An Optimist Suffering With Depression

After what I realize was many years of worsening depression, I finally spoke to my doctor about my symptoms a year ago. I look back at how bad I felt and am so relieved I chose to get help; however, I have a problem.

I am often confronted with questions. "What do you have to be sad about?" and "Why are you depressed?" I try to be patient and explain it, but have more recently replied with "mental illness runs in my family, I guess it got me too!" That generally shuts people up, but it closes off some much needed influence I could provide.

I am very content in my life. I have a great family and we enjoy a middle class lifestyle. I am an avid book reader and home school 3 of my 4 children. I of course will cry if I am unmedicated, but not from sadness. Depression symptoms are sometimes hard to spot, my most apparent was extreme exhaustion. I fought many years trying to pull myself up by the boot straps, struggled through college, exercise required a nap (never the energy boost promised), etc. The symptoms of depression feel hopeless. I am not "sad."

I am an optimist. I have always been able to endure hard times while holding onto glimmers of hope. Even in the throws of the more difficult situations, I have the ability to be content and happy. As an optimist, I had a very difficult time "giving in" and seeking medical help. I kept telling myself it was environmental or socially driven and would naturally be alleviated at a future date. That date never came. I now realize it is chemical. My brain isn't working as it should and I have no guilt for needing medication.

My hope is that more people will let go of the "sad" idea and learn the truth. Just as each person is a unique individual, depression is unique to each individual. Pulling yourself up by the bootstraps doesn't work and you don't have to keep doing it.

Atheist Homeschool

My youngest petting a shark

Yes, we are atheists. Yes, we home school. Why is this weird to so many people? I don't use a curriculum necessarily. Everything starts with a book in our house. Good books, real books. I read aloud to my children, even the teens, and stop for every question (tedious most times). There isn't a lot of support in the atheist community (that I have witnessed) for secular homeschooling. My oldest son has a few textbooks, all older versions not able to be sold back to the college, mainly science and algebra. I print worksheets and we do experiments. The internet is such a valuable tool, USE IT!

As a homeschooling parent, I find the juggling of interests the most difficult. My twins are 8 and complete opposites. My son, the one petting the shark, loves math, magnets, Minecraft, and earth science. The questions he asks can sometimes send me down an internet wormhole for hours and leave me feeling inadequate. His twin sister loves stories. She easily uses 20 pages of notebook paper per day writing stories, jingles, riddles, jokes, leaving clues for scavenger hunts, etc. She also loves all animals, even the creepy ones. I value their interests and encourage a desire to discover for themselves. I also home school their 14 y/o brother. He is a voracious reader and teaches himself his math and science. The way I encourage studies in other realms, is a good ole-fashion debate. I always pretend to know more about any subject than he will ever know. It may take a few days, but he will revisit our debates to prove me wrong.

The twins doing Chemistry

I am a "veteran" homeschooler (7 years collectively). As a family, we left moderately fundamentalist christian religion (7 years ago). Previous homeschooling included, I just choked a little, Creation "Science," bible study, and ready-made, expensive curriculum. Secular homeschooling is completely new to me. I have "mommed" for almost 17 years now and have taken a "just go with it" attitude with our home school. My goal is for my children to find their area of expertise. I do require they stay on grade level with math and English, but other subjects are scheduled weekly at the whims of current interest. My children laugh at my uncouth way of asking strangers to share with them; like the fisherman that caught the shark at the beach. Yes, they were mortified that their mom said "hey, can we touch it?" Yet, they all loved feeling its sandpaper skin and their research on Bonnet sharks (related to the hammerhead).

Fun day at the co-op

Above all, I want them to realize this is their education, their skills, their lives! I am only to accommodate and encourage a healthy love of learning. They definitely play more freely than their PS peers and have incredibly active imaginations. The days aren't full of oh's and ah's, but the occasional ah!hah! moments are worth every bit of the frustrations I so frequently face.

Raw Hide

I found that personification is my "thing" in my last semester of college. Be it my childhood and always trying to figure life out or some instinct from generations past, I have always wondered what the walls would say if they could talk. I surprisingly enjoyed poetry assignments and this poem never found itself erased from my drive.

Raw Hide

On an old 6-penny nail, in the dank closet,

Hanging motionless against the wall,

He hung awaiting his sentence.

His dreams now forgotten, he had only one job.

He remembered his hopes of shiny adornment,

Like those the cowboys wore,

But was willing to take on being,

The working-man’s support.

His neighbors enjoyed being picked over and chosen,

Gone to dinner or church.

But when the yelling began, the childish mistakes,

He began to sweat.

As the stomping grew louder, and on flew the light,

He’d have hung, head down, if only he could.

This time, that old 6-penny was yanked on one last,

It clanked to the floor.

Folded over just once and tight in the man’s grasp,

No one ever asked how he felt.

He was hoisted to the highest of reaches, then

Brought down so swift the air whistled through his notches.

He felt himself bite, heard the child’s quick yelp,

Followed by sobbing.

Oh! How he hated being used on a child’s

Back end.

Debates on discipline have reached an all-time high. Corporal punishment is as hot-button an issue as abortion and taxes. I simply think consistency is key. Whatever you do, do it consistently. For our family, spanking worked when they were little to stop them from immediate danger, but did little in the way of encouraging them to think. If used to teach boundaries, why wouldn't a map work? Have you ever thought how the belt felt? The spoon? Any other instrument for exacting your special brand of discipline?

On Parenting

I have seen some of the most absurd parenting brags on social media lately. 5 weeks old "potty training," debates on the validity of the cry-it-out method, and your typical "so proud of my kid/look what it can do" boast posts.

I have 4 children. A 16 y/o daughter, 14 y/o son, and boy/girl 8 y/o twins. In short I have dealt with my fair share of insanity. I used to have it all neatly packaged and knew exactly what to do. Then, as if some cosmic force slowed the earth's orbit, I had an awakening. What awakening you ask? My awakening was that indeed I was fucking up my kids, we all are!

Of course, I do have 2 hard and fast "rules." First, never live vicariously through my children and protect their autonomy (even from me their mother). Second, celebrate their individuality. That's it! Physical protection is in there somewhere, you know the "mom gauge" of the severity of this current adventure going awry (tree climbing, starting fires, etc.). So long as potential injuries won't require more than 6 weeks of healing, I let them be.

The judges, of whether we are fucking up or not, are our kids. BEWARE! No one knows your flaws, nerves, and hurts like the ones that spent 9 months inside of you. They will use this knowledge to their benefit at the exact onset of your weakest moments! No one means to raise an asshole, but I sure have met my fair share of them!

