Every Teacher An Artist

In the heart of an artist lies passion.  Passion achieve, passion to excel.  Whether artistry lies in visual medium, written word, audible expressions, in the act of teaching, or in some other arena, every teacher must be an artist, else education dies in utero as students are taught boredom instead of curiosity, plodding instead of enthusiasm, apathy instead of passion. through the indomitable lesson of example.

     "Passion occurs when we engage with energy in accomplishing great things, though they may seem small or simple at the time.  While most people seek peace, comfort and security, those with a Leadership Education understand that the place of leaders is in the middle of change and even crisis.  Living and working with passion means that you thrive in times of challenge as well as peace.  An education that creates life-long passion is worth every bit of effort and study; anything less falls short."

 -- Leadership Education: The Phases of Learning, by Oliver & Rachel DeMille, p 229.

No Predeterministic Parenting

One if the most important missions I have as a parent is to learn what it is my children love and dream and want, and to help them achieve it.  Whether it's discovering what they would really like for Christmas, or helping them to explore something which has piqued their curiosity.  I need to be in tune with them, with their questions and desires, and let them know that those questions and needs are valid and important . . . not superimpose my own wishes from childhood on them.

Flabby

My brain needs exercise.  (So does my body, but I've still got two weeks of post-partum recovery before I can do much of that.)

I was reading Seth Godin's blog tonight, and then it hit me, as I read this post: I want to blog like Seth does.  He's mindful, and thoughtful, and shares (in succinct and clear ways) his thoughts.  Most of his posts are short (really short).  Some are longer, and deserve to be.  Many of them pose questions of some kind.  But they're all really, really good.  (Granted, he has written a dozen books (maybe more--I'm not counting), and has blogged for years, so he's got something on me there . . . )

But I can think, too.

I can read more of his blog. (Good writing rubs off.)

And I can be more mindful--and blog it.

So, here an experiment: Blog like Seth.  I wonder if I can turn it into a movement? ;o)

On Randonimity

Just a friendly reminder: this blog is a reflection of parts of my life.  (Mostly the hobby and intellectual pursuits parts.)  It has been random most of the time, filled with whatever I happen to be doing.  I hope that those of you who may have gotten on board way back when for knitting content have found things to interest you, and those who are along for the ride are enjoying it.  I know I am. :o)

Onward and upwards, friends.  Who knows what will be next?

Down with Schooling, Up with Education!

Quote of the day, by John Taylor Gatto:


"From a system perspective, schooling makes a neatly manageable mass. Education makes efficient but dangerous men and women."


Here's to dangerous men and women. :o)

Back to the Future

It's now officially the year Two Thousand and Ten.

2-0-1-0.

Is it just me, or is there this aura of mystery and living "in the future" around this year? When we were kids, movies were made about years beginning with "Twenty". "What will you be doing in 2010?" seemed to be such a far-off question. But far off it is no longer. Here's what I'll be doing in 2010. How about you?  I'd love to hear answers from everyone who sees this . . . just leave me a comment so I know where to go read your answers. :o)

1. Keeping my inobx EMPTY.

2. Continuing to eat a 98% raw diet.

3. Purging more than a decade's worth of stuff.

4. Keeping only what I'll use that I love and/or that will make me happy while I use it.

5. Designing (personally) and constructing (not completely personally) a carriage house, in which we'll live until the house proper is complete.  Seven people in a 24'x 36' apartment should be F-U-N, right?

6. Designing said house, and seeing how much we need to save before we can begin. ;o)

7. Putting in a garden large enough to help significantly in feeding my family.

What seven things are you going to do this year?

And so . . .

About two weeks ago "12 Steps to Raw Foods" by Victoria Boutenko arrived from Amazon. It finally filled in the gaps, and made raw foods accessible and comprehensible . . . it was a book on color theory when all the other recipe books and blogs I had read were more like paint-by-number kits. (A review of 12 Steps to Raw Foods to come . . . )

Here's what I've noticed after ten days on a very nearly 100% raw menu:

1. My back is FINALLY beginning to heal. I didn't stop to think about how much better it is until I noticed a broad white "healing line" through the darker area of my right iris which corresponds to my lower back. (Iridology fascinates me, btw.) That made me stop and think about how long it has been since I really hurt . . . and it has been quite a few days. (Five-ish.) The change in diet and a slightly firmer bed have really been a good combination. (Fwiw, we were sleeping on a firmer surface before the diet change, but it didn't help much.)

