tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13735783378751649092024-03-13T10:13:21.158-07:00Writing Four LivesFour Women * Four Writers * Four LivesWriting Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.comBlogger180125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-36376807539703719142021-07-11T12:22:00.002-07:002021-07-11T12:32:17.969-07:00Writers’ Day in the City<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QTqWMpGeNSE/YOtHOGLKjHI/AAAAAAAAA7E/k3AwczvOkiQW3GWC0ajr-ldKwsNfxO0WACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1526" data-original-width="2035" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QTqWMpGeNSE/YOtHOGLKjHI/AAAAAAAAA7E/k3AwczvOkiQW3GWC0ajr-ldKwsNfxO0WACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Writers need time and stimulation to create. A couple of years ago, our writers group decided to host our own writers retreat. A weekend to go somewhere away from family obligations and routines and write - together and alone, learn from each other, take ourselves seriously. After two years of going to Carolyn’s former step-mother’s beautiful house in the country, we decided to have a day in the city instead. The city being Austin, Texas. We chose four stops and each of us took on the task of creating a writing invitation. <p></p><p>First stop: <a href="https://www.thunderbirdcoffee.com/">Thunderbird Coffee</a> - Esmer had four idea-generating prompts. We took one, wrote our list for one minute and then passed it to the next person. Then we picked one thing from any of the four lists, or something totally different, and wrote for five minutes. The four prompts were:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Words that remind you of inner power </li><li>Poem titles</li><li>Memories you would like to download</li><li>Places you have never been</li></ul><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>12:01 A.M</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Nothing good happens</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">After midnight</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">My grandmother always said</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">The police came knocking on her door</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">After midnight</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">With news of a car crash</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Driver had been drinking</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">After midnight</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Probably started before</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Passenger wasn’t wearing a seatbelt</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">After midnight</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Didn’t have a chance</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">The driver was</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">But this time, it wasn’t enough</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">The tree was too mighty and big</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">After midnight</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">The agony of a mother’s loss</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">The cry of a mother’s pain</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Was overpowering and all encompassing</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Like the night</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">After midnight</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>-Esmeralda</span></p><p><br /></p><p>Our next stop was the independent bookstore <a href="https://blackpearlbookstore.com/">Black Pearl Books</a>. We did not realize that it is housed in the same location as the wonderful organization <a href="https://www.tenthousandvillages.com/" target="_blank">Ten Thousand Villages</a>, a shop where artisans from around the world can sell their products at fair prices. Of course, we had to look around! </p><p>Andrea’s invitation for us was to write down the titles of ten books, from any genre. Later we used the words in the titles to generate some writing.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>There's a Revolution Outside, My Love. </b> </span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXE19CUJKI4/YOtEmqI_dnI/AAAAAAAAA68/HzbWI7r7-wwKExwq1KaTJIMUssCM7i5SACLcBGAsYHQ/s1586/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-07-11%2Bat%2B2.20.27%2BPM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1174" data-original-width="1586" height="237" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXE19CUJKI4/YOtEmqI_dnI/AAAAAAAAA68/HzbWI7r7-wwKExwq1KaTJIMUssCM7i5SACLcBGAsYHQ/w280-h237/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-07-11%2Bat%2B2.20.27%2BPM.png" width="280" /></a></span></i></div><p></p><p><i><span style="font-family: courier;">There's a Revolution Outside, My Love</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: courier;">We Do This 'Till We Free Us</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">till <i>A Chorus Rises</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">till<i> </i>we tase <i>The Sweetness of Water</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">till we see <i>The Evidence of Things Not Seen</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">in <i>The Anthropocene Reviewed</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">differences between us - </span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><i>Almost Zero</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">we <i>Come in All Colors</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><i>Life's too Short, Gilded Ones</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><i><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> -Susan</span><br /></i></span></p><p><br /></p><p>After lunch we headed to the <a href="https://blantonmuseum.org/" target="_blank">Blanton Museum</a>. Although Susan had some way for us to be inspired by the artwork in all of Blanton’s galleries, we only had time to visit <a href="https://blantonmuseum.org/exhibition/blackisbeautiful/" target="_blank">Black Is Beautiful: The Photography of Kwame Brathwaite</a>. We chose one of the pieces to imagine a conversation, either with us or between the subjects in the photos. </p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-659bacce-7fff-c90f-3fe3-8f36946b0f70"><span face="Poppins, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: 2pt solid rgb(0, 0, 0); display: inline-block; height: 298px; overflow: hidden; width: 305px;"><img height="304.5619913834369" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/KN4TD9gDqMqi4aL8DgOxTct1mQWnd9kD7ci-bJpwRbqtodQdpgxg8UFz38BaSXiuU6QuHsYZrnlINiKMZgUSeF13VCW0P3UOZgR_4tnq2l26-1d5LTT6--OgREcGpsFTcVNqGEig" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="305" /></span></span></span></p><p>You see me, you see you.</p><p>How you see me is how you’ll see you.</p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">My eyes are your eyes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">My hair is your hair.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">You see it?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">This nose, yours. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">These lips, ours.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">I am you and you are me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Remember that when you look into </span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">the eyes, the mind, the heart, the soul, the story </span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">of somebody who looks like me, looks like you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">If you can see me, you can see you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">And if you can see us, then it won’t matter if they can see us.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">See us just as we are</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">Black. Is. Beautiful</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;">-Andrea</span></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><img height="192" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/HzWgf1mVBY3pG1laHTbyRLs0WpGLjxwlHiLHTM4dCQYoDqX2Dfp4QVCZhBfI3S3I1K107tIf9UqvAS5rHmIJhK6dGTF1hqlIpCK8lzsVPMZsl7HBPR4t35ZVoeOfFYcJFx8cqI11" style="font-family: Poppins, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;" width="183" /> <img height="191" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/9FGejNV47o_LIEEB5Yi4NqHdJkN9fe0pWrUZRvbNhbz6wJKziXzzmnNDuyxmJfYalduK6Im_dyeWjzEJ_HndaLfuyD7aZBUd0b1hLHdJGNpniIpgmFJcGuKe7fz3wvD6J7y6muS_" style="font-family: Poppins, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;" width="179" />. </p><p>Public school, Harlem, 1966</p><p>Males: We are looking to our future, away from our past. We are strong, we are confident in our worth as people, whether others are or not. We are determined not to depend on others to set our own worth or value. We are standing on the foundation those before us have worked so hard to lay down.</p><p>Females: We try to look confident and strong, but we are not completely sure who we are in this day and age. We want to stand proud and BE somebody, but we are also products of a society that judges our worth as females in a certain way - a way that doesn’t encourage personal strength or intellectual achievement. Even more, a society that holds black women to another place entirely. How do we navigate the conflicting demands of this modern age: being proud, free, confident, self-reliant, while also avoiding the clutches of the past with its diametrically opposite expectations?</p><p><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> -</span>Carolyn</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><img height="286" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/dI-fXDdpe9YlBa2h2IoqOauY-fEUdLPbRG3VqD5fAjErxojirX2rWJVGzU0V1k1sRmmDaPCxQEkpcPzmOYGFdSmXoMEh9Y0oIywAF3dirE9H515LNt4hYdZdetkmazWlH-4nVEhe" style="font-family: Poppins, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;" width="286" /></p><p>Listen!</p><p>You ask me</p><p>Why am I behind a camera.</p><p>Not in front of a march,</p><p>Or at a counter,</p><p>Or on a bus.</p><p>My weapon is my art.</p><p>My weapon is my eye.</p><p>Through my eye</p><p>You will see beauty, </p><p>you will love that beauty</p><p> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You will love the skin that wears it</p><p>And the heart that beats underneath it</p><p>You will love the beauty that is </p><p><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Black.</p><p><span style="white-space: pre;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span>-Susan </p><p><br /></p><p>We ran out of time and didn’t get to see what Carolyn had planned for us at the Austin Public Library. But no worries! That’s the subject of next month’s post. </p><p>Writing needs time and stimulation to grow. Anything can serve as stimulation - the plants in your house, your children, the sounds outside the window, even the dirty dishes. But time, we must steal time if we have to, even if it's just a few minutes, to make something of our words. </p>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-36306945203038232532021-06-21T08:21:00.002-07:002021-06-21T08:21:42.335-07:00On Trust, Hope and Writing to Understand<p><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O6r39ZqohAw/YNCuVx1vb7I/AAAAAAAAA6s/v4b24r2qvVgS3Y65rBd2v3lwVTrkVb6TACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/diego-ph-SZYreZsJ-fE-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O6r39ZqohAw/YNCuVx1vb7I/AAAAAAAAA6s/v4b24r2qvVgS3Y65rBd2v3lwVTrkVb6TACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/diego-ph-SZYreZsJ-fE-unsplash.jpg" /></a></span></i></div><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />Our writers group is 11 years old! Not a month has gone by without us meeting together to talk about writing, reading and life. To be honest, sometimes we only talk about life. But writing is still our way of making sense of our worlds as women, mothers, teachers - humans. Often we use a word, a quote or a prompt to keep ourselves accountable and actually write during a writers group. Yesterday, we each randomly chose a page from Andrea’s </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Find Your Calm</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> notebook. Each quote seemed to resonate especially with the person who picked it. Once we finished writing, we also noticed the common thread of hope, trust and resilience that ran through all of our thoughts. We highly encourage the habit of daily reflection, especially through writing. You can start by writing 10, 5 or only 3 minutes. Pick one of these (or all of them) as your inspiration to start your writing journey.</span></i><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-5a6a9f27-7fff-ed01-becf-4946efc4c8f8"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do not anticipate trouble or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight.”</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> - Benjamin Franklin</span></b></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I come from a long line of worriers and anticipators of trouble. We are experts at writing worst-case scenarios. All those memes about what your mother is thinking when you don’t answer her texts? They were inspired by me and my relatives or mothers in general. Cell phones have allowed us to be in touch ALL THE TIME. Find My Friends lets me know where my kids are even if they are in some remote village in the mountains of Colombia. But with that the opportunities to worry and anticipate the trouble have taken on a whole new level. When someone doesn’t answer a text right away or their phone goes to voicemail, we don’t think: Maybe they left their phone at home or in the car, maybe it’s on silent; maybe it ran out of battery, maybe she’s in the bathroom and can’t answer. No, the first images that come to mind are of kidnapping, robbery or injury. I am happy to report, however, that the speed with which we recover from these doomsday thoughts and latch on to more rational and plausible explanations has gone down with each generation. As I have moved along in my fifties, I have gotten better at stopping these thoughts from consuming or overwhelming me. I have found that repeating to myself “God is good, God is great” reminds me of all the evidence in my life that backs these statements. As I age, I realize that this kind of thinking is not coherent for someone who fully trusts in God, His wisdom and His protection. As faith and trust grows, fear diminishes. It’s a journey and a process. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> -Susan</span><br /></span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Breath is the power behind all things . . . I breathe in and know that good things will happen.” </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> - Tao Porchon-Lynch</span></span></b></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Breathing in . . . breathing out . . . If I pull good in from my surroundings and let it nourish and enrich my body, my soul, my whole being, I can then breathe goodness out, sending it on to those around me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I inhale, the force of life fills my lungs and eventually all the cells in my body, empowering them. My heart beats, sending oxygen-filled blood to all of me. Because of this God-devised, life-sustaining miracle, my legs can move me to action for good. My arms can embrace those who need comfort or empathy, or simply a human touch. My mouth can speak words of truth, love, or encouragement when they are needed. My brain can formulate solutions to problems, large and small, and conjure new possibilities for myself, those I love, and all mankind.