The problem with believing that everything happens for a reason comes when you begin thinking that you know the reason everything happens.
I just listened to this evangelical christian woman from Texas talk on national television about how the blackbirds are falling from the sky in Bebe, Arkansas because Don't Ask Don't Tell was repealed.
Apparently, because Bill Clinton is from Arkansas, and the current governor of Arkansas supported repeal, God is punishing the blackbirds.
Idiot.
So let me be clear: just because I don't believe in coincidence does not mean that for a second I profess to have any idea what the actual connections between events are.
I do not.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
There's No Such Thing As Coincidence
I really believe this.
I don't believe there exists some giant male figure in the clouds (insert flowing white robes and beard here) who decides how justice will be handed down, or what rewards to give out.
I similarly don't believe in a little red man with a forked tail and a pitch fork stoking the fires of his domain (hell: something else I don't believe in) and cackling viciously every time we make mistakes.
There are a lot of other things I don't believe in (like the Bogeyman) and many things I do (like miracles), but the universal law I believe in more than anything is that everything happens for a reason, which means, consequently, that there's no such thing as a coincidence.
I began this blog several months ago with the title "Life Can Be Trying" in an effort to let go of the stress that I was feeling about trying to accomplish so many things that are so important to me but that felt so out of reach.
The blog, among other things, helped me let go of pushing and struggling to reach these goals and just work hard and believe that if what I wanted was truly good for me, it would come.
Lo and behold, I sit here now with a firm deadline to graduate, confirmed by my advisor just today, with a baby in my belly, with the ability to stay at home and work on the things that are most important to me because my husband has a good job that supports us, with a solid lead on my application to the one graduate school which I aim to attend, and with a clarity to see the people around me as I never have before. The minute I stopped pushing and started accepting, took off the blinders and began utilizing my vision in its entirety, everything changed.
I know that life will continue to be trying. I also know that I will continue to face the challenges before me because I know that I have placed them there for some reason.
It is science, not religion, that teaches us Chaos Theory (that there is an underlying order to apparently random data), and Newton's Law of Motion (for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction).
How then, do we not apply this to our everyday lives?
We should.
The sooner we believe that everything we do means something, the sooner we become more conscious of each action we take. And the sooner we begin to take more and better action.
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt
I don't believe there exists some giant male figure in the clouds (insert flowing white robes and beard here) who decides how justice will be handed down, or what rewards to give out.
I similarly don't believe in a little red man with a forked tail and a pitch fork stoking the fires of his domain (hell: something else I don't believe in) and cackling viciously every time we make mistakes.
There are a lot of other things I don't believe in (like the Bogeyman) and many things I do (like miracles), but the universal law I believe in more than anything is that everything happens for a reason, which means, consequently, that there's no such thing as a coincidence.
I began this blog several months ago with the title "Life Can Be Trying" in an effort to let go of the stress that I was feeling about trying to accomplish so many things that are so important to me but that felt so out of reach.
The blog, among other things, helped me let go of pushing and struggling to reach these goals and just work hard and believe that if what I wanted was truly good for me, it would come.
Lo and behold, I sit here now with a firm deadline to graduate, confirmed by my advisor just today, with a baby in my belly, with the ability to stay at home and work on the things that are most important to me because my husband has a good job that supports us, with a solid lead on my application to the one graduate school which I aim to attend, and with a clarity to see the people around me as I never have before. The minute I stopped pushing and started accepting, took off the blinders and began utilizing my vision in its entirety, everything changed.
I know that life will continue to be trying. I also know that I will continue to face the challenges before me because I know that I have placed them there for some reason.
It is science, not religion, that teaches us Chaos Theory (that there is an underlying order to apparently random data), and Newton's Law of Motion (for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction).
How then, do we not apply this to our everyday lives?
We should.
The sooner we believe that everything we do means something, the sooner we become more conscious of each action we take. And the sooner we begin to take more and better action.