In short, cease immediately potty training the newborn (I think you are suffering a breakdown or have the rose colored mom goggles tinted to magenta honey), hold your kids or leave them in the crib, and for the sanity of us all stop boast posting every moment of your children's lives!

Survival Mode Marriage

My son loves to make knives and learn about basic survival life, how to make shelter, fire, and kill the occasional zombie. He feels he is fully prepared to survive any circumstance life throws at him. While these are worthwhile skills to posses, these aren’t what I am speaking of. My husband, of 16 years, Justin and I are recently reunited after a separation. We have been dedicated to determining what happened and preventing it from ever happening again; a much harder task than you would believe. Finally, last night as we were talking, we realized what happened to us...survival.

Justin and I have weathered some tough storms. Our marriage started out “doomed,” pregnant high school sweethearts with my parent’s signature required for us to be wed. We worked hard to achieve the “ideal marriage” to prove others wrong (well I did and quite ruthlessly demanded perfection). We purchased our first house at 19 and 21 years old, quickly experienced the height of economic abundance, and in 2009, its unexpected (to us) collapse. Tack on a drug addiction and you have the makings of any marriage destroying story; however, we made it through that experience and moved 1100 miles from our hometown and all we both ever knew, that’s when the real problems started.

We thought we had made it, had escaped our problems. We found the perfect place for our children to live, I found a job within a week of living here and a second one a month later. Justin had a harder time finding work at first, but still had a year’s worth of unemployment to rely on so we weren’t too concerned. We both busily tended to our new rolls he staying at home and me working. He seemed to truly enjoy the time rekindling his relationship with our children and I enjoyed the break from my decade of mothering. What we didn’t notice was our marriage and the relationship that had been long neglected.

Within 3 years, Justin had found work and I had returned to college. We were busily raising 4 kids with very active lifestyles. Our finances continued to struggle, marred also by ruined credit thanks to the 2009 crash, and we lived paycheck to paycheck. We also were no longer sleeping in the same bed and were miserable. As I look back, everyday for me seemed like a race against the sun. I woke up, dressed kids, sent them to school, did housework/schoolwork/went to work, and fell asleep exhausted at the end of the day. My mind raced with a checklist of must-do’s and my relationship with my husband never made that list.

This brings us to last night. As we sat musing about our moody teens and rambunctious 7 year old twins, I said “you know, I never doubted you loved me and I never stopped loving you. I think what happened was we were in survival mode, an instinct from our distant relatives even. What if our bodies and minds were stuck in that mode? Is it possible that mode prevents relationships because there isn’t room for it?” I continued to give examples of the surviving: scrounging food money, where would the electric bill money come from, our car broke down, kids need this and that money for school tomorrow, etc. “What if there is no way possible to maintain a loving and purposeful relationship when your body and mind have entered the survival mode?” I asked. “I think you’re onto something, I really do,” he replied. We sat in silence for a few seconds then together said “how do we prevent that?” We have worked hard since I returned home with the kids to keep our relationship front and center. We have set goals together both as individuals and a couple, planned and followed through with time just for us, and doing therapy. While I enjoy this time and activity with one another, it isn’t really anything we didn’t do together before, not the “aha” moment. The survival mode talk was the “aha,” but not the answer. The answer is going to take some digging I determined.

I stumbled upon this article titled “Is Our Survival Instinct Failing Us?” by Dr. Jim Taylor at http://www.drjimtaylor.com/3.0/psychology-is-our-survival-instinct-failing-us/ and gleaned quite a few new insights into what Justin and I discovered happened to us. What I learned (see article for further information) is joy and love are “cool emotions” and take longer to be felt and are less intense because there isn’t a pressing need for them to be felt. We (our children included) were in a survival mode for years. We struggled to provide food for our offspring, and that survival mode to breed and carry on our bloodline came into play for us both, and spent that time in a heightened state of awareness where impulses intensified. Dr. Taylor went on to explain that the way we think and the emotions we feel have survival value that produces behavior. Essentially, our behaviors during that time were largely out of our control. No thoughts or redirecting would pay bills or produce food on our table. With a survival threat on our hands, love and joy were pushed to the “back burner” for many, many months.

Now that I understand the survival instinct a bit better, I am dedicating myself to determine how to recognize and prevent its effects in our marriage. I know we aren’t the only couple that has suffered this scenario, many close friends were hit hard by the economic recession and likely found (or are still in) themselves in this situation. While it served our cavemen ancestors well when saber-toothed tigers were a threat, survival mode doesn’t serve a marriage well at all. There is a tunnel vision that each partner finds themselves in where the pursuit of the necessities for life are front and center. We can’t avoid this reaction, as I know of just yet, but can learn to counteract it to save our relationships.

I will continue to research and experiment with my new understanding and report back with any more “aha” moments or information. Thanks for taking the time to visit and read my blog. Now that I am back in “the swing of things” I intend to no longer neglect my blog!

How To Be A Mother

“I am so sick of people trying to strip me of my title of mother!” my head screamed. Any variance in the disciplinary practice of me and a fellow “mom” and I get “the talk.” It always starts the same, with a pity laced tone, in this manner “Jennifer, I don’t want to hurt you when I say this, but because you never really had a mother, you don’t really know how to be a mother.” I used to accept this statement, take it completely to heart and let it destroy me. The truth is for years I tried to mimic “good moms,” you know the ones with monogrammed tote bags and daughters with perfect hair and matching outfits. I tried the sweet mom approach, the “now sweetie don’t do that” and the “ignoring it and accepting all disciplinary problems as phases and childish ways.” Until I had a child reach her teenage years and realized she had witnessed me accepting the words of others, did I finally stand up and essentially shout “screw you! All of you that stripped me of my title!”

Being a mother is a fairly simple, albeit painful, process. You have sex, wait nine months, and out comes a kid (or choose the long process of adoption). Boom! You’re a mother. Now, the notion of what a mother is and the natural competitiveness of animals comes into play. Women are vicious, yes I will hate on my own end of our species, and some live to destroy others. In the eyes of some, I am a very strict mother, in others I am a wimp. Considering these two indications, I see that as putting me directly in the perfect section of the motherhood bell curve.

After years and years of hearing and taking this to heart, my daughter used it against me in a particularly stressful situation; it hurt me to the core. I had to take it in, let it hurt, then figure it out. She wanted me to hurt because her feelings felt especially hurt, but this particular situation called for the “never back down” side of motherhood. I feel as the months have passed since this incident, she has come to realize if anyone has her back, it’s me.