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I exhale, all of the potential that has been nourished within me by the life-giving oxygen I breathed in is sent out into the world to flourish and grow. And the cycle repeats . . . </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even while I sleep, I breathe in and out, knowing that new opportunities are being prepared for me to inhale on the coming day. I can sleep well, knowing that good things will happen. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span> -Carolyn </span><br /></span></span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Nobody can teach me who I am. You can describe parts of me, but who I am - and what I need - is something I have to find out for myself.</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> - Chinua Achebe</span></span></b></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is pretty amazing the way that what one needs at any given moment will come to you, like a message in a bottle floating on the sea of life and heading straight toward you. Sometimes the message comes in a conversation with a friend, while listening to a song or in a quote found on a random page in a random book- just like the one above. It seems random, but it is as if the thoughts we have been turning over in our minds as we turn over in our beds- the secret wishes and prayers for insight and direction, not even spoken aloud, have become an echo that returned to us on the page of this or that random book. I know there are systems in the brain that are awakened by whatever we decide to pay attention to. It is the reticular activating system to be exact. It is the one that alerts you to every car on the road that is like the one you just bought or are considering buying. The one you now see everywhere though you had never seen it before. Yes, our brains get attenuated by the thoughts we think, looking for confirmation all around us, but I think it is also true that we call things to us by our thoughts. The more we think something the more of it we will see in our lives. This makes it crucial that I think thoughts about myself, others and the world around me that I actually want to see come to fruition. There is little use in thinking empty thoughts that only lead to insecurity, doubt and fear about who you are, who others might be and what life really has to offer. This brings suffering of all sorts. Take those thoughts captive and make them obedient to Christ - believing in the truth of who God says you are. Who we are and how we experience life is largely a product of what and how we think. Our words create our worlds. They beckon forth so much of our realities. So let’s think about who we are and decide who we want to be because </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">what we think about we bring about.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><i> </i>-Andrea<i><br /></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” Nelson Mandela</span></i></b></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a child, I played mommy. I was good at making sure my newborn plastic baby went down for her naps at appropriate times, and at the same time every day. No one wants to deal with a cranky baby if they can avoid it. Bath, book and prayers were our routine. Wrapped up in her blanket, and she slept through the night no problem. As the oldest sibling I took this caretaker role just as seriously. I planned and hoped to be a good mother some day, and I had to practice. Whether with my plastic dolls or my siblings. I had no fear or anxiety about this particular dream of mine. Even when I became pregnant with my first born, fear of labor or contractions never crossed my mind. (Although I was slightly nervous about morning sickness.) The bedtime routine I had perfected and implemented so easily with my plastic baby girl didn’t quite always go as smoothly. Now that I have two teenage children, a little fear has begun to set in. Fear of the unknown. Fear of not being with them every step of the way to guide their choices, or to “help” make sure they make the “right” ones. I’m afraid of my son going off to college in the very near future, and God forbid he makes a mistake without me being right there to do some clean up. But I know this fear is irrational. I can’t be there at every turn, at least not physically. They know I am no more than a phone call or text away, and that gives me peace. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> -Esmeralda</span><br /></span></p><br /><br /></span>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-52070271973827094592021-03-09T19:16:00.007-08:002021-03-10T07:43:49.361-08:00A Reason, A Season, or A Lifetime (#9)<br /><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iMnz2YaLn-s/YEjn8OO4ySI/AAAAAAAAA5E/Mw1sx5pUanUYzQMY9ESDrBocVdwmGucCQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2543/Plants%2Bon%2BSill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1236" data-original-width="2543" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iMnz2YaLn-s/YEjn8OO4ySI/AAAAAAAAA5E/Mw1sx5pUanUYzQMY9ESDrBocVdwmGucCQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Plants%2Bon%2BSill.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few of my beautiful new ladies who love the light.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Everyone knows that plants need water, sunlight, nutrients and space to grow. What I did not know until I became a plantsman is that in winter, many houseplants need less water, no fertilizer and produce little to no new growth. They go dormant. They may not look it, but they are very much alive and will thrive in the next season. This happens naturally as seasons and the weather changes. Plants do this to conserve energy in order to be prepared to respond to and thrive when the culture and conditions change for the better. Plant enthusiasts must know the signs of dormancy or they could kill the plant by overwatering, overfeeding, overcompensating in ways that are more harmful than helpful. Some friendships are like this. They need little to sustain them throughout winter seasons of life: career challenges and intimate relationship changes, births and deaths, relocations and revisions to daily life, emotional and mental sabbaticals. They may appear dead, but really the relationship may just be dormant. We need to know the signs. </div><div><br /></div><div>In every friendship there are times when phone calls taper off, but your friends are still in your thoughts and prayers. There is a text every now and again with a meme or inspirational quote that harkens back to an inside joke. You check social media to find you've been tagged in a sweet memory of another time in your friendship and it causes a longing for more. One of you sends a gift or a card in the mail, just because. You know what’s going on in your friends’ lives and have placed little expectation on them to do more than they can do at this time. You cannot wait until life settles down so you can spend time with them again. And before you know it, the spring season of life arrives. Regular texts resume, phone calls are made, coffee dates are set, laughs and life pick up right where you left off. </div><div><br /></div><div>So here’s my bit of advice for those who may read a social media post or hear someone say “stop texting your friends first and see what dead plants you’ve been watering”:</div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hqafqtQH2QU/YEg_IODXFcI/AAAAAAAAA48/YNmsg44ZN3Y5TNEOPOC52lLMwKcF2NoQACLcBGAsYHQ/s474/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-03-09%2Bat%2B9.37.34%2BPM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="474" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hqafqtQH2QU/YEg_IODXFcI/AAAAAAAAA48/YNmsg44ZN3Y5TNEOPOC52lLMwKcF2NoQACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-03-09%2Bat%2B9.37.34%2BPM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excerpt of the viral Facebook post that got me thinking.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Keep watering your friendships in the ways that you're able to in the seasons you're in. Your friends know you. If they need something more, different or better, they'll be honest with you and ask for it, and they will understand if you cannot give it- especially when you do not have it to give. But if not, remember this: some friendships, like some plants, are seasonal, meaning they complete their full growing cycle in one season. Some people are in your life for a reason (we work together and are good friends in that context), a season (our kids are playing on the same sports team or we share a hobby or community activity), or for a lifetime. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lifetime friends are perennial, <i>lasting or existing for a long or apparently infinite time; enduring or continually recurring</i>. They know who you are and love you because of and in spite of that. Lifetime friends are the ones who are there in every season. They know what the friendship needs, they recognize what you provide, and they, too, contribute to the care of the relationship. They water, fertilize and prune. They trust you will do the same. They watch and wait with you in anticipation for the next season of blooms and new growth. Check in on all of your friends. Do what you can for each kind and in every season. Give each the care, space, and light it needs. What you water will grow in its time, in its way. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0QwkufYoWZQ/YEjo5BEcDhI/AAAAAAAAA5M/DlfBeidPHpwnVWhd3E4y0Iz1y7Tw9wRCgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1080/FB_IMG_1614860368224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1080" height="193" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0QwkufYoWZQ/YEjo5BEcDhI/AAAAAAAAA5M/DlfBeidPHpwnVWhd3E4y0Iz1y7Tw9wRCgCLcBGAsYHQ/w199-h193/FB_IMG_1614860368224.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>💚 Andrea</div><div><br /></div><br />Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-53269398715004186952021-02-07T17:25:00.003-08:002021-02-07T20:42:33.308-08:00(#8) Is This My Story to Tell? by Andrea <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JExbJvv7TBw/W6hUaXUdpWI/AAAAAAAAApY/pThDFy3PyIcccwbW6gmZxqP7jupj5bsVQCPcBGAYYCw/s417/THINK.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="417" data-original-width="286" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JExbJvv7TBw/W6hUaXUdpWI/AAAAAAAAApY/pThDFy3PyIcccwbW6gmZxqP7jupj5bsVQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/THINK.png"></a></div><br> Living in community means our lives will be commingled, and our stories will intersect with others. We have all heard someone from a small town lament something to the effect of 'everybody knows everybody's business here.' Some of this is inevitable when you're doing life together. Yet, I have found that in families, churches, schools, and organizations, there is sometimes something else at play. </div><div> Lauryn Hill has a line in one of her songs where she sings: 'Led to believe because we live in neighborhoods telling us what's going on will be all right.' We often feel obliged to tell other members of the community what's going on with someone else. We share someone's good news before they get to. We share someone's challenges with others and before we know, everyone is privy to that person's pain. We do not ask permission to share other people's tales with the rest of the community, as if the whole community has a right to know. I have been guilty of this myself before, especially in sharing someone's good news. I am a pretty good secret keeper and confidante. I think that's why people feel safe sharing intimate details of their lives with me. They come for a listening ear and often for me to speak life into their lives. That is a privilege I do not take lightly. To be trusted is one of the most important aspects of who I want to be, now and forever. </div><div> Yet I have always felt uncomfortable and uneasy when someone shares something about someone else that does not pertain to me or the sharer at all. I wonder if we all have that little sensor that goes off when we know we shouldn't be saying or hearing someone's tale. My general rule for other people's business is 'if I don't need to know, I don't want to know'. I learned this early in life. Right around early adolescence my mother and grandmother began saying to me, 'if people will tell other people's business to you, they'll tell yours to other people.' I saw it play out in the years of middle and high school. That's about when it starts. Probably by age 9 or 10, we start telling other people's stories for them. I never wanted to be caught up in the mess of 'I heard you said blah, blah, blah about me!' So not talking about other people kept me out of that foolishness during my school days. People had to make up a lie in order to try to pull me into situations like that. </div><div> The line between gossip and care is very thin. Sometimes, we do need to share with a trusted source because we genuinely need advice in how to move forward or the story has had an effect on us and we need to work through it. My husband and I have ALWAYS gone to trusted confidants and advisors in major matters with our children. We had to share parts of the children's stories in order to tell ours and to get what we needed. Yet, even with our children, we do not share their stories willy nilly, without regard for their privacy and needs. It is so tempting to share about someone's trial and even their triumphs. I face it, too. But to keep myself far from crossing the line, I ask myself:</div><div><br></div><div>if this were my story, would I want someone I entrusted it to tell it to just anyone? Would I want this on the front page of the newspaper? Would I want this shared on social media? If it were my story, would I share it on social media, or with just anyone? How would I feel if I found out that others were discussing something personal, private and intimate in my absence? </div><div> </div><div> Some people are open books with their lives. They may feel comfortable talking to absolutely any one who will listen. But that's for them to do, not me. Even if someone doesn't specifically ask for us to keep a secret, I believe we know intuitively, deep down inside, when that's the expectation or should be. </div><div> Gossip hurts everyone- the speaker, the listener and the main character in the narrative. Gossip destroys trust, integrity, and one's self-respect and esteem. I am pretty sure every major religion and philosophical teaching warns against it. There are all kinds of psychological reasons we indulge in it, but there are just as many reasons to abstain. </div><div> We all need safe places to let our soft spots show. We all need at least one person who we know will keep our confidences and have our backs. Let's all be the kind of people who others can count on to let them tell their own stories, especially those that reveal their challenges and vulnerabilities. We can talk to who we need to in order to process our thoughts, feelings and part in the story, but make sure that's what we're doing, not just <i>spilling the tea </i>as the young folks say.</div><div><br></div><div>-Andrea </div>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-36962477265925823792020-12-31T21:30:00.003-08:002020-12-31T21:30:40.667-08:00Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#7)<div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>My 2020 Reading List</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cuCC7O_71S8/X-6JVsxV_-I/AAAAAAAAA14/D_IMp1LeJFoXDCcKsoth4jpVM--uDAZ0wCLcBGAsYHQ/s684/2Books%2B2020.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="684" height="260" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cuCC7O_71S8/X-6JVsxV_-I/AAAAAAAAA14/D_IMp1LeJFoXDCcKsoth4jpVM--uDAZ0wCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h260/2Books%2B2020.jpg" title="Part of my Goodreads reading list" width="320" /></a></div>
The first book I read in 2020 was more appropriate preparation for the year to come than I could have ever predicted.
