the good and the bad

Someone recently asked me what I thought about authenticity, in the context of how the unschooling life is depicted online. I think there is, in human nature, a tendency to depict ourselves in ways that promote the wonderfulness of our chosen life. We all want to look capable and successful. We want privacy for our flaws and foibles. We naturally feel a desire to protect our less-than-wonderful moments from the harsh judgment of others.

When we're talking about and encouraging others to understand what we love, like unschooling, it's easy to share the good and triumphant moments, and we're understandably reluctant to share the rough moments. I've always felt that's unfair to others, because sharing only from our good file can make whatever we're doing look unattainable to anyone who is slogging through the trenches. People new to unschooling sometimes reply that our kids must be easier to live with, which is unfair to their kids and ours. Some days we're all in the trenches, so it's not even fair to ourselves to pretty it up all the time.

When I share the difficult moments, I do my best to do it in ways that don't malign Gary or the boys. I don't always share everything, because as a mom, I feel a responsibility to respect my sons' privacy. The same is true for my relationship with Gary. Just like I don't complain about his flaws (no, it's not just because he's perfect), I also respect the privacy of our more personal conversations.

I don't share any bad on the family blog, and not a lot here either. I'm thinking that's about to change -- at least on this blog. The family blog address has been shared with the grandparents, and I'd rather not share my bad days with them, thankyouverymuch.

Whether I'm posting in an online unschooling forum, or talking in person with other unschoolers, when I share the things that make me look bad or petty, it's because I want to be called to task, to be reminded of my higher standards and goals. I don't want someone to tell me it's okay that I'm falling short, that my kids will forgive me or that we all fail sometimes. Still, it helps me to know that everyone fails sometimes -- not to excuse my failures and mistakes, but to let me know perfection isn't required and that I can keep trying, even when everything has me feeling like I should just give up.

I think the risk of sharing only good, happy moments is that people can become ashamed of their own ugly moments, which can result in not sharing the bad, and what's never given the light of day can't be improved. It becomes just more secret-keeping, which is crazy-making for kids. All this said, I still struggle with it today - how to keep my kids safe from prying eyes, (I'm reluctant to share my kids' bad moments because I don't want those moments to define them forever) while being honest with myself and my kids, and finding answers to our struggles -- all without ever really detailing for someone else all of our struggles... it can become a vicious cycle that increases shame.

Sometimes I need a good kick in the pants, and I count on my friends to do that for me. I've read the argument that posting about our shortcomings and failures won't help people to come to unschooling/peaceful parenting faster. Some people apparently feel that talking about failing for a moment (or several) gives the impression it's okay to be unkind to your kid or partner when you're having a bad moment/day; that if we admit that even long-time unschoolers sometimes yell at their kids (I know I do on occasion, when I'm overwhelmed) we set the standard too low. So ugly moments are seldom shared, which can leave some feeling that 'real' unschoolers never have ugly moments. Trust me, we all have them.

And maybe, I'll be sharing some of them here, when I'm feeling the need for a good kick in the pants... Now, tho, I'm off to find online info about the James May's life-sized lego house.

To ask or not to ask, and for what?

It seems everywhere I look these days, unschoolers are either embracing the law of attraction (loa), or completely refuting it. Over the past few years, I've wondered about the loa.

I have a long history with the loa, and for many years it made complete sense to me, in the way it was presented as part of Christian Science. Since leaving the church in 2002 (after spending most of my life with that as my only religious practice), I've thought about the loa a lot, wondering how much of it I could keep while growing out of the rest of the package. In my days as a religious person, I really liked the loa, and giving it up was scary. It appealed to me as a promise that if I just *knew* the right truths, and incorporated them into my life, I'd manifest only good. Of course it wasn't that simple -- no philosophy practiced in everyday life ever is.

An early question for me was whether or not I believe it is actually possible to 'manifest' or call things into my experience. I've seen many instances where, even today, I absolutely believe I have 'called' things into my experience. I've seen healings of physical conditions (really, I can't call them anything else). I've also seen physical conditions unhealed, despite the same fervency of prayerful reliance on God.

People quoted and recommended books, and I read a few of them -- The Law Of Attraction, The Power of Now, You Can Heal Your Life. I found that each book offered some things I thought were helpful to me, but none of them really spoke to me in whole.

The idea that you can simply ask the universe and it will provide what you want -- fabulous wealth, physical health, the job of your dreams, etc -- is attractive in its own right. I was open to the possibility that there might be something to this, but still hesitant, having seen too many moments when the loa seemed not to work for some people.