Dealing with my fault in accepting the insults and hurts slung my way is another story. So many books have been written to help people learn to accept themselves flaws and all, they have yet to help me! It’s a personal journey and I have no answers. Some days, I feel amazing, I feel beautiful, intelligent, a master of motherhood, and a flawless woman; others, I feel like a failure, bloated, ugly, and useless. It’s natural, it happens. I realize I gave permission to those that insist I “don’t know how to be a mother,” I allowed people to say it to me and I allowed it to hurt me. The truth is, being a mother requires you only give birth or adopt. There are no prerequisites to motherhood and we all parent differently. The other truth is, those that have said these words to me are assholes. They knew, and inflected in their “scolding tone,” exactly the purpose they had in uttering those words. They have manipulative, abusive, self righteous character flaws and they are their problem, not me!

Truth is, none of us “knows how” to be a mother. We all screw up, we all regret some decision, over discipline, under discipline, the list is endless. We need to become accustomed to extending the same courtesy of being human to ourselves as easily as we give it to others. It is beyond difficult to quit being my own enemy. I vow to stand up and stop anyone who tries to “put me in my place again.” I have self-destructive tendencies enough on my own, there is no more room for spiteful, hateful people.

Season Reasoning

The last few months have been chaotic for me. I am still very unclear as to my mother's charges against her, her condition, her psychological state, etc... With the holidays singing in the air, I have struggled terribly to be happy with everyone else. My mind keeps going back to the most ridiculous scenarios I have dealt with for the last decade and a half.

One memory that refuses to leave my mind is how my mother was treated, in my presence, by a mental health tech in Lake City, Florida. My mother had been on a "petty crime" spree and the jail transferred her to an indigent facility, I later transferred her to a better facility in Gainesville, Fl. The building was beige, all beige even the chairs. It stunk and it was tiny. There were 30-40 patients in a small T.V. room to the side of the intake room where I met police as they transferred my mom. She had been there just the previous week and getting her transferred the week before had been unsuccessful by phone, so I chose to drive the 100 miles to do it in person. It was required that this facility take her vitals before we loaded her back into the police cruiser and head south to her usual facility. I stepped in quietly and listened as the barely-eighteen tech began taking her vitals. My mother was calm and doing as he asked, raising her arm for the blood-pressure cuff, lifting her tongue for the thermometer, etc..

He began speaking to her extremely condescendingly, but I knew he didn't know who I was so I chose to keep my mouth shut. He began "Now Juliet, are you going to behave for me this time?" She was still being perfectly cooperative. He continued "You don't want this to get physical again do you? You aren't going to act like you did last week, you saw how that ended for you!" and with his last statement I opened my mouth. I questioned first "do you realize I am her daughter?" He shook his head no, then decided to jump to his own defense, "you didn't see it! She was a wild woman!" I cut him off "and she is being perfectly fine now. I understand she can get belligerent, but you are trying to instigate her to action!" "I am not!" he retorted. With my smirk and head wobble I began my speech "if I am here right now and you are speaking to her this way, what are you doing to the family-less patients here? I do believe you are the reason my mother had 2 black eyes last week, I was suspicious of that, but now I know!" His supervisor came out to intervene and "deescalate" the "situation." He explained the tech was new and please forgive his indiscretion. I refused forgiveness and demanded he be fired, the supervisor looked at me blankly and said "no!" I requested his supervisor, whom conveniently was on vacation, and a contact number. I called numerous times and was never contacted nor informed whether the tech still works there. I cannot let go of what my mind tells me happens to those patients that don't have family willing to intervene.

It is extremely difficult balancing having my mother around when I have 4 children myself. I often worry, and am blatantly told by some, that her being around my kids will damage them somehow. I never choose her over my children, when an incident beyond control takes place, thankfully there have only been a few. My children love and accept my mother. My older two understand there are issues that play into the often strange advice that comes from her, but they have a tremendous understanding of how delicate our minds truly are. They are fully aware of how grateful they should be for their minds and ability to think. The twins adore my mother, and while sometimes they know she does silly things, she meets them at their level and they have a kinship with one another. If it weren't for my being unwilling to forget my mother, I don't know what would have happened to her.

Yes, "letting her go" would realistically be "simpler" for me, but deep within me I cannot do it! I rarely receive thanks from my mother, but when I do it is touching. My heart hurts for those like my mother defenseless and in our justice system. They have no one fighting for them, no one in their corner, and are often "demonized" by local media. They receive no fair trial, because so many have used "insanity" pleas, and accept whatever heavy-handed judgement is deemed. They sit in prisons, often being taken advantage of by other inmates, and waste away. No visitors, no letters, no commissary money, nothing. Those that make it to hospitals for their sentence often end up in indigent care where "techs" are a dime a dozen and provoke their illness.

I am currently working on getting my mother's official police incidents, papers, etc... I have help from a family member that is an attorney and she has been such an amazing gift! Truly I hope my mother will not die in a prison in Georgia, but the possibility remains. The next time you see a "demonized" criminal whose actions seemed unreal, they may have been. They may be like my mother.

The Little Thief!

As a child, I spent many, many long road trips and often times extreme-hiking trips with my mother. Being a schizophrenic, she went when she got "god's orders." Sadly, "god" forgot to mention little kids need to eat. I would walk and ride with her mile after mile after mile. When we ran out of gas, we walked. Depending on which mission she was on, we couldn't stop unless she said so. Most times, she would get distracted and I could find a way to steal a meal. A meal was a snickers bar and if I got really gutsy a bottled water. I was good at it or maybe gas station employees knew I was starving. I got caught once, but quickly stole a dollar from a little old ladies purse. To this day, I still love snickers, but pay for them now.

Going 12-30 hours without food as a child was torture. As I aged, I kept a "kit" on hand at all times. One can of creamed corn and one can of sweet peas. I even brought can-openers. I remember, when I was around 11,  my older sister realized I brought these items everywhere I went when I stayed overnight with her. She asked "why is there a can of corn and a can of peas in your bag?" I answered quickly, "I really like corn and peas!" She explained she could get some if she didn't already have any. What she didn't realize, was hers wasn't the only house I went to with the items in tow.

Many things from my childhood boiled over into my life even now. I don't cry, if it starts I dry it up with a quickness. No one cared when I was little if I cried or not, so I guess I learned not to. I want to cry so badly! I also read every street name as I pass. Every intersection! Survival techniques die hard I'm afraid. There are other "lingering effects" I won't discuss, simply because it hurts to tell them and since I can't cry, it will frustrate me. Trying to "break" old habits is beyond difficult.

When I look back and try to determine which ones originated where, then decide if they are useful, it is overwhelming! For instance : My husband HATES road trips with me! The entire drive from Florida to Arkansas must have been torture for him. I have this overwhelming need to know at our current distance (adjusted about every 10 miles) and speed what time will we arrive at X destination. After determining the distance and time frame desired I insist on a steady speed at the preformulated rate. I have tried not to do this, but it is beyond my control! I cannot keep myself from doing it. If I try, I look on the verge of peeing myself and he instinctively knows and tells me the speed he is traveling. I check the map, note the time, plot mileage, and announce what time we should arrive. Normally 2 hours of my questioning and he is driving 120 at a 10-2 position floating in "the zone."