From the back cover:
Life often looks so very different than we hoped or expected. Some events may simply catch us off guard for a moment, but others shatter us completely. We feel disappointed and disillusioned, and we quietly start to wonder about the reality of God’s goodness.
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MGNEhij7P7k/X-6Q-k3rGEI/AAAAAAAAA2g/aBw1jHi799smr4pbTRCowtPguFrVakYXwCLcBGAsYHQ/s152/first%2Bbook.jpg" style="clear: left; display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="98" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MGNEhij7P7k/X-6Q-k3rGEI/AAAAAAAAA2g/aBw1jHi799smr4pbTRCowtPguFrVakYXwCLcBGAsYHQ/w129-h200/first%2Bbook.jpg" width="129" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first book of the 2020 Reading Season<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
I attempted to read this book in January of 2019, but I soon abandoned it because it didn’t seem what I needed then. I decided to give it a second go because disappointments in life are inevitable and proper preparation can prevent poor perspective-taking. As is true for anyone who has been alive for more than a moment, I had already experienced my fair share, and I knew I would face one or some in 2020. I was intrigued by the author’s assertion “that our disappointments can be the divine appointments our souls need to radically encounter God.” This book did not disappoint in helping its reader to lean into the gap between the life we expect and the life we actually encounter. Lysa TerKeurst lets us into her personal disappointments and shows us how to rethink what often feels like the end as opportunities to begin again, trusting God along the new path that opens beyond the rubble of disappointments. This book is a great reminder of God’s provision when life goes sideways by chance or by our own choices.
<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1m3LijfX9I/X-6WpYNTbjI/AAAAAAAAA20/Si26WkcCIfkP-TdGpG_S9BbiLmZfQr8gQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1919%2Bbook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="318" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1m3LijfX9I/X-6WpYNTbjI/AAAAAAAAA20/Si26WkcCIfkP-TdGpG_S9BbiLmZfQr8gQCLcBGAsYHQ/w199-h200/1919%2Bbook.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"History is who we are and why we are the way we are."</div><div style="text-align: center;">David McCullough</div><div style="text-align: left;">I learned of this book from a talk given by the author on the history of racial violence in Chicago. While conducting research on another project, Ms. Ewing discovered a report of a study conducted to discover the reasons for the eight days of violence, death and terrorism during the Chicago Race Riot. of 1919. After reading the report, "The Negro in Chicago: A Study on Race Relations and A Race Riot", the author determined to utilize "speculative and Afro-futuristic" poetry to explore the stories of the lives directly impacted by the events of that Red Summer. In this collection, Ms. Ewing asks how far have we come in the last 100 years, and how can we see our way forward so that 100 years from now we can tell a different story.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xIAUUrdLaH8/X-6vXT-NH7I/AAAAAAAAA3I/XmTCa57C9YYt9QpKN6gaLAFW508wof-lACLcBGAsYHQ/s625/Books%2B2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="625" height="275" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xIAUUrdLaH8/X-6vXT-NH7I/AAAAAAAAA3I/XmTCa57C9YYt9QpKN6gaLAFW508wof-lACLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h275/Books%2B2020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I read many exceptional books this year, almost all of which I would recommend. Each of these books served a purpose, served as a teacher of sorts. In this historic year, I read for distraction, I read as a seeker, I read to meet old and new friends and new ideas. I am better for this reading season- from the first book to the last.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U-NiicSumwk/X-6xY8D69BI/AAAAAAAAA3U/Ak-1pNOlQdQYjn-SG_oUMwvb2Xw9uvMcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s686/3Books%2B2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="686" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U-NiicSumwk/X-6xY8D69BI/AAAAAAAAA3U/Ak-1pNOlQdQYjn-SG_oUMwvb2Xw9uvMcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/3Books%2B2020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-26772519928179371952020-12-31T10:51:00.003-08:002020-12-31T13:25:02.349-08:00Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#6)<p style="text-align: center;"><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>(SIX)</b></span></p><p><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“To grow in love and service, you — I, all of us — must value ignorance as much as knowledge and failure as much as success… Clinging to what you already know and do well is the path to an unlived life. So, cultivate a beginner’s mind, walk straight into your not-knowing, and take the risk of failing and falling again and again, then getting up again and again to learn — that’s the path to a life lived large, in service of love, truth, and justice.” </i></span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> </i>Parker Palmer</span></p><p><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think the sentiments expressed here are easier when there is "conformation bias" so to speak--- embracing a beginner's mindset when the encounter confirms a path you think you are supposed to be on, or have chosen. It's hardest when you're confronted with ideas, paths, possibilities you've never considered, been exposed to, or invited to explore. It's hardest when what you have to be open to <i>may even go against </i>what you've experienced. It's so hard for us to consider something outside of what we believe to be true, even when we know that we don't know. </span></p><p><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ignorance, or a beginner's mind, is hard to allow, also, when it is simply for the greater good. To embrace <i>ignorance </i>for the sake of growing as a human, learning how to be better when you don't think anything is wrong with the way you're going about life is tough. Who chooses to complicate their lives in this way? Yet, we must if we want to fully live, to keep learning, to be better. It's probably why Jesus calls his followers to become like little children. Children are not without pride (granted they do not have nearly the arrogant pride we adults do), yet they know they don't know most of what they need to live and grow. So they ask questions; they listen and stay open to other possibilities when presented with them, and even when they are not. They look for and believe that other possibilities are out there. They embrace a greater level of humility with the people in their lives that they can rely on. They trust. This is why trusting relationships with people who can guide us are so important. </span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">People can be messy, <b>and </b>people can be messengers. </span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">So when we humble ourselves and invite other teachers in, we can get better at being human</span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We get better at love and service to one another. </span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Humility is always rewarded.</span></p><p><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I do not know what I do not yet know. This is why I read from a variety of authors and surround myself with people who experience life differently than I do. </span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is why I listen and ask questions. It is also why I share my thoughts with others. Though </span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I do not embrace any and every wind of teaching, I always learn something about myself, other people and how to see the world even when I do not accept or agree with the lessons or the teachers. Humility requires wondering, questioning, seeking, examining and reflecting. This is one reason I pray. I believe that God gives wisdom to those who ask, and wisdom comes through examining the world and one's life in reverence and humility before the Creator of both. </span></p><p><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I agree with Parker Palmer. On this sojourn, to fully live, we all must embrace being beginners again and again.</span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYmKXZD86to/X-4enXevjbI/AAAAAAAAA1E/rEv2_jcbKE4vw2dy7fg8TyQQBCt2fYFUgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/brett-jordan-W87RB3CmL3o-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYmKXZD86to/X-4enXevjbI/AAAAAAAAA1E/rEv2_jcbKE4vw2dy7fg8TyQQBCt2fYFUgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/brett-jordan-W87RB3CmL3o-unsplash.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@brett_jordan?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Brett Jordan</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/begin?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-63074596606332635262020-12-30T21:28:00.003-08:002020-12-30T21:43:10.934-08:00Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#5)<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"In order to leave this portrait of himself as a memorial for his friends and relations, he makes a number of <i>trials - </i>for such is the meaning of the word <i>essai (essay), </i>which he invented as a literary term- in order to test his response to different subjects and situations. ...he is making a trial of himself and his opinions, in an endeavor to see which of them are permanent and which are temporary; which of them arise from the passing circumstances of his life and the particular climate of his times, with its pedantic scholarship, its religious dissensions, and its cruel civil wars, and which belong to the man himself, Michel de Montaigne."</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;">From J.M. Cohen's Introduction to <i>Essays</i> by Michel de Montaigne </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>INTRO</b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I write these briefs essays oftentimes in response to something I have read or overheard. I write to push against widely and fiercely held ideas. I write essays to try out other ways of looking at notions we sometimes just accept as <b>so</b>. When I begin to shake my head, that is a signal to me to write, to explore alternative points of view. Most of the time I write short essays, like Monsieur Montaigne, to put my own thoughts and viewpoints on trial. What better way to know one's own mind, and to decide which thoughts are worth keeping and which needs to be dispensed. What follows are a few micro-essays on a variety of topics I have explored this year. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b>(FIVE)</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--UzvZQWu8e4/X-1gUaWT1pI/AAAAAAAAA0w/UwJauu21dkgLfyhQZPTxdcMJkk0SPHO2gCLcBGAsYHQ/s310/eleanor%2Broosevelt.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="310" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--UzvZQWu8e4/X-1gUaWT1pI/AAAAAAAAA0w/UwJauu21dkgLfyhQZPTxdcMJkk0SPHO2gCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/eleanor%2Broosevelt.jpeg" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-eb15dc8f-7fff-d027-a3ce-c8768507f137"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #202124; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What other people do may have an affect on our thoughts and feelings. Nonetheless, each of us is 100% responsible for our thoughts and our feelings about our interactions with others. This does not mean that we cannot confront another about the actions that prompted the thoughts and feelings of inferiority, but we cannot hold others responsible for our internal stuff. We all filter every single current experience in our lives through our previous experiences. The more we recognize how our past experiences and how we have thought and felt about them influence our present feelings and thoughts, the better able we will be to pull back, recognize the strongholds in our mental and emotional processing systems and overcome them to better maintain control over our responses. When we try to make other people responsible for our feelings, we lose our power to heal ourselves and become confident, healthy beings who can be vulnerable yet strong. We miss opportunities to grow up and become more spiritually, emotionally and mentally mature. We may put a burden on other people that diminishes their ability to be authentic and genuine in our presence because they begin to fear doing things that will offend and hurt us easily. No doubt, those with whom we have close or intimate relationships can and must own their stuff. An example of this would be someone with whom you’ve had a conflict acknowledging that their tone was disrespectful which triggered you to feel disrespected. But if when others accept their part in our hurt, we still expect them to fix or take away our pain, we put an impossible, unnecessary and unhealthy expectation on them. Putting away the pain is our responsibility. And that can only come with a decision not to indulge in self-defeating patterns of picking at the wound, such as, perseverating over the hurtful episode, entertaining one-sided, unsubstantiated stories about the other person, indulging self-deprecating thoughts, or expecting a certain level of emotional response from the offender. No one can </span><span style="color: #202124; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">make</span><span style="color: #202124; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> us feel anything. We feel what we feel because of our perceptions, beliefs and the schema we have developed over time. People can for sure be jerks. Yet, we have the power to not allow their jerkiness to lead us to feel poorly about ourselves.</span></span></span></p>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-23162605247628463032020-12-29T21:46:00.001-08:002020-12-30T08:04:30.582-08:00Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#4)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9mj-LhVQZg8/X-wTPfGlcmI/AAAAAAAAA0c/kOxL4CxyYv83ZFzXSyP3DCHnFPYSkkC0wCLcBGAsYHQ/s310/mindfulness.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="162" data-original-width="310" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9mj-LhVQZg8/X-wTPfGlcmI/AAAAAAAAA0c/kOxL4CxyYv83ZFzXSyP3DCHnFPYSkkC0wCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/mindfulness.png"></a></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-e195e6bf-7fff-555d-0726-3bae4ae69538"><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: georgia;"><b><br></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: georgia;"><b>mind-ful-ness</b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: georgia;"><b><br></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How many of you hear the word </span><span style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">mindfulness</span><span style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> then check out? I used to. The word conjured up images of people with a whole lot more self-control and a longer attention span than I could ever muster. Just hearing the word made me tired. My shoulders would slump a little because deep down mindfulness seemed like one more thing I could try that would be good for me but impossible to maintain. Imagining failure before you even start can have a </span><span style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">what’s-the-point</span><span style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> effect on you. Despite the rave reviews, personal testimonies and millennia of evidence touting the benefits of practicing mindfulness, I did not think it was something I could start and sustain. I bet after reading that you’re now thinking about the thoughts you’ve had about mindfulness, what the term calls to mind for you, how it makes you feel. Guess what! That’s mindfulness. </span></span></p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><br></span><ol style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0;"><li dir="ltr" style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something.</span></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">a mental state achieved by focusing one's awareness on the present moment, while calmly acknowledging and accepting one's feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations, used as a therapeutic technique.</span></span></p></li></ol><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">That little graphic above helped me to think of mindfulness in its most basic terms. Thinking about it as being present with my body helped me to determine what this quality or state looks like in my day-to-day and has allowed me to craft and adopt practices which work for ME. I spend time each day simply sitting in silence and solitude. I daydream. I let my mind wander then try to recall what thoughts came floating by. I breathe, and pay attention to what I am feeling in key parts of my body. I sip coffee and pay attention to the smell and taste. I stretch. I close my eyes and listen to the space I am in. I do one thing at a time. I actively slow down and tell myself to do so, over and over, until I am fully aware and engaged in whatever it is I am doing- watering my plants, washing dishes, eating, praying. And the benefits of these practices and others are more calm, more control, more clarity. I have been experiencing a stronger mind-body-heart-soul connection. This translates into greater connection to God, myself and others. Being more mindful means I can better love all three. I cannot explain the difference, but I can surely feel the difference. