Advice About Advice

I find I need to consider carefully whether the advice I receive makes sense.

Let me tell you what’s happened to me, and what I learned. Then you can decide whether it applies to you, just in case my mistakes can save you a little heartache, or maybe my positive experience will keep you from losing all faith in humanity. I won’t lie, much of this is driven by my selfish desire to be heard and understood, but I generally don’t feel motivated to share my stories when I’m the only one who can benefit.

I did my undergraduate degree in music education. While there, I got it into my head that I had better seize the moment and ask the professors to look at my compositions and give me advice. I was not a Composition student, I had never applied and didn’t think there was any chance I could get into the program, since my work sounded nothing like what I heard in the student composer concerts; but just maybe, someone would steer me in the right direction and I could compose better and it would be even more fun for me. I had been composing and arranged just for fun, for years. Friends helped me record my string quartet and I submitted a score with recording to five professors. Two replied.

The first had studied with world-famous composition professor Nadia Boulanger, and he discussed the way I notated things, looking to make sure I was writing with clarity rather than offering hard criticism. He explained that it had been very much like the conversation he’d had with her in the beginning of his studies with Ms. Boulanger, and it seemed very much like he wished me to feel validated above all else. (I still try to hang onto this.)

The second was my Music Theory professor, and was not easily impressed. I had recently submitted an assignment for his class that he very much enjoyed, (I was shocked! Usually he didn’t like my work!) and it made me feel bold enough to ask for advice on something else. He offered the hard criticism readily and then I came to understand that he thought I was applying for the Composition program. I instantly felt terrible; I’d wasted his time, as that was not my intent at all! I didn’t see any way I could do a second degree alongside my first without spending extra time and more money on my degree. He asked if I wanted to know if I’d have gotten into the program and I cast my eyes down and shook my head. It was the worst possible thing to do, because I didn’t even consider finding out. Maybe it would have been an amazing experience. I feel most alive when I create arrangements and compositions, and positively giddy when I bring something to completion and I’m actually pleased with it. The only possibly bad thing about it is the discomfort that comes from facing my imposter syndrome and mustering my courage and confidence to share my work. It seems I’d run out of it that day, and I wish I’d forced myself to explore the possibility.

I also had the opportunity, even just as an education major, to take a class in Orchestration. Everyone I knew steered me away; ‘it’s a difficult class’, ‘you will cry’, etc., came their comments. I can tell you now that I completely regret not going ahead and letting that professor make me cry, even if repeatedly. I wish so very much that I had the skills to develop my musical ideas, and the understanding to write idiomatically for any instrument. I definitely did this to myself, but I wouldn’t have if I had been less worried about what everyone else thought my life should be. Now I’m stuck in this place where I have all these little ideas and don’t know what to do with them and it’s rather frustrating. It isn’t affecting our ability to feed our family or anything, but it feels like it’s a piece of my identity that I can’t properly access.

Here’s the flip side to this; I’ve been offered good advice. I had a chance meeting in a grocery store parking lot with another mom today. I didn’t know she was a mom at first because she was shopping alone, but she playfully pretended she was going to crash her cart into mine and made my kids howl with laughter, and we ended up in conversation as she admired them. Then she asked if she could give me some advice. I usually bristle at this, because unsolicited advice tends to come without consideration for what my life is, or in a condescending tone. Something about her made me want to hear what she had to say, and it was, delightfully, exactly what I needed to hear. It worked out well, and I will need to remember this, that sometimes it may. Her advice was this; everyone tells you to savor every moment, but it’s okay to wish some away, and to forget them later, and just hang onto the good ones. I think that’s a great way to cultivate good mental health, and I plan to implement her strategy to my benefit, going forward.

So, I will be considering advice directed at me. They don’t know me, but they might know something, and it’s up to me to decide what makes sense, whether or not it’s what someone else would do. I offer for your consideration.

Positive Reinforcement for Grown-Ups

Perhaps it would drive some away to state up-front that I want to talk about feelings… but emotion colors all we do, gives us information we need, and has even assisted in human survival. I suspect most can relate to emotion influencing their mindset, productivity, even health. I have had two experiences within so many days that have caused me to think carefully about an aspect of how I live my life that I want to adjust, and it has everything to do with how I can and do make others feel, as well as how they can and do make me feel.

The other day, I was a substitute Music teacher for a colleague who has a regular full-time job but a sick child. Part of what I was required to do was to sit in on a chorus rehearsal run by another teacher and help monitor the students, manage interruptions, even reward good behavior. Additional adults in a room of so many students is always a good idea. The teacher conducting this rehearsal was one I had substitute taught for before, so I knew his plans were dense with quality activities that drew the students in. (I also knew that there was absolutely no way I was as effective in carrying them out, because my day in that classroom was not as seamless and beautiful as the rehearsal I watched!) I’d also read some sort of article some years ago rating him and/or his wife as an extremely effective teacher(s) or granting an award of some sort, I remembered the last name and had this association with high quality teaching. I suspected he had heard it a million times, but something made me want to mention it, that I appreciated the technique, the energy, the enthusiasm. When I spoke with him after class, I observed eyebrows that went up, a slight increase in pitch of the voice, and a large smile. He was glad to hear it, humble about it and appreciative that I’d said so. You have to figure that someone like that has a growth mindset, and is likely on the lookout for their own weaknesses and trying to improve them. I embrace this mindset myself, and I struggle to balance that with the confidence necessary to be effective and cheerful. I felt like I could relate in that moment; I know that for me, a positive comment about my work can help tip those scales a bit.

Te next day, I was in a rehearsal with a small group of string players being coached by a member of the local philharmonic orchestra. This coach was a violinist, clearly very skilled, practiced, dedicated, and well-versed in the particular piece we were working on. She zeroed in on the violin players in the group, even worked some with the viola players, leaving the cellos almost wondering if she remembered we were still in the room. It took some time to arrive at it, but there was a stupendous solo at the top of the second page I’d worked hard on; it soared up past the midpoint of the string and into thumb position, but I had a good fingering, a good history of nailing the shifts, and proper bow placement and speed to achieve a soloistic dynamic and color that sailed above the other lines and was complemented by the first violin’s interjections at the octave (the most difficult interval to play in tune, I think). I was stupidly proud of my work, and I thought for sure that would force her to at least look in my direction. When we finally reached that part, played through it, and she’d stopped us to talk about something she noticed we might improve, she turned to the first violinist and commented, “good job!”
I supposed it was petty to be devastated, but, I felt devastated. I had always played it well as far as they all knew, though, they never heard the work I put into it, so maybe they didn’t realize… I’d seen this before in other contexts, that someone does something well, and we’d never seen them do it poorly, so we just take for granted somehow that they know they’re doing a great job, that someone must have told them before… but that’s not always the case. Fortunately for me, I have fellow musicians in that group who were quick to tell me at a different rehearsal that I played beautifully, and that sort of warm, even bubbly feeling carried my mood aloft for quite some time, I got a lot of mileage from it that supported my work ethic and eased the lines in my face and tension in my joints a bit. But what if I hadn’t? What if I received positive comments so few and far between that negative ones made me doubt myself? I bet that solo wouldn’t have sounded nearly as nice.