These "annoyances" are hard to break! I have decided to give up actually, the little thief in me is refusing to let go of her stolen goods. Who says I need to break them anyway? Why am I pushing to break them? Does it really matter that I am impossible to ride in a car with? I understand everyone has their "little thieves" as well. Maybe a change in perspective is in order? For now, I am letting go of the "break those bad habits" ideals and just being me. Formerly tortured, now peculiar and amazing me!

"Thanks-Giving"

Thanksgiving week: busy, hectic, busy, everyone posting "what I'm thankful for facebook posts", busy, starving yourself, and finally the big meal pay off. We are supposed to remember what we are thankful for tomorrow, then post-meal shopping planning around the kitchen table for the ladies and hands in your pants, one-leg-up farting, and football for the guys. Awe, holidays in America.

What if Thanksgiving were a "fasting day" and Black-Friday a day of ZERO shopping, a "black-out" if you will? Would we feel somber? Joyous? Indifferent? Would we celebrate at all? Would time spent away from what we see as convenience truly make us more thankful?

I had one of those "wow my life is changed" days and became beyond thankful for what I have about 6 years ago. I was reading a women's magazine article about a woman that "made the most of what she had." She was giving examples of the things she had done to make her home more appealing. She set her table with candles, got new dishes, polished the floors, made new curtains, etc...she was so proud of how beautiful her home looked afterward. Her excitement was contagious! As I was reading I was coming out of the "funk" I had been in. I remembered a rug I had in a closet, some place mats and curtains I had stuffed away for years. I remembered my grandmother's china and decided to get it all out. I continued reading feeling quite pleased I had crept out of my "blues." As I read I realized her candles had been made from broken crayons she dug out of neighbor's garbage cans. The china, 5 pieces all chipped and broken. The curtains were flour sacks from a factory in the area. The floor she polished was the bottom of a sewage run-off pipe. Her spirit was vivacious! She felt no sorrow, only luck at finding all these beautiful things! Her children came home to the most beautiful, inviting home in the 3rd world slum they lived in. Here I was grabbing a damn $200 area rug out of my closet!

I was immediately yanked back to my place in the world. Groaning, moping, and whining about my "home!" How dare I! My tiny house would be a mansion to this woman! Remember if you are among the poorest of Americans, you are still richer than about 90% of the entire world!

While we all feast tomorrow and throw away our scraps, stop for just a moment! Think about others on the planet with us! We live in a bubble here in America. We are blissfully ignorant of the struggles faced by our fellow humans. In keeping with the "thanksgiving posts" on facebook. I am most thankful for having a world view. While I can save my children with a bottle of gatorade and 2 tylenol, another mother just like me is holding her baby while their last breath escapes them. While our plates will be bountiful tomorrow, a mother, just like me, will give all the food she has on her plate, a metaphorical plate because a plate is money for food not spent, to her children. Enjoy your feasts tomorrow, your plate could feed a family for a week!

Giveaway Winner!

I kept track of all entries throughout the giveaway week. This morning, I plugged the numbers into Random.org and it chose the number 3. My number 3 name is Paramod Singh ( I may have misspelled it). Congratulations! I am trying to contact him now. Thank-you everyone that entered and read my blog!

Spare the Rod! and Smile at Your Child!

Yes, that is the inside of my thigh! Today, my facebook news feed has been full of news stories of child abuse. I was particularly disturbed by one of a young-girl killed by her own parents. The parents were following a strict discipline plan laid out in the book "To Train up a Child" by Michael and Debi Pearl.

I swatted my own leg with the implements, the Pearl's advocate using in their book, chosen for infants one year and younger! The Pearl's believe literally in the bible's teaching to beat your children with a rod. On their website they refer to having beat their daughter at 6 months old with a switch simply because she was crying while they were trying to sleep. The red lines are from me "switching" myself with a weeping willow branch (the exact same kind they beat their infant daughter with) I took off the neighbors tree. The red splotch is from the wooden spoon I smacked myself with. I won't be going any further into the teachings of the book, my facebook friends will be having nightmares from my quotes of the book already, but instead I will be fighting in opposition to many christian beliefs that parents should be beating their kids with a "rod." Just so you know, I only flicked my wrist and did not beat myself. These marks weren't hard to produce and it stung pretty bad.

My first argument, and stemming from a recent conversation I had with a christian, is related to the idea that "because of Christ's death the old testament teachings are no longer valid." My daughter had titled her blog "The Bible is Over-The-Top with The Stoning" and many had expressed that she could not use the Old Testament in her arguments against christianity. I have rarely met a christian that doesn't believe in spanking and quickly quotes the Old Testament for support of their belief in such; however, when my daughter quoted it for stoning, it suddenly wasn't valid. Which is it? Can we use the Old Testament or not? Is it more along the lines of "you can use the Old Testament when it suits you?"

My second argument is that the King James version had to interpret the original word from Hebrew. Words change from generation to generation, fond, gay, cool, etc....have all changed throughout the years. I knew "rod" would be the same. The original word was "shebet" its meanings are: to branch off, tribe, staff, sceptre, offshoot, and stick. Most of the "teachings" used as proof to beat children are found in proverbs. Most mainstream religious institutions agree proverbs is to be taken figuratively not literally (I honestly think it is all one big made up tale, but for arguments sake, we'll go with one book having many different genres). If we exchange "rod" for "tribe" in this verse from proverbs 13: 24 "He who spareth the tribe, hateth his son" it takes on an entirely different meaning. I published a post a few days ago about where we used to live in Florida. You could certainly call it a "tribe" and our children thrived being part of a "tribe." Being part of a "tribe" and teaching your children to harmoniously live in one sounds right to me! Then of course, one would have to accept the teachings of the Old Testament in order for this argument to even matter. Most christians aren't stoning their kids, sending their daughters into a mob of angry, horny men to be raped, murdering entire villages of men, women, and children, honoring the sabbath day (they changed it to Sunday from Saturday) etc... Why are they insisting society accept it as their right to follow this particular teaching?

