They will then proceed up to Del Rio, El Paso, Midland, Odessa, Lubbock and Amarillo. From there they will go on to Abilene, Fort Worth and finally back to Dallas.Each will be driving a pink Volvo with bumper stickers that read: "I Love the Dixie Chicks," "Boycott Beef," "I Voted for John Kerry,""George Strait Sucks," "Hillary in 2008," "I'm Here to Confiscate Your Guns," and a gay pride sticker. The first one to make it back to Dallas alive wins!
This was my response:
Shoot, I've got at least three of those on my car NOW. Throw in the NO-W sticker and the Obama for President and I should at least get an honorary prize :) (But they'd have to pay me a lot to drive a pink Volvo) What's scary and not so funny about this, though, is how true it is...rather sad, actually, if you ask me.
To give this too much energy would be a waste, but it does always amaze me how many Texans call themselves Christians...as far as I can recall that whole "love thy neighbor" thing didn't have qualifiers after it like "unless he's a homosexual" or "unless she likes to speak her mind".
Just food for thought...that's all.
And the reply from him:
"Well if you have three of those on your car and you are still breathing then I guess there must be some Christians in Texas after all! It was just a funny not supposed to be political and I for one will never give in and be politically correct. Smile and do not take everything so seriously!!!"
Ok, first, I must say that I love my brother dearly and anyone who knows him well knows that he would put his life on the line for me or any one of his loved ones in a heartbeat if the circumstances called for it. This is not a personal attack by any means. I know he sent the joke on for only one reason and that is because he thought it was funny and wanted to share a laugh. I can appreciate that. A few years ago, I probably would have chuckled to myself, deleted the e-mail and thought no more about it.
Lately though, I have a hard time finding stuff like this funny. I'm wondering if it was just the bad PMS I was suffering at the time or if I'm really losing my sense of humor or just "wearing my heart on my sleeve" as my Mom used to say. Is it because I have been stared down, flipped off and almost run off the road by "Texans" because of what my bumper stickers read or is it because I remember my younger brother being threatened and called a n------ lover by some guys throwing beer cans out the window while he was jogging in San Marcos (in the early 1990's, not 1890's)? Is is because I thought about the fact that Natalie Maines and the other Dixie Chicks and their husbands and children and mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers had to wonder every day if one of the idiots responsible for the multitudes of death threats and hate mail they received would actually act on it? Is it because I know of too many homosexuals who have been violently attacked by people for who they are and multitudes more who live in fear of it everyday? I mean, I like a good joke as much as the next person and laughter is definitely one of the best medicines...but am I the only one who no longer finds jokes about the possibility of someone being killed for what they believe in funny?
I don't think that being politically correct has anything to do with it...I think that being human does. I think that being an American does. I think believing that freedom means that everyone is free, not only those who agree with you, does. I think putting ourselves in other people's shoes and imagining what it might be like to be them, what it might be like if our daughter or son was the one getting beat up or threatened for being gay or for speaking out about the war, or for being black or brown or red or white or Muslim or Jewish or Buddhist or Christian or liberal or conservative or an immigrant or the child of an immigrant--does. I think that has everything to do with it.
Peace, Love and Understanding
Cristina
Due to the popularity of the "Survivor" shows, Texas is planning to do one entitled, "Survivor, Texas-Style." The contestants will all start in Dallas, then drive to Waco, Austin, San Antonio, over to Houston and down to Brownsville. They will then proceed up to Del Rio, El Paso, Midland, Odessa, Lubbock and Amarillo. From there they will go on to Abilene, Fort Worth and finally back to Dallas.Each will be driving a pink Volvo with bumper stickers that read: "I Love the Dixie Chicks," "Boycott Beef," "I Voted for John Kerry,""George Strait Sucks," "Hillary in 2008," "I'm Here to Confiscate Your Guns," and a gay pride sticker. The first one to make it back to Dallas alive wins!
This was my response:
Shoot, I've got at least three of those on my car NOW. Throw in the NO-W sticker and the Obama for President and I should at least get an honorary prize :) (But they'd have to pay me a lot to drive a pink Volvo) What's scary and not so funny about this, though, is how true it is...rather sad, actually, if you ask me.