What Makes Great Schools?

Often we read or hear discussions about the state of education in the United States, and I think we fail to take into consideration the source of the opinions, or the meaning of the data we’re looking at.

A recent conversation with a mother who is searching for a better school district for her children sent me searching Zillow.com, which provides ratings from the not-for-profit GreatSchools.org within their search results for properties. It became apparent very quickly that my several years of substitute teaching (I am a licensed educator) in the area did not yield the same opinions about the quality of each school district as the people working so hard to bring us the ratings at GreatSchools. I don’t know that I would go on a rampage about their website, even though my very favorite school of all was rated 2/10, as there is a very good chance the ratings reflect widespread misunderstanding about how education should work.

The bases for many of the standard procedures and expectations about education in the United States are outdated, commercialized, or just utterly incorrect for some reason. For example, I have heard that the reason a bell is rung between classes is because young people were being trained to move with a bell during the industrial revolution, with the expectation they would all be working in a factory someday. I’m not positing that this must change, I won’t die on this hill, as they say; just an example. I’ve read that in countries where the school and work weeks are broken up with a day off Wednesday and another Sunday have better efficiency because everyone is in a better state of mind. I’ve also heard that more frequent vacations instead of one big summer vacation is more beneficial for human beings in general. Why do we have a five-day week and summers off? What I do know is that there are many ways to be smart (https://www.niu.edu/citl/resources/guides/instructional-guide/gardners-theory-of-multiple-intelligences.shtml) and that there are a few different ways to learn (https://www.staffordglobal.org/articles-and-blogs/education-articles-and-blogs/3-main-learning-styles/). I know that students come to school from a variety of home lives, a variety of circumstances, and that if there is something bothering them- even if they don’t register it as a problem, consciously- it can inhibit and even prevent learning. The students who ate breakfast will be able to focus better.

Why we focus on one measure of student achievement- the standardized test- above all else, boggles the mind. Not all ways to be smart- the multiple intelligences- are even addressed at school. Not every person benefits from a college education, as an onslaught of anecdotal evidence all over the internet tells me. I will also throw in briefly that I am completely baffled that scientists have proven that one of the things the brain needs most is Music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0JKCYZ8hng) and yet it’s often the first thing to get cut when budgets get tight; because we’re so focused on Math and Language. It begs the question, who decided that these are the most important topics that we’re going to test in a standardized fashion? Testing is meant for directing instruction. If there’s one thing that blew my mind while completing my master’s degree, it was learning that assessment directs instruction. When the teacher has hard evidence of what the students know, and how well they know it, a plan can be made to help them learn. Furthermore, good teaching practices dictate that we meet students where they are, and help them to progress. If students learn at different rates, shouldn’t the fast learners be farther ahead than the slower learners by the time you’re done with them? If you expect everyone to meet a standard, you’re going to have faster learners that are bored, or slower learners that are overwhelmed. Or, both! That doesn’t seem terribly fair to me, ‘fair’ should mean that everyone gets what they need. That’s why we have special education programs, and why we have gifted and talented programs. (That’s not to say they all do what they’re meant to, but that’s certainly the idea.) If we’re expecting a school to get all their students to meet a universal standard, they must either have a small or non-existent population of slower learners and aforementioned disadvantaged learners (coming from difficult circumstances); or, their instruction must be hyper-focused on topics covered on The Test.

The standardized tests we used aren’t created by teachers. In fact, almost nothing that’s put into place by the government to direct how we educate children is created by teachers. Then, teachers have to try to good quality education- what they’ve trained so hard to be able to do- into the parameters set by these non-teachers. Why we don’t have people with vast experience in education- or at least a willingness to listen to those who do- making these decisions, and setting the standards all students must meet, is beyond me. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve heard time and again about the ridiculous questions on the standardized tests, and about how the people who create them are in it for the money, rather than having students’ best interests at heart. I can’t prove that, of course, but I did poke around the website of one of the largest companies that creates tests for our state, and they don’t say anything about the credentials of those making the decisions about what goes on tests, or their thought process. I myself purchased a standardized test once in my teaching career. This test was developed by a professor, with the help of many undergraduate assistants helping over the years with his research. Its purpose was to measure how quickly students learn Music so that I may direct at them examples that challenge them appropriately for each topic learned in class. That was an excellent measure. That is what I wish we could see for standardized testing across all subjects.

To take a quick look at the GreatSchools site, here are their metrics:

‘Student Progress’ measures progress individual students make on standardized assessments during the past year or more and how that compares with expected progress for that student.

‘College Readiness’ is based on the high school’s graduation rate, data about SAT/ACT performance, and advanced placement courses and their exam passing rates.

‘Test Scores’ on state tests compared to other schools in the state

‘Equity’ includes data on how disadvantaged students’ academic progress and test scores compared to all students in the state, and performance gaps between disadvantaged students and non-disadvantaged students in a school. “This allows us to understand how well the school is educating disadvantaged student groups compared to all students”

I take issue with a number of things that resulted in the low score on the school I love- the school that I specifically moved to this location to send my children to. Strictly looking at the way we value education, however, we need to start by considering the value of college readiness. At this point, many colleges are doing away with the SAT and ACT exams as requirements, anyway. It’s also not as critical- in the eyes of many- that students attend college at all. It’s become more apparent that one can do well for oneself by attending trade school or learning a skill on the job and working up in the world. It simply doesn’t do to assume all children will grow up to do a job that requires a college degree, there are so many professions that don’t, and it’s both financially unwise and a waste of time for those individuals to get a degree they don’t need.

The next concern I have is the phrase ‘expected progress’. It seems presumptuous to me, to think that you can predict what someone is going to do, how their life will go, or what their ability to learn any given topic is like. (And may I say again, Music education improves all cognitive function, and their time would be well spent on that if they want to improve that ability to learn.)

Then, we come to equity. School staff have nothing to do with deciding who lives in which community, they simply serve whomever resides there. Keeping in mind that quality instruction actually spreads out student achievement more, with strong learners speeding ahead and slower learners taking the time they need to process everything, this concern over gaps between privileged and under-privileged students is not necessarily the terrible thing it’s made out to be. Could it be? Certainly. But it could also be quality instruction, and I feel that needs to be accounted for.