Finally, and most probably the reason christians agree with beating their kids is: they want to! It is easier, faster, and helps you get a little exercise. How else are you supposed to deal with your heathen, demon-possessed spawn? They were born with sin in their hearts and deserve to have their parents pull them up by the arm, and while dangling helplessly in the air, have their parents swing harder each time until they submit to their parents will! Parents don't want their tactics changed so they claim "god" says to do it. If Jesus is their example, why aren't they acting like him? If you were driving down the countryside and saw a shepherd in a field tending his sheep, would it shock you to see him raise up his staff with arms stretched as high over his head as he could get them, then pull the staff down with all his might until it slammed onto the back of one of his wayward sheep? Would you cringe with disgust? Would you possibly stop to rescue the sheep? Jesus loved children and even advised that people should strive to be like them! Yet, there are people believing the love, excitement, wonder, and magic only a child possesses should be driven out of them! It is in direct contradiction with the supposed savior of the entire religion!

I understand not all Christians spank their children and that there is some conflict concerning this teaching. However, those that are, need waking up. Too many people claim the god they design (through their own interpretation of texts) leads their lives. It is simply their own desire to do as they see fit, but refuse to claim responsibility for. Children are not born to please their parents or provide some other benefit to them. Children simply mimic their parents. Don't like the way your children act? Maybe you should reevaluate your own self. I am not advocating allowing children to run crazy and raise themselves. Each new stage in a child's development brings on new challenges, but unless you are willing to beat yourself for mistakes, don't hit your kids!

Times for physical discipline do arise. The other day my son ran around the back side of the car while I was loading groceries. The truck backing out next to us never saw him running for the back door to get in. At the very last second, I saw what was happening and was only able to reach the back of Blake's neck and head. I grabbed on as tight as I could and flung him backwards to me. He was so upset because he thought I was trying to choke him! It wasn't until I explained he was about to get run over that he realized I wasn't trying to hurt him. If your 1 year old is headed for a light socket with a fork, certainly a tap on the hand is ok to express what could happen had the fork made contact, but beating a child "into submission" is not ok, it is abuse.

As children age, guidance is needed and sometimes punishments, but if you listen to your child an agreed upon punishment works best. The twins had a disagreement the other week. I had each one whisper into my ear what they thought the other should receive as punishment. Natalie whispered "I think it was an accident mom, Blake should spend 30 seconds of quiet time." Blake said "Mom! She was yelling and she bent my finger back and .....she should get 30 minutes in the corner!" I announced the punishments to them and Blake lit up while Natalie's head dropped. She started to walk to the corner while he trotted to the "chill-out pillow." Then I announced they would be serving the punishment they chose for the other. I told them to learn to settle arguments themselves and this wouldn't happen again. I haven't had them come to me for any disagreements yet. No ritual beatings necessary!

Giveaway Update

In order to be entered, you need to comment on the original post, but I haven't received comments and had 200 views yesterday. I had 1 person comment, so far she is the only entry. Is it working for you? Please let me know! I don't want anyone to not be able to enter.

Thanks!

The Magical World of Positive Reinforcement Land

I am what some would call "strict." I never viewed myself as strict I just have rules and parameters that are well-established and my children are expected to follow. Step out of line......they know the consequences. My 12 year old son approached me a few weeks ago asking to be homeschooled. After explaining he would need to make a convincing case for me to agree, he decided against it. Then, his grades came in. Let's just say I was not thrilled. I called the school and requested a conference with all of his teachers.

At the conference, it was determined he simply does not do the work assigned. There is no aptitude problems and I took him to the optometrist as a precaution to rule out any issues (he is getting glasses due to an astigmatism, but it has no bearing on the freedom given by his teachers for already having partial deafness he is free in class to move closer when needed). I explained BMX is his end all and be all. If any teacher saw fit to email me of his non-compliance, I would restrict him from the BMX park until his assignments were turned in. His guidance counselor interrupted me and said "Mrs. Young, we need reassurance that if he brings these grades up you will reward his efforts." "Sure" I responded "he can keep his bike." She argued further "No, Mrs. Young, he deserves further reward for turning in those missing assignments. He needs Positive Reinforcement." I know my look said "oh hell no she just went there" because I felt my neck snap around and start bobbing at the thought. "She wants me to reward my son for doing what was required to begin with?" was all my mind kept thinking. Then my sarcastic side attempted, somehow I managed to keep my mouth shut, to say "how about a big, shiny gold star for mommy's little superstar!" I left the conference fuming. No! I will not reward my son for doing what was assigned. That is rewarding wrong behavior and it is counter-productive, it serves no good purpose.

I came home and explained what the school wanted me to do to my husband and then our son. The most surprising was my son's reply ( I thought he would be boarding the positive reinforcement train). Kaleb said "No! I don't want pity! I did not do my work, I didn't want to! I thought it was dumb and don't want to be rewarded for it! I will do my work simply because I know it is expected of me!" Wow! My kid thinks like me after all! He went on further to explain BMX is his life and he will not jeopardize it by refusing to turn in assignments. This conversation sent me down memory lane to where we lived before moving halfway across country to "Positive-Reinforcement Land."

Our older two children and my baby sister were raised in a tiny Florida town until Maggie (my sister) was 13, Kaeli was 10 and Kaleb was 8. The twins were 20 months old when we moved, so they have no recollection of it. It was redneck, crazy, close-knit, and protective. Our house was the first as you "left the paved world" and around the corner was another family with a son our kid's age and further down was another with 2 sons our kid's age. There was 1 other mother and her daughter that frequented often. Our 3 properties formed a triangle which formed our children's "safe zone." There were moderately dense woods within the triangle and our three houses sat at each corner. Each of us mom's had our signature "call." There was the pit-bull, she barked at the kids. Not yelling actual barks, 2 in a row the first loud and crisp the second less pronounced and a bit more ascending. Then there was "the warrior princess" she called like Xena "aaah-yah-yah-yah-yaaaaaah!" I was the game-show buzzer "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." There was "the whip" she said nothing. She would raise her right arm stiff with all fingers squished and whip her neck around, cut her eyes downward and stare with laser-precision. "The whip" lived across town, but stayed in our triangle as often as possible.

The children all knew The Whip, The Buzzer, The Warrior Princess, and The Pitbull meant business! If they heard the sound, or felt lasers burning through their heads, they stopped immediately and assessed the situation. Were they out of line? Was there danger? It didn't matter they went to the source of the call to find out. All 4 of us knew the rules and all the kids knew the rules were the same in the triangle. Within the triangle, my children were safe, I knew any of these women would gladly lay their life down for my kids just as easily as their own. The expectations never changed from corner-to-corner. The kids thrived in the triangle. They were free to explore, experiment, get into "acceptable amounts of trouble," they developed their own little kingdom, and truly had no worries. The children's accomplishments were celebrated and punishments were upheld by each mother as deemed by that child's own parents. There was no sneaking past authority. Each child was so unique and I have to say, they are all stellar students. Each one of them has found their joy and their passions. They had a very structured freedom in their formative years and everyone of them is determined, amazing young men and women now. The triangle truly enabled them to accept responsibility for what they did; however, we never rewarded doing what they were originally expected to do and chose to avoid. That is not deserving of reward! Everyone of the "triangle children" accomplished beyond the expectations of the triangle when we lived there and every time it was a party! There is no reason to reward lazy, late effort!

