Juggling Pianos

A friend of mine uses the expression juggling pianos to describe that feeling of trying to do too many things and the resultant fear that something is going to come crashing down on your head.

I've been feeling that way about my life. The only good thing is that it is mostly self-inflicted, and so I can make some changes to alleviate it.

On the work front, I have worked harder and longer the last 15 months than at any other time in the last 15 years. We're still experiencing financial issues because of a string of unexpected expenses this year, and it's very discouraging to work so hard and not make much progress.

I expect to be working somewhat more than full-time for at least the next six months, perhaps longer. I'm grateful, but I'm also anxious about it. It's very hard to do the personal creative work I crave when I'm working such long hours at a creative job.

My first choice has been made. I've decided already to give up on the Suite 101 idea. The subject about which I'm most qualified to write (history) doesn't generate enough advertising revenue to make it worth my while. It would be better for me to use that time on my regular jobs.

Then there is the crazy patchwork quilt of my creative work. I'm taking an art class, . . . but I'm not finding any drawing time outside class.

I write poetry and fiction . . . but very sporadicallly. And it's difficult to find time to market my work.

I want to start writing a memoir but I haven't even begun the outline.

I blog but only two or three times a week, and I don't keep up with reading the posts of others.

I have activities at church that I've been skipping more often than not. I've had a hard time keeping up with my half of the household chores. And now we have Christmas bearing down upon us with all its extra activities and responsibilities.

I can't do it all. No one's been asking me to do it all except myself, but that's sort of the point. I need to take more control of this creative force that drives me so hard and channel it so it's more productive. I feel like, except for the freelance work for which I get paid, I'm doing a half-assed job at everything. The things I care most about get only the leftover scraps of my attention.

So one of the things I'm going to do this Advent is to listen and pray about priorities. I have to decide to let go of some things. Michael and I have talked about it, and we feel certain that my art class is going to stay. But all those other creative pursuits . . . including this blog . . . have to be reconsidered. I think I need to choose quality of effort rather than quantity of creative avenues. For 2010, I think I need to choose one or two areas of focus rather than three or four.

So I'm taking Advent off from blogging. If I decide to continue with it, I'll be back next year. If I don't, I'll post a farewell.

Movie Review: An Education

I've been feeling overwhelmed with some personal things lately, so that's why I'm not posting much. But I did want to tell you about a movie Michael and I saw this afternoon. Michael has been wanting to see this for about a month, but I was only moderately interested. I was wrong. The movie totally blew me away.

An Education is a coming-of-age story about a teenage girl in England during the early 1960s. Sixteen-year-old Jenny, who is bright and pretty, is enrolled in a girl's school and is being pushed hard by her lower-middle-class parents to excel so that she can pass the exams needed to be admitted to Oxford. At the beginning of the movie, she is excelling at this task, but she finds the work boring. As the movie progresses, it becomes clear that Jenny doubts whether education will really produce the life she wants; careers for women were still quite limited in the early 1960s, and she has little interest in teaching or civil service, the options presented to her. Jenny dreams of a more sophisticated, cosmopolitan life, a dream that seems to come true when a 30-something playboy enters her life. However, the education he gives her is not what she anticipates.

Just reading a summary of the plot in no way prepared me for how intensely the movie would affect me. Although I didn't have anything remotely like the romantic experience of the character in the movie, I identified with her in so many other ways that at times watching the story (which is based on the memoir of a British writer) was almost painful for me.

Like the character in the movie, I grew up knowing from early childhood that I was expected to be the first of our family to gain a college education . . . but my family had little concept of how to really help me achieve that or what a difficult transition they were actually pushing me to make.

Like the parents in the movie, mine pressured me to work hard to make sure that I would earn that education myself.

Like the character in the movie, I knew that my family saw education as a means to a practical end--a more prosperous living--but I had something else in mind. In addition to wanting knowledge for its own sake, I was like Jenny in wanting a life of culture for myself: art, music, fine dining, and the experience of going to Paris. No one in my family had any experience of such things, nor did they value them, but I craved them with a passion that never abated. (And this was in spite of the fact that for all of my twenties and part of my thirties, I felt like a white trash imposter every time I found myself in one of the cultural situations I craved.)

And like the parents in the movie, mine failed to parent me in significant ways (although in very different ways than the movie portrayed).

This film had intense personal significance for me, but even without that, I think it's well worth seeing. The performances are quite superb. Carey Mulligan, the actress who plays the lead, does an especially brilliant job. The script does a good job of making each of the characters complex and nuanced (with the possible exception of the headmistress). At the end, the father (played by Alfred Molina) explains himself in a way that added so much depth to the whole story and helps the audience to understand and sympathize with him, despite his mistakes.