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #202124; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Mindfulness is simply living your life wide awake, at a pace that allows you to experience it fully, even the most mundane parts. </span></span><span style="color: #202124; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">If your interest has been piqued, spend a few moments thinking of how mindfulness might look in your life, what ways of practicing it would feel natural to you, and where can you start small today. </span></span></p><div><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div></span></div>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-11625825480848901372020-12-26T21:56:00.014-08:002020-12-28T23:56:24.497-08:00Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#2 & #3)<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>(TWO)</b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Artists say, “Let me draw something that might help our understanding, help us change or wake up, be inspired to awe or kindness." </b></span><span face="Roboto,sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anne Lamott, </span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Almost Everything</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-bfca05d9-7fff-724c-63a0-9fcbf11041a4"><br /><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Writers Say</span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me write something that might help us walk in each others’ shoes,</span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">be inspired to love and </span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to be better for one another</span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to be less afraid and more curious about </span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">our one, fine, glorious life. </span></p><br /><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me write something which might help us wake up, </span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">help us see what we could not have seen otherwise. </span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me write something which will add light </span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and life </span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and laughter. </span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me write something to unburden our souls.</span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me write something that shows us another way to walk each other home.</span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><b>-A Writer's Prayer</b></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d_iRUf25t2c/X-rhGZh6qiI/AAAAAAAAA0I/Pi-0bXHyqPAWmJZY8SRzAHppVhh5EFG3gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/kindness-matters.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="133" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d_iRUf25t2c/X-rhGZh6qiI/AAAAAAAAA0I/Pi-0bXHyqPAWmJZY8SRzAHppVhh5EFG3gCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h133/kindness-matters.png" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>(THREE) </b></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Passing by a space recently, I saw several signs with sentiments about being kind- </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">choose kindness</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">; </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">if you can be anything, be kind</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">; </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kindness matters</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">; </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kind people are my kind of people</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Being described as kind, in my humble opinion, is one of the highest honors one could pay to another person. Reading those artsy, to-the-point signs made me think:</span></span></p><ol style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><li style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Are these declarations, directions or decorations? Is this person kind?</span></span></p></li><li style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Who gets to decide who and what is kind? </span></span></p></li><li style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">What if one’s idea of “kindness” is very different from those around them? What if you describe yourself as kind, but others do not? (Not because you do not have other great qualities but simply because kindness is not the one they immediately think of to describe you.) </span></span></p></li><li style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Do we think of kindness as big deliberate acts mostly? Acts like donating to charities, giving food to a person without a home, taking in a stray animal, serving at a food pantry. </span></span></p></li><li style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Do we miss opportunities to be kind on our way to do some big act of kindness? I witness this daily in myself and others. We do not acknowledge the person walking by six feet away from us. Yet ,we share about our whole day with the barista at our favorite coffee shop. We step over rather than pick up trash. Yet we donate large bags of used clothing to charity. We don’t listen completely when a coworker or child speaks. Yet we answer our friend’s call and talk for hours. We turn the other way when we spot someone we recognize at the grocery store. Yet we visit our grandparents every weekend. We hurry our children. Yet we wait patiently for our friends who said they would be dropping by. We ignore our partners. Yet we respond immediately to our boss’ requests to work a little extra. We assume ill-intent and rattle off discontent when we receive correspondence from corporate entities. Yet we assure the cashier who overcharged us and gave the incorrect change that we get it, they’ve had a long, hard day.</span></span></p></li><li style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">How does this person show kindness in their daily life? Could these displays be reminders of a quality this person wants to grow in? I put reminders all around me when I am working on specific aspects of my character or working to improve in some area of my life. Maybe the occupant of this workspace is doing something similar.</span></span></p></li></ol><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-17750874-7fff-f999-2e07-5ff2ef0a295d"></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Those signs got me thinking, reflecting and asking, “Am I the kind of person who others would describe as kind?”. Maybe that’s why the signs are posted- for us passersby.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">-Andrea</span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-10122884856688759542020-12-26T21:46:00.003-08:002020-12-26T22:24:10.191-08:00Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#1)<br />
<b>(ONE)</b><br />
My one writing goal for 2020 is to publish on this blog once per month. Today is the last day of the first month of the new year. Better late than never is what they say. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WbAxk-Vco9E/X-gfBpHC6ZI/AAAAAAAAAzs/UXMKsxvBDP8mZR5IEwngYv2UAYrSSH9wACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/2020%2BWriting%2BVision.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1111" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WbAxk-Vco9E/X-gfBpHC6ZI/AAAAAAAAAzs/UXMKsxvBDP8mZR5IEwngYv2UAYrSSH9wACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/2020%2BWriting%2BVision.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />
Actually my goal is to be the kind of person who writes for other people, not just for myself, this year. I do not have a desire to publish a book, to write professionally or even to be known as such. I do want to be the kind of writer who writes everyday, who uses her writing to make a mark in her world, who writes for posterity and to sort out what I know to be true and what I am still learning. I do writerly things like capture my thoughts and reactions to the world. I put my bum in a chair, and I make myself write. I keep a notebook and have the notes app on my phone organized so that I can quickly and easily find the writing ideas I collect as I live. Yet, I show up here, and I am without anything meaningful to share with you. I try to be a woman of my word. I am just going to write until something worthwhile comes out. Writing is that way. If you stay with it long enough, something usually materializes. <br />
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I cannot figure out what's going on with me lately when it comes to writing for myself in way that allows me to have something to share with the world. The hypocrisy of the thing is that we ask students to do it every.single.day. This is how I came to write for this blog. I wanted to be a real teacher of writing by living the life I asked my students to live in the classroom. At least once per marking period, we require them to share some narrative, essay or poetry with the world. We ask them to write with feeling and thoughtfulness. We ask them to open up their hearts or their minds and let the rest of us look inside. And you know what, most of the time, the kids find something meaningful to share. So what's my problem. I've got lots of stories. I know this is true because I talk my husband's ear off sometimes sharing them. I have many, many opinions about many, many topics. Name a topic. I am certain I have a thought or at the very least a question. For example, while watching a movie or television I have to literally remind myself to stay focused on the task at hand because my curiosity will get piqued by something a character mentions then I am off running down the Google rabbit-hole asking questions and seeking answers...<div><br /></div><div><b>This is as far as I got on 1/31/20. In six short weeks later, the bottom fell out of 2020, and so did my goal of publishing 12 blog posts. It is now December 26, and I've got five days to fulfill my goal. "Why, given the year we have had?" Because I said I would. Here's to (ONE) down. Only eleven to go.</b></div></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>-Andrea</b></div>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-566419236915322192019-09-17T12:15:00.001-07:002019-09-17T12:15:16.832-07:00Attitude of Gratitude<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I recently read an article about the effects of having a grateful attitude. It was an article about scientifically proven benefits of gratitude. Apparently it improves not only our emotional health but also our physical health. A few things mentioned were it makes us happier, improves our moods, increases our resilience, improves our self-esteem. It also can improve sleep, helps reduce pain, strengthens our immune system, and lowers stress. These are only a few of the things the article mentioned as positive effects of a grateful attitude. At times it tends to be a little difficult to see the sunny side up. Especially when many things get thrown at you during the day and you get bogged down with all the to-do’s and the don’t do’s and the don’t have time to do’s. So how can we have an attitude of gratitude? I think you have to make it a habit. Like we have to make working out a habit, or eating healthy a habit. And for anything to become a habit we must do them for an extended period of time. We must practice it every day. It might be as simple as being grateful for a cup of coffee or tea in your hand, or the wonderful feeling of fur between your fingers as you scratch your little Fido’s face. I believe the things or people or moments that bring the biggest joy are the little ones that sometimes might go unnoticed. I challenge you to join me in a month of jotting down a few things you are grateful for each day. I have a journal specifically for this task, because I tend to jump at any opportunity to buy a new journal, and I may or may not have bought some new pens for this month of gratitude. Whether it is in a journal, or in your planner, or a notecard. And whether you jot down your gratitudes at the end of a long day, the beginning of a new day, or somewhere in between, let’s do it. And then let me know how you feel at the end of the month. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here is a list to start my attitude of gratitude:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Skinny Vanilla lattes</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first sip of coffee in the morning</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Writer’s group and kindred spirits</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The freshness of a new day with new possibilities</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My 95 year old grandmother’s young spirit</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother continuing to mother me even after I am a mother of my own.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My daughter’s kind heart</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My son’s sincere and reflective mind</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reminders on my phone because I have a million and one things on my mind at all times</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My silky pillow after a long day</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Music, any, all kinds</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Giggles during pedicures (not mine but my daughter’s)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The determination on my son’s face before the snap of the football</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Friends who are family</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pink dresses and strappy heels</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Walking into church on Sunday morning</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Walking out of church filled with peace on Sunday morning</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Curling up with my fuzzy blanket to watch a movie or read a good book</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The smell of the library</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My grandma’s house, and the stories it holds</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That I am exhausted at the end of the day because it means I tried my best. I gave all I had.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That I carry hope within me so that even on the darkest of days, I still feel the sun’s rays even when I can’t see them. </span></div>
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-79005726603235622392019-09-06T17:50:00.000-07:002020-02-05T16:40:23.428-08:00Learning to Read the Signs<br />
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By: Susan<br />
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My first baby stopped breastfeeding one night when she was ten months old. She was hungry but would not take the breast no matter what I did. Her doctor said she was done. She was ready for other forms of nourishment. For me, the emotional pain was just as bad as the physical one. I felt she didn't need me anymore. Twenty nine years of parenting has taught me that my children will always need me, but in different ways. The trick has been to read the signs when a shift is coming. Weeks prior to that night when Miranda stopped breastfeeding, she had acted distracted and irritable. I had to put her in all kinds of weird positions to feed. But I was too inexperienced to see those as signs that she was losing interest in me as her sole source of food. As hard as that moment was, it was inevitable. Insisting on continuing to feed her from my body, would have just led to more irritation and confusion.</div>
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There are other stages in the eternal parent-child relationship that require a shift in the dynamics. When the toddler asks for independence by insisting on "my do it", when a pre-schooler decides to wear rubber boots, suspenders and knee socks pulled over the knee EVERYWHERE, or when there is a dresses only phase - all signs point to a desire for independence and autonomy. The wisest of parents know to pick their battles, allow for choice as long as it is not harmful or disrespectful to others and basically stop doing what the child can do for himself.<br />
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I think the most delicate phase is much later, when our children are fully grown adults and we continue to treat them as children, doubting that we have taught them anything at all, needing to be reassured that they still need us. I continue to stumble on that one. I underestimate their intelligence and competence and point out the obvious or give directions when none is needed. But thank goodness they are forgiving.<br />
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The most valuable insight so far has been that every child, no matter the age wants to be listened to and heard. That's what <i>any </i>of us really wants. Often, they are not even looking for an answer or a solution, but for the simple experience of being seen and heard as a full being. It seems such a simple thing but accomplishing it requires selflessness, humility and the ability to be present.<br />
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No one needs me to feed or clothe them these days. They have all grown up to be independent, productive human beings. But they still need me to listen to them, see them and perhaps ask a few questions that helps them arrive at an answer.Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-64805996463216436342019-07-30T11:55:00.005-07:002019-07-30T11:56:52.528-07:00Sixth-Grade GraduationOne of the things we (our Writers' Group) try to do at every meeting is to have some kind of writing exercise to stretch ourselves a little. A few months ago our task was to re-create a piece of writing in a different format. Years ago I wrote down some memories about my 6th grade graduation ceremony, something like this:<br />
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At some point in my sixth-grade year, my parents divorced. In some ways, this wasn't a big change because my mother had almost always worked a full-time job outside the home and handled all of the domestic chores. My father was not a very active parent. In any case, Mom continued to work hard all day and come home to continue working. As the end of my school year approached, she decided to make a special dress for me to wear to the end-of-year "graduation" ceremony: we sixth-graders would be leaving elementary school and moving on to junior high school.<br />
