Sometimes I read in the news about women in developing
nations, and how access to birth control is a life saver for them. It provides
them with freedom from the incessant demands of motherhood so that they can
pursue an education or career. Or even just simply have some time for
themselves in a world where their health and energy are constantly being sucked
dry by an infant.
And then I recall doing a mental, meditative body scan a
couple of weeks after I got an IUD installed. My uterus told me it was sad that
I’m not letting it do any more of what it was put here in my body to do.
I tried to reason with my uterus. I told it, “It’s not
practical. We don't have room for another kid in this house. We will barely be
able to afford college for one, and certainly not two. Besides I’m too old.”
But my heart took the side of my uterus, and I cried anyway,
logic and reason be damned. I cried for the life I will never know…the life of
a woman who has the freedom to procreate again and again, nurse babies one
after the other, meet each unique child, and mother them so hard it kills her.
I’m trapped in a sea of cultural expectations that demand that I have only
healthy children (not the ones with birth defects more common in older
mothers), that demand that each child have his or her own room, that demand I
be able to provide not just love and food and shelter, but piano lessons and a
college education.
Despite my mild despair over this issue, I am grateful to be
living where I am, and sincerely expect to have no regrets over my decision to
use birth control. I’m grateful for the benefits of living in the United States
of America, with a husband who can provide for us, and as a stay at home mother
of one beautiful daughter.
You know how when you listen to a popular song, you
recognize (on some level) the structure of the song…verse, chorus, verse,
chorus, bridge, verse variant, chorus? And you know when something varies from
that structure widely that somehow it is no longer “fits” the pop music genre
anymore? In fact, you might even call it experimental music.
Here, you can listen to some background music while you read
the rest:
Let’s apply this concept to writing, specifically, modern
journalism and blog entries. There’s a pattern to popular articles also.
It typically starts with a personal story, either about the
author or about some other relatable figure. Let’s imagine a person named Mary
Smith, with two small children. They live near a nuclear waste dump and Mary is
concerned about the effects of the waste on her children. So after we’ve been
sucked into the article via this tactic, the author broadens the scope of the
article. He gives us the background and history, and interviews people from
“both sides” of the situation. And eventually at the end of the article, he
gets back to Mary and her situation. Recognize the pattern?
Ok. So what happens with articles that don’t fit the
pattern? Are they still “good” articles that are worth your time? Or do you
think the writer doesn’t know what he or she is doing?
Let’s take this article for example. I sucked you in not
with a personal story about myself or some other named individual. I just
talked about music song structures, with the idea that it would help you
understand the article pattern concept when I got around to writing about it.
Then I “failed” to provide you with history. Who was the first person to write
articles with the pattern I’m describing? Heck, I don’t know, and I’m too lazy
to research that. And so far, I have also failed to provide you with a
conflicting viewpoint, so that you can feel like you’ve gotten a balanced
perspective. Instead I’m going to rant.
It upsets me that I live in a time and place where the
offerings of our people’s artists, musicians and writers are commoditized and usually
only appreciated fully by large numbers of people if they fit into a
recognizable pattern. In tribal cultures, you don’t get the option to “like”
the dance that the Shaman is doing to heal the boil on your ass. You don’t get
to write an Amazon review on the drum circle that is putting your Bokor in a voodoo
trance or Yelp about the packet of healing herbs you just received from your
witch doctor. Why we can’t just appreciate non-standard writing, music and art
without people thinking we are weird for liking it is rather irritating. And
our creative notions must apparently be condensed into a brief LOLcat style
internet meme, or risk being ignored.
I like my seven year-old’s opinion on this, which she
explained after belting out one of her own off-key compositions. She basically
said, “If it's your own song, you can do it however you want.”
One of my favorite off-key singers:
Which brings me to the argument I usually get from people
when I complain about this sort of thing, which goes along the lines of “People
do art/music/writing/etc for themselves because they enjoy it or feel compelled
to do it, and a real artist doesn’t care what people think about it.” But
that’s not what I’m really getting at here. I’m not talking about making the art. That’s the easy part.