All the books I read hinted that anyone not experiencing all good in his/her life just wasn't trying hard enough. None of them come out and say it, but the overall gist seems to be 'if you're not manifesting everything you want, you're just not trying hard enough", or maybe "you're asking for the wrong things for you" (maybe having enough money isn't everyone's right thing, I guess?). Does this mean that not everyone can expect goodness to come to them in the same way it came to someone else? Why not? Why can't the loa -- if it's as all powerful as its proponents suggest -- simply manifest more stuff for more people, in an endless supply of stuff? Could it be that life really does come with limitations? Ah! If that's the case, then one person's abundance might well come at the expense of others who won't be able to attract wealth because others got there first.

I understand the reason I so much wanted to believe the loa during my religious years, and why I wanted to find some way to believe it works in the years since, too. I like guarantees. Plain and simple. I like to be able to trust that if I do all the right things, things will be okay; that I don't need to be afraid. And, hey, a handy list of all the right steps gives me the power to control my experience, and I'm all about control. Those are just my reasons, tho -- I can't speak for anyone else's reasons for believing in the law of attraction.

My experiences also tells me it's not as easy as just asking and receiving. It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I wanted a daughter. It wasn't that I didn't want boys, just that I always expected that someday there'd be a little girl in my home. If it were simply a matter of asking and receiving, I'd definitely be the mother of a daughter or two. I'm not the mom of a daughter, tho. I have three magnificent sons, whom I love completely -- and I'd not trade any of them for a girl. I don't believe there was a was a particular purpose in all my children being boys. It just happened that way. I can assign a purpose to it if I want, but even that conveys some kind of qualifier that makes it okay that I didn't get what I asked for. I'd much rather see my sons' presence in my life as pure love and joy, so I'm doing all I can to take joy in the life I have today, and to not dwell on the things I don't have.

After all the reading and exploring and thinking, where I am today is a meeting of expectancy and pragmatism, I think. Here it is:

Life is unfair. Things happen -- some of them seem good, some seem bad. It's not because I was carelessly thinking about the right or wrong thing, or because I asked for the wrong things, or because I didn't pray/hope hard enough. When bad things happen, there's no inherent purpose in them. The can only have the purpose/s I assign to them. And, really, why would I want to assign power and purpose to bad things? I'd rather assign purpose and power to my response to those bad things.

So, when something bad happens, I have a couple of choices. I can surrender and let them win (never my first choice), or I can ask questions and make what I feel are my best decisions, those most likely to serve me and my family. I can respond lovingly, kindly, and with an expectancy of good. I can strive to be fair to everyone, keeping in mind that I cannot possibly know what the right path is for anyone but myself. I can trust that everyone's motives are good and that we are all, every moment, doing the very best we can with what we have and what we know.

When good things happen, I'll enjoy them, expecting that good will continue -- or at least that I'll manage to find the good in my life, no matter what's going on around me. I'm not comfortable taking credit for any good that doesn't result from actual steps taken by me, just as I won't take blame for any bad that happens despite my best efforts.

Maybe Shakespeare was right when he wrote, "Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." Which brings me back to the whole idea of assigning purpose and value to events as they happen. If that's the case, all I can do is try to stay in a mindset of expectancy of good, hopeful that things will all work out for the best, remembering I have no real idea of what the best might look like for anyone else.

After all, if I have no idea what's really good or bad, how will I know what to ask for?

And if I don't know what to ask for, how will I know when *it* has arrived?

Is it supposed to be easy?

I just love today's note from the Universe!

Sylvia, it's supposed to be easy. Everything is supposed to be easy.
Everything is easy. You live in a dream world. You're surrounded by illusions.
And the illusions change when you change your thinking!

Tell yourself it's easy. Tell yourself often. Make it a mantra. Eat, sleep,
and breathe it. And your life shall be transformed.

It's supposed to be easy,

It just spoke to me so deeply. All our lives, our culture tells us "no one ever said it would be easy" and "nothing worth having comes easy" and "life is supposed to be hard".

In my heart of hearts, I've always thought, "why can't it be easy?" or more honestly, "why does it have to be so hard?" What I've found it that those voices telling me it's not supposed to be easy are the voices from outside me, squashing my own intuitions. I also find that it's hard because I'm getting in my own way, and I'm getting in my own way is because I'm listening to those outside voices.

I don't mean this to say there won't be effort involved or steps to be taken in order to reach our goals or become who we want to be, who we are meant to be, but that when we listen to our own inner voice and are authentic, whatever work must be done won't be onerous. The steps required may be mundane or inane, or simply routinely what must be done next to get from here to there, but they need not feel like insanely hard work.

This idea that all goodness must be earned leads to a feeling of inherent unworthiness, which in turn leads us to ask others for confirmation of our worth; to show us our path, instead of finding that path within ourselves, which allows us to reclaim our worth. Because we are inherenly worthy. And when you're worthy of joy and wonder, why would it be hard to have those things?

It's been a loud and distracting walk the past few days; troublesome and maddening at times, but throughout it all, what needs to be done next has been very clear to me and each step taken brings me closer to my center.

