Three Good Things

I try and make a "three good things" list whenever I'm facing something particularly sucky. It's like Three Deep Cleansing Breaths for my brain. And it occurred to me, reading Steph's comment about baking, that there are at least three good things about the economic crisis.

1. Families will redefine their priorities.
2. As a result, families will probably be spending more time together.
3. Chances are they will learn to do things like bake, and sew and garden and build birdhouses.

I actually heard this described on the news as "insourcing" -- doing things for yourself you previously paid people to do for you. That can only be good, right? It sounds Pollyanna-ish in the face of this devastation to say that anything good will come of it, but I believe that a shift in values can only be an improvement for this country. And learning to take care of ourselves, from sewing a button on to growing and cooking food, doesn't just provide financial benefits. It's good for the ego, too.

And by the way, hats off to the few moms and dads out there who do still bake from scratch.

The Rainy Day Bakery

Before kids' lives were scheduled with classes and playgroups and sports activities, we had Mom (the geniune stay-at-home variety) and each other. Before we knew about blood sugar and cholesterol, we baked. We loved to bake! What a mighty mess we made, and what a good sport Mom was, getting stuck with all the cleaning.

I remember only one baking "incident." At the tail end of a long, complicated recipe, I begged Mom to let me add the eggs. Just as I was considering my egg-cracking strategy, Mom turned on the old KitchenAid mixer. It startled me and I tossed the whole egg into the mixing bowl and watched the beater come around and crrrrunch it into the batter. Mom's also very forgiving.

With that one exception, they're all happy memories. Quiet times with Mom selecting a recipe, gathering ingredients, measuring and mixing. Without even realizing it, we were practicing reading and math. It kept us busy, and generally cooperating, for a couple of hours. Oh, there were the inevitable arguments -- I get to lick the bowl! You got to lick the bowl last time! -- but what a payoff: cakes, cookies, pies, rolls.

I think about this at the grocery, when I pass those tubes of slice -n- bake cookies. That's not baking. And are they designed to help mothers avoid spending time with their kids? What a gyp.

I remember baking as mostly a rainy-day activity. The rule back then was, if it wasn't actually snowing or raining, children belonged outside, sucking fresh air and absorbing sunshine, every possible minute. Or maybe that was just Mom's rule, a sort of self-preservation strategy. After all, she was outnumbered four to one.

Compassion Fatigue

It has been 15 months since an excruciating compression fracture finally resulted in a correct diagnosis. I had other symptoms for at least 6 months before that. My doctor guesses I had MM for about 2 years before the symptoms drove me to seek medical help. Anyways, I get the diagnosis, and several people assure me this is one of the less horrible cancers. So I think I'm going to be like those breast cancer girls, the rock stars of the cancer world: I'm going to get my radiation and chemo, and be all better.

"Nawt!" I've been through radiation, chemo, a stem cell transplant and spinal surgery. And in a couple days, I have to have a conversation with Dr. A about another round of chemo, with a different, stronger drug.

My point is... I've been sick for a long time, and over the past 15 months, almost everyone has slowly faded out. I don't blame them a bit, and nothing, nothing will diminish my gratitude for all the help and support they gave me for as long as they did. I will forever be thankful for every kind word and deed and thoughtful gesture. Their cumulative kindnesses kept me buoyed through the darkest days.

I'm just that much more humbled and appreciative of my family and the few pals who are still right on the front lines with me. I can count you on one hand, but I doubt I'd be here now without each and every one of you. I don't know why you have managed to resist "compassion fatigue." Every call, every errand, every offer means the world to me. You are absolutely remarkable.

Having Faith in Faith

My friends provided me with this week's Time magazine. The cover story is Science and Faith: The Biology of Belief (links below). The teaser states:

Science and religion argue all the time, but they increasingly agree on one thing: a little spirituality may be very good for your health.

I was pleased to see that their concept of spirituality is a little more inclusive and encompassing than just the "major" religions. It's true that we Confused Pantheistic Agnostics have a lot harder time finding a congregation that fits, and so we miss out on some of the communal benefits, but that doesn't make our spirituality any less relevant, or less effective.

There's lots of interesting information. This, in particular, jolted me:

...in a longitudinal study of 1,500 people... he has found that parishioners benefit when they receive social support from their church. But he has also found that those people who give help fare even better than those who receive it — a pillar of religious belief if ever there was one. He has also found that people who maintain a sense of gratitude for what's going right in their lives have a reduced incidence of depression, which is itself a predictor of health.

Well, that explains why, before my illness, I was sort of addicted to volunteer work.

I'm not a particularly spiritual person: I'm about as deep as a fine layer of pond scum. But there is still a need for an understanding, an acceptable concept, of my place in the universe, of things I feel but do not see. I knew for a long time that Judaism was my culture and my heritage, but not my belief system. There are too many concerns with the "Western" god that trouble me, starting with Abraham and Isaac. I've struggled with issues of faith, and feel some envy for those who believe absolutely, unquestioningly. That's not in my character.

Many years ago, I read a book called "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" by Harold Kushner. I was lost, spiritually devastated by the death of my treasured Auntie. (Coincidentally, she was my age when she died.) Most people read this book when they are confronted with a devastating loss, but I recommend it to everyone. I'm quite sure I never would have figured out on my own what the book taught me -- it led me back to a comforting faith and a concept of a Supreme Being that made sense to me. I could not accept a god who wields tragedy like a weapon; who has the power to cure sick children, and chooses not to.