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So for a while Mom's evenings included not only housework and cooking, but also making this dress for me. I remember it vividly: it was no ordinary dress. It was a sheath dress made of snow-white fabric, onto which she stitched rows and rows of lace trim. The lace trim had an inset into which she threaded red satin ribbon. There were hours and hours of delicate handwork and love in that dress.<br />
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On the morning of the ceremony, I was allowed to wear pantyhose, I think for the first time ever! While that is not at all thrilling to me now, it was then. I felt so grown-up and sophisticated in my pantyhose and this beautiful, fancy dress Mom had spent so many hours crafting for me. Mom left as usual to go to work as my sister and I prepared to leave for school.<br />
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For some reason I no longer remember, I decided to ride my bike to school - something I had never done before. I have a vague recollection of being persuaded to do it by a friend, but the details have been long forgotten. In any case, I did ride my bike to school, white party dress, pantyhose, and all. If you know me, you will not be surprised to hear that on the way to school I crashed my bike. Bike wrecks leave their mark: my pantyhose were shredded and my snowy white dress was no longer snowy white. It was now marred with grass stains and smears of bicycle chain oil.<br />
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I walked across the stage at school in that stained dress and ripped hose. The embarrassment I felt competed with my guilt to fill my emotions. What should have been a happy day was ruined, and my mother's sacrifice seemed ruined as well.<br />
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I don't remember Mom's anger and disappointment, although I am sure she felt those feelings. How could she not?<br />
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I do, however, remember her forgiveness and her love.<br />
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At the Writers' Group meeting I mentioned above, I took the challenge of changing this memoir into a poem:<br />
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Sixth-Grade Graduation<br />
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Hours of work<br />
Of care<br />
Of love<br />
After days already full;<br />
Tired hands<br />
Tired eyes<br />
Tired mind.<br />
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Yards and yards of white lace<br />
Scarlet ribbon winding through<br />
Fine stitches<br />
Create a white dress<br />
Fit for a princess.<br />
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Careless girl<br />
Cycles<br />
Swerves<br />
Crashes<br />
Picks up and<br />
Continues on.<br />
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Heartbroken girl<br />
In lovely white dress<br />
Scarlet ribbon threaded<br />
Through yards and yards<br />
Of white lace<br />
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With tire marks<br />
Grass and mud stains<br />
And jagged tears<br />
For all to see.<br />
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The infinite love of a mother<br />
Forgives.<br />
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<br />Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-53352984657064623742019-07-19T18:06:00.002-07:002019-07-19T18:11:12.836-07:00The Writing For Our Lives Challenge by Andrea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This blog is called <i><b>Writing Four Lives</b></i> for we four women, four friends, four writers writing about our four lives. The title should also bring to mind the thought that we <i>write for our lives</i>- writing as if our very lives depend on it. Since our inception as a group in 2010, each month we've tried many practices, habits, and methods to support and encourage one another in staying committed to the craft. We read about being writers. We give ourselves writing assignments while together. We established a blog to keep us honest, to give us an authentic audience beyond each other, to hold ourselves accountable. We created a calendar to help each take a turn posting. When half of us published more faithfully than the other half, we upped the ante, used the acronym ACES (our first initials) as a way to hold each member responsible for staying the course and being committed to writing for and about her life.<br />
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One post per person once every four weeks. This seemed foolproof. It is the most and the least we should be able to do to support our commitment to being writing teachers who write, to be writers who actually produce content for readers. Yet, if you do the calendar math on our blog posts just over the last four months, you'll quickly see that we have fallen short and far from this simple goal. We know better. We are writing teachers. We are students of the craft of writing. We would never allow our students to get out of the habit of writing to say something to someone or for someone. Words matter. We have things to say. What should one do when you've fallen off the proverbial wagon?<br />
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Well, if you're writers, you pick up your pen or laptop, dust them off and begin again. To help us do just that, I have created a challenge for our Writers' Group and anyone else who needs to climb back into the saddle and move their writing life forward.<br />
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<b><i>Writing For Our Lives</i> Challenge</b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Objective:</span></b><br />
To refine a daily habit of collecting our thoughts, wonderings, recollections, and responses to our lives.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">The Set-up:</span></b><br />
Fifteen days of writing for 15 minutes each day. Challenge will begin on August 1, ending at 11:59 pm on August 15.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Rules of Engagement:</span></b><br />
1. A<b>ccepting</b> this challenge means no opting out and no excuses. If by some unimaginable chance you miss a day, you must start over at one.<br />
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2. <b>Plan</b> how, when, and where you'll get your writing time in. You must get it in before you lay your head down at night.<br />
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3. <b>Write</b> until the time is up. Writing Workshop is a time, not a task. It is time to live and do the work of writers. The timer tells us when we are finished for the day!<br />
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4. <b>Upload</b> an image on Instagram and/or post a line or two from your writing on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/419710731512140/" target="_blank">Facebook group</a> each day as a measure of accountability and encouragement to the group. Be sure to tag the other three writers! Yes, that's three tags per day plus your own. It's probably better than the other junk you could get tagged in on any given day!<br />
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Use the hashtags: </div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> #IAmWriting4Lives #15x15Writing #DailyWritingRituals</b></span><br />
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<b>This challenge is not limited to the writers of this blog. If you need to restart your writing game, join us! </b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Strategies for Tackling the Blank Page</span></b><br />
Strategies are better than prompts because you can use them anytime, anywhere and not write about the same idea or in the same way twice.<br />
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<li>Put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and just start writing what is on your mind, even if those words begin with, "I don't know what to write..." Then do not stop writing/typing until fifteen minutes are over.</li>
<li>Take a look around where you are right now until something catches your eyes and sparks a memory, somewhere for you to start writing from.</li>
<li>Let a piece of literature inspire a start on the blank page. What thoughts did your reading evoke? What memories or reactions came conjuring up? Start there.</li>
<li>Writing off of a word as a strategy to get yourself started. Choose any word, write it at the top of your page then write whatever comes.</li>
<li>Storytelling is a great strategy for getting yourself unstuck. Think of the last story you just told, a story from today or a story you tell all the time. Take a moment to tell the story aloud if needed, then write.</li>
<li>Snatches of conversation: Somewhere with other people? Listen in on their conversations and use what you overhear to jumpstart your writing.</li>
<li>Take a few minutes to reread other writing you've done to find inspiration- something you want to say more about, something you think differently about now</li>
<li>Sometimes writers write about people, places, events and ideas that are important to them. Create a list, visual diagram, pictures, etc of any of these. Choose one to write as much as you can, as well as you can before the timer goes off.</li>
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-72365499558868072832019-05-13T20:57:00.000-07:002020-02-05T16:39:20.749-08:00Google, Help Me Out!by: Susan<br />
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My father never made a decision or answered an important question without "sleeping on it". My grandfather's advice was to "roll the words in your mouth" before speaking them out loud, to make sure they tasted as sweet to you as to the person receiving them.<br />
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A while ago, I noticed that the new update to my Gmail was suggesting phrases as possible responses to my emails. Which made me realize that Google was reading my correspondence. I quickly disabled the feature because: 1) I don't need help answering my emails, and 2) it is just creepy!<br />
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Lately, I have been thinking maybe this feature can actually come in handy. What if upon reading my email, Google identified angry and irate language. Wouldn't it be nice if when pressing Send, I got a message that said: "You seem to be upset. Are you sure you want to send this email?" If I still say yes, it could ask me again: "Are you absolutely sure?" and receiving another yes, it would tell me: "Ok. But we will just hold on to this message for 24 hours in case you change your mind." I bet you anything after sleeping on it, I would probably change my language or decide that the email was not necessary after all. The same can go for social media messages. I mean, if we have the technology, we might as well use it to save us from our own selves.<br />
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I heard a psychology professor explain that when faced with a problem, the human brain scans its environment for possible solutions and uses whatever seems to be accessible at the moment. These days our devices are always accessible and hence possible solutions when we get indignant, angry or outraged. When our children are tired and overwhelmed at the end of a long day and we are fighting over homework with them, it's so tempting to fire off an angry email to the teacher who assigned the homework. When we see yet another story of shooting or stabbing or bigotry, spitting out our anger and frustration on whatever social media platform happens to be available, is just too easy.<br />
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It is possible to apologize after we have sent an angry email. We can go back and delete a comment. But words have a way of exerting their influence long after they have been spoken. It is really not possible to take them back. Once a harsh word has been said, it will hang in the air forever. Hopefully, the recipient has enough grace to forgive us and forget our words, but the universe has been altered. Angry, hurtful words, even when spoken out of righteousness, do not open doors of dialogue.<br />
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I really don't want Google reading my emails. So I practice what I always suggest to my fourth graders: Never, ever, turn in a writing piece without reading it out loud. It's good practice for learning to revise writing and it may save lots of embarrassment and the need to apologize. Even better, read it after sleeping on it.Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-70386964068369151062019-04-26T14:49:00.001-07:002019-04-26T14:50:25.534-07:00Making Investments by Carolyn<div>
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I'm really, really bad at making monetary investments. If it is possible to waste money in some way, I have probably done it (multiple times). I am trying, however, to be better at making investments in people than I am in financial matters. I haven't always done so. Sadly, I have had many good friends I have not maintained my investment in after time and distance separated us. I could certainly say the same for some of my relatives. It is so easy to lose touch, to neglect to reach out. I truly regret not investing more in so many of my relationships. I have been poorer for the loss of my connections with those friends and kinfolk.</div>
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There are, however, some ways I am tending to my investments. Last fall, my younger son decided to be the one to shoulder the cost for us to attend an Aggie football game. I jokingly told him that I was glad to see that my investment (of taking him to some many Aggie games) was paying off. I'm not sure if he was offended at being considered an investment, but he certainly was surprised. As I thought about it, however, I realized our children are perhaps our largest investments. We invest time and effort and money and our hearts and souls in our children. We care for them when we are exhausted, we give up sleep for them, we surrender our last bite of our slice of cake for them, we go without items or trips or luxuries we may want because their needs come first. We do all this not only because we love them, but because we are invested in our relationship with them. We know that the bond between us is forged each exhausting day and every sleep-deprived night through the years we rear them. Beyond that, we are investing our principles and beliefs and ethics in them so that they can become moral and productive people - for their own benefit and the benefit of the world. </div>
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I am currently investing deeply in my grandchildren. I hunker down, giggling quietly, in the bushes in my backyard with my 4-year-old grandson so the imaginary T-Rex does not find us. I spend hours (it seems) picking up sticks in my yard so we can build an imaginary bonfire. I push him ("faster, CC, faster!") in the hammock when I really want to be reclining in it myself. I let him sleep in my bed when we have a sleepover so he can feel safe and secure, even though he kicks and wiggles. I do all of those things and more as investments in our lifelong relationship. I will very soon be doing similar things with my one-year-old granddaughter so that we can build a bone-deep bond as well. My father, who will be turning 84 in September, was not willing (or maybe did not know how) to invest in his grandchildren. He is now paying the price of that in his cordial, but shallow relationships with his grown-up grandsons. The investment should have been made long ago. I find that very sad. It is a loss for all of them.</div>
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Not all of my investments are with family members. I put 36 years of my heart and soul (not to mention my blood, sweat, and tears) into public school education before I retired two years ago. What a joy to be able to invest my time and efforts and care in such a vital way! Fortunately, I haven't had to completely forsake what has been so important to me. I have the privilege now to supervise student teachers, to be one of the many who have invested in their future as educators. My current "crop" of student teachers are just finishing up their semester and will be graduating soon, ready to become "real" teachers. I am beyond proud of them for the growth I have seen in them. I am so thankful for their decision to dedicate themselves to a profession which is hugely demanding of time and energy and passion, but pays low dividends of status and monetary reward. By investing in these teacher candidates, I feel that I am investing in the future of all of us. </div>
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Are you investing wisely?</div>