The triangle is my proving-ground for my refusal to reward "beyond the usual" my son accomplishing his late work. I will not do it! My son has been celebrated time and time again for amazing accomplishments. If we reward everything, what then is really spectacular? I am certain he doesn't want "the triangle moms" coming after him.

My First 1,000 views GIVEAWAY!

********************************GIVEAWAY TIME!!!!*****************************


I am so excited that my blog hit 1,000 views! I am having a small giveaway of my favorite things! So, "what do I win" you're wondering? This picture shows the items (the greenish bracelet is only there for an example the silver one is the one I am giving away) in the giveaway, they are my current favorites. They are listed below:

NYX eyeshadow Love in Rio trio in En Fuego (brand new sealed in package). The package does not list the color names, but they are a shimmer champagne, a shimmer plum, and a matte blue-grey. I love this color combination for the holidays! Will make a gorgeous smokey eye for the get-togethers and parties.

A small package of Lindt Milk Chocolate Truffles.

A 3 pack of Ferrero Rochere Chocolates

A shambala-bead bracelet I enjoy making in silver beads.

Rules:
1. Entries will be taken for 1 week from tonight 11/16/13-11/23/13

2. Earn 1 entry PER DAY! Comment in the comments section under this post. Not "hey! yo' entry!" Tell me something about your holidays, your "faves" this time of year, etc....

3. Earn extra entries by sharing a post via your chosen social media, not this post, and comment down below naming which post you shared.

4. If friends visit the page and say you sent them, earn another entry! Simply have them write your name in the comments under this post.

5. Follow my blog for an extra entry.

I will tally everyone's entries and enter them into random.org for the drawing. Thanks so much for helping me reach 1,000! I am very excited. I will be posting a youtube video of the giveaway in a couple days, but my CURRENT readers get a head-start and more entries for helping me reach 1,000! My comments do have to be approved by me via email (this is to ensure the anonymity I swore to my mother), so don't worry if you don't see your comment right away. I will probably do them in batches for easier entry tallying!

THANK-YOU EVERYONE! GOOD LUCK!

Extended Perceptions

I have the downright worst virus I have had since the Shingles two years ago. I was running a fever all night, so my perceptions were utterly distorted. My dreams were wild and the slightest noises took on an entire different meaning to me.

My kids were making gingerbread men, blame Walmart for the skip from Halloween to Christmas, and my daughter left some in the oven entirely too long. I must have smelled the smoke and my dreams turned it into a wild scene. I started dreaming the house was on fire and the fire department refused to put it out. They told me I had to put the flames out myself, so they gave me buckets full of vienna sausages! As I would throw the buckets, the vienna sausages would burst into popcorn. I soon realized there were no more flames and my house was intact, but there were easily 1 million vienna sausage-popcorns to now dispose of.
Later in the night, with a fever still, I dreamed I was put in charge of the "world's computer brain." There were men in hazmat suits handing me wrenches to fix the machine and I would look for bolts to tighten. I kept saying "do you realize I have no clue how to fix this sparkling rainbow machine!" They just kept insisting I was the one chosen to maintain the brain and refused to understand I had no concept of what I was doing. I was getting furious the longer this scene went on. I can't remember much else of the dream except my utter exasperation with the ridiculousness of it.

My perceptions were terribly distorted during the "sleep-wake" of my sickness. I remember absolutely nothing accurately from the last 36 hours. This has me once again thinking of my mother and our justice system. My mother is constantly in a torment of the mind, yet the justice system's sole purpose is to get her sane enough to stand trial. If I, with a simple virus, could not make any sense of reality, how is my mother expected to do so? How is it justice to seeks a harsh penalty on a person who was not in their right mind at the time of the crime?

It leads me to believe, some form of our justice system was perverted. Are we confusing "crimes of passion" with "insanity?" My mother has decades long proof of insanity, yet I am told it will be nearly impossible to get her an "insanity plea!" Our court systems have become judge, jury, and executioner of the mentally ill. My mother is ill-equipped to defend herself from cellmates and others looking to take advantage of her medical state. At 60, 5 foot tall, and 97 pounds, she is no match for about anyone, but "justice" must be served so they say. Justice is an idea of course and the severity of justice sought depends on the people and the environment. In my corner is my schizophrenic mother whom I have no right to demand preventive measures for, but when she "breaks" (for lack of a better term) it is my fault and I hear "why din't you do sum'in bout' her?" Then in the other corner, is the rest of the world seeing a crazy-eyed lunatic that needs to be removed from society forever.

Of course, removing her from our presence would be the easiest resolution, but what about her life? Is her life being lived fully? Is "justice" for her being sought? How about others like her? I know I am not the only one coping with this set of circumstances thanks to Google. As a collective group, we need to stand up and say "hey! this isn't ok!" We expect accommodations for the physically disabled and some mentally disabled, yet my mother's group is left "out in the cold." She deserves a life where she is safe, where she is protected from the rest of us. Not in a jail cell and not in the headlines of the "local ignoramus news" labeled "Bonnie" from Bonnie and Clyde.

Raising a Freethinker

Truly, I think it all started with Rihanna's song S & M! She was 11 and simply asked "mom, what does s&m mean?" My first thought, after "oh shit", was "sugar and milk! Say sugar and milk Jennifer! SAY IT!" Of course my mouth defied me and in the most scientific terms I could think of quickly and concisely explained the true definition of S&M. She said "ooooooooo, why would anyone sing about that?" To my relief, that was the very last time we ever discussed S&M.

Since that day, I have chosen to be honest with my children. Of course, I use age appropriate definitions, but I find honesty works well. I also allow them full access to their own souls. Whatever they choose, they are allowed. I certainly do have limits, but so long as they prove it is something they truly want and not something they have been peer pressured into, I permit it. Which leads to my children's religion, or lack thereof.

I do sometimes wish they could be unquestioning sheep, especially when it comes to chores! Choosing the path my oldest daughter has is a difficult one. She is badgered and berated regularly for her atheist un-beliefs. The most disheartening is the misconceptions many have of atheists. My children have very strong moral compasses and both of their parents are happily married to each other. We believe in family, love, and truth. Anything worthy of pursuit, finds its way into our schedule. It is difficult to field some of the more difficult questions and troubling to see our children's struggles, but it makes us stronger as a family.

My daughter surprises me with her steadfast devotion to her pursuit of truth. I often encourage her to "tame it down" a bit. She immediately chastises me with "well you raised me to be this way!" I of course did raise her to stand up and not cower in the face of danger or repression. I have to give it to her, she is brave and amazing!