When I read over this website and my jaw dropped in horror at the ratings (and my least favorite nearby school district scored 2-3 points higher than my favorite, by the way!) I placed a call to a former co-worker who is serving as administrator in this same favorite school district. What she said to me solidified my own perception of the situation; it’s truly about the people that work there. I would take a clever, creative, and friendly teacher who is well-versed in their topic but has positively no budget for their classroom over a bored, stick-in-the-mud or even lazy teacher with rows of shiny new iPads and everything wired perfectly to display precisely what they want on the screen at the front of the room at any time. I’m not sure I want my child in a district where the drive to succeed is directed at standardized tests. I’m not sure I want my child in a district where the number of students struggling with meeting the standards is extremely low- that raises so many questions about how they’re managing that. I’m not sure I want my child in a district where she’s told she’s going to college and she’s going to need to pass an entrance exam, it’s simply not true anymore, if ever it was.

Do you know where I do want my child?
I want her where she will be a part of the community, welcomed by firm rules but friendly smiles.
I want her where she has a chance to learn to interact with children her own age.
I want her where she will be allowed to learn at her own pace.
I want her where she can explore a variety of topics and be challenged in her thinking.
I want her where she is encouraged to pursue a career that interests her after she graduates.
I want her where there are extracurricular opportunities to explore intelligences not addressed by formal schooling.
I also really want her where the Music program is considered an important part of the school.

The school I have chosen seems to me to be all of those things. I have unique insight, having gone in myself, as a substitute teacher. I’ve been in the staff lunch room and listened to the honest, unfiltered conversation. I’ve asked questions. I’ve also taken note of their protocols, procedures, habits, and the way they do things. What I found was that the teachers, and staff in general, were happiest in that school. Happy teachers function better. They take what they have and make the most of it, and they are more likely to go the extra mile to reach the students and make their experience as good as it can possibly be. I myself was treated extra well; after due processing (I’m fingerprinted, I’m on file, they know practically everything about me,) I have a key card that can open any outside door at any school in the district so I don’t need to wait in the cold in the winter for someone to answer the buzzer. That card has my name and picture on it (and anyone may ask to see it at any time). The administrative assistants gush their thank-yous when I arrive and again when I leave, and are eager to clarify or help in any way they can. I am offered professional development courses- some free of charge- over the summer which can increase the rate of pay I receive when I substitute teach. I’m given a form to fill out, asking for my feedback on the job I took that day and how things went. I truly feel like a valued member of the team, versus the school where I was forced to walk around the entire building to get to the door where there was a buzzer I could ring, or where I was not spoken to kindly, where my nametag was a shared badge kept in a bin in the office that said only “staff”, and questions I asked were often met with impatience. (That school rated higher than the one we chose to live near.) Can you guess where I did a better job? Certainly, I gave it my all wherever I went, but I am more confident and effective where I feel valued and appreciated.

My administrative colleague, over the phone, made the suggestion to me that anyone looking for the right school district for their child should consider reaching out to the administration of each school in question. Ask questions, tour the school, decide if they are ‘your people’ or not. The system is in need of an overhaul, yes; and there are many problems, yes; but if you can find the right people, it might not matter if the ratings aren’t the highest.

What Giving Birth Is Like

Those who haven’t given birth sometimes wonder what it’s like. (I know, I used to be one!) About four months after my third birth, I wrote this. Granted, everyone’s experiences are different, but here’s an overview of the twelve hours or so it took me to get from trying to sleep, to holding my newborn;

If my laboring body were a person I could have had a conversation with, that conversation would have gone something like this:

Laboring Body: hey, check this contraction out

Me: haha, very cute, Pregnant Body. Those Braxton Hicks contractions are helpful, I suppose. Not my favorite, but helpful.

Laboring Body: I know, right? We’re getting you all ready for labor. 

Me: oh, and another one?

Laboring Body: yeah, I was thinking one good turn deserves another…

Me: Yeah, okay… wait, another? Can we do this another time? I was going to go to bed.

Laboring Body: Mmmm… let me think… nope.

Me: Wait, YOU’RE not Pregnant Body, you’re Laboring Body!

Laboring Body: you think so? I mean, are you suuuuure? 

Me: I don’t know, maybe? It seems like yes, but I know sometimes women have false labor. Are you false?

Laboring Body: how about another contraction?

Me: uh, sure, fine, I’m all over it with breathing and stuff. But are you real labor?

Laboring Body: I might be

Me: I think you are

Laboring Body: okay, I am.

Me: ooooh, the baby! I’m going to meet my-

Laboring Body: contraction, anyone?

Me: yeah, yeah, I’ve got it. What was I just… oh YEAH, the BABY! Gonna meet the… hey! That one wasn’t very nice.

Laboring Body: Hmm. That’s the way it goes, though.

Me: Fine. Still all over this. 

Laboring Body: How about this one?

Me: It’s getting hard to focus on things. How am I supposed to be excited for the baby?

Laboring Body: Definitely not my problem. Have another?

Me: I was NOT ready for another yet. Can you just give me a couple minutes to regroup?

Laboring Body: Nope, I think now is good.

Me: How can you keep doing this?

Laboring Body: we’ve been practicing for weeks! We’re doing this, and we’re doing it now. Relax.

Me: I’m trying to! Are we still okay, here? Is this kind of pain still okay, or is something going wrong?

Laboring Body: *shrugs* 

Me: …

Laboring Body: Have a more difficult one!

Me: What? Okay, please stop. I can’t do this.

Laboring Body: Hmm, well, you’re going to, anyway. Push, darling.

Me: Ahh, what? This is terrible… I don’t even know who’s in this room anymore and I don’t care… but why does it feel so right to push?

Laboring Body: That’s right, go with me on this.

Me: THIS IS SO RIDICULOUSLY AWFUL.

Laboring Body: Push again!

Me: FINE.

Laboring Body: Again! AGAIN! Lean into it, get your knees to your ears!

Me: WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME?! I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT!

Laboring Body: Baby?

Me: Oh my goodness… that’s right, that’s why we’re doing this, there’s a BABY! 

Laboring Body: Doesn’t it feel good to hold the baby?

Me: Oh yeah… SO good. Sooooooo good. Wait. Contractions are… gone?

Laboring Body: yeah, hold up, one more little one…

Me: that one was satisfying, though

Laboring Body: wasn’t it? Especially in this context. I’ve got you so drugged up right now

Me: yeah, it’s amazing stuff. Can I keep this forever?