2. I'm rested when I wake up in the morning. Sometimes waking up is still tough, but it's NOTHING like the days of severe hypoglycemia. Within a few minutes, I feel cheerful, and have a reasonable amount of energy (total shocker for me). Oh, and a huge bonus: I no longer have nasty morning-mouth. That was a recent development (started about a year ago), and it's just lovely to have it gone.

3. My body is able to restore itself during sleep in a manner completely different than anything I've experienced in the last three years. Or, come to think of, since I don't know when. Possibly before the critically-sleep-deprived days of high school. The last two nights, I've woken up to the baby's cries before Vern stirred at all, got up to take care of whatever it was he needed without feeling depressed or frighteningly weak or like my back would literally not hold me up, and woke up the next morning feeling better than the nights two weeks ago when I didn't have interruptions. When I don't get sufficient sleep, I'm still tired, but it's wholly physical now . . . I'm no longer a hostile, depressed, snarling wreck. (My family is glad. lolol) Last night was a chopped 7.5 hour night. A solid 1.5 hour deficit from what I really have needed lately to feel reasonable solid during the day. Today has been a phenomenal day.

4. I no longer am driven by food cravings. I know I can eat all I want of whatever whole, good, fresh food I want (even if it's nothing but dates for a couple days, which I nearly did), and when I find myself hungry and wanting to root through the fridge, I know from experience that I'll find what will truly satisfy my hunger. It's a secure, solid feeling. Gone are the days of being driven nearly crazy by a deep hunger, not seeing anything that tempted me. (Barring frozen desserts and chocolate, which quieted the hunger, but never silenced it.)

5. I'm slowly dropping weight. I shed about five pounds of retained water the first two days (which was more than I could do, even with dieting, before!), and have lost a few ounces each day since then, except for Thanksgiving Day, and the two days bracketing it. Those three days I included a small amount of cooked foods, and I simply maintained. Not too bad, though, considering what has happened in the past to myself, and others. (T-day I had a 1" x 1.5" piece of turkey, no refined sugar, a couple small helpings of maple-syrup sweet potatoes, and lots of salad.)

6. My moods have been milder, lighter, happier, nicer, and far more buoyant than they have in a looooong, looooooooooong time. I'm a woman of no small will or drive . . . but depression really had me pinned the last few years. Even the last year and a half, living in such a great spot in Oregon with such great people as friends, I struggled. It has been so good to really want to smile, and then to smile and feel that smile grow and strengthen and deepen until it fills my entire body. Smiling at people today during church was so fun . . . especially complete strangers who seemed down, worried, or reserved. I'd smile at them, looking them in the eye, and I could see my happiness enter their hearts, and then break out over their faces. That alone is worth giving up every cooked, traditional, lovely comfort food I ever knew. Driving home from church today, Vern turned to me and said: "I've never seen you this happy." I replied: "I don't think I've ever felt this happy in my whole life."

I know things won't be smooth sailing. Life happens. People will have trouble with this choice I've made, even though I will do all I can to make sure those I love and interact with (who need to know my eating habits, lol) know that this is something I've done wholly for my own well-being, and is not something that I expect them to cater to, listen to, or (heaven forbid), have forced on them. My body simply wouldn't do what I need it to do eating the way I had been (and by American standards, I was eating darn good foods: organic, natural, and mostly whole--just mostly cooked, and very few veggies). This is a gift I'm giving myself, and my family who has to live with me. :o) Before and After photos will come . . .

Have a wonderful, wonderful week!

Annalea
(Who thinks she has had a small taste of why the raw-vegans she has corresponded with have always signed their emails with things like "In Joy!", and have used seemingly too many !'s . . . )

Requisitioning Contentment

I am grateful . . .

• that packing tape holds boxes together so well
• that we can pay the bills
• that I recognize that I have the power to choose whether I grumble and grip, or count my blessings
• for playsilks (one of the best. toys. ever.)
  