Peace

We speak of peace often in our society and worldwide; however, do we each understand what peace is? Beauty queens sing it, preachers preach it, and politicians argue for it. It slips from everyone's lips, but we utter a different meaning each and every time. My peace may not be your peace and our peace may have no pieces in our neighbors peace.

I requested other's definition of peace and got a few answers. "Knowing my spouse and children have what they need," and "loving myself" were some. Another believed it unattainable if you were a living human. Others were at peace when their bills were paid or from the satisfaction they felt from helping another person. While all these lead to a comforting end are they peace?

Peace varies from person to person, family to family, nation to nation, all across our earth. Peace is the mountain standing highest for us to see. It has remained steady and claims the character of the most enlightened people. Yet, no one actually knows its true definition.

While we cannot define peace, we certainly can define what it isn't. The neighborhood drunk disturbs the peace, nations destroy another's peace, and all will finally rest in peace. Simply defining the opposite of destroying peace does not define it.

We cannot define peace simply because so doing destroys it! My peace is mine, your peace is yours. Peace has a meaning all its own within the minds of each and everyone of us. We seek it, we fight for it, but only if our own peace is destroyed by another's peace being taken. It is our soul. There is always peace in us; yes, every moment in our lives is at peace. Every moment we live, every dream we create is our peace. When we resist the peace within us, turmoil happens. It is when we fight against our peace that we lose it.

Peace is single. Each piece of another's peace makes the network of peace in our world.

We have long attempted to define this matterless spirit. Each of us shares in this spirit the world and universe over. Yes, we can lose it and also reclaim it. Our peace is us! With our peace, we can come into harmony with one another.

Just as beautiful music takes harmony, so does the network of peace. Our peace is individually different, but the tune from each sings the beautiful harmony. While we cannot define it, we can develop and encourage it. In a world as eclectic as ours, acceptance and encouragement of another is the only way the song can be heard. We may not like each other, we may completely disagree, but the easiest way I can find to "define" peace is: Agreeing to disagree.

This is how I define peace. Certainly, my definition is much different than others expected. Of course, I love moments of tranquility and rest. Love from seeing my family's individual triumphs, but peace to me is agreeing to disagree with another. I do give up my peace momentarily when I humor a loud argument (disagreeing to disagree). I give it up foolishly and regret it when I do. The "path to peace" is quite simply non-action. While I certainly am willing to die for many things and will intervene when necessary, I am giving up my peace when I do. If I give you my peace accept it for the worthy gift it is.

My friends described their peace and most likely think I am slightly aloof, but that is ok. That is why we are friends, we come together in beautiful harmony. Harmony is used synonymously with peace, but these words are quite different. Just as our voices have different tones and pitches, so does our peace. We can fight for our "peace voices" to be heard, but we cannot fight for or against another's peace.

To Close:

While we may not like our neighbor, we are here together. While we may view the world different, it is the same. While we desire different, it is the same. Unity, harmony, and peace are here, there is no way to stop it, you will only destroy yourself. Live your life as you see fit and allow another to live the unity, harmony, and peace within themselves.

Perception, Perfection, and Ease (Part 3)

Finally! I have made it to part three! The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of bad news, guilt, worry, and downright emotional exhaustion! My mother was arrested and is currently in jail. She was released from a mental hospital the morning of September 26th and arrested on 5 felony charges and 2 misdemeanors that very evening. I discovered her arrest by googling her name when she never arrived at her home as was the hospital's release plan! I have run myself through the wringer these last few weeks and am desperately trying to pull myself out of my self imposed punishment. I have beat myself up terribly over these recent events. Unfortunately, my blog has suffered and I have postponed it and mounds of homework. I am in a pit! So, without further procrastination.......I give you part 3!

As I previously stated in part 1, I skipped class to listen to a classmates talk in another class. I am by nature very curious and had to follow. Tonight I read about a young girl at the center of a fabricated battle in California. The young girl is transgender and a right-wing, hate-group claims she is harassing other girls simply through her presence in the girl's bathroom. While I actually have experience in this scenario, I can attest I have in no way been harassed by the presence of a transgender female in the women's restroom. We all go in, get to our business, and get out. Rather quiet and hurried, aside from the occasionally noxious fumes from some stalls causing immediate gagging, in the women's bathroom! As a parent, I would hope my children would in no way be uncomfortable with a peer's sexuality or female/male status.

One definition of perspective is "what is noticed easily." Yes, it is easy to notice my classmate is transgender. She is still in the midst of transition, so yes, one can easily tell her current phase of transformation. I naturally am curious and had so many questions. I also have manners and kept quiet while she spoke. Expecting to hear more "transgender life 101" in her speech, I wasn't surprised by most of it. She began by asking how many in the room were parents; me and two others. I am not naive and know there are parents out there that refuse to accept their children as they are. Many parents cast their children aside for any assumed slight. Many more disown their children for something like coming out as gay, lesbian, or transgender. I could see it in her face. As she pleaded on behalf of any child that may be transgender, her eyes welled up with tears. She explained her fundamental christian family, had disowned her and her brother had gone so far as to get a no trespassing order against her. What struck me the most, was the altruistic love for other's like her. She pleaded with us parents to love our children no matter what path their life takes. For me, this is a no-brainer. Quite truthfully, my children could murder someone and I would assume that person needed killin'!

 Sadly, I am the minority (at least where I live in the south). Of course as parents, we dream of our children's futures, but separating our dreams from our children's is an integral phase in "growing up." Yet, not only are some willing to meddle unnecessarily in their children's lives, but also in the lives of their fellow man. I cannot count how many times I have heard "transgender (I used the preferable term, but this is not the word used) people are gay and only want to have more gay sex!" Well, let me argue that point with those holding to such beliefs.

After listening to my classmate pour her heart out, I still had questions. First, I needed to know, are there transgenders born straight that keep their original  sex orientation after their transformation? Yes, I googled it and found numerous instances where born-males were straight, but after their transformation identified with being lesbian as they still were oriented to (what was by birth) the opposite sex. There were numerous born-females that did the same. I wasn't done with simply that answer. I needed more information, so I searched for a video of a  sex-change operation. I can attest and swear to you, if it were simply the desire to be "extra-homosexual (I honestly am at a loss for words as to how to communicate this idea in some people's minds)," a sex-change operation is by far the absolute worst way to do it! Transformation takes years, and the operation I watched was very detailed. If you are unaware, I am positive homosexuals value their sex-organs just as much as heterosexuals. A sex-change would absolutely be the worst thing someone could do to "get some extra homosexual sex." In my mind it answered a huge question. Transgenders look in the mirror and every morning hope to see their true self. It isn't a "homosexual thing" its a "self" thing.