To give this too much energy would be a waste, but it does always amaze me how many Texans call themselves Christians...as far as I can recall that whole "love thy neighbor" thing didn't have qualifiers after it like "unless he's a homosexual" or "unless she likes to speak her mind".
Just food for thought...that's all.
And the reply from him:
"Well if you have three of those on your car and you are still breathing then I guess there must be some Christians in Texas after all! It was just a funny not supposed to be political and I for one will never give in and be politically correct. Smile and do not take everything so seriously!!!"
Ok, first, I must say that I love my brother dearly and anyone who knows him well knows that he would put his life on the line for me or any one of his loved ones in a heartbeat if the circumstances called for it. This is not a personal attack by any means. I know he sent the joke on for only one reason and that is because he thought it was funny and wanted to share a laugh. I can appreciate that. A few years ago, I probably would have chuckled to myself, deleted the e-mail and thought no more about it.
Lately though, I have a hard time finding stuff like this funny. I'm wondering if it was just the bad PMS I was suffering at the time or if I'm really losing my sense of humor or just "wearing my heart on my sleeve" as my Mom used to say. Is it because I have been stared down, flipped off and almost run off the road by "Texans" because of what my bumper stickers read or is it because I remember my younger brother being threatened and called a n------ lover by some guys throwing beer cans out the window while he was jogging in San Marcos (in the early 1990's, not 1890's)? Is is because I thought about the fact that Natalie Maines and the other Dixie Chicks and their husbands and children and mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers had to wonder every day if one of the idiots responsible for the multitudes of death threats and hate mail they received would actually act on it? Is it because I know of too many homosexuals who have been violently attacked by people for who they are and multitudes more who live in fear of it everyday? I mean, I like a good joke as much as the next person and laughter is definitely one of the best medicines...but am I the only one who no longer finds jokes about the possibility of someone being killed for what they believe in funny?
I don't think that being politically correct has anything to do with it...I think that being human does. I think that being an American does. I think believing that freedom means that everyone is free, not only those who agree with you, does. I think putting ourselves in other people's shoes and imagining what it might be like to be them, what it might be like if our daughter or son was the one getting beat up or threatened for being gay or for speaking out about the war, or for being black or brown or red or white or Muslim or Jewish or Buddhist or Christian or liberal or conservative or an immigrant or the child of an immigrant--does. I think that has everything to do with it.
Peace, Love and Understanding
Cristina
Monday, February 26, 2007
Ruby's Wish
How very wrong was I.
Keeping in mind that she is only five(going on 25), I held on to the hope that "this too shall pass" and started trying to find the positive messages in the endless stories of 16 year old maidens being married off to their princely saviors despite the desperate attempts of their evil female authority figures. Oy.
Then one night a couple of weeks ago, I was lying in her bed reading a book that we've read several times before. It was a gift from my sister and is called "Ruby's Wish". It is the story of a young girl growing up in old China on an estate owned by her grandfather(who, like other wealthy men in China at the time, had several wives). He hires a teacher for his many grandchildren and while the girls drop out of lessons one by one to focus on learning domestic skills, Ruby continues her schooling and dreams of going to university like the boys rather than being married and sent away to live with her husband as is the tradition for all girls at the time. As it turns out, her grandfather notices her hard work and dedication and learns of her desire to go to school and makes it happen for her. Ruby gets her wish. It is a true story written by Ruby's granddaughter, Shirin Yim Bridges.
Like I said, this was not the first time we had read the story together, but something magical happened for me this time. Maia made a comment about how glad she was that she wasn't a Chinese girl because she loved going to school and wouldn't want to have to go away and live with a boy. I, of course, had to mention that it was not that long ago in our very own country that women were treated as less than men and that many people believed (and still do) that women should only be allowed to stay home and take care of their husbands and their children. "Well, that's just silly," she said. And with those four simple words, my heart went pitter patter and I secretly jumped for joy in my head.
I still have to play "the wicked stepmother" when she dresses up as Cinderella and she still gravitates toward everything pink and sparkly, but I no longer worry obsessively...at least not about that.
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