In fact, the main character in this movie is failed by every adult in her life except one. Jenny herself is not blameless; she makes several bad choices of her own. The results very nearly ruin her. However, the movie does not end there. I will leave it to you to find out the details.

This movie is still in limited release. I hope it's at a theater near you because I strongly recommend it.

word verification

I'm very sorry. I hate word verification, and I know the words are sometimes very difficult to read.

But the last week, I've been repeatedly targeted by spam for viagra and cialis and also some very strange pseudo comments that seem to be computer generated (or written by someone with no facility in any known language).

So for the time being, we have to play the security game.

Big Head (my third nude)

Here is my third nude for class. I'm somewhat annoyed with myself because her head is too big. But considering where I am in my art studies, I guess I shouldn't be too hard on myself.

I want to thank all of you who prayed about the guilt feelings I was having about studying art. I haven't been troubled with them since. A friend of mine suggested that I try writing affirmations, and I have been doing that several days a week. But I know your prayers helped too. Instead of feeling bad about studying art now, the class has become my little Zen pocket of the week. For the three hours I'm there, I feel focused and totally in the process. It's a great feeling.

My teacher keeps telling me that he's astonished at how little experience I have doing this. If he keeps praising me this way, I might be the one with the big head. :-)

Burnt Sacrifice

This is a new one. I wrote it Sunday:

BURNT SACRIFICE

At night when I step outside,

smoke from my neighbor's chimney

drifts into my nostrils

and coats the tender membranes

with a crust of soot and sorrow.

Death, my memory whispers

as the year performs its ritual

of annual self-immolation,

each hour consuming itself

in the smoldering leaf piles

and crumbling fireplace embers

that are all that remain

of the bright flames we lit

to chase away the darkness.

Book Review: Anam Cara

The poem I posted Sunday was not what I'd intended to write about. What I had planned was to review the book Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom.

On Holy Saturday, I put up a post about emotional healing that included the beautiful Blessing for Solitude, which our Good Friday speaker included in his sermon. That blessing came from the book Anam Cara. In this book, the late John O'Donohue explored Celtic wisdom about friendship, the senses, solitude, work, aging, and death. At first the book was difficult for me because I learn best from concrete stories about actual people in specific situations, and this writer didn't do that much. However, the more I read the book, the more I found it to be a healing and helpful experience.

O'Donohue emphasizes the lack of duality in Celtic thinking, and he also talks about how gently Celtic wisdom approaches past wounds. I think that what I gained most from reading this book was the feeling that I should be more compassionate toward myself . . . not "should" in the sense that if I'll be a dirty rotten sinner if I fail . . . but rather the belief that learning to exercise compassion toward myself will help me grow in much more positive ways than the harsh self-judgment I usually use. I have begun to feel sorrow over the emotional violence I so often inflict on myself.

I have also come to believe that viewing my past mistakes with forgiveness will help ease the transition when it comes time for me to leave this physical life and move on to my eternal home. If I continue to cling to all the ways I've failed, I might view that transition with fear. Instead, I want to be ready to go home, knowing that Christ has already done everything necessary for me to be welcomed there by God.

Because this book was so very moving to me, I would recommend it heartily. I also hope to read more works by O'Donohue in the future.

Cry Hannah

Today, one of our readings in church was the story of Hannah. I'm quoting only part of it below:

On the day when Elkanah sacrificed, he would give portions to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters; but to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the LORD had closed her womb. Her rival used to provoke her severely, to irritate her, because the LORD had closed her womb. So it went on year by year; as often as she went up to the house of the LORD, she used to provoke her. Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah said to her, "Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?"

After they had eaten and drunk at Shiloh, Hannah rose and presented herself before the LORD. Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the LORD. She was deeply distressed and prayed to the LORD, and wept bitterly.

This story is one that has deep personal meaning for me. When I was in my 20s, my deepest fear was that I would never have children. At the time, I feared childlessness because I was afraid I would never marry. My romantic history was not encouraging. As it turned out, I did marry someone wonderful when I was 31, . . . but it turned out that we were unable to have children.

However, when I was 25 and still years away from meeting my husband, I wrote a poem about Hannah and her distress about not having a child. At the time I wrote the poem, I was aware that it told only the misery at the beginning of the story. I completely left out the part of Hannah being blessed with a child later, and yet it felt that I had little choice. This was the poem that was given to me, either by my subconscious or by God, I don't know. I feared at the time that the poem might actually be a prophecy for my own life . . . and perhaps it was. Anyway, the Old Testament reading made me think of it again and I decided to post it here. There is deep part inside of me that will always feel this grief.

CRY HANNAH

A tomblike cavern in my womb

where no seed grows save hunger.

I'm hollow there

where salt distilled from barren tears

coats lonely layers of time.

Cry Hannah,

in a silent place

where no child calls

but the walled-in broadcast of my need

echoes off the stone.