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt
Monday, September 19, 2011
A Husband's Mishaps
At the Hayward Farmer's Market Saturday morning, after picking up some lovely, bright red tomatoes, and some large, plump peaches, my husband and I wandered over to the honey booth, with the vendor explaining loudly in spanish to a potential customer that his honey was the freshest, the best, the highest quality.
"Maybe I can use honey instead of agave for my chai tea in the morning, honey," I said as I stepped in for a closer look.
"Oh, babe, we have to get this kind," he assured me, pointing to the little plastic carton containing honey still in the comb.
"Really? Is it good?" I asked this question even as I was imagining this wonderful sweet, crunchy comb of honey that I could bite into like a great snack, and that would melt into my tea, thickening it with the honeycomb, as he essentially described precisely what I was imagining.
Cut to this morning and my husband furiously scooping melted wax off of the top of my tea despite the fact that he is running late for work.
"I'm so sorry, baby. Real honeycomb would have been just like I described."
It's actually kind of cute to watch my husband try to make up for his mistakes.
"Maybe I can use honey instead of agave for my chai tea in the morning, honey," I said as I stepped in for a closer look.
"Oh, babe, we have to get this kind," he assured me, pointing to the little plastic carton containing honey still in the comb.
"Really? Is it good?" I asked this question even as I was imagining this wonderful sweet, crunchy comb of honey that I could bite into like a great snack, and that would melt into my tea, thickening it with the honeycomb, as he essentially described precisely what I was imagining.
Cut to this morning and my husband furiously scooping melted wax off of the top of my tea despite the fact that he is running late for work.
"I'm so sorry, baby. Real honeycomb would have been just like I described."
It's actually kind of cute to watch my husband try to make up for his mistakes.
Friday, September 16, 2011
"It's not the end of the world"
My youngest sister recently said this to me in regards to the fact that I'm pregnant, as if I was being ridiculous in expecting love and support, and yes, a little tolerance and empathy, through this process.
Of course, I know that teenagers are generally self absorbed, selfish and snarky, and my sister is definitely still a teenager, but it still hit me pretty hard, and I have been thinking (see: overanalyzing) that statement ever since.
And as I was walking around Hayward this morning, stopping to pick up a movie to rent later this evening, to buy some chips and avocados for the homemade nachos I'm planning to serve with our screening for two of Thor, to visit my local Starbucks and try the new Pumkpkin Spice Latte (decaf) and Pumpkin Scone that another of my sisters highly recommended, I realized how I felt about that caustically made remark.
Yes, it is the end of the world. My world. So much so that it is almost laughable, at least smile-able. Normally, on a Friday night, I would be out dancing, or having cocktails, or wandering into the nightlife of a local big city. I would be ordering take out, or going to a restaurant. I would sure as hell order that latte with as much caffeine as they could load in, and honestly, I would not have wandered wistfully around the streets of Hayward for more than an hour thinking about how cute my city is.
I am barely 12 weeks pregnant and already my vision has shifted. I see things differently. I want different things. I don't stay in now because I can't go out, but because I simply no longer have the desire to. I don't eat in more now because I can't go to a restaurant, or can't afford to, but because I feel best putting food I make into my body.
Lights shine brighter, the air smells sweeter, the future holds so many more possibilities, and you know what? I like the end of that other world.
For 32 full years I have given and given, always putting others first, actually searching out people to serve and to take care of. Now, for the first time, I'm putting myself first. Again, it's funny to say that now, because the reality is that putting myself first really means putting my unborn baby first, but so be it.
It is the end of the world.
And I'm so glad.
I love this new world I live in, and I'm looking forward to it only getting better.
Which means, of course, that I have no energy, or space, or patience, for negativity, for meanness, for snarkiness, or for selfishness. Nor do I have time to feel bad about that.
It is, after all, the end of the world.
Of course, I know that teenagers are generally self absorbed, selfish and snarky, and my sister is definitely still a teenager, but it still hit me pretty hard, and I have been thinking (see: overanalyzing) that statement ever since.