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-18185402320914521622019-04-16T19:41:00.000-07:002019-04-16T19:41:01.759-07:00In My Tracks by Andrea<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">The surprises of spring </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">stopping me in my tracks</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">overwhelming my senses </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Dazzling smells of spring</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">sweet and soft,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">hanging in the air</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">right in front of me</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">surrounding me</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Hearing the whisper of the fluttering wings </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">a black and yellow butterfly-</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">a tiger swallowtail,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">gliding across my path</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Running alongside me</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">bumping over little falls, the creek</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">murmuring messages, passing over ancient rocks</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">All of it </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">making me wonder </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">how many other things am I missing</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">chasing things I cannot see</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">running past the majestic in front of me</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Slowing my feet </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Widening my eyes-</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Inhaling</span><span style="background-color: white;"> deeply, </span><span style="background-color: white;">again and again,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Listening</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Willing the words to come </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Fearing if not named </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">It will be lost</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>-Andrea<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-85328546151713907962019-04-02T20:02:00.001-07:002020-02-05T16:40:51.148-08:00The Myth of ScarcityBy: Susan<br />
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Fossil fuels are considered a non-renewable natural resource. They will some day run out. My overconsumption does impact other's ability to access those resources. Same is true of gold, silver and titanium. But there are two very precious resources for human survival that are not scarce. In fact, the more we use them, the richer they grow and there is more of them to go around: Love and knowledge.<br />
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I have been teaching for 14 years now and I am pretty sure that if one of my students masters the content of my science class, it does not diminish what is left for the others to learn. Any field of knowledge is enriched as more and more people access it, use it and then are able to contribute to it by their insights and experiences. Our current grading system creates the myth that knowledge is scarce and if you have it, then I can't have some or all of it. So children compete for grades instead of for knowledge and understanding and define themselves by these arbitrary measures of their achievement instead of by their contributions to society.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvTFSt3VJx0/XKXusgtJTAI/AAAAAAAAAtw/vJmM59f_uSIVKXCWN7U1U65gpMvJKdZSgCEwYBhgL/s1600/48414250_516225458875707_981245180680077312_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvTFSt3VJx0/XKXusgtJTAI/AAAAAAAAAtw/vJmM59f_uSIVKXCWN7U1U65gpMvJKdZSgCEwYBhgL/s320/48414250_516225458875707_981245180680077312_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Paulette Rodriguez</td></tr>
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<span style="text-indent: 18px;">We don't have to be stingy with love either. We will definitely not run out if we use more and more of it. I am particularly concerned about withholding love and compassion from children, out of fear that they will be "spoiled". When I was starting out as a mother, I read somewhere that you only spoil children when you do something for them that they can do for themselves. A child that is anxious, scared or confused does not have the skills to deal with these unknown emotions. Showing love and compassion will not spoil him. A child that does not know how to speak and act respectfully, does not learn that from an angry and indignant adult. "</span><span style="background-color: white; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif;">The path to guidance is one of love and compassion, not of force and coercion," says the Báb, the nineteenth century Iranian Prophet. Seeking to understand, is not letting the child "get away" with anything. Showing empathy does not mean we don't hold the child accountable for his actions and require him to make amends. Children are spoiled when they are allowed to get away with not taking responsibility for their actions, for abdicating their self-control, for thinking that they are the center of the universe. As parents, we can contribute to the spoiling when we make excuses for our children in the name of advocating for them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif;">Children who have known love, will grow into adults that show love. And the cycle continues. The only way we will ever run out of love is if we stop loving. Hoarding love, spoils love. </span></span><br />
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-55964237182178018792019-03-25T20:23:00.000-07:002019-03-25T20:23:42.128-07:00No Caged Bird Here<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Captured</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Trapped</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A cage of my own doing</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Unintentional but consistent</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Locking the door behind me</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">After climbing into the enclosure day in and day out</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Holding on to the key so tight</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The key to let myself be free</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I do it to myself</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Believing all the negative thrown my way</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Nails securing the cage door shut</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Too short</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Too old</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Too fat</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Too much of all that is bad</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">And not enough pieces of things that are good</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">But not enough for who? </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">For them?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Who says?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Stop believing the lies</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Stop being your own warden</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">You hold the key</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The key to be free</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">To embrace the You and to be fine with the Me</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Step out of the cage of your own self-doubt</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Throw away the key</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Swallow it if you have to</span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-37c5870f-7fff-dddc-a7f8-49a2c49af6cf"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Then exhale and release.</span></div>
Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-55382368260503936692019-03-18T15:47:00.001-07:002019-03-18T15:49:21.285-07:00Probletunities by CarolynThe school district I used to work for had a special word for difficulties: <i>probletunities</i>. This was intended to give the idea that problems were opportunities for growth or improvement.<br />
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To me, the term<i> probletunities</i> seems so very glib, so shmaltzy, as if we should be glad of the barriers or struggles or failures we encounter in our jobs or our relationships or just in our daily lives; that they should be celebrated as chances to grow and improve. "Yippee!" we might say, "I burnt the roast for tonight's dinner and our guests will be here in twenty minutes. Now I have a chance to improve myself by solving this problem!" Or "Hooray! I hit the accelerator instead of the brake and ran into this brick wall. I'm so glad I now have the opportunity to grow as I have the car towed and struggle to find the money for repairs. I know this will ultimately make me a better person." Not likely for most of us.<br />
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I dislike the term <i>probletunities</i>, but I do applaud the sentiment. Although it seems counter-intuitive, it is true that we learn more from mistakes or struggles than from successes.<br />
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As a parent, grandparent, and educator, I have observed this to be true, yet it is still difficult to allow those we care about to go through difficulties. Not only do we not want to engage in struggles or experience failures ourselves, but we don't want our loved ones to, either. One of the characteristics almost all parents have in common is that they want the best for their children. We want them to have happy, healthy lives, so we do our best to smooth out the rough spots for them. By not allowing them to experience the common struggles in life and working toward solutions, we may be setting them up to be less responsible, less diligent, less appreciative.<br />
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Most of the teachers I have known (and that is a lot!) are, by nature, "helpers". They have a deep desire to nurture and help people, particularly children. Unfortunately, this can lead to being too helpful. It is very common for students to complain about a task being too hard. Our first instinct is to swoop in and help. Rather, we should allow a little reasonable struggle, providing just enough support. This builds persistence, confidence, willingness to try new things. If we are never given the opportunity to try things that are just a little harder than what we have already mastered, how will we ever grow and learn? Everything we ever accomplish as human beings comes about because we have tried something just a little bit harder than what we did before or we have experienced some sort of problem that has forced us to come up with a better way of doing things.<br />
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I have seen an increase in what I label "learned helplessness" in children, both in classrooms and with their parents. While I don't think we should go out of our way to make things difficult for children, I do think it is easy to overdo the rescuing we are inclined to do. In my previous life as an assistant principal, I dealt with many parents who were determined not to allow their children to undergo any type of negative consequences for misbehavior. I often told them that it was better to allow children to experience (and survive) small punishments for small infractions when they were young (and, hopefully, learn the concept of cause and effect from it) than to experience those same lessons when they were older, their mistakes were larger, and the punishments more severe.<br />
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So, while I don't really like the term <i>probletunities</i>, I do embrace the idea that we learn best by experiencing and overcoming trials and by stretching ourselves to reach just a little bit farther than we were able to yesterday.Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-77894264547825022882019-03-11T19:42:00.000-07:002019-03-13T20:47:18.181-07:00An Intersection of Honor... by Andrea<br>
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">“Life really does begin at forty. Up until then, you’re just doing research.”
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">- Carl Jung
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"> I read a blog post written by a woman who was feeling discouraged because at the age of forty-plus she felt as though she was just beginning her journey toward the life she had imagined herself living in her twenties and thirties. She saw herself as a late-starter. Commenters were offering their own stories of "feeling behind" in life. I remembered reading a magazine article a few years ago about many well-known men and women who had their big breaks well into their adulthood, many in midlife and beyond. The writer of the post was a black woman writing for black women. The commenters, too, were mostly women of color. As I thought about some of my friends and acquaintances who have expressed similar sentiments, I wondered if this is a thing among black womem. So I decided to compile my own (wo)manifest of inspiring examples of women blooming at just the right time.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"> In honor of Black History and Women’s History months, here are ten well-known, well-respected
African-American women who prove the quote above to be true. Though we can and should look to
these women for encouragement and fuel for the pursuit of our own victory stories, we must also look to the
women in our everyday lives who can inspire us to use our gifts, talents and passions.</span><br>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BhKXntxbYcE/XIcXHWwLCYI/AAAAAAAAAr8/wWDn5eMeQWAP8cChhkADJUzEgwZos2mQACLcBGAs/s1600/Maya.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="133" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BhKXntxbYcE/XIcXHWwLCYI/AAAAAAAAAr8/wWDn5eMeQWAP8cChhkADJUzEgwZos2mQACLcBGAs/s200/Maya.jpeg" width="200"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Maya Angelou</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">, at </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">age 41 years old</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">, published her seminal memoir </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-style: italic;">I Know Why the Caged Bird
Sings.</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Who can say that Maya Angelou is best known for any one genre of writing. After
</span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-style: italic;">Caged Bird</span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">,</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">she went on to write seven more volumes of her life story, volumes of poetry,
screenplays, plays, essays, cookbooks, children’s book, speeches and so much more. Before
her prolific writing career, Ms. Angelou had been a streetcar driver, singer, dancer, Civil </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">Rights activist, spoken-word artist, and teacher among other careers that shaped her life, her
storytelling and her writing. She was an all-around Renaissance woman, if that’s a thing. </span><br>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vu5mfM74fpw/XIcXPS7L_EI/AAAAAAAAAsA/QCURld5lE9kFKMLJkkJsObnjbHBmij9SgCLcBGAs/s1600/toni.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="249" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vu5mfM74fpw/XIcXPS7L_EI/AAAAAAAAAsA/QCURld5lE9kFKMLJkkJsObnjbHBmij9SgCLcBGAs/s200/toni.jpeg" width="160"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">Toni Morrison</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">, age 39, published her first novel </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Bluest Eye, </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">yet it was
not until she was </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">46 years old</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">that she published her third novel and first well-known work of fiction,</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Song of Solomon.</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">Ms. Morrison
went on to be named a winner of the Nobel Prize and the Pulitzer Prize for
</span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Beloved,</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">probably her best known book. She has authored books for
children, the text of an opera known as the libretto, essays and other works
of nonfiction. She is a teacher, editor and outspoken advocate for feminine, racial and social justice especially in regard to literary freedoms to tell one's stories.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Amy Sherald</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">, </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 13.000000pt;">i</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 13.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">n 2016, </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">at the age of 43</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">, was the first woman to win the Outwin
Boochever Portrait Competition grand prize. </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Before this she was a working
artist yet virtually unknown. She now has works on display at the National
Museum of Women in Arts. Being named as the painter for the official portrait
of Michelle Obama further propelled this talented artist who seeks to “paint
the paintings I want to see in museums” into the public eye. Her painting of </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">the first Af</span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">rican-American FLOTUS hangs in the National Portrait Gallery and has garnered over a
million visitors in person, and millions more through the internet- a record number of attendees for
the museum. I would say, Ms. Sherald has arrived. I cannot wait to see where she will go next!</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Viola Davis</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">was set up for success with training at Juilliard and a career on
stage and in a few little known screen productions. It was not until her
co-starring role in the movie </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-style: italic;">Doubt </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">with Meryl Streep, </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">at 43 years old</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">, that
Viola’s career took off. The critically-acclaimed, award winning, South
Carolina-born actress (you knew I had to get that in there) was the first
African-American actress to win a Tony, an Emmy and an Oscar. She stars in the
television drama, How to Get Away with Murder, and is an activist for the honor,
respect and rights of all women.
