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Archive for February, 2011

Feb 28

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The truth about lead and feathers

It was always such fun to ask this question: What is heavier? 1 kg lead or 1 kg feathers? We would laugh out loud when the person we asked said: 1 kg lead. Ha, ha, ha, dumb, dumb, it weighs the same!

This is one of my useless childhood memories.

Today I thought about this again as I was reflecting on how much I am worth as a person. I was talking to a friend about this, and realized that I think that my value as a human being changes according to what day it is. Well, actually, it changes according to what I am able to produce. So if I don’t grow enough potatoes, I am less valuable than if I grow a lot—to use a metaphor from our farming community. In plain English this means that I believe, and I think many others do too, that if I do a lot of important and noticeable stuff, I am more valuable than if I don’t.

This is kind of like saying that 1 kg lead weighs more than 1 kg feathers.

Personally, I have spent too much time thinking that it is the stuff I do that makes me valuable. The thought that if I sat down and never again did another good deed I would still be as valuable as I am now is hard to believe. Hard to live by too. But I have thought about it all day and think that if we all took a deep breath and let this truth settle in our hearts, we would be a lot happier. Not to mention, we would end up with a lot more time on our hands. I think I am going to try it.

Feb 26

3 Comments

Is garlic good in pancakes and my mother in law born in April?

Sometimes Steve is right too. I am willing to learn. Truly, truly.

What better feeling than being right. I love it. It makes my day when I am right and I like to rub it in, at least a little. Poor Steve. He is still learning that when it comes to him or me being right, he will most likely lose. The kids will say: “Dad, when will you learn. Mom is always right.” “Sigh,” says Steve and tries to remember the time last year when he was right.

 

So now I am reading an interesting book on shame. Sad topic, but much more interesting than you may think. I did not jump for joy when I saw it either, but now I am happy I started. One of the major blocks to creativity, says the author, is the feeling of knowing you are right. Ouch, ouch, ouch. And sorry, Steve. When we think we are absolutely right, we stop seeking new information. To be right is to be certain, and to be certain stops us from being curious.Curiosity and wonder are at the heart of all learning. Says John Bradshaw.

And I say: I think there is a whole lot of truth in this. When we are so busy proving we are right there it is unlikely we are open for new information and new ideas.

So next time Steve claims that is is absolutely certain that there should be garlic in the pancake batter and that his mom was born in April some time I will look at him with interest and say: Really, honey? Well, if you say so, let’s try it. Mom will like a birthday card any time, and garlic is good for the blood pressure.

Feb 25

2 Comments

Be who you are

What do I want for my kids? That they will dare to be who they are.(I also want them to do the dishes without complaining)

I read this quote today and it said it better than I could have said it:

Often people attempt to live their lives backwards: They try to have more things, or more money in order to do more of what they want so that they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you really need to do, in order to have what you want.

Margaret Young

Feb 20

2 Comments

White like a ski trail

A world of white. Pure like holiness

Yesterday I saw something that most people in the world never get to see. We skied to the top of a mountain, which took a lot of tears and a lot of not so kind words from our kids. They thought it was kid torture to make them go uphill on skis for what seemed like a thousand years. We came to the top and what we saw was a world of white mountains all around us. Layer upon layer of white, contrasted with a royal blue sky. It almost made me fall to my knees and sing. I did not do that, of course. I just kept walking and letting other skiers, faster than us, pass.

There is something about being on the top of a mountain that sounds like freedom. It feels like freedom. Why is that, I wonder. I wonder about that and I wonder why we all instinctively think that horses are pretty. Who said that they are prettier than for example pigs? OK, horses was not what I meant to write about. I just thought of it.

This is not the vast fields of Antarctica.This is in front of Steve's skis.

I think that on the top of a mountain I feel the most free because there is no clutter. There is open space. I feel I can breathe. I have space to think. On the top of a mountain there was no emails, no phone calls, no deadlines. Just the quiet of the open air and the white snow. On top of the mountain I could be exactly who I am. It did not impress the mountain much, neither did it reject me.