The problem comes when you share it. If
your core motivation for sharing your art is to connect with other people, then
suddenly what other people think (and whether or not they deem your missives
worthy of their time) is of utmost importance. Your child might make dozens of
drawings, but the one she shows you is the one you need to regard carefully,
asking yourself: “Why does she think I need to see this? What is she hoping I will
get from this?” You may scoff and think that all a child wants is attention and
praise (and think the same of any adult who tries to share their art or writing
with you), but look deeper. If every time my child hands me a drawing it shows
the two of us together with a heart shape between us, I can see she is trying
to express her love. So…might not the rest of the people in the world be trying
to do something similar? The person singing, playing guitar and selling his CD
down at Pike Place Market…is he just looking for attention and money? Or might
he be trying to find like-minded people who appreciate what he has to offer,
and in a roundabout way, showing his love for his audience by performing the
best he can?
If you ask anyone to examine their deepest goals and
motivations, the vast majority would likely tell you that they want to love and
be loved, and share whatever unique gifts they have with the world while they
are here. The key word there is unique.
We are all different. We don’t fit into a boilerplate pattern and our creative
output should not be expected to fit a formula either.
Now if you’ve got the counterpoint, I’d love to hear it.
P.S. One thing I hinted at but didn’t explore fully was the
connection between healing and creativity. Maybe another article.
When I was a girl I asked for martial arts lessons and was
told not to bother with them because knowing taekwondo won’t help me a bit if
my opponent has a gun. During a recent conversation with the people who raised
me, I realized where I get my killjoy tendencies.
I’ve always got an excuse not to act on something I believe
in or to try something I want do. I’ve got excuses for why I shouldn’t publish
my novels, why I shouldn’t bother signing up for a meditation retreat, or
travel to Europe this summer. For example:
--it’s too hard
--it takes too much time and money
--I can’t find enough people to support me, or watch my kid
for me, etc.
--someone will not like it and get angry and fight with me
and I don’t need that stress in my life
--it’s not worth the effort unless it’s successful and I
have no guarantee it will be
--even if it is successful, I am not sure I want the
notoriety and attention that comes with success
--I don’t want to be typecast as “that person who…”
--it might require physical hardship and I’m a wimp
--there’s surely some other reason I shouldn’t do whatever
it is, and if I dare do it, I will find out the reason, too late.
Fascinating, I
thought. No wonder I haven’t amounted to
much. I still don’t think I can.
I’m so used to my concerns being dismissed that sometimes I
just disrespect my own needs and desires before someone else can. I guess
that’s called “shooting oneself in the foot,” and I’ve been accused before of
doing that…by the people who raised me. Awesome.
Where do we go from here then? Recognizing that I tend to
view things in the most negative way possible, I can shrug and say “that’s how
it is, but it doesn’t have to stop me.” And in fact, it hasn’t. I still do just
what I want to do every day. I craft time alone and time with others with a
strong sense of pursuing my own agenda as much as possible. But my agenda isn’t
always writing, art or vacation planning. Sometimes it is the subtle art of
running errands, or recipe planning, or deciding what yarn will be crafted into
what wearable object. Sometimes I light a candle or some incense as a statement
of purpose and intent toward pursuing my aims toward their highest potential.
Sometimes I turn on my computer and cook some self-referential
meant-to-inspire-and-enlightened stew of words into a frothy, bubbled-over mess
like this one.
Anyhow, I hope that whoever reads this might see some morsel
of usefulness in it. I’m optimistic that way, at least.
On the one hand, having any drug available over the counter
makes it convenient; you don't need a doctor’s prescription to get it, and you
don’t need to feel like anyone… including your parents…need to know what you
are doing. And I would be 100% for this, except for one thing: people aren’t
taught about risks of any over the counter (OTC) medicines they take. They
don’t get an automatic pharmacist’s counsel on OTC drugs, and most people don’t
have a knowledgeable friend or family member who can warn them about risks. And
when it does occur to someone to look up risks on the internet, the information
found can be confusing or untrustworthy.
My mom was in the pharmaceutical industry for many years. I
learned from her that ibuprofen was excellent for menstrual cramps. And because
I am curious and I read labels, I learned that ibuprofen is the generic name
for the active drug found in both Motrin and Advil. So I knew to only take one
of those drugs at a time, or risk having too much.