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">Sharon Jones</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">, soul singer and the Queen of Funk, did not have her big break-
after having given up on the possibilities of having a career in music- until 1996,
at the tender </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">age of 40 years old</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">. She is sometimes referred to as the female
James Brown because of her soulful sound and amazing stage presence and
dance moves. The longtime South Carolina resident died in 2016 at the age of
60. I am so grateful she lived out her dream of being a professional entertainer </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">for almost 20 years and that we have soul-filling music and a Netflix documentary through which to get to know and to remember her.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D6mGGxVQc4M/XIcXpUX9LuI/AAAAAAAAAsc/6G2sdd2DKdUvJHLyEJ2QAX4zUedJPFfFACLcBGAs/s1600/maxine.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D6mGGxVQc4M/XIcXpUX9LuI/AAAAAAAAAsc/6G2sdd2DKdUvJHLyEJ2QAX4zUedJPFfFACLcBGAs/s200/maxine.jpeg" width="133"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Maxine Waters</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">, though she has been an agent of change probably from the day she
was born, was first elected to Congress at </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">the age of 56</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">. She has given rise to a
generation of fans who she is motivating to reclaim their time and make the most of
every minute. Even folks who may not agree with her politically have to admit her
passion and dedication at 75+ years old are timeless and worthy of imitation, for
young, old and everybody in between.
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rLZLAX2aW4A/XIcX4yS9vkI/AAAAAAAAAsk/3-gPyNWWDtghQwQckPtPhicPY4KvQ69NACLcBGAs/s1600/shirley.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="184" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rLZLAX2aW4A/XIcX4yS9vkI/AAAAAAAAAsk/3-gPyNWWDtghQwQckPtPhicPY4KvQ69NACLcBGAs/s200/shirley.jpeg" width="134"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Shirley Chisholm</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">became the United States first African American congresswoman in
1968 at </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">forty-four years old</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">. Chisholm is quoted as saying during her political
campaigns for Congress and for the 1972 Democratic Convention nomination for the
presidency that she received “more discrimination as a woman than for being black. Men will be men.” She
staffed her political offices with all women, half of them being black. She qould be proud of the represntation of women on the House and Senate floors today. She was a pacesetter and a pioneer in every sense of the words.
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zk7TX4qdlWU/XIcYBAw0FhI/AAAAAAAAAss/MdonUaNGblIFj1mBmMYa9IfD854PW60DwCLcBGAs/s1600/ernestine.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="162" data-original-width="311" height="104" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zk7TX4qdlWU/XIcYBAw0FhI/AAAAAAAAAss/MdonUaNGblIFj1mBmMYa9IfD854PW60DwCLcBGAs/s200/ernestine.jpeg" width="200"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Ernestine Shepherd</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">, octogenarian American bodybuilder and personal trainer, did
not begin her age-defying health and physical pursuits until she was </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">56 years old </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">with the onset of illness and untimely death of her sister. Mrs. Shepherd made her sister a promise that she'd get in shape. She went a little farther than that. </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11.000000pt;">In
2010, at 75, she was named the oldest female competitive bodybuilder by the
Guinness Book of World Records. She runs 10 miles every day and teaches fitness classes for the elderly. She proves it might not be too late for me in the fitness department! </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">Cicely Tyson</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">was cast in <i>The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter </i>in 1968, </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">at age 44 years old</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">.
Six years later, she became the first African American actress to win an Emmy Award
for Outstanding Lead Actress in a television movie, </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;"><i>The Autobiography of Miss Jane
Pittman</i>. </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">At age 93, she is still enjoying appearances on red carpets and continues to
inspire us toward aging with grace and style.</span><br>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NJr8014Mn1o/XIcYa65vShI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZRb8MwDZnFUPp_CWWBMpl6qfmQLll6juQCLcBGAs/s1600/carla%2Bhayden.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="284" height="124" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NJr8014Mn1o/XIcYa65vShI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZRb8MwDZnFUPp_CWWBMpl6qfmQLll6juQCLcBGAs/s200/carla%2Bhayden.jpeg" width="200"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">Dr. Carla Hayden</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">was </span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700;">64 years old</span><span style="font-family: "gautami"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">when she was nominated by
President Obama and sworn in as the first woman and first African
American and the 14th Librarian of Congress in September 2016.</span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;"><br></span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">Apparently, age ain't really nothing but number. As my grandmother used to say, you're only as old as you feel. It looks to me these women might be feeling like they are at the start of something new. </span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;"><br></span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;">Andrea</span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;"><br></span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: "ubuntu"; font-size: 11pt;"><br></span></div>
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<br>Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-34368567411567356902019-01-03T05:29:00.000-08:002020-02-05T16:41:15.888-08:002018 Reading List - Gifts of Empathy<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">by: Susan </span><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />I started the school year with my fourth graders reading <i>Fish in a Tree</i> by Lynda Mullaly Hunt. It is a story about learning differences and the impact of a caring and seeing adult. My choice was initially driven by a desire to motivate my students that were not learning traditionally or that held negative mindset about their own school experience. One day I asked one of my students, who has not yet experienced a day in his school life when learning did not come easy to him, if he had ever felt like Ally the protagonist. He thought for a moment and said no. But now he does. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Books are magic that way. They not only let you walk in someone else's shoes, they allow you to get in someone else's head and live their lives along with them. And we all need to learn more about each other. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here are some titles from my 2018 reading list that can help build empathy, not just in kids but in all of us, especially those of us who are teachers or parents:</span><br />
<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41r0RaCwZVL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41r0RaCwZVL.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1. <i>Ghost</i> by Jason Reynolds - A story about a boy who literally runs from everything, having had to escape with his mother when his abusive father tries to kill them. Although a novel written for upper elementary and middle school readers, I am recommending it more to the adults that work with kids that may be going through similar life circumstances, to </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">understand them and see the world through their eyes.</span><br />
<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71TYwaGsuIL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71TYwaGsuIL.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2. <i>Refugee</i> by Alan Gratz - Another book written for a younger audience but eye opening for anyone who wonders why people leave their homes under harrowing and unwelcome conditions. This is the story of three refugee families, from three different parts of the world and living during three different time periods. Written simply but realistically it is a timely book for all of us.</span><br />
<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/A1wMiKtoBTL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/A1wMiKtoBTL.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="127" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3. <i>Sea Praye</i>r by Khaled Hosseini is not a novel but a small poetic picture book answering the same question: How can a parent risk the life of his children in order to find peace and safety?</span><br />
<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/710vtkRgkyL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/710vtkRgkyL.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4. <i>Unsheltered</i> by Barbara Kingsolver - "A mother can only be as happy as her unhappiest child.<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;">“ Isn't that the truth? You'd agree if you were a mother. Do you want to know what's it like to parent adult children? Do you wonder what it feels like to live during times of world upheavals, when new ideas are challenging the old? Do you want to travel in time, back and forth between the present and the past and wonder about how far we have come and how we continue to struggle with the same human weaknesses? Barbara Kingsolver never fails to take me on a long and rewarding journey. </span></span><br />
<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81MT5qAMzGL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81MT5qAMzGL.jpg" width="131" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;">5. <i>Fruit of the Drunken Tree</i> by Ingrid Rojas Contreras - another book with multiple narrators and hence multiple perspectives that can expand your mind, your soul and your heart. The upstairs/downstairs dynamics of class, the dichotomy of right and left wing politics, and the hard to define boundaries of family loyalty - all themes in this book, given to me as a gift. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<div id="descriptionContainer" style="background-color: white; border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); color: #181818;">
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<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81qPu1QFSlL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81qPu1QFSlL.jpg" width="135" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and a bonus: <i>Good Dog, Stay</i> by Anna Quindlan - I read this very short book by one of my favorite authors in the time it took me to get from home to my summer class on the commuter train. And I am not embarrassed to admit that I cried in public over a book about a family saying good bye to their beloved dog. I have never owned a dog. But Quindlan made me want to get one. Of course, it is more about the lessons one learns about being a better human when owning and caring for an animal that touch the heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I met my goal of 52 books in 52 weeks. Most of them were books meant for children but great wisdom and adult lessons are hidden in a lot of children's books. Two of my favorites were <i>Gifts from the Enemy</i> by Trudy Ludwig and <i>One Plastic Bag: Isatou Ceesay and the Recycling Women of the Gambia </i>by Miranda Paul . Both based on truth, the first is a story of basic human goodness and the second one of empowerment and how one community became protagonists of their own transformation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Happy reading in 2019!</span></div>
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-52379520507387992282018-12-31T07:35:00.000-08:002018-12-31T07:35:41.204-08:00New Year, New Books: Reading List 2019<span id="docs-internal-guid-61c868c1-7fff-e3d1-2ec8-7bad84211b7d"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">New Year, New Books</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reading List for 2019</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am constantly adding books I would like to read to my Pinterest board, or to my Notes app on my phone. Coming up with books I would like to read for this 2019 was not difficult. The hard part was narrowing down my selection to twelve. I figure I can comfortably get through a book a month (hoping for more since I have a back up list ready to go if I do complete my twelve) with all the other “have to do’s” that come up. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here is my reading list for the new year in no particular order. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rg7UAj0k5mY/XCoxrYdzvwI/AAAAAAAAAps/ZjMhugqs6fAWLHl2XjdUmKYcAWMbOa2pACEwYBhgL/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rg7UAj0k5mY/XCoxrYdzvwI/AAAAAAAAAps/ZjMhugqs6fAWLHl2XjdUmKYcAWMbOa2pACEwYBhgL/s200/download.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> ---Sophie Kinsella is one of my favorite authors. Her writing is witty and funny! I’ve read all of her books, and I am excited to add another one to my reading arsenal. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Fixie Farr saves an investment manager’s laptop from being destroyed, meaning he owes her a favor. She cashes in to get her friend a job—all while Fixie and investment hottie Sebastian’s relationship begins to evolve.” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“After the death of her beloved grandmother, a Cuban-American woman travels to Havana, where she discovers the roots of her identity–and unearths a family secret hidden since the revolution.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Amazon)</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g9mq4WXBkOQ/XCozLjVtMLI/AAAAAAAAAqE/7A2YQ0evM2IuCV4kS8By4LKdmu7X8sjBwCLcBGAs/s1600/download-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g9mq4WXBkOQ/XCozLjVtMLI/AAAAAAAAAqE/7A2YQ0evM2IuCV4kS8By4LKdmu7X8sjBwCLcBGAs/s200/download-2.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Surprise Me by Sophie Kinsella</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Here she is again on my list. I saw it and had to add. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“A story about a married couple who is told they will have 68 more years together, after being married for 10 years, and they panic wondering how they will keep their marriage fresh so they concoct a plan Operation Surprise Me to keep things from becoming boring.” (Amazon)</span></div>