And I love pondering the idea that maybe they're all wrong and it is supposed to be easy.

The nature of hope

I've been told both hope and trust are good things. I struggle with both, for reasons many and varied. Trust is too big to tackle in one blog post (or maybe in my entire lifetime) but hope is one Gary and I talked thru tonight. I know he doesn't really understand my perspective, but he does understand it's how I feel, which has helped him to reconcile some things about our current situation.

In my own life experience, tho, hope is a liar and a thief. Hope lets me believe that things might be better someday, if I just wait long enough. Which allows me to abandon efforts to make now better because, soon enough, it'll get better. If we can just survive -- not enjoy -- until the hope pans out, then we'll be okay. It's the abandoning now that causes problems for me, because in my sphere of existence, hope is like heroin. I can ignore all the yuck of today -- yuck I could change if I tried -- until the better of my hopes comes to be. And on those occasions when hope doesn't pan out, I'm devastated. I just can't do hope.

This past week, Gary heard about the potential for a local job/route, with the same company that employs him now. I tried not to let myself get too hopeful, not to be too attached to this job as the potential deliverance from this awful time. I hadn't realized how much I'd let myself hope until today, when he found out that job isn't really available after all. The company decided to keep on the driver they were considering letting go. And we're right back to the same reality, minus hope. He still has this job where he's gone 6 days and 4 nights a week.

Really, nothing has changed, except that I allowed myself a week-long trip on hope, and stopped trying to make things better in now-land. And giving up the hope of that job, means I'm stuck back on now-land, where things aren't as I'd like them to be.

The good part, for me, of abandoning hope is that once I refuse the drug hope is for me, I can get about the business of finding the best there is to have in now-land. Sometimes, it's simply an exercise in not letting 'em win -- this is the only time I'll live this day, and dammit, I'm going to enjoy if only to show them I can be happy. At least I used to work that way, but somewhere along the way I've lost touch with the girl who could be happy even when life sucked. In her place is disconsolate madwoman, and she's no fun to live with!

I'm starting to see, tho, that disconsolate madwoman is the outgrowth of doing hope. Since I can't embrace now and hope at the same time, and now is all I have, I'm swearing off hope.

Really, I feel better already. Gary doesn't understand it, but he's happy to say goodbye to disconsolate madwoman.

Is happiness possible?

A friend had a quotation on her blog "There can be no happiness if the things we believe in are different from the things we do." (Freya Stark) So, does this mean that once I agree to something I don't believe in, there's no way I can be happy? Really? What about if what I agreed to is consistent with another belief I hold? Is it possible to hold conflicting beliefs, or is that just crazy-making?

I believe it's absolutely essential for kids to have both parents (unless one is dead, of course) home at some point during the 24 hours that make up each day. Simply put, parents should sleep at home every night. I believe that when one chooses not to have both parents accessible to the kids, they're failing their kids. I really do believe this. Kids do not need absent parents.

I also believe Gary has a right to be happy in his work, to be free to try new things as long as there's enough income. So, 18 months ago, when Gary told me he'd like to try an over the road driving job, that it would increase his potential for better-paying jobs, and I could see it was really something he needed to try. I felt there was no way to say no to him, and be true to my belief that I want him to be happy.

So, I said yes. Knowing how much we'd miss him (tho we've missed him more than I could have anticipated). Knowing how much hard it would be for me (tho, again, it's been harder than I anticipated). Even tho I suspected the job market was soon going to tank, I hoped against hope he'd be able to try this, and get out in time to still find a job at home.

And here we are today, with me living a life that if anyone were living it, I'd say their unhappiness is just what they had coming. I mean, if you make a choice you know is in opposition to what you fervently believe, you can't expect happiness to follow.

Have I really given up any possibility of happiness by agreeing to something that opposes one belief, while supporting another? Man, I hope not. Which brings me to my next post......

choosing happiness

The past couple of weeks have been hard for me. Rather, I've made them hard for myself. There seem to be good reasons to be in a funk -- Gary is still away, working, six days a week; the economic crisis has so many implications and we appear powerless to do much about it; my local unschooling group isn't seeing as many families at outings as have joined us online; a home across the street was robbed yesterday, sometime around 8 or 9 am, no less! Plenty of 'reasons' to be worried and stressed, leaving me feeling very out of sorts.

What to do about it? Well, I know I can choose to be happy even when not everything is as I'd like things to be. I've done it before. I can fake it til I feel it, which sometimes works. I can choose to look at my life, to smile at my children, to enjoy the sunshine and blue sky, I can think of Gary even when he's not home and know that I am loved.

Along the way I stumble across reasons to be happy and grateful for all I have -- even when it's not exactly the way I'd like it.

We live in a house that meets our needs for comfort and safety, even with an increase in the mortgage and too many legos on the floor.