Cry Hannah,

for a woman who

in her emptiness gave all to you.

I fear I won't know what to do.

Cry Hannah.

Little Gratitudes

It's Friday of what has been a busy week. Well, from the looks of my workload, all my weeks are going to be busy for some time. Not that I'm complaining.

I have three little things to be grateful for this morning. I just called my credit union to make sure our automatic mortgage payment went through (our mortgage company was bought by a different bank, and I wasn't going to take it for granted that all the account info transferred properly). While listening to the ten most recent transactions, I learned that I just received my first direct deposit paycheck as a temporary employee. That was good news.

I woke up early enough this morning to finish an article I'd been working on for Suite101 about a technique that can speed up knitting. It's been hanging over my head for days because I was too swamped to tie up the last few details. It's posted now, so that's a relief.

And while I was looking for something else on the Internet this morning, I stumbled across a Yeats poem I didn't know and which I found very beautiful. So I decided to share it with you.

Broken Dreams

THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer	5
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake—that all heart’s ache have known,
And given to others all heart’s ache,
From meagre girlhood’s putting on
Burdensome beauty—for your sole sake	10
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.	15
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, ‘Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.’
Vague memories, nothing but memories,	20
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,	25
Has set me muttering like a fool.
You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run	30
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those that have obeyed the holy law
Paddle and are perfect; leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed	35
For old sake’s sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:	40
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

I hope this Friday the 13th brings you all good luck rather than bad.

Late Bloomer

One of the rose bushes in my yard is blooming. The astonishing thing about this is that we have had several hard frosts. Nevertheless, Stanwell Perpetual has several blossoms even though the foliage has already started to turn. (I forgot to take the photo until dusk yesterday, so I had to use a flash. That's why the background is so dark.)

I'm taking this unexpected blossoming as a personal symbol that being a late bloomer . . . in life or in art . . . is a wondrous thing.

A Modest Proposal* for Defeating Healthcare Reform

My regular readers may find the title of this post startling. Bear with me for a few minutes. I've decided to speak directly to the most vociferous critics of the plan to reform our healthcare system, the ones who shout down conversation at protest rallies.

I understand that you claim to oppose the current healthcare plan because you fear the effect of socializing medicine.

If you want to convince others of the unassailable rightness of your point of view, I have a strategy you might want to use. It is stunning in its simplicity and will address so many of the flaws you find in the proposed healthcare plan.

Opt out of Medicare.

That's right. Opt out of Medicare and take out your own privately funded health insurance policy. Pay for the premiums from your own resources.

If you are too young to qualify for Medicare, persuade your parents or grandparents to opt out of the system. Offer to help pay their premiums as a demonstration of your family values.

Just think how much propaganda value this protest would have, especially if it became a mass movement. During the upcoming debate over the bill, conservative senators could stand up on the Senate floor and thunder, "My constituents are so opposed to socialized medicine that 30 percent of eligible recipients have chosen to opt out of Medicare."

Not only would you be striking a blow against socialism, you would also be accomplishing two other things you hold dear. You would be helping the insurance companies compete by giving them more business, and you would be helping to reduce government spending.

I know that, liberal as I am, I would be impressed by such a principled stand. And it would be a lot more relevant to the issue than mailing teabags to Washington or waving them at public protests.

Nothing less than such a radical consistency between ideology and action will convince me that you have been honest about your reasons for opposing the public option. If you fail to act in a way that is true to your stated principles, then I will continue to suspect what I have suspected all along . . . that you are simply infected with an "I've got mine, screw everyone else" hypocrisy. Alas, it's an epidemic far deadlier than H1N1, and it threatens to kill all of us.

* Hat tip to Jonathan Swift

"Unfair competition"

Have you read about this? Blue Cross / Blue Shield mounted an anti-reform campaign in North Carolina that seems to have backfired.

The other big argument against health-care reform, which I did not mention yesterday and which Blue Cross used in its campaign, is that the government will undercut private insurers so much that it will drive them out of business, leaving us with only one provider in this country.

It sounds logical. We've all seen how the U.S. Postal Service drove UPS and Fed Ex out of business.

Oh wait, that didn't happen, did it? Instead, the various shipping options, including the one run by the government, have made each other more competitive, so that we now have things like U.S. Priority Mail, a relatively recent development. That's how competition is supposed to work. Why shouldn't the same thing happen with healthcare?

Just think about it.

P.S. If you want some more background to the Blue Cross campaign, go to Wormwood's Doxy's post here.

A few thoughts on health-care reform

Yesterday, our lawn-maintenance guys came to do the final fall cleanup. And Smokey barked furiously at the sight of three men using loud machines in his yard . . . even though he's seen these people bi-weekly every growing season of his short canine life. They are not new, and yet he acts as if they are a terrible threat to our well-being.