Skiing towards freedom from cluttered lives

Going down the mountain was a bit challenging and I had to keep my tongue straight. We made it to the bottom with no broken bones. It was a great accomplishment for our family. Then we skied back through a deep valley. This one was not spectacular like the mountain top. It just felt safe and protective. Like a kind auntie that will make sure that we never have a blister, never feel hungry, never need anything.

I think I prefer the wild and open mountain, unpredictable and windy, majestic and steep to the safe valley where nothing can go wrong.

And I think horses are pretty. Much prettier than pigs.

Feb 14

3 Comments

Some people forget that the sun can be warm

Two days ago I experienced something very special. Peculiar may be a better word for it. I went for a walk. It was minus whatever outside, snow covered the fields, the sky was blue, there was a breeze playing in my hair that wasn’t hidden under a wool hat. The sun was shining. When one emerges from the dark season, with only a few hours of daylight a day, and that light often missing the sun, seeing the sun on the sky is as welcome as a paycheck. Almost. But the feeling I had that day was even more unusual. I felt the warmth of the sun on my frozen cheeks. I am not kidding. It warmed.

See, during the winter the earth, or should I say Norway, has removed itself so far from the sun that we cannot feel it’s warmth. We just see it and it looks like a huge egg-yolk that spends most of its time in the fridge. The other day I was reminded that the sun is warm. It felt so great, I went home and told my kids and Steve about it. I felt the sun’s warmth today, I said. They all smiled and said they had felt it too. It was a particularly happy day in our house.

See this? This sun is not warm. And that would be me there way ahead of Steve who took the picture.

I thought about this: When life is rough and tough and sucks (bad word alert, bad word alert) and it feels like the darkest of all winter nights, then the sun is still shining. And when it feels like the sun (Which is a picture of God or of what is good in the world if you don’t believe in God) has lost all its warmth, it hasn’t. It’s just that we have moved a bit too far away from it to feel it. And when we get closer to the sun (God. I like to compare it to God the most. I am biased.) we will again feel that it is warm and it does warm up our cold hearts and it will melt the snow and ice all around us, making things grow and the birds make their nests for the baby birds.

So, on Valentine’s day, the most romantic of all days, I want to say this: Move closer to the sun. Then watch as the red hearts start flying all around you.

And don't forget that cold days are also beautiful.

Feb 12

3 Comments

Loving, loving, loving, even when it’s cold outside.

The furriest member of the family

Tonight in the frenzy of being together at last (It has been a busy week and our family likes each other’s company. This week we have been apart a lot and now we were finally in the same room, trying to catch up on what was new with the Gumaers), and on a Friday night besides, we let our dog Marley out to pee and forgot him. It’s 11 minus outside and after listening to some new music on iTunes, doing some algebra, watching a funny YouTube movie, talking about the events of the day, brushing the teeth, cuddling good night we saw an anxious, black and furry face jumping up and down in front of our kitchen window. That would be Bob Marley, the Labradoodle. He was  reminding us that he was still outside and it was cold. We looked down on our feet when he came inside and pretended not to hear the sound of the icicles on his paws when he walked across the floor. Pretended not to see the frost on his beard as he looked at us with those sad and faithful eyes.

Dogs are weird. We left him outside in the cold and the dark. We may have forgotten him all together, was it not for him reminding us that he is in fact alive and outside. And what is he doing right now? He is sleeping by our feet, dedicated, committed, loyal until death, willing to risk his life it need be, forever ready to defend us and our property. He never once said: I cannot believe how selfish you are. You don’t care about my needs. You never pay any attention to me. How could you do that to me? Leave me outside like some dog?

We have a lot to learn from dogs. But when that is said, I think that dogs could benefit from learning a thing or two from us too. They should be a little better at expressing their true feelings.

We on the other hand could learn more about believing the best in people. Most people don’t mean to be jerks. They actually try to be good people. They just forget us in the cold some times.