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The Beginning Place by Ursula K. Le Guin<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">--This will probably be my first book of the year. A friend of mine gave it to me as a gift, and I am looking forward to diving in. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Irena Pannis was thirteen when she first found the beginning place. Now, seven years later, she has grown to know and love the gentle inhabitants of Tembreabrezi, or Mountaintown, and she sees Hugh as a trespasser.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But then a monstrous shadow threatens to destroy Mountaintown, and Hugh and Irena join forces to seek it out. Along the way, they begin to fall in love. Are they on their way to a new beginning...or a fateful end?” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CalDgw0iU7k/XCozLgnSnhI/AAAAAAAAAqI/JI94o-eWoWAgt-8XHplgY6NSssBsN3wzQCLcBGAs/s1600/download-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CalDgw0iU7k/XCozLgnSnhI/AAAAAAAAAqI/JI94o-eWoWAgt-8XHplgY6NSssBsN3wzQCLcBGAs/s200/download-4.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Save The Date by Morgan Matson</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">--This looks like a fun drama-filled family novel when the main character’s family is all coming together under the same roof for her older sister’s wedding and everything seems to be going wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlie Grant’s older sister is getting married this weekend at their family home, and Charlie can’t wait—for the first time in years, all four of her older siblings will be under one roof. Charlie is desperate for one last perfect weekend, before the house is sold and everything changes. The house will be filled with jokes and games and laughs again. Making decisions about things like what college to attend and reuniting with longstanding crush Jesse Foster—all that can wait. She wants to focus on making the weekend perfect. The only problem? The weekend is shaping up to be an absolute disaster.” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth Jefferson is a labor and delivery nurse at a Connecticut hospital with more than twenty years’ experience. During her shift, Ruth begins a routine checkup on a newborn, only to be told a few minutes later that she’s been reassigned to another patient. The parents are white supremacists and don’t want Ruth, who is African American, to touch their child. The hospital complies with their request, but the next day, the baby goes into cardiac distress while Ruth is alone in the nursery. Does she obey orders or does she intervene?” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“As the founder of the lifestyle website TheChicSite.com and CEO of her own media company, Rachel Hollis developed an immense online community by sharing tips for better living while fearlessly revealing the messiness of her own life. Now, in this challenging and inspiring new book, Rachel exposes the twenty lies and misconceptions that too often hold us back from living joyfully and productively, lies we’ve told ourselves so often we don’t even hear them anymore.” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NEW YORK TIMES</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> BESTSELLER • “Maya Angelou shares her path to living well and with meaning in this absorbing book of personal essays. Here in short spellbinding essays are glimpses of the tumultuous life that led Angelou to an exalted place in American letters and taught her lessons in compassion and fortitude: how she was brought up by her indomitable grandmother in segregated Arkansas, taken in at thirteen by her more worldly and less religious mother, and grew to be an awkward, six-foot-tall teenager whose first experience of loveless sex paradoxically left her with her greatest gift, a son.”</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DPwiRoeq8Ag/XCozOG2cNkI/AAAAAAAAAqc/UreZjbRVxzQdn1HqHWD3VsY13dt5nrP3wCLcBGAs/s1600/download-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="177" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DPwiRoeq8Ag/XCozOG2cNkI/AAAAAAAAAqc/UreZjbRVxzQdn1HqHWD3VsY13dt5nrP3wCLcBGAs/s200/download-8.jpg" width="124" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Watching You by Lisa Jewell</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- I was a fan of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gone Girl</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Girl on the Train</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I read this one had the same page turning, mind blowing capabilities. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Tom Fitzwilliam is beloved by one and all—including Joey Mullen, his new neighbor, who quickly develops an intense infatuation with this thoroughly charming yet unavailable man. Joey thinks her crush is a secret, but Tom’s teenaged son Freddie—a prodigy with aspirations of becoming a spy for MI5—excels in observing people and has witnessed Joey behaving strangely around his father. One of Tom’s students, Jenna Tripp, also lives on the same street, and she’s not convinced her teacher is as squeaky clean as he seems. For one thing, he has taken a particular liking to her best friend and fellow classmate, and Jenna’s mother—whose mental health has admittedly been deteriorating in recent years—is convinced that Mr. Fitzwilliam is stalking her.” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2OSzUW5k5Y4/XCozOMqY07I/AAAAAAAAAqY/CIR6-QRRjpQ1QwjqYXyfzrGh0HKMu3JeACLcBGAs/s1600/download-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2OSzUW5k5Y4/XCozOMqY07I/AAAAAAAAAqY/CIR6-QRRjpQ1QwjqYXyfzrGh0HKMu3JeACLcBGAs/s200/download-9.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Lost Girls by Heather Young</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">---Lots of twists and turns, with the past colliding with the future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “A stunning debut novel that examines the price of loyalty, the burden of regret, the meaning of salvation, and the sacrifices we make for those we love, told in the voices of two unforgettable women linked by a decades-old family mystery at a picturesque lake house. In 1935, six-year-old Emily Evans vanishes from her family’s vacation home on a remote Minnesota lake. Her disappearance destroys the family—her father commits suicide, and her mother and two older sisters spend the rest of their lives at the lake house, keeping a decades-long vigil for the lost child. Sixty years later, Lucy, the quiet and watchful middle sister, lives in the lake house alone. Before her death, she writes the story of that devastating summer in a notebook that she leaves, along with the house, to the only person who might care: her grandniece, Justine.” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lately I have been really into psychological thrillers. It could possibly be all the Lifetime movies I tend to watch, so this one was right up that alley.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If you like darker, more intense novels, then you’ll love this psychological thriller. Mara Dyer can’t remember anything that happened the night of the accident that killed her best friends. Even after starting a new school and befriending the sexy, confident Noah Shaw, Mara’s sinister experiences, nightmares, and dark hallucinations continue to unfold in a breath of chilling twists. It’s an enticing read that’s sure to have you up all night</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.” (Amazon)</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IerXeDt278c/XCozKzPtoTI/AAAAAAAAAp8/Z5wrgNLS9_AbkHoyvPdDGkEsQnERsuOSQCLcBGAs/s1600/download-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IerXeDt278c/XCozKzPtoTI/AAAAAAAAAp8/Z5wrgNLS9_AbkHoyvPdDGkEsQnERsuOSQCLcBGAs/s200/download-11.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">--This one sounded like a tender story, even if it is about a wolf boy. I’m a sucker for fighting for the one you love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“For years, Grace has watched the wolves in the woods behind her house. One yellow-eyed wolf—her wolf—is a chilling presence she can't seem to live without. Meanwhile, Sam has lived two lives: In winter, the frozen woods, the protection of the pack, and the silent company of a fearless girl. In summer, a few precious months of being human… until the cold makes him shift back again. Now, Grace meets a yellow-eyed boy whose familiarity takes her breath away. It's her wolf. It has to be. But as winter nears, Sam must fight to stay human—or risk losing himself, and Grace, forever.” (Goodreads)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy Reading!!! ~Esmeralda</span></div>
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-84323113421126492752018-12-04T18:49:00.003-08:002018-12-04T18:49:39.348-08:00The Unsuspecting Problems of the EgoWe are born with a strong urge for self-preservation. In the infant stage, When we can’t take care of ourselves and can’t verbally communicate our needs, it is vital that we listen to the prompting of our ego. But then we spend the rest of our lives extricating ourselves from its grasps. It’s easy to connect certain spiritual battles with the ego: jealousy, control, selfishness. But the ego can be the culprit when it comes to other challenges. Recently, I have discovered three unsuspecting places where the ego can hide:<br />
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Everything is my fault: I am so very good at connecting any failure or mishap, big or small, to my own actions. If one of my loved ones is not happy, it is probably my fault for not doing or saying the right thing. If my students are not succeeding on some measure, it is my fault for not planning better or knowing better. For a long time I had convinced myself that this kind of thinking meant that I was a responsible person who was willing to take responsibility for my own actions. Lately, I am realizing that I am assigning way more importance to myself than I really deserve. I am in fact claiming that I am much more powerful than those around me and that they have no control over their own lives and choices.<br />
I can please everyone: It is a good thing to want to bring joy to others, but to think that I can actually make everyone happy, is a sign of a pretty big ego. To try to please everyone requires a lack of integrity. People have a wide range of expectations, some reasonable, some not. In order to meet all these expectations, I would have to compromise at least some of my own convictions. So it’s egotistical and hypocritical to try to be a people pleaser. Instead of “pleasing”, I can aim to love and serve.<br />
I am a perfectionist: Often we confuse the pursuit of excellence with perfectionism. One is a virtue, the other not so much. I know that we often brag about being a perfectionist, but to think that any pursuit can actually be perfect hints at superiority and egotism. Striving for excellence, trying to get better, always being reflective and in a learning mode are all dynamic, moving processes. Aiming for perfection, is static and often frustrating, not to mention impossible.<br />
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Who can be truly happy when feeling guilty, taking the blame for others’ unhappiness and pursuing the impossible state of perfection? When we recognize that the patterns of thought that bring us such misery, are rooted in our ego, it is easier to work at abandoning them. Because who wants to be called egotistical of all things? <br />
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1373578337875164909.post-51126622596628776522018-10-24T19:52:00.000-07:002018-10-26T06:35:30.046-07:00The Greatest Rewardsby: Susan<br />
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Laws of nature dictate that there be a consequence for every action. When it comes to raising humans we the grownups often feel obliged to impose those consequences in forms of reward and punishment. Often, the natural consequences offer the best “punishment” but what of the rewards? How do you reward good behavior in a manner that is respectful and commensurate with the degree of effort required. For example, how do you reward kindness? How many stickers is enough to recognize a child who is kind by nature? How many more for the one who has to work really hard at it? What about reading? How much ice cream or pizza equals the pleasure of reading <i>The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane </i>or <i>Charlotte's Web</i>?<br />
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Here are what I think the greatest rewards all humans, big and small long for:<br />
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Being listened to - We are all looking for someone who will listen to us and listen deeply. Not listen to offer a solution, not listen to criticize or minimize our concerns. Not even listen and then sympathize. Just listen.<br />
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Being Heard - When we hear someone, we consider their point of view with compassion and without prejudice. It may even require some sort of action on our part. There is no gift greater than saying to someone: I hear your point of view, I hear your hurt and this is what I’ll do to show you that I heard.<br />
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The ultimate reward, however, is understanding. Not just being understood by those who listen and hear us but this ever expanding understanding of the world around us, the answers to our questions about math, science, nature, love, or God. Like the time I understood calculus. I did every single exercise in my textbook for fun. It was sublime and spiritual. One of the greatest lessons in parenting I have learned from my husband is to take our children’s questions and intelligence seriously and help them as best as we could to advance in their understanding of this world and its wonders.<br />
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It is expedient to offer children trinkets and toys as rewards for good behavior. It is easy to splurge on an expensive gift to celebrate a special occasion with a partner. But nothing is as priceless, permanent and transformative as giving our loved ones the gifts of listening, hearing and understanding. I bet even those whose love language is gifts would agree.<br />
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Writing Four Liveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04531492052283403019noreply@blogger.com1