Laboring Body: only memories can last forever. Oxytocin is a tool, not a toy.

Me: Aww, okay. Can I get a little jolt from smelling the baby’s head now and then?

Laboring Body: okay, sure, for a little bit.

Awareness

Perhaps this is insane to let this be online. Perhaps I can connect with others this way. Perhaps I will let this entry remain essentially hidden and it will just be easy to access it to update when needed.

I am embarking on a very important psychological experiment on myself. I plan to discuss my predicament in this blog at some point as well, but this is not the time. It is now time for me to bring awareness to the negative self-talk in my head. In order to make a good choice about how to proceed, I must first be aware of the exact type, frequency, and triggers of my negative self-talk.

Sunday July 25th, 11:49 a.m.: because I am sitting, the fat rolls on my belly are touching one another. My self-worth has gotten itself tangled in my physical appearance, so that automatically makes me feel bad about myself. I must be a sub-par human being if my body is this size and shape. Come to think of it, I really don’t like how far out my thighs spill out over the seat, either.

Sunday, July 25th, 1:38 p.m.: I can see my arms in the sideview mirror of the car. My upper arms are really carrying a lot of fat. Even just compared to my lower arms, they’re quite large and rounded. This makes me feel that I’ve messed up. I know that I was trying my hardest to lose weight and it backfired- I KNOW this, and I still feel shame.

Monday, July 26th, 9:18 p.m.: As I sit cross-legged on the floor, I realize, first, that my legs have enough flesh on them that this is a very difficult thing to do. I am hanging onto this thing that I used to do with ease out of some sense of pride or normalcy or shame or something. It’s foolish, perhaps, but the kids sit on my lap and I like providing consistency for them in whatever ways I can. If I can pull it off without too much trouble, I’m going to. Occasionally, lately, I’ve given in and just laid my legs out on the floor in front of me and let them sit on my thighs- where they’d have sat anyway, just that my calves aren’t beneath them. They adapted fine. I suppose I should remember that. However, in either instance, it’s difficult to ignore how far they must spread their little legs to straddle my thighs. I don’t like that they have to do that. I want to change it, I want my thighs to be smaller again. It’s not hurting them, they just adapt. It bothers me. It’s probably that little voice that developed after reading too many fashion magazines or watching too many silly television shows that demonstrate time and again that slender people are the most beautiful and the most smart and have their lives together. After all, there is a smidgen of truth in that, right? If they’re slender, they figured out how to keep from gaining weight. They must be pretty smart if they can do that. I certainly thought I did, but now I’m in this whole different game where I have to eat more to be healthy, and I have to work on myself psychologically to tame my body’s systems. I really need to remember that this is the case, and that I am dealing with some problems. They’re subclinical, for sure, but they’re affecting me in a very real way. I have a number of issues with things like reflux and other internal things that are out of whack, but every time something affects me and no one reacts at all, I feel I’m not justified in being disgusted or frustrated that I, say, just threw up in my mouth a little. Literally- it stung and tasted terrible, not like this thing that people say casually when something is not to their liking. Do I not deserve care because I’m fat and I brought it on myself? (Supposedly? Because I didn’t, exactly. This isn’t from donuts.)

Monday, July 26th, 9:54 p.m.: my weight affects my psychology, affects my relationship with my spouse. We’ve always showered together- almost always just showered- but lately, I’m in this rut where I feel embarrassed about getting into the shower. I feel embarrassed to be seen without clothing because nothing is hidden, no curve or roll or anything is possibly a trick of the way my clothing is laying. It’s all visible, and it’s all a testament to the fact that I wasn’t smart enough to keep myself slender. <lies>Everyone knows slender is more attractive and it’s not about confidence or anything else. </lies> This decreases my value in my head. I know that I was actually doing what always worked in the past. I know that the hormones in my system changed the rules and I didn’t realize it for so long. I’m on a loop, where I’m upset that I’ve lost control of my weight, why can’t I just eat less and exercise and lose weight? That agitation is releasing all sorts of gunk into my system- adrenaline, cortisol… and it’s keeping me from the good health I need to release all these fat stores. If I had been this large since I was a child, would I feel differently about this? I think perhaps part of this is that it represents a change for me- I have always been a little overweight, but not this much. I don’t understand how to navigate this shape and size very well. I know the rest of it is societal shame. It isn’t fair, either, because many people are larger than I am, and who am I to be all upset about my weight, when it could be a lot more? Aren’t I insulting a whole lot of people just by having these feelings? Does anyone even care that I have a small bone structure? I can wrap my fingers around my opposite wrist and overlap them… I tend to think that means it’s harder on me to be this size, if I have less support on the inside. What do I know, though? I could be wrong.

Tuesday, July 27th, 9:59 p.m.: I am very tempted to launch into the exact details of the conflicts I encounter with my spouse because they cause pretty severe emotional responses, but I will make every attempt to focus only on my responses and which ones are unhealthy. I know this much; I get confused when I’m emotional. If I can’t make sense out of what he’s saying, I’ll get more frustrated, and feeling frustrated makes it harder to think. My brain gets caught in a feedback loop, and I get to a point I feel really stupid. Then I get down on myself because I’m clearly not smart enough to understand, and I can slip into these depressive states that last days, over a single incident. He does happen to have college degrees in computer programming and physics, so it’s easy to assume that he’s the smart one. I myself have two college degrees too, though, and not all intelligence comes from books. I know this, but it doesn’t stop me from telling myself- and telling him- that obviously, he’s smarter than me. Sometimes it starts out as a sarcastic and angry remark, because he does often want me to see it his way, and in order to, I must see my way as silly, stupid… and I don’t want to be called stupid. It’s a bit of a jump, isn’t it? To be wrong doesn’t always mean stupid. Being mistaken is okay. Not understanding is also okay. Not being willing to try to understand your spouse is not okay, but starting from a point of confusion- in and of itself- is not a crime. Anyway… my internal narrative about my intelligence migrates to this place where I’ve convinced myself that I’m actually stupid, and I think it appears that I’ve just continued to be sarcastic. Prior to being married, I had enough self-esteem issues to have problems, just by myself. I have means and motivation to deal with them, it’s not that I rely on him to build me up. I’m pretty volatile about things if I feel he’s tearing me down, though, since I work so hard to keep myself built up. ‘DON’T DESTROY MY BLOCK TOWER’, says my brain, and we engage in battle. I’m not certain whether that was his aim, either. I am in the dark about the inner workings of his mind to the extent that I am really not clear on his motivation. I am trying to teach myself to just trust that he didn’t mean it when he seems to be unkind, but that’s certainly not going well.