This is what happens if you are a dog with a lot of fur and you go for a walk in the snow. The spiritual application is that we should put on snow socks or cut some of the fur off. You know what I mean, right?

Feb 10

Do you know what you will eat for lunch March 3, 2012?

Standing on your head may give you a different perspective on life too. Helps when schedules don't work out.

Naomi, thirteen already, was slowly waking up while she was eating her breakfast the other morning. “I think I have come up with a schedule that I am going to follow for the rest of my life now, ” she said between bites. “The rest of your life, Naomi?” said I, wanting to make sure I had heard right. I had still not had any coffee. “Yeah!?” She said, looking like she did not understand why I had to ask. “I will come home from school, do my homework, then I will watch a short episode of something on TV, eat dinner, work out and go to bed.” It sounded like a good plan until I asked her if that would work out if she gets a job, kids and a husband. “Oh, right,” said Naomi. “I had not thought of that.” “OK, then. I will at least try to stick with my schedule until March,” she concluded before walking to school.

Would be nice, wouldn’t it, if life followed our neatly planned schedules and fit into our daily activities? Imagine knowing already today what you will be wearing next year in February.

But life has a tendency to take it’s own skips and jumps, through rives and over cliffs. When we plan to take a left turn, life turns to the right. In my case, I can’t hardly remember a time when I had planned what to have for dinner two days from now, that we actually ended up with the planned menu. Some would say, and I don’t disagree, that the Gumaers are a particularly bad case study when it comes to planning anything at all. We hardly know how to use a calendar. But this is not the point I am trying to make here.

The point is that life doesn’t always follow our schedules.

And why do I write about that? Not sure what it says to you, but for me it is a reminder of how small I am in the big scheme of things. And that is something I need to be reminded of all the time.

Some times I feel a little too impressed by myself, and I need to be reminded that in the big scheme of things, I am not that great. I am hardly a dot on the magnifying glass if you take a look at the universe. When did I get the idea that I am so special? I should be thankful that some air has been provided for me to breathe.

This is a handful of testimonies of Partners staff's reasons for joining the Partners' tribe. The word GO is a a scary challenge.

Some times I feel like my value and significance is less than that of a fly, and then too, it is important to be reminded of the big scheme. Why? Because while I am just a small speck in the big scheme of things, I am a small speck. And I am a small speck with value. I am created with gifts and talents, with a personality and a story to tell. I am small, but there is still a space for me here on the planet. And if I want to, I can change the world a little.

All this I thought about while smiling at Naomi’s simple solution to life’s chaos: Make a schedule and stick to it. Could not be that hard.

Feb 6

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Like going to the dentist twice in one day

I listened to a speech by this lady named Brene Brown last night. You can hear what I heard here If I were you, and I had the time, I would listen to it. It may be worth it.

I made some notes as I listened, and in my imperfect handwriting, I noted things like: Excruciating vulnerability. Those two words together feel like a double appointment at the dentist to me. They are both painful words and I would rather not think about what it will mean for me to be excruciatingly vulnerable. Let’s just day that that means a lot of dirty laundry.

Naomi riding her bike for the first time with no training wheels.Excruciatingly vulnerable.

But if, according to Brene, the double dentist’s appointment results in a sense of worthiness, a strong sense of belonging and a whole heart, then perhaps it is worth the pain and the strong smell of burned amalgam.

I dare to suggest that what she (this Brene-lady) suggests is that if we are not vulnerable, then we will find different ways to try to make our hearts whole. And that is what most of the world is doing these days. We eat, medicate and buy our way to a whole heart. And you, like me, see that that is not a good solution at all. Because (and I am still quoting Brene), when we use all these other things to numb our vulnerability, we numb all the good feelings too, like joy and gratitude. And (quoting me here) we don’t get to the root of the trouble by patching it with pills or whatever. Some times a root cannel is the only way to go.