I do not struggle with this and therefore, in my mind, have absolutely no right to tell someone they can't choose the life they desire. I want no ones perception of how I should live my life to be forced on me. How are we, as a country, still enslaving others with our beliefs? Historically, we humans must always enslave others. We would like to believe we are different and more civilized than generations past, but we aren't. We keep repeating history like a broken record.

I hope my classmate will find a true loving family. The hate she has endured does not show. Love pours forth from her soul. Love for those she has never met and even for those who have cast her out of their lives. I can imagine the freedom she feels finally choosing herself. No longer does she have to stare into the mirror and wish to see someone else. She can now see herself.




**** Most words in quotations were my attempt to explain beliefs of others. In no way are they intended to offend.*****

Perception, Perfection, and Ease (Part 2)

To better understand perception in my own home, I turned to the utter mirror of my actions (drum roll please).......my teenage daughter! There is no denying the brutally honest, no holes barred, often feared opinion of your own teenage daughter! Mine is more like me every single day; I am uncertain whether the world can handle two of me. Time to find out what perceptions are reflected in my home.......

She has decided to shave her legs while we talk. Apparently, multitasking is acceptable in our home.
Our conversation:

Kaeli: OK......what are we talking about!

Me: tell me about perception.

Kaeli: what is perception?

Me: you want Miriam-Webster version?

Kaeli: sure

Kaeli (after Miriam's definition): alright.....

Me: alright, are you paying attention?

Kaeli: I don't believe in perception. I think everyone should be able to "go about" without being judged.

Me: did you understand the definition?

Kaeli: um, yeah, um I don't think you ever asked a question.

Me: I didn't, I made a declaration. You just need to explain your view.

Kaeli: well, it is evil, good, bad, nice... does that sum it up for
 ya?

Me: let's try this a different way

Kaeli: (cutting me off mid-sentence) Ok, what's the next question?

Me: what is your perception of our home? Pretend our home is your only world.

Kaeli: This house is good. We don't get along good and there sure could be a change around here! First, lets get rid of every dish in the house. (I cut her off to explain a little better) She decided we need to improve the way we talk to each other and stop arguing as much.

Me: why do you think arguing is bad?

Kaeli: arguing makes people sad and not want to talk to one another. Lack of communication is what causes arguing.

Me: Let's change a bit. Imagine a couple. The couple are traditional and the husband makes all the rules. The wife must wake at 5 am, prepare and pack his breakfast and lunch for the day, lay out the husband's clothes, wake him up, put his clothes on him, never look him in the eyes, kiss him goodbye and tell him to have "a wonderful day my king." While her husband is at work, she is to prepare a seven-course meal, set the table formally, and clean the house spotless. She is never permitted to choose her own clothes, what will be cooked, whom she will speak to, etc....She also, is never allowed to argue with her husband, she must only accept what he dictates. Now, tell me about arguing.

Kaeli: MEN ARE IN NO WAY SUPERIOR TO WOMEN! I will never ,ever, ever allow a man to do that to me! I will speak my mind! No woman SHOULD EVER allow a man to treat her that way! She should stand up to him! She should leave him!!!!!

Me: you just said arguing is bad.

Kaeli: she should argue!

Me: but you said arguing is bad

Kaeli: But Uhhhhhhhhhh.......

Me: if you don't argue someone isn't expressing their opinion.

Kaeli: OK, OK, OK! Arguing is not bad, non-effective arguing is bad.

Me: I am teaching you perception.

Kaeli: OK fine!

After my experiment. Kaeli explained "it was hard because you got me angry." It changed her perception of the merit of arguing. She mounted her soapbox and stated:
"I have learned, through the compelling evidence you provided, that arguing can be good if closure is reached." Before my "moral story" Kaeli was adamant that we argue a little too much in this house. Yes, we are loud and voice our opinions often and with passion, but sometimes resolutions and concessions are reached. Kaeli said "it was hard to explain my opinion when I was angry!"

When our opinions mix with our emotions, sometimes nonsense comes out! Kaeli kept getting tongue-tied and became more and more angry. When our perception clouds our understanding, we can't make fact-based decisions! I fueled the flames by insisting "how do you know you are right?" She finally decided it truly was just her opinion and not hard fact. She didn't agree women should live that way, but could not give me one fact-based reason it should not be permitted; yet, everyday in the USA we are enslaving and denying the rights of our fellow citizens because of our clouded perceptions. What is "right?" What is "wrong?" Who makes these decisions for our fellow man?

My next post will explain why I had to follow my peer to listen to her speech. My heart went out to her as a woman, mother, sister, and friend. Our perceptions can always be altered.

Perception, Perfection, and Ease (Part 1)

Lately, I have found myself keenly aware of the differences of opinion in our society. More troubling, is the hatred that will pour forth from the mouth of opinion. Perception can be clouded by many factors, but I don't want to cover those in this particular post.

A few nights ago, me and the I Ching again, I was meditating to try to figure out what in me has been very troubled. We are recovering from a rather nasty virus at my house, but the "funk" I was in was more than that. I kept finding my mind wandering to the thought of perception and how two people can be present in the same situation, but see two completely different scenarios. I allowed my mind to wander and I kept seeing different words paired with their opposite: good/evil, happy/sad, right/wrong, etc... It occurred to me that my "good" may be another's "evil." What makes me happy makes others sad. What causes this?

Certainly, environmental factors "cloud" our perception. This "clouding" is inevitable and there isn't much we can do to stop it. If we allow our clouding to become intolerance for other people's "truth," we have extinguished the freedoms we each hold precious. Justice is itself also an opinion. Most things in this life are opinion and we must work to grasp the "reality" of "falsehood."

What do I mean by "reality of falsehood?" In my quest to understand my current mental state, I needed definition. I started with perception and one portion of one definition stood out: to understand or notice something easily. Easily, easy, with ease. Let it sink in. What we notice easily. How many quotes are there throughout time about avoiding the "easy path" or the "easy way?" It is synonymous with being lazy. If we choose to understand and accept only those things we notice easily, what would we miss?

Would we miss the smallest bees pollinating the smallest flowers? Shooting stars? The magical twinkle in the eye of a small child who has experienced something amazing for the first time? What else would we miss? The list could go on. When we only notice the easy things, our reality is false; thus, the "reality of falsehood."

Today, I did something I rarely do. I skipped class! I went to class, took my seat, and pulled out my notebook; then, the woman that sits directly behind me got a call from a professor in the psychology department. The teacher wanted my classmate to give a short speech to her class. I followed her because I had to hear it too.

I will finish this story in part 3 of my "series." I hope to finish it shortly. What is your perception telling you my "shortly" will be?