Wednesday July 28th, 10:05 p.m.: When I wear my earbuds, I can hear my breathing extra well. That’s always been the case, but at this point in my life, when I am heavier than I’ve ever been, I feel shame for just that. I am reminded of every time in the past few years that I’ve been out of breath, and how horrible it felt to think the string of thoughts that whizzed past me; ‘you wouldn’t be out of breath if you didn’t have to carry so much weight’, ‘you didn’t USED to have this problem’, ‘what happened to you, anyway? You stopped keeping your weight down, why? How?’

Sunday, August 1st, 8:45 p.m.: I am afraid. I have a lot of fear associated with going to play with the community orchestra, and part of that is based upon being onstage with a variety of other people- albeit outdoors- who may or may not have been vaccinated and likely won’t be masked and I feel this is dangerous but I’m interested in taking the risk because I myself am vaccinated, and I am a section leader, and oh my goodness, do I miss playing with the orchestra.
It has only just hit me, however, that there is more than one thing that I am afraid of. I am terrified of the judgment. I realize that I have no right no anyone else’s opinion of me, and I realize that anyone who is judging me isn’t my friend, but I know myself well enough to know that if anyone says anything or does anything, even slight, that indicates even surprise at how large I’ve become, I will be working for the rest of my life to forget that moment and to forgive them for being so awful to me. I don’t wish to be sensitive, but it is how I am. I don’t want to draw everyone’s attention to me, but I do have to play the cello solo line, as a duet with the concertmaster.
I weighed myself this evening, and it was not something I really wished to do, but I know I need a baseline for comparison. If my weight is climbing as fast as I believe it to be, I need to be able to prove and quantify it so others can recognize the severity of the situation… or else so that I can relax a little, that I’m not blowing up like a balloon, and it’s not hopeless, and I won’t run out of clothes to wear and have to go shopping again, or that I won’t have to get my wedding ring cut off and I won’t stretch my skin out and stretch my fat cells out and make my body forevermore more inclined to take on fat, resulting in an ever more desperate battle that is becoming worse with every passing moment of my panicked life.

Sunday, August 1st, 9:56 p.m.: there have been a few instances lately that I’ve made a note to myself that I need to write something down, and didn’t get to it right away. I was taking notes on my phone, but our carrier informs me that I’m almost out of data, so if I’m not in the living room at the time, (our signal is terrible), I won’t be able to do anything except make a note to myself, quickly, in a text message. Irritating. Anyway, the first problem was the creaky toilet seat. Any time a seat creaks when I sit down on it, it triggers all sorts of negative thoughts about how I’m bad because I gained weight. The usual.
Then, I had a completely different problem when I sat on the couch beside my loving spouse and he was in a bad mood. He is usually in a bad mood. You ask him how he is, and he replies that he’s miserable. That’s really not my fault, though I have tried to help. Usually this makes it worse, then I feel worse. Doing nothing also makes me feel terrible, though. I sit beside him and don’t speak to him or look at him all evening (this is rather normal) and I feel like I’m doing a bad thing, that I’m a bad wife for not being able to help at all. There is a double standard there, however, because he usually can’t help me feel better, and sometimes makes me feel worse by trying to. Either way, I am definitely left with a lousy feeling that I need to do something with.

Tuesday, August 3rd, 10:55 p.m.: I feel odd after a concert. This one was particularly difficult, since there is a risk of contracting a terrible disease simply by being with people. I am vaccinated, I told myself. I’ll live, and I’ll lessen any effects if I pass it on, I told myself. Maybe nothing bad will come of it, since we were outdoors. I cannot completely suppress my concern, however. Some would call it fear, I call it continual judgment calls, keeping my eyes open to the risks and making the most educated decisions I can.
It was not so different from any other pre-pandemic concert I’d performed in, however. I leave there feeling nearly panicked. Did I say anything wrong to anyone? Was I nice enough to everyone? Was I rude to anyone? I won’t lie, I also consider the possibility that my body was assessed, judged, and found to be lacking. Or, well, too abundant, as it were. I find myself replaying everything that happened, feeling a need to reassure myself that it really was okay, that I did well enough, that no one has reason to be unhappy, that I didn’t inconvenience anyone. Why do I want so badly to please everyone? It’s not in my wheelhouse, nor is it my job. I was not pleased with the job I did, doing my job, even, though. I didn’t have ALL the bowings worked out, and I didn’t practice ALL the sections. It was absolutely good enough, I do think everyone still respects and appreciates me, I was thanked directly by a member of the section. Every time I didn’t have a plan for something, or messed something up, I felt badly, though. I don’t pretend I’m the best cellist, it may not be true. I am the boldest, though, and I am definitely organized. Given enough time, I’d have done a bang-up job of those bowings. Maybe if I had needed less self-soothing lately, I’d have pulled off better. I think this is where I adopt that mantra, “I AM ENOUGH”. That would be the resolution, if I can convince myself of it. I do want to aim higher, though, if I can. I was thinking of pasting the words, “you are fabulous” someplace I would see them every day, but I haven’t worked out where yet. I’m also concerned that on my lowest low days, I may scoff at them or cry instead of feel bolstered, rather than feel uplifted. I know there’s only one way to find out, but I do hesitate. Change is difficult. I am human. I know these things. Maybe pushing myself to dive into change anyway does make me fabulous.

Observant

Dear Little Pumpkin,

I just told your Daddy that you reported to me the other day, ‘You don’t play with us. Daddy’s the one that plays with us.”
He says that you are observant and you just get right to the point with everything you say. That may well be a great strength if you spin that right. But you did kind of break my heart. If I can find a way to get out of survival mode and enjoy myself a little more, I will.

Things You Said

Sun April 21 2020 You hid Easter eggs for your younger sibling to find, and then the two of you created an “Easter grass meadow” from Easter grass

Fri April 17 2020 “Why do the stickers on the oranges say, ‘Skunkist’?”

Sat May 29 2020 Peppermint: why are we stuck in this house?
You: because of the coronavirus. I know you want to see other people, but this is not the time.

Mon May 11 2020 Your Daddy, observing my sandwich made with spreads instead of lunch meat: You have an [your name] and [your sibling’s name] lunch!
You: are you going to eat us?

Mon May 11 2020 Michael: [Your name], do u want me to cut up your (large chunk of) carrot?
You: yes, so then it will be SEVERAL carrots!

Wed May 13 2020 You: where’s Dad?
Me: Dad who?
You: Dad-DY!

Thu May 21 2020 “I think I may be getting too old too soon”

Sun May 24 2020 “raisins are much like cranberries, but they vary greatly in size and color”

Sun May 24 2020 “I’m getting some fresh air so my sweat will evaporate faster”

Tue May 26 2020 (watching Hairspray) “Mama, have you and Daddy ever gone outside and danced while you did the laundry?”