Correct me if I am wrong, but in plain English, what we are trying to say here is that instead of eating a bag of potato-chips when I feel bad about myself, I should just give somebody a call and tell them that I feel bad about myself. Or I could go to the best comforter in the world, which happens to be Jesus, and tell him that I feel like a shit and ask what he thinks about me. Or I could do both.

Looking back at all the words I have written to come to this conclusion, I think I could have made my point much earlier. But I am not a woman of few words. That is one of my many weaknesses. You better get used to it, because I am working on my excruciating vulnerabilities.

Feb 6

3 Comments

Connected and vulnerable

My kids and cousin acting in a play about vikings.Connected?

I heard something interesting today: Connection is the reason we are here. We all want to feel connected, and when we don’t, well, it’s then that it goes downhill in a very fast way.

This resonated with me. First and foremost because I want to be connected myself. But also because I have been thinking a lot about the different groups, or tribes, or clicks, or call it what you want, people are parts of. And I have been thinking about how important it is for us all to feel like we belong somewhere. Or, to feel connected to something.

Want to know the recipe for true and deep connectedness? Read this quote from C.S. Lewis:

Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries, avoid all entanglements. Lock it safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in the casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will never change. It will not be broken, it will become unbearable, impenetrable, irredeemable. TO LOVE IS TO BE VULNERABLE.

A heart made for us by a refugee from Burma.

 

I think I need to go to sleep and think about this. Then i will write more about what I think. Bear with me. There is more to come….

Feb 5

2 Comments

Shoogamunga has a lot in common with yoga

This is what we are talking about. Real Shoogamunga-time. Can happen anywhere.

When Kristin goes to bed I need to hug her in a special way. I can’t just give her a hug-on-the-fly hug. I can’t stand up from my sitting position after saying the evening prayers and hug her sweetly, saying goodnight. That is unacceptable according to Kristin, who is the hug-queen. No, I need to be sitting down, comfortably. Then I need to lean over and give her a real, no-nonsense hug which involves me burying my head in her face and her snuggling into my scarf or my neck while I say the magic word, which is, and will always be: Shoogamunga.

Some nights I forget to say Shoogamunga, and those are bad nights. Kristin always picks up on my mood, especially if it is not good. And one of the ways she picks up on it is by my absence of Shoogamunga. “Mummy, is something wrong? You have not said Shoogamunga to me?” I think that she may not notice if I don’t say the dumb word every night, but, believe you me, she does.

Some days my life is missing the Shoogamunga too. Those are the days when I don’t feel loved and like the world has no time for me. I feel like I am not very important and that everything and everybody else is more significant. Those are the days when all I want is for somebody to come close and say, in my face: Shoogamunga. Then I will feel noticed and that they at least had the time for that one, simple word.

Other days I feel like the Shoogamunga-giver of the universe. I have received the magic power and can make everybody happy with my wand. But the thing is, and this I have learned from Kristin, you can’t just throw a Shoogamunga out there and then tear off. That is absolutely pointless. In order for it to work, one has to have time and, most of all, the presence of one’s spirit. If that is not there, you may as well say Honorificabilitudinitatibus (that is a word, by the way. Just look it up!) It would make no difference at all. None at all.

It's like a mantra, and makes people happy.

It reminds me of yoga. It’s not like I have done a lot of yoga, but the times I have, we have had to say these weird words. Shanti and Aum (Actually, it’s more like auuuuuuuuuummmmmmm). I think that these words have a meaning, but I don’t know what it is. The point that I have learned, though, is that it’s not so much what we say, but that we do say it that matters. Because in the process of saying it, we force our lungs, our body, our heart to take deep breaths, inhale the right way and a lot of other useful things. If we had not said the weird words, we would have missed out on all the good benefits, such as more oxygen in our lungs and a better life all together. And when we are more content, we can do more to make the world a better place. Therefore the words one says while doing yoga are important.

This is exactly the same thing with Shoogamunga. Just try it and you will know that what I say is true.

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