Some people aren’t so lucky. Like the person in the news
years ago who took the maximum dose of both Tylenol and Co-Tylenol, not
realizing he was doubling his dose of acetaminophen, a drug that can cause
liver failure at higher doses.
Despite my background, I was not informed enough to understand everything about OTC drugs. I was
reminded of this one night in college when I felt a cold coming on and I took
two Co-Tylenol before bed. I naively expected the medicine to nip the cold in
the bud (essentially expecting allopathic medicine to act like homeopathic
medicine). Instead I was kept awake half the night because of the stimulant
pseudoephedrine hydrochloride, which was in there as an antihistamine.
All this got me to thinking: wouldn’t it be nice if high
schoolers were taught about OTC drugs? It wouldn’t have to be a semester long
class. It could just be part of the health unit, or it could just be an hour
long seminar and a handout. It wouldn’t even necessarily be part of the school
curriculum, but it could be something you could sign your kid up for, much like
some parents sign their kid up for a class in Internet safety.
Or should we just trust that people will read the package
inserts and Google any medicine they are taking in order to find out its risks?
Personally, I don’t think so. Medical information on the internet seems to come
in three flavors:
--too hard for a lay person to understand, but generally the
most accurate, like http://www.wikipedia.org/.
After spending ten years doing technical support for
software, I know that many people don’t read the information that comes with
the products they buy. Many don’t like doing web searches or posting questions
on forums either. They want to talk to a real person. Having a class would
really help give young people a good foundation in understanding the risks and
benefits of OTC drugs.
Now here’s the point where I step back and poke holes in my
own argument. If you are like a good number of people, you may read what I’ve
written here and assume I’m one of those liberals who think that people need to
be treated like babies who don’t know what’s good for them. And you’d be
correct…partly. I am one of those bleeding heart liberals. I love people for
their inherent value as sentient beings, and want them to be happy. The trouble
comes when my idea of what will lead to others’ happiness conflicts with their
own. So I may think that if you get knowledge about the dangers of something,
that you will use that knowledge to the benefit of your own health, and when
you have good health, you have one brick in the fortress of happiness. In that
regard, I think I am helping but you may not agree. So it goes. Namaste!
“Whenever the people are well-informed, they can be trusted with their own government.” - Thomas Jefferson
--Be content at the time of my death that I’ve done as much
as I can to have a positive impact on others and our world.
--Feel that other people have forgiven me for whatever negative
stuff I might have done to them, and that I have forgiven them likewise.
--Make sure my material life is pared down and in order so
that whoever has to deal with my crap after I die won’t have too hard a time of
it.
--Feel somewhat certain that my daughter is going to be able
to make it without me.
--Feel calm and peaceful as I face death (just as I faced
childbirth, floating on the waves of inevitability).
--Find out what happens at the end of Pandora Hearts manga. :)
I don’t want to climb Mount Everest, win a Nobel Prize, or
travel around the world in a hot air balloon. In a way, I wish my list could be
as cut and dried as that. After all, going to a specific place on Earth seems
pretty easy, but the inner work it takes to rest in a state of contentment,
peace and forgiveness can be a real challenge.
But in a way, every
goal is only attainable if you really want it, and really work at it. Part
of my trouble in life is that I am sometimes ambivalent about what I really
want, unsure if I’m just being swayed but what other people think I’m supposed
to want. So I think this list is about as honest as I can be, for now.
Whatever your bucket list holds, may you fill it with
checkmarks of completion, and die knowing you really lived.
I'm currently taking a tai chi class and some of us write haiku to celebrate the season. I'm not sure I honored spring so well, but here are my offerings:
I'm not very good at determining when someone is joking or not.
Maybe I has the dumb.
Or maybe my sense of humor doesn't sync up with other people's. That's entirely possible.
When people are snarky or sarcastic, I often just read them as mean-spirited, grumpy complainers. This can be a problem, especially since sarcastic humor seems to rule the internet, and human interaction can mostly only be experienced on the internet these days.
So April Fools' Day is a bit of a landmine for me, because I am easily made a fool.