Sat May 30 2020 You: Maybe some love will catch up with the coronavirus going around.
Me: What would love do to the coronavirus?
You: It might stop it from going around and it will clear out

Sunday May 31 2020 “Maybe there’s going to be a cloud of love following the virus”

Friday June 12 2020 “Why does a weasel go ‘pop’?

Monday June 15 2020 Upon finishing a Teddy Graham: “Now he’s a Dead-y Graham!”

Wednesday June 17 2020 You: Here’s a Valentine for you!
Me: Thanks! Can you put it on the fridge?
You: I definitely can put Valentine love on the fridge

Wednesday June 24 2020 You were sleeping upside down, on top of your covers

Tuesday July 14 2020 “What’s all this lettuce doing in my salad?!”

Monday August 10 2020 Your Daddy: Which one of you spread the plates all over the floor?
You: It was gonna be for the party
Daddy: Do you think that’s a good idea, leaving those plates where people are gonna walk?
You: No… but it’s a good party idea

Wednesday September 16 2020 You: I wanna do ballet
Peppermint (voiced by you): I’ll teach you ballet, but first you have to clean up the whole living room
You: Challenge accepted!

Saturday September 26 2020 “I want to put up decorations on the whole Earth, because I want everyone to know it’s your birthday!”

On Sun, Jan 6, 2019, 8:28 AM <7162201175@vzwpix.com wrote
*CHILD INTERVIEW – No coaching..**
What’s your name? [Your name]
How old are you? 3
What color is your hair? brown
What color are your eyes? They’re not a color, they’re not red. 
How old is your mom? I don’t know how old you are!
How old is your dad? I don’t know
What’s your favorite color? red
What’s your favorite food? I like bunnies (sour bunny fruit snacks) / raisins
Who’s your best friend? I like Peppermint, who’s a stuffed, sad little kitten
What’s your favorite subject? (Things you learn at school): I am not learning about anything
What’s your favorite song? I like Six Little Ducks
What do you like to watch on TV? I like to watch Snowman and Snowdog / Snowman
What’s your favorite animal? I like ducks /Raina. Star.
What are you scared of? I’m scared because Raina’s going to take things away from me
What makes you happy? When Raina gives things back to me, that makes me happy
What do you want to be when you grow up? I wanna be… I don’t know what I’m gonna be yet. 

Mama’s Thoughts

The following are the thoughts that went through my head within the first hour I was awake this morning, getting my three small children ready to go to my mother’s house for the day, and taking them there. It’s been edited only slightly for clarity, to remove names and a few other personal things. Some of these things were spoken aloud, many were not. I took this down to illustrate that most of what makes a mother busy lies beneath the surface:

 

Baby is awake, she won’t want to be ignored very long
Baby needs fresh diaper and breakfast
(Many details about masks I’m going to make today)

I need to seal that hole in the wall

I better make the bed on this side 

Which clothes do I have that aren’t filthy? 

I need to fold this clean laundry; I wish I had asked the girls to help me so they are in the habit of folding laundry

I wonder if my mom is going to realize we haven’t bathed the kids in a long time and judge me for it

I need to spend some time on homeschool things today

There are SO many dishes downstairs, I really need to have the girls help with that too, they love playing in the water and it’s a great habit if they can love chores

I need to call the insurance company and get the pediatrician changed

What’s the temperature, can the baby wear a onesie? 

She better wear a disposable since my mom will have enough on her plate today

Which outfits will be appropriate? Do any size 12 months fit her in a disposable diaper or should we do 18s? 

Why isn’t my phone connecting to the internet, I can’t see what the weather is going to be like today

Oh look, my husband is awake now, we don’t have to be quiet anymore, everyone is awake

Gosh, I don’t know where the koosh balls are, child  

The baby just tipped over my side table in her room, I wonder if it’s irresponsible to leave it there? 

I’ve gotta make sure these kids have vitamins 

Looks like we’re all going there for breakfast since they’re all awake 

I need to bring my pump and flanges, and that little bottle of milk for the baby so I can put the fresh milk in it 

Maybe I should bring the bottle brush and clean it real good 

Speaking of brush, do I have time to do hair? Can I afford the time? Can I afford not to? 

This child is not getting ready and I’m going to trip over her and she needs to pack her backpack 

She’s STILL not doing it, now I need to raise my voice 

Will the baby be okay here while I change? 

Where is her lion? 

Maybe I’d better pack a teether too. 

Did I turn off the sound machine? 

I’ll leave this stuff here but I can’t forget to pack it. 

I suppose I’ll remember when I come back for the baby

My husband’s asking if they’ve packed clothes, let’s make sure they have undies and socks too 

I wish we had planted the garden some, the girls love cherry tomatoes 

There are so many weeds out there 

Those poor lambs ears are dying, and the roses aren’t looking too good either

I wonder if they would be okay if I had taken better care of them 

Do we need more shampoo and conditioner for the kids? 

I wonder if we have a backup toothpaste for them in the hall closet, do I have one for me? 

Did my husband ever get his deodorant or should I make arrangements for that today while the kids are with my mom? 

We need more disposable diapers, what else do we need from Target? 

I think we’re fine on paper products since we have unopened ones on the porch, we do need more disinfectant wipes though 

I’m going to need to go first thing in the morning some day so I can get some 

I need to not get so many things so I can walk through the store without pain and fatigue in my knees and hips 

I need to give away some stuff and throw away some stuff, we have so much stuff 

I should put the plastic eggs together, I could spend all day just doing that, I could give those away at Easter time 

I  wonder if the duck scrubby here is clean enough to bathe a child, should we keep it if it isn’t? How do you even wash this thing? Is it worth it? 

I can’t let this cup fall in the toilet or I’ll have wasted all the money I spent, you can’t keep it if it falls in 

This floor is filthy 

Is my husband having them put away one of their two outfits that I asked them to pack? 

There are so many dishes downstairs and that stove needs to be scrubbed  

I better clean this now so the stain doesn’t set  

Thank goodness my hair is at least clean today

Am I drinking enough water to be hydrated and make milk? 

Do these kids have everything packed? 

I wonder how many masks I can pound out today? 

Where shall I pack the baby’s stuff? 

Show the child affection, we don’t want her feeling overlooked 

Is she ignoring her Daddy? Can she hear him okay? 

Does the baby need anything else? 

I think everything else is downstairs. 

Should I bring the baby down or ask my husband to do it?