So even now, I can't bring myself to pray for healing, because I can't believe in that kind of god: a god who might say "no" to that request. Instead, I believe in a god who has given us the tools to live in an unpredictable and often unfair world. A god who grieves with us when tragedy strikes. A god who is a source of strength and comfort, not a fairy godfather with a magic wand. (And by the way s/he doesn't give a hoot whether or not I capitalize god. S/he's got bigger fish to fry.)

I can, and do, pray for courage, grace, strength, understanding and patience. Lots of patience.

The Biology of Belief
Faith and Healing: A Forum

Bedtime Rituals

Heavenly Father, hear my prayer
Keep me in your loving care
Guard me through the starry night
And wake me up when the sun shines bright

That was our ritual bedtime prayer, along with the Shema, a very brief Hebrew prayer that is the basis for Jewish belief. Aside from the blatant patriarchal slant, it's not a bad prayer. (Certainly better than that scary one, "Now I lay me down to sleep.") I moved past being tucked in pretty quickly; probably by the time I was 7 or 8. Well, there were two younger ones by then.

If I were to write myself a new bedtime prayer, one that fits my current beliefs (loosey-goosey as they are), it would be something like this:

Gods and Goddesses, Sprites, Fairies and Spirits
Bring me joyous dreams of adventure and discovery
Bring me peaceful dreams of comfort and serenity
Bring me hopeful dreams of strength and opportunity
Let me wake at dawn,
with a heart so full of gratitude and forgiveness,
that there is no room for anything else.

And help me to be less cranky.

Photos: Cousins 1 & 2, smiling Sis, The Coot with Shirley Temple and...Chuckie?

But is it Art?

Christo
Temporary, Large Scale Environmental Installations
I’ve heard Christo’s artwork described disparagingly and I just want to go on record: I’m a HUGE fan of their work. "They" decided to use just the name “Christo” for simplicity’s sake, but the truth is that Christo and Jean-Claude have had a collaborative partnership throughout their careers, which has lasted 50+ years.

From the beginning, C/JC had a novel, dramatic idea, something that had never been seen, done, or even imagined before: using the earth itself as a canvas for a piece of art. Just as avant-garde was their intention that their “monumental” installations would be temporary. Part of the artwork, and the experience of viewing the artwork, is the knowledge that it exists for a limited time.

In fact, they have been vigilant about restoring the landscape to what it was prior to their installation. There are two exceptions: For the Valley Curtain installed in 1972, the owner of the east and west slopes asked to leave the foundation there as a memento. The contract stated that if, within 20 years, the landowners wanted the curtains removed, Christo and Jean-Claude would do so. More than 20 years have gone by and the curtains are still up. The other exception was the Surrounded Islands. Before their fabric installation, workers removed 42 tons of garbage off the beaches. They never brought the garbage back.

Art isn’t just the thing you hear or see or touch; it is also your response, your reaction. I find it hard to understand how someone could not appreciate the beauty, the drama of Surrounded Islands or Pont Neuf Wrapped, Valley Curtain or The Gates in Central Park. They are the very definition of “spectacular.”

Spencer Tunick
“His medium is people, ordinary people.”
Spencer Tunick has made naked people part of his artistic statements. Hundreds, sometimes thousands of naked people. I’ve only seen one “natural” installation, on a glacier in the Swiss Alps (brrr). The rest of them are in urban environments, and his humans might be standing, sitting, or looking as if they had tumbled from the sky. The juxtaposition of naked humans against some phenomenal backdrops – a stadium in Vienna, a public square in Mexico City – makes for a jarring, dramatic visual statement: these fragile, somewhat funny- looking creatures have tamed and conquered and then re-created their environment.

I am in awe, not just of the concept, but of the execution: getting thousands of volunteers to show up, cooperate, and drop trou!
The Spencer Tunick Experience
Installations
Blog - “Obvious” with some great photos


Jason de Caires Taylor
Underwater Canvas
Jason Taylor has created the world's first underwater sculpture park on Moilinere Bay on the west coast of Grenada, an island in the Lesser Antilles. The 65 sculptures are installed across an area of 800 square meters. Visitors need to dive to be able to view the works.

Art will become nature, and nature will become art. The sculptures are a permanent installation, and they will become artificial reefs for corals, algae and sponges, eventually creating environments for fish, turtles, etc. The Grenadian Ministry of Tourism and Culture supported Taylor’s project, and the mysterious and beautiful figures celebrate Caribbean culture and history.
Underwater Sculpture
More pics and review at art.commongate

Using the earth and the ocean as a canvas, using humans as the medium. Is it art? I say yes, yes, and yes.

CLARIFICATION – Hoodie KB wisely pointed out that one of my “Don’ts” was a little too broad. So to clarify...Compliments aren’t off the table completely, but please keep it sincere, since we have an extremely sensitive bullshit-o-meter. I’m happy to hear, “That's a pretty sweater,” or “You look nice today,” if it's true, or even partly true. I was referring to the phony gushing that some people feel compelled to do: “You look FANTASTIC!” or, “You look INCREDIBLE!” when I know for a fact that I look more like THE DOG'S BREAKFAST!