Our children are happy, healthy and full of energy. They laugh at the most silly and simple things. Our house is filled with more joy and laughter than my own childhood had.

I have wonderful, amazing friends who really understand me -- and they still like me!

So why is it such a challenge for me to really embrace joy and happiness? To sit with it and feel truly happy and at peace for more than a few minutes? I'm doing my best to get to those answers, walking through the unhappy moments. After all, I don't have to be happy each moment to have a joyful life. I want to be happy overall, tho.

I got a bit closer today, as I woke thinking about how to be happier today, how to reach the end of my day feeling like it was well-spent -- no, even better, that it was well-enjoyed, that I really did spend my day grateful for and celebrating the good I have.

What came to me is that, while I can choose to be happy with less than I had plans for, less than I ideally want, somewhere inside myself, I struggle with feeling like I want it known -- on record, as it were -- that while I made the best of it, this wasn't my plan. I feel like I need people to know I wanted more.

Is that really what I want tho -- to be acknowledged as some tragic soul who wanted more but was denied it? Who figured out a way to make the best of it and sometimes to be grateful and express joy, despite life not being what I planned? What does that do for me, really?

Let's see...

it might relieve me of responsibility for making my own joy, claiming my own happiness,

it might just garner some sympathy from others, more likely, tho it will only garner pity and resentment from folks who say 'why is she so bitter?' (shades of my mother, definitely)

it certainly distracts me from embracing each moment as it comes into my life, from truly being happy right now,

most unforgivable of all, in my book (and this is my book, yes?), it lets 'them' win... let's who win? lack, frustration, disappointment, all those who've said 'you'll see -- life's not always what you want it to be'

Yes, not letting them win may seem like a poor motivation, but it's been a guiding force for me. Sometimes it's good force. It reinforces my determination to keep walking when I could just sit down and give up. Other times, it's not really helpful because it can become a rallying cry for a battle, when I'd be better off just walking away and letting go. Who cares if it looks like 'they' won? When I find my joy then I'm the one who wins the day.

Still, tho, why this frustration with choosing to be happy with less than ideal conditions? I'm beginning to see it's really about fear and distrust. Fear that if I smile and find a way to be happy with now (while still holding hope for more of what I want at some time) others will stop trying; will think I'm happy enough so there's no point in helping me have more. Distrust that the universe really has any good to offer me. Doubt that I have any right to expect as much good as I want. A little anger that others appear to have all they want -- at least they have things that I'd like to have -- while what I want feels like such a struggle. And a measure of petulance that it's not supposed to be this hard.

And, really, is 'my plan' better than what I do have right now?

I have a wonderful husband who loves me, friends who understand me, beautiful healthy kids who love me (I am still daily awed by how much my kids love me. I don't know why it still surprises me after 23 yrs, but it does. Who ever knew I'd be so valued?) We live in a house that meets our needs, in a city we all consider absolutely home, with wonderful fall weather all around me.

Really, how could I choose not to be happy? And that's my epiphany - every time I deny myself the right to be happy and joyous right here, right now, I'm actively choosing NOT to be happy.

So, in this moment, to quote a friend I love, whose path is recently much more rock-strewn than my own ~~ "I want to be happy. So I am."

Then today this quotation showed up in my email box, and it was such a good reminder for me:

We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about." ~Charles Kingsley

But even more, I can choose to be enthusiastic about even the most ordinary things.

On gunplay

Another collection of my thoughts that has appeared elsewhere online, imported here.

My Mom was one who never allowed my brother to play with guns—toy or real. We lived in the country until he was 10, and every other boy he knew had a pellet gun. By high school, my brother's life dream was to be a Marine Recon Ranger (he ultimately got 4-F'd) and he could field-strip and reassemble a M-I in under a minute. As an adult, he keeps a gun in the house and shoots at a target range, but has never shot anyone.

When oldest son was young, I 'allowed' gunplay. He had nerf guns, noisy machine guns, a paintball gun at 15, and spent two years of high school in ROTC. He, too, announced his desire to become a Marine. At 16, he quit all that, and explained that while he still enjoys target practice with real guns, he doesn't believe he could ever kill another human being.

Both my son and brother are decent human beings, with no violent tendencies. My son does seem a gentler soul than my brother—or maybe just less battered by life, so less angry.

I believe kids are smarter than many adults give them credit for. I know mine are. As unschoolers, we know our kids are bright enough to figure out there's a difference between real violence and game playing. I'd bet that as free children living more autonomous lives, they understand that you don't have to have a gun to be violent towards someone else. That violence isn't about guns (they're just tools, after all)—violence is about power and control over other people. My instincts tell me that people who have been controlled, limited or denied by other (more powerful) people are more likely to be violent than those who have been respected and supported in pursuit of their own lives.