Look at these, get them outta  the pathway so I don’t step on them 

Yeah we should bring some hair stuff, Babcia runs out of hair ties if we keep taking hers

Let’s be careful taking the baby down the stairs 

Don’t forget your water

I can’t hear what this child is saying, gotta instruct her in vocal production

Ugh, the floor is gritty 

I should have put on socks and I didn’t, I am barefoot 

This child is screaming now, why is she screaming? 

What do we need to pack for breakfast? 

The girls need vitamins, the baby needs milk and her oatmeal, we need to pack milk packets for her bottles, and we need frozen cubes or some other lunch something  

She really needs her hair redone before we go, she looks like a tornado 

I need to take my vitamins so the baby’s getting all her nutrients 

What is the baby crying about now? 

Is this really two dozen eggs on the counter or one of these is empty? 

I wonder when I should order more 

Wait, what happened, child? 

I’m going to take these vitamins so I don’t have to pack them 

Another child is crying now 

I need a lunch box, ice packs to go in a lunchbox… 

The lunch box is stuck 

I need a better place to keep this lunch box so I can get it down without an avalanche 

My husband is asking me something?

Oh, it’s going, slowly and stressfully 

If she needs two bottles and she needs about 8 ounces. I need to be able to make that out of these packets, there’s two

I am planning to take you to her house for breakfast, kiddo, is that okay? Now cubes. 

Do we have any cubes for the baby? 

Yeah, what are the cubes that were in the ice cube tray? 

I suppose we could just send them because we know they’re edible, four should be right, we can supplement this with applesauce and Cheerios 

Why are you crying right now? 

We have applesauce packets in the travel bag 

I still need a pair of socks and I need to pack my flanges 

Where should I pack these? 

I should get some milk, fridge… 

I should pack milk and cereal for me 

Watch out, baby, don’t get pinched! 

I need to open a new box of Mini Wheats, do we have one?

Baby, do you need to be picked up right now? 

Hey honey, can you hold the baby? I think she just need some love right now 

What kind of bag do I need for this? 

I don’t want that one grocery bag 

Rotten cat, why did you run down there? I am leaving you in the basement 

Did I pack this milk in this bag? I did not. 

It needs the ice packs, now flanges, then pump 

Maybe I will put the flanges together and stick them in there like this 

My stomach is very musical this morning 

The kids are all hungry too, I am sure 

At least the baby is not crying anymore  

Okay, I have everything. 

I need to pump, and I have my breakfast, we have milk for the baby, we have cubes for the baby, we have diapers over there for the baby, you both have extra outfits packed, do we have hair ties? 

Okay, that’s good 

I just need socks and we need to go, and we need to bring the baby’s lion 

What am I forgetting? 

Okay everyone, do you have socks on? 

Let’s get shoes on 

I’m getting my socks I’ll be right back 

Maybe the baby should have socks 

I’m going to get some 

I don’t suppose these cloth diapers will be sitting around more than 3 days just because we go to Babcia’s; I think we will be able to wash them before they’re too stinky for words and full of bacteria

Which socks even match with what she has in her bag? I don’t even know 

I should put on a shirt, what is my mother even going to think if I show up just in my nursing tank? 

I could make my socks match my shirt 

I better text mom so she knows what’s going on

Now everyone is waiting for me because I did everything myself they don’t know what else needs to come next

I put on deodorant, didn’t I? 

Is my phone charged enough to last for a couple hours? 

I forgot to put pants on this baby, I hope she’s not too cold 

Why isn’t everyone getting in the car? 

I just want to put some socks on you so that your toes stay warm 

Would you like your lion? 

I forgot your teether, I better get that for you 

I better say hi to the neighbor, who knows when I’ll see her again? 

I need my wallet so I can drive, my husband has my keys 

I shouldn’t be lifting that car seat with my knee injured, but I should not leave the baby here by herself because she might freak out

Hey honey, can you come get the baby? 

What am I not thinking of that I should bring? 

I don’t think I had anything set aside to give to my mother or return to my mother…

Good, Mom texted back, we are in business

I have milk for the baby’s breakfast, I have something to put the milk in that I pump, Babcia has food for the girls, I have food for me because I’m picky, we have the baby’s lion, she no longer sleeps in a sleep sack, we have teething rings, she has socks on 

Those are my keys, thank you so much

I must have the most horrible morning breath right now; Mom is going to know that I didn’t brush my teeth yet 

Is there anything I’m forgetting to bring? 

I need to get that cello ensemble music because that money has been sitting in our house for months now and I’m sure the other cellists would really like to practice it 

That stove still needs cleaning 

I wonder what else needs cleaning 

The porch needs to be picked up 

I would really like to get everything condensed and put away and cleared out on that porch so there’s more room to play 

For that matter, the bins in the girls room need to be reorganized a bit 

I wonder if I should get us some more wine or not bother at this point

I almost ordered some last night

I’ve got to answer all these questions and make these children feel acknowledged 

Did I forget anything that I was borrowing that I need to bring back to Mom? 

I have to make sure not to park too close to this fence so my child can get out on that side if she wants

Let me get these bags out of the way so that you can climb out once I get you unbelted
I’ve got your backpack out of…  

What help do you need getting out of the car? 

Okay, well, why don’t you come out of the car and I will help you get your backpack on? 

Hang on, kiddo, I can help you 

Here, is that better? 

Yes, you can jump down and I can reach your backpack 

Hang on, I have to help your sister 

How to do this without damaging my knees, I wonder?

 

Peppermint’s Birthday

Dear Sweetling,

You invited me out to the porch two days ago, to celebrate Peppermint’s birthday. You’re constantly celebrating Peppermint’s birthday, so when I was stressed or in the middle of something or in pain or whatever it was, I didn’t hesitate to apologize and bow out. I didn’t regret it until yesterday, when everything fell into place better, and both your Daddy and I were available to join you, as well as your two sisters. We sat in camping chairs around the tall stool, which served as our table. In the middle of the table was a bowl of play food- the cake. I missed it, but you did all sing to Peppermint while you were waiting for me, and then I was in time to be served a piece of cake, which you did meticulously with a wooden spoon from a kneeling position on that camping chair, onto plastic plates from your play kitchen. The baby rather enjoying gnawing on that plate, as she’s currently teething. We “ate” our cake, and then cleared everything up to blow bubbles and then have a dance party. I wanted to encourage this, especially since you brought my sandals (dancing shoes) for me, but I am recovering from a rather major knee injury and have to be careful not to re-injure myself, so I unfortunately didn’t participate, which seemed to have been a dealbreaker, because neither of you wanted to dance after that. I felt pretty badly, but I’ll feel worse if I’m laid up longer as a result of not taking care of myself. I know you kids want me to be more normal, more engaged, more doing things again. You’re not accustomed to a Mama who can’t do everything. Anyway, it was an amazingly well-thought-out party, with nametags and assigned seats for each guest, the precise number of plates you wanted, and an activity schedule. I really enjoyed myself, and I know your Daddy and sister did, too. It’s not often we do things all together as a family anymore, either, because it’s always one of us with the baby or washing up all the dishes so the other can play with you. It was a little odd and really nice, so thank you for that.