He reminds me of some of the people using scare tactics to try to block health-care reform. To listen to the opponents of the current legislation, passage will end civilization as we know it. It's the biggest domestic threat to our health we face.

You would think that the idea of a public option for health insurance is utterly untested. But the truth is, the United States is the ONLY industrialized nation not to provide health care to its citizens. Instead of being the leader here, we are the Neanderthals.

Yes, I know there are fears about rationing. But health care is already rationed. Corporations are doing it instead of government.

As I see it, we have a choice between the system we now have . . . in which millions of people go uninsured because they can't afford it, while the elite get to have premium health care and pursue every last option . . . and a system in which everyone will get a decent amount of health care but fewer will be able to explore every last recourse.

The latter is my preference. I am willing to accept that there may be limits to my own health care as long as everyone receives the same level of basic benefits.

You see, I accept that money can't fix everything. And I accept that not every thing is curable.

When Michael and I were trying to conceive, we were finally told that in vitro fertilization was our only option . . . and even then we had only a 15% to conceive. We didn't pursue it for two reasons. First, I didn't like the moral dilemma it presented: They usually fertilize extra eggs to make sure they have enough and I didn't want my leftover embryos in cold storage somewhere, nor did I want to risk becoming Octomom.

But equally troubling to me was the ethical dilemma of spending thousands and thousands of dollars (and probably doing so multiple times) on a procedure that had such a low chance of success. I didn't believe that I had a God-given right to a child . . . only a God-given right to try having one. And I didn't think it was a good use of society's resources for us to pursue that treatment option. (I don't intend this as a criticism of people who have used the procedure. I'm talking only about our own circumstances and the limits they presented.)

The most basic of all economic concepts is that resources are unlimited while wants are infinite. Despite what our culture tells us daily, we cannot have it all. There are limits to what's achievable and choices have to be made.

My choice is for a health-care system that is more equitable, even if it does have limits that might one day impact me.

This morning, I emailed my congressional representative to thank her for voting last night to make such a system a reality. And now I pray the Senate follows suit.

Touching Base

Sorry. I forgot that my last post left things hanging.

I did get the computer back Tuesday. They were not able to migrate any of the old files. I could have had them try "hard recovery," but I was falling behind in one of my jobs and was desperate to get the machine back. So I'm rewriting some things for the other job, which has slower deadlines. At least I have a memory that retains that kind of stuff pretty well. I've been able to remember the content of much of the lost pages.

So here is the news I didn't feel able to tell you the other day. One of the two jobs I have has just converted me from the status of independent contractor to the status of temporary employee. Starting January 1, I will even have benefits. It's only till the end of next October, but I think I'm going to go on their insurance even for that limited amount of time. If they don't sign me up for another project, I'll still be able to do COBRA. I had been beginning to think of looking for a staff position again because of the benefits situation, but I was reluctant to go back into an office. This way I'll have benefits and still work at home. This is such an answer to prayer. You can't imagine what health care has cost us this last year between our very expensive premiums and our huge out-of-pocket costs. I may regret doing this in two years when it comes time to self-insure again (especially if we have trouble finding insurance), but that's too far down the road to control my decision now. And who knows, maybe Congress will do the right thing by then!

Because of the sudden glut of work, I'm looking at a very busy schedule for months to come. But I think I'd rather be fatigued from too much work than stressed out about not enough money.

Michael has also had a couple of other projects come his way. Things are looking fairly stable at the moment, despite the $800 in repairs this week.

I would like to ask you all to pray about his film project. He's at a sticky place---needing name talent to attract investors and needing money to attract name talent. There has still been some movement on the project, but he needs a big breakthrough. Please pray for something miraculous to occur, so he can finally use his talents to the fullest.

Monday Evening Update

Hello, all.

I still don't have my computer back. I think it's supposed to be fixed tomorrow . . . but something is wrong with our car, so that has to go in for repairs tomorrow. Which means I might not get my laptop back until Wednesday. I miss it. A lot. (I am now typing on my husband's very old iMac. It's slow. I don't like it. I'm spoiled.)

Let's see. What else is going on. I have good news on the job front, for me at least. I have work lined up for the next 12 months! I have two half time jobs from now to the end of the year and then full-time work roughly until October (with the possibility of part-time stuff tucked around the edges). Michael is busy for the next month, and there are possibilities beyond that. So at least our economic situation feels less desperate. This is a good thing considering that we have two large and unexpected repair bills looming. But as my brother pointed out to me, at least this means we have a car and computer to start with.

I wrote a fun article yesterday about why the Chicago River runs backwards. At least, . . . I had fun with it. I'm not sure how my new busyness is going to affect the Suite101 plan. I still hope to do one article minimum a week, but we'll see.

Anyway, that's the news in my world. Hope you are all well.

Ruth