And as I was walking around Hayward this morning, stopping to pick up a movie to rent later this evening, to buy some chips and avocados for the homemade nachos I'm planning to serve with our screening for two of Thor, to visit my local Starbucks and try the new Pumkpkin Spice Latte (decaf) and Pumpkin Scone that another of my sisters highly recommended, I realized how I felt about that caustically made remark.
Yes, it is the end of the world. My world. So much so that it is almost laughable, at least smile-able. Normally, on a Friday night, I would be out dancing, or having cocktails, or wandering into the nightlife of a local big city. I would be ordering take out, or going to a restaurant. I would sure as hell order that latte with as much caffeine as they could load in, and honestly, I would not have wandered wistfully around the streets of Hayward for more than an hour thinking about how cute my city is.
I am barely 12 weeks pregnant and already my vision has shifted. I see things differently. I want different things. I don't stay in now because I can't go out, but because I simply no longer have the desire to. I don't eat in more now because I can't go to a restaurant, or can't afford to, but because I feel best putting food I make into my body.
Lights shine brighter, the air smells sweeter, the future holds so many more possibilities, and you know what? I like the end of that other world.
For 32 full years I have given and given, always putting others first, actually searching out people to serve and to take care of. Now, for the first time, I'm putting myself first. Again, it's funny to say that now, because the reality is that putting myself first really means putting my unborn baby first, but so be it.
It is the end of the world.
And I'm so glad.
I love this new world I live in, and I'm looking forward to it only getting better.
Which means, of course, that I have no energy, or space, or patience, for negativity, for meanness, for snarkiness, or for selfishness. Nor do I have time to feel bad about that.
It is, after all, the end of the world.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
planning
So, far from planning what I will do when my baby arrives, I have been planning fun activities and projects for my last trimester, which happens to be right after my graduation in December. I'll be completely free to do whatever I want with no lingering thesis imperatives hanging over my lazy head. Of course, many of my projects involve planning on planning for the arrival of my baby.
Three months is enough time for that, right?
But, I also have been planning some yoga, some cheap novel reading, some television show DVD rentals, like Madmen and Dexter (my dad and my sister swear it's a good show), organizing and adding to my iTunes playlists, and the latest and most exciting addition to my list of pre-birth to-do's is, wait for it...... reliving my childhood by playing old Nintendo games!
My sister just revealed to me that she went through her own nostalgic craze of actually hunting down an NES (yep, that's the very first one) and all the old games we used to play, Super Mario Bros. 1, 2, and 3, Duck Tales, Legend of Zelda, Donkey Kong Jr., and so on, on EBay and has them hidden away in her closet collecting dust now.
She promised she will give it all to me for Christmas (I told her not before then, or I'll never finish my thesis).
So form a mental picture, because I've certainly got one, of me, my large pregnant belly, and my large orange and white striped cat hanging out in my future nursery and playing Super Mario Bros. Oh, it's probably safe to include some sort of delicious snack in that picture, too.
God bless all the little sisters of the world. They keep us young.
Three months is enough time for that, right?
But, I also have been planning some yoga, some cheap novel reading, some television show DVD rentals, like Madmen and Dexter (my dad and my sister swear it's a good show), organizing and adding to my iTunes playlists, and the latest and most exciting addition to my list of pre-birth to-do's is, wait for it...... reliving my childhood by playing old Nintendo games!
My sister just revealed to me that she went through her own nostalgic craze of actually hunting down an NES (yep, that's the very first one) and all the old games we used to play, Super Mario Bros. 1, 2, and 3, Duck Tales, Legend of Zelda, Donkey Kong Jr., and so on, on EBay and has them hidden away in her closet collecting dust now.
She promised she will give it all to me for Christmas (I told her not before then, or I'll never finish my thesis).
So form a mental picture, because I've certainly got one, of me, my large pregnant belly, and my large orange and white striped cat hanging out in my future nursery and playing Super Mario Bros. Oh, it's probably safe to include some sort of delicious snack in that picture, too.
God bless all the little sisters of the world. They keep us young.
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