I forgot to put in the funny things you did on the last entry… or two entries ago?
Here’s one I found from March:
You: I don’t want this (supper).
Me: I thought you liked it?!
Your Daddy: Didn’t you just say you liked it?
Me: Yeah, she said ‘delicious dinner’ and ‘thank you for making this’
Your Daddy: That’s right, what happened to that?
You: It got deleted.

On August 12th, I posted: I believe it shows a commitment to accuracy when the five-year-old, who has been asking many questions about owls, announces that she is serving pastries with mouse heads in them to her baby owlet

On August 6th, we got a piano gifted to us because you want to study piano. When it came in, you said, “It’s huge! I love it!

On July 14th you asked me, “What’s all this lettuce doing in my salad?!

On July 13th, I posted, “My five-year-old has developed the dangerous habit of bringing me a drawing and asking, “what does it look like?

June 27th, I posted: The 3-year-old and 5-year-old were running laps around the house. I asked what they were doing; the answer was, “we’re chasing the virus, and I’ve got love [heart ring] on!

June 22nd:
Me: Each state has an abbreviation, two letters; it’s called a postal code. SC is South Carolina. TX stands for Texas. New York is NY.
5-year-old: That’s ‘nee!’ *giggles

May 31st: My daughter sometimes has the best thoughts; “maybe there’s going to be a cloud of love following the virus

May 3rd: Anyone else’s kid draw the sun with a smiley face and SUN SPOTS? No? Just mine? LOL I think we have an astronomer on our hands

April 26th:

I was discussing with the four-year-old that she might use her artistic skills to cheer people up; if she drew some pictures, I’d send them out. She asked who she should draw for, and we had this exchange:

Me: think about all the people that you care about…

4-year-old: I care about all the people on this earth

April 22nd: It’s amazing when you pick up the drawings your four-year-old made and you know EXACTLY what she’s drawn, even though she’s never drawn such a thing before. (Ducks at the playground, in this case.) It’s a part of her newest book.

April 11th: I posted a picture of the space in your face from the first lost tooth

April 8th: It’s quite a moment when you realize your four-year-old is audiating the chord changes in a tune that was introduced a cappella, because she improvises a new “version” that perfectly follows them

April 7th: On a walk this evening, the girls’ vocal selections included an improvised tune with the words ‘it’s a beautiful day’ (despite it getting dark and beginning to rain) and ‘Rain On The Top Of My Head’ to the tune of ‘Take Me Out To The Ball Game’
(I also posted a picture you drew of when the coronavirus is all gone)

March 30th:

Making Fives-

Me: Down, and around, and make a hat… no, don’t forget the hat, his head’s gonna get cold!

4-year-old: Why do fives have heads?

Me: Good question…

February 27th: My preschooler is cleaning her room and singing the theme from ‘Jurassic Park’

January 21st:

Just heard in the other room amidst giggles:

Twelve drummers piping

Eleven pipers drumming

Five geese a-laying

Nine ladies in a pear tree

January 4th: 4-year-old:
The goal of ‘Five Little Monkeys’ is to fall off and bump your head

February 3rd, of last year, you joined me for nap time in mine and Daddy’s bed. I set the timer. Then we had this exchange:

Me: The time is up, you could go downstairs
You: I don’t want to, because I love you!

The undies you packed for your Babcia’s house said ‘Tuesday’ on them, when you were getting ready- ahead of time- for your baby sister’s birth. She was born on a Monday. You wore your Tuesday undies the next day- Tuesday. After she was born, you made a picture for her, which you described as “Swirls of lollies, raindrops making music, and bursts of giggles”. I understand you got that phrasing from someplace, but you remembered it, is what impresses me.

Just before your sister was born, I asked you what your favorite foods were, or what I should put on the shopping list. You listed  lasagna, ribs, shepherd’s pie, tacos, stir fry, peas, carrots, green beans, avocado

 

Meditative Activity

As a college undergraduate, I worked as an assistant to a secretary who managed at least four major programs or departments on campus. Because I enjoy organizing things, alphabetizing files, creating spreadsheets and the like, it was an ideal job for me. These sorts of activities brought me an inner peace, a feeling I’d created order from chaos in one tiny slice of our messy world. Another task often assigned to me was stuffing envelopes for mass mailings. This created a different feeling altogether; a more complicated one (ironically, since the task itself was simpler). I would leave feeling I’d solved the world’s problems, but on the way I’d revisited painful memories, planned string quartets yet to be written, and worked out clever things to say to people that I’d likely never be able to spit out correctly in social situations, anyway.

Some years later, I was living in an apartment, looking for work, substitute teaching, and working on losing weight. I had heard that meditation had numerous health benefits and I decided to give it a try. When I tried to meditate with music playing, my music-student brain couldn’t resist the opportunity to analyze the chord structure, and identify other musical elements and compositional techniques. When I tried to meditate with silence, I would often feel antsy about the silence, and my mind would start audiating any number of tunes at the same time, anyway. I concluded from this experiment, after many weeks of effort, that I will never know complete stillness or silence. I’m not certain it’s a bad thing, but it seems to be a truth for me.

I don’t think my attempts to meditate were a complete failure. Most people have trouble quieting their minds, at least in the beginning. What I learned from that experiment was that the effect of stuffing envelopes was very similar to the effect of taking time to meditate, except that I didn’t walk away frustrated by my inability to clear my mind. Stuffing envelopes cleared my mind for me, as evidenced by the variety of things that paraded through it! Once I decided to let the music-during-meditation thing be whatever it wanted to be, I again thought of painful memories, string quartets, things I wanted to say to people, and the like.

What I’ve realized, as I sit here meticulously applique-ing a strip of fabric over a worn spot in a family heirloom quilt, is that I am also meditating now. All sorts of thoughts are vying for my attention, which means I must have cleared my head for a minute there. Obviously I’m not thinking hard about creating tiny running stitches, because it’s incredibly boring and repetitive. Is this as beneficial as sitting peacefully with my eyes closed? Probably not. Perhaps it is the equivalent of a set of training wheels on a bicycle or bumpers in your bowling lane. It seems to me that simple and repetitive activities are meditative enough to immerse a beginner without overwhelm or self-judgment, if those are the problems that keep cropping up.