The Roots of Power

I have a great deal of respect for, and value in, tools. In your tools lies your freedom. --Me

Thought of the Day

"Life is all about energy. Try to feel it around you, through you, and in you. Distinguish the positive from the negative." --Author Unknown

Remembering

I could see the lights of houses, twinkling in the distance as we rounded the Point of the Mountain. The little white car's enging purred, kitten-like, as Cathy drove along the Wasatch front. One hand on the steering wheel, the other always seemed on the move . . . from the gear stick to the air to help tell a story, or to motion to something I should see out the window. She kept up a steady monologue, reeling off story after story with relish. And I loved listening to her. Cathy loved life with an intensity belied by her ability to brush off just about anything negative. She made the best of things, often with some cackling sarcasm, and she had always been a stalwart friend, even though she was old enough to be my mother.

Cathy was taking me home after a night out. She had picked me up at the Salt Lake City airport in the late afternoon, and had taken me out to dinner and then to the grocery store. "D'you need any pit polish?" she had asked in her matter-of-fact, dryly humorous voice. Now, I listened to her tell a story I had heard her tell the last time she had given me a drive home; about traveling to visit friends in the South, punctuated with bits of advice on how to travel without as much baggage as she'd seen me pack into her trunk. "I only need an overnight bag with a change of clothes and a Sunday dress when going to visit family or friends. They have a washer & dryer, and they all use shampoo and soap, after all," she'd say.

On our way down the hill, past the place where Thanksgiving Point would later be built, she told me the story of the last time she brought me home at night . . . how the snow was falling so thick you couldn't see, and how they closed the Point of the Mountain right after her car went by. She had followed the snow plow's and a police car's flashing lights all the way up and over, singing the same snatch of the Primary Song, I Am a Child of God, over and over to try to stay calm because she couldn't remember any more of the words. And yet she laughed and laughed as she told me, and I laughed, too.

Tonight I'm thinking about what if's. What if Cathy hadn't died in her early 50's from congestive heart failure, a complication of diabetes? What if I could have convinced her that if she would only break her lifelong rule of never eating anything green? What if? What if?

She would have seen her 13 year old daughter grow up. She would have been around for grandchildren. She could have met my children, and gotten to see how my life has turned out. I would still be able to pick up the phone and see how she was doing, hear all of the gossip from the little California town where I grew up going to church with her, and listen to her latest adventures in travel.

I miss my friend.

But one thing I have definitely learned: I will not allow time to steal away from me the opportunities I have to include loved ones in my life. I miss Cathy. I pray that God will allow her to know that. And I pray that I will remember it, so I won't let precious days slip past without calling a friend.

How to Stay Young

This came from a new good friend of mine today, and I thought I'd pass it on. It made me smile, and that's something I dearly love.

Reading this made me think of a picture of four women my mom has on her fridge. She's in it, along with three other women she served with in the previous Relief Society Presidency in her ward. One of the women is about 60, but has a 4-year-old at home. She looks at least fifteen years younger than her age would have you believe. Such a marked testimony to the old saying: "Act your age."

And now, How to Stay Young . . .

We all need to read this one over and over until it becomes part of who we are!

HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Try everything twice. On one woman's tombstone she said she wanted this epitaph:

Tried everything twice...loved it both times!

2. Keep only cheerful friends.?
The grouches pull you down. (keep this in mind if you are one of those grouches)



3. Keep learning: Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain get idle.

'An idle mind is the devil's workshop.' And the devil's name is Alzheimer's!

4. Enjoy the simple things.

5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath. And if you have a friend who makes you laugh,

spend lots and lots of time with HIM/HER.


6 The tears happen: Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves.

LIVE while you are alive..

7. Surround yourself with what you love: Whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever.

Your home is your refuge.

8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it.
If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9. Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county, to a foreign country,
but NOT to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

I love you, my special friend.


11. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second chance.

And if you don't send this to at least 4 people - who cares?

But do share this with someone.

Remember! Lost time can never be found.

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Good Job, and Hang in There.

To all the mothers I know:

Thank you for your examples, whatever they have been. I have watched and learned, and I value the influence you all have had on my life and mothering.

Thank you for showing me new ways to fill this ancient role in a day when the entire world seems stacked against goodness, gentleness, and love unfeigned.

Thank you for reminding me what's really important. For reminding me what family truly is, and should be.

Thank you for sharing bits and pieces of your lives, your time, and your laughter.

And please remember: on this day when ideal mothers are being held up for praise, when ideal motherhood is talked over and painted onto each one of us, know that I break down, lose my patience and my temper, and cry over the fear that I'll cripple my children's ability to succeed in our crazy world, and their own families, some day. You're not alone. Neither am I.

And to my own mother:

With each day, each minute, that goes by, I marvel anew at how you managed it all. I am so grateful for your faith, your strength, and your quiet determination to follow the path God laid out for you. Thank you for loving Dad, the boys, and I, and for being so kind and gentle about it. Thank you for teaching me so many basic, important principles of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and for modeling them every day. Thank you for making the house on the ranch bright and attractive, and for working so hard to take such good care of all of us.

I don't know how you did it. And I'm so glad you did. I love you.

Nurture

The difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated…. I should never have known how ladies and gentlemen really behaved, if it hadn't been for Colonel Pickering. He always showed what he thought and felt about me as if I were something better than a common flower girl. You see, apart from the things one can pick up, the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated. I shall always be a common flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me like a common flower girl, and always will. But I know that I shall always be a lady to Colonel Pickering, because he always treats me like a lady, and always will.

Eliza Doolittle, My Fair Lady

Amen.

Sleep: An equation.

Regardless of when I go to bed, someone needs something.  (Nightmares, thirst, BabyB wants to nurse, someone has fallen out of bed, ad infinitum.)

There exists a direct ratio between the earliness of the hour I try to retire and the severity of neediness expressed.

I have three children who nap asynchronously.  (No reliable naptime for mom.)

When sleep = sanity, (and lack thereof = severe depression), given the above condition, I only arrive at irrational solutions.

This is unsustainable.

I Am Glad for Many Things . . .

I made this list on March 26th. It's good to go back and read over things like this every once in a while. :o)

:: Family

I talked with my both my Mom and my Dad's sister today, and had a wonderful time. Having family that not only loves me, but plays a double role and fills so much space on the "Best Friend" bench, is a rare blessing indeed. (And it's a good thing that those benches expand as much as needed!)

:: Children

Vern took the older trio Nordic skiing today, and so I've had the two littlest ones with me. It has been a quiet, peaceful, slow-paced day, with plenty of time for smiles and little-kid play. Why did I ever think that two children were a handful? Or feel stressed and overwhelmed with just them? Having a 3.5yo and an infant in the house is gorgeously simple. I love them all, and I love it especially when I have the rare treat of spending time with just one or two of them.

:: History

In my 90+ minute call to my Aunt D, whom I love dearly and get along with so very well, we talked about family history. I learned more about my paternal grandparents' lives in that 90 minutes than I learned in all my previous 32.75 years on earth. While my paternal Grandmother spoke of these people and events to the adults, she rarely mentioned them to me. And now, my Aunt D will be sending a packet of historical information and documents, from things just a generation or two back, all the way to photo copies of letters a Civil War solider ancestor wrote to his wife. (I didn't know I had Civil War ancestors! I figured I might've, but it's so amazing to be certain! I can't wait to learn his name, and read some of his story!)

:: Sunshine

Even though we now live in western Oregon, famous for long, gray winters, it feels like I've moved to a land of sunshine. In Idaho, on average, there are 90 clear days per year. And out of that year, only about 100 days are really warm enough to be out without a coat. (My estimate on that last number.) I'm already outside planting and digging and working this year . . . Spring is but days old, and I'm out in it. I feel nearly as though I'm newly resurrected from a long, cold, gray grave in a snowy northern land.

:: New Friends
Making up a list of invitees to a jewelry party (like Pampered Chef, but you get to play dress up with gorgeous, shiny, sparkly stuff--so much fun!), it astounded me to see how many people I already feel comfortable inviting. I've met and begun relationships with more people here in the last nine months than I did in nearly three years in Idaho. Maybe living in a neighborhood isn't so bad after all. ;o)

One Trillion

(There. Again. Photos should appear now.  ;o)

This little gem appeared in my inbox today.  What a reality check.  And to think that more than seven trillion dollars have already been printed and handed out to banks already!  Oh boy.  Banana Republic ain't just a stop at the mall anymore.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

What Does one TRILLION dollars look like? All this talk about "stimulus packages" and "bailouts"...
A billion dollars...
A hundred billion dollars...
Eight hundred billion dollars...
One TRILLION dollars...
What does that look like? I mean, these various numbers are tossed around like so many doggie treats.  
Stay with me ... to get a sense of what a trillion dollars looks like.
Take it slowly....

We'll start with a $100 dollar bill. Currently the largest U.S. denomination in general circulation. Most everyone has seen them; slightly fewer have owned them. Guaranteed to make friends wherever they go.

A packet of one hundred $100 bills is less than 1/2" thick and contains $10,000. Fits in your pocket easily and is more than enough for a week or two of shamefully decadent fun.

Believe it or not, this next little pile is $1 million dollars (100 packets of $10,000). You could stuff that into a grocery bag and walk around with it.

While a measly $1 million looked a little unimpressive, $100 million is a little more respectable. It fits neatly on a standard pallet...

And $1 BILLION dollars... now we're really getting somewhere...

Next we'll look at ONE TRILLION dollars. This is that number we've been hearing about so much. What is a trillion dollars? Well, it's a million million. It's a thousand billion. It's a one followed by 12 zeros.

You ready for this?

It's pretty surprising.

Go ahead...

Scroll down...

Ladies and gentlemen... I give you $1 trillion dollars...

(And notice those pallets are double stacked and how small the man looks.)

So the next time you hear someone toss around the phrase "trillion dollars"... that's what they're talking about.

Make sure you pass this on so everyone can see how much our government is really spending!!   

Drum Roll, Please

I'm definitely late to the party.   

I'm sharing anyway.  

I just realized I could schedule housework.  Ahead of time.  On. My. Calendar.  Woah. 

Let's role play, to illustrate the point:

Good Friend Calls: Hi, Annalea!  Hey, I want to get together and take our kids to PlayLand some morning.  When's good for you?

Me: Hmmmm . . . lemme see.  (I look at my calendar for the next week, and see that I've got Monday down for laundry and an activity at home with the kids, playgroup the next morning, Wednesday morning for sorting and purging old kids' clothes, Thursday for family pictures, Friday morning is the children's museum, and the entire Saturday devoted to hacking away at the garage so I can manage to park the van in there before the next rainy season starts.)  "How about a week from Tuesday?" I respond.

Good Friend: Sounds great!  Ten o' clock good for you?

Me:  Yep.  See you then!

Totally obvious.  But oh, so useful!  I think I can see great things happening around here . . . 

How I Do It

Today my neighbor told me she doesn't know how I do it . . . How I take care of five children all day without losing my mind. "Mine drive me crazy, and I only have two!" she said as she began on her way.

As I went on with my morning after that exchange, I carefully mused over how many other women (and men) have told me that same thing. How their one or two or three children drive them crazy, even though they love them.  How they can't imagine spending all day with their children.  (Am I the only one whose heart breaks when I hear that?)  And I could only come up with one difference that applied in every instance:

I have consciously chosen to NOT distance myself from my children.

I don't work for money. They don't "go to" school. Up until a few months ago, Vern worked from home.  It hasn't been easy. (Ha!) And I still have plenty of moments and melt-downs. (As do the kids.) 

But. 

We have learned how to honestly like each other.  Not just that familial love that only surfaces at big milestones and crises, but actually, honestly like one another.  Every day, we're learning to treat each other with courtesy and kindness out of sheer necessity.  We have been together. 

Instead of my children learning to treat their teachers and other people's children with respect, they are learning it at home.  Home.  Where this stuff is supposed to be learnt.  Where all of the work of learning these skills and Christ-like attributes will do them good in the things that matter most.  Very few of us have good friends from high school living close by.  It's hard to make new friends in this world of ours.  But family is hard to get rid of. ;o)

I don't know what I'll do when they grow up and start off on their own . . . but I hope and pray that we'll have managed to spend enough time together that not only will we have a million more memories than most families, but the loving friendship that ties my children to me will be strong enough to keep them from disappearing into adulthood, leaving me behind. (And hopefully they'll come back from wherever they go upon fledging, and live somewhere nearby. ;o)

Hallelujah

It's not over yet, but we've been granted a reprieve.

And after reading part of the information after the voting section, I'm about to get rid of nearly ALL plastic toys.  (Legos must stay--there would be mutiny here if I tried to get rid of them.)

So, it's looking like I'll be sewing, knitting, and crocheting a LOT of toys in the near future. lol

Then again, Almanzo Wilder didn't have any toys at age 9.  He was too busy learning how to live a real life.  Hmmmm.