My friend Nancy stopped by yesterday—unexpected, unannounced. The glads in the vase were past their prime, I was overdue for a date with Windex, a spider had been busy whitewalling the post rails outside, and the geraniums were sadly ill-attended (I'm not going to talk about the dust). The house looked neglected, and frankly, this past week, it has been. I have been in another world. I have been writing. The boys have eaten. The bills have been paid. The clients are happy. But the house? Not so much.
Nancy had come to return an ARC of The Heart is Not a Size, the Juarez novel due out next March. I'd wanted Nancy to have the story early, for her husband and daughter were among the many with whom I'd traveled to Juarez a few years ago. They had been there, and Nancy had not, and it seemed to me that the book was a way to impart to her some of what we had seen and felt in that faraway place. We talked about many things yesterday, Nancy and I, but at the end we talked about what was real and what was not in this novel elixir called Heart. The dust storm was real, I promised. So were the men who sat on neighboring roofs, watching us from above. So was the morning honk of an old woman's old goose. So was the half skull of a horse in the street.
And so, as well, was the little girl, pictured here.
Some brands of beauty we simply cannot make up.
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Blog: Beth Kephart Books (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Blog: Beth Kephart Books (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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I am there, in the round chair in the thin room, the day coming in through the slender screen, and I am reading—finishing the final pages of Marianne Wiggins' odd and remarkable The Shadow Catcher (a WG Sebald-like melage, a tour of the early lives of the photographer Edward Curtis and the woman he married, an inverted commentary on the making of a novel, a discourse on sound). Outside it is still, save for the bounce-echo of the ball that my son sends up and down the driveway.
I don't know how much time has passed. I think, perhaps, too much. That I went away inside a book and that I need, somehow to return to the day. To my responsibilities.
So I call to my son, through the screen, "Hey there."
Which must, to him (the distortion of distance, the ruffle of tree limbs between where I sit and where he stands), sound like a question, for he calls back, "Yes, Beautiful?"
And I sink. And I have nothing to say. He has disarmed me, the way that he does. Using a word so rare and heartbreaking.
Blog: Sugar Frosted Goodness (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Mr Tomato fall in love with a celery branch, before his antioxidant ends...before it will be too late...he have to squeeze himself...good luck Mr. Tomate
ingredients: natural tomato, ink and digital color.
http://beatriztrello.blogspot.com
Blog: Quake: Shakin' up Young Readers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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“Well, at least now we know who she is.”
“She was in the story part that we had on Tuesday too.”
Blog: LadyStar (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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“Doesn’t sound too good to me.”
“Fury of the Venom Legion Page Seven has been published. Visit every Thursday for a new color page.”
Blog: LadyStar (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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“Now I’m sad for her because she looks like she’s really sick or something.”
“Page Six is up. Visit every Thursday for a new color page.”
Blog: Here in the Bonny Glen (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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I’ve been thinking through some things in emails (and offline) lately, and I wanted to bring some of those thoughts over here. It has to do with patience, a good kind and a bad kind, and their relationship to happiness and learning, especially unschooling.
My children think I’m a pretty swell mom, but they know all too well that I have my faults. If you asked them, they would say (if they weren’t too loyal to rat on me) that my greatest fault is impatience. They’d be right, at least as far as my relationship with the kids is concerned. Impatience comes from frustration, (or does it lead to frustration?), and I think we all know that what spills over from an impatient person’s frustration is scolding, or nagging, or sharp words. Impatience is what you feel when people aren’t doing what you want them to do: it’s a frustrated desire for control.
When Jane was two years old, in the hospital fighting leukemia, people used to constantly compliment me for my patience. Other parents, nurses, doctors—I heard it from many people and it always puzzled me. I didn’t feel ‘patient,’ not in any virtuous sense. What I felt was a keen awareness that my days with this child might possibly be numbered, and I didn’t want to lose a single one of them to a bad mood. I wanted to savor every moment with my baby girl, in case I didn’t have many moments left to savor. So I gladly, gratefully, spent hours playing playdough with her, or giving her i.v. pole rides in the hallways, or holding her for hours while she slept. You don’t need ‘patience’ to live through moments like that.
And through the years, I’ve held on to that sense of ’savor this moment because it is precious’ with my kids. But I cannot deny that as the years passed, and as more children joined the party, impatience elbowed its way into my heart, my words, my actions. I can almost pinpoint the moment I changed, or at least the moment impatience boiled over into sharpness. Rose was three years old, and Beanie was a baby; we were at a lake beach near our home in Virginia, and I got stuck. Stuck trying to leave the beach, with an unhappy, sandy Bean crying on my hip and a bag slipping off my shoulder, and an intractible Rose straining to pull away from me, her heels digging into the wet sand, wavelets lapping at our ankles. We needed to leave. Jane was already halfway to the parking lot (and too young to be there alone). I couldn’t put the baby down without getting her wet (again), and I was out of diapers. Rose refused to budge. I felt helpless, completely held hostage by a stubborn toddler. I had to scoop her up under one arm like a football and carry her, screaming and squirming, back to the car.
I say “had to,” but I’m sure I had other options. It didn’t seem like it at the time. We were there with friends—the dad friend would, in later years, recall that episode with glee, the day he “saw Lissa lose it.” Why I didn’t holler to him to stop grinning and pick up Rose, I don’t remember. I am quite certain that either of the mom friends who were present would have been happy to help. They probably offered to, but what I remember about the moment is that sense of helplessness and frustration.
Moms of small children can run into that feeling often. What it is, really, is a feeling of being out of control. Loss of control is scary. I dealt with it well when the loss of control was due to illness, something out of any human being’s power to alter. But ah, it’s when a person, or people, especially small people who are “supposed” to obey their mama, are flouting my attempts to control—that’s when impatience comes in.
People who try to control other people often find themselves feeling impatient, or worse. The reason mothers (to single out one kind of person) scold or fuss or nag or criticize their children is because they are trying to bring a situation back under control—that is, to make things go the way the mom wants them to go.
When I had three or four children each wanting to go a different direction, that’s when I got impatient. That’s when I became a mom who scolds. That’s when I stopped savoring every moment, only selected moments.
That’s when I started to wonder what had happened to the patient mommy I used to be. I used to be so patient—I would think that all the time, forgetting that in the days when people remarked upon my patience, I hadn’t felt like patience came into the equation at all.
I think when we talk about patience in terms of a quality we don’t feel like we possess (”I used to be so patient”), we are talking about a kind of patience that isn’t really a virtue at all. That kind of patience is about enduring the present moment until a better one comes along. It’s a gritting-one’s-teeth-and-getting-through-it state of mind.
It’s how many of us endured countless hours of our lives in school. The kids who didn’t patiently endure were the ones labeled troublemakers. Patient endurance is how most people get through hours in line at the DMV, or (to poke my own self here) the interminable waits in doctor’s offices. There is no moment-savoring going on in that kind of patience. In fact, often ‘being patient’ really just means ‘being quiet and not making a fuss’ while resentment or irritation is churning underneath.
I think the reason people tend to be less patient with their children is because they can in fact exert some external control over the children—as opposed to the doctors who keep us waiting, or the complicated beaucratic systems directing the flow of traffic at the DMV.
But “exerting control” by nagging, scolding, lecturing, ordering in a drill-sergeant’s bark—these are actions that, sooner or later, will do harm to a relationship. Nobody likes being nagged, scolded, or lectured ‘for their own good.’ I sure don’t like it, I know that much. It’s a complete violation of the Golden Rule, isn’t it? Treating children the way we’d like to be treated if we were in their shoes means finding other ways of dealing with those out-of-control moments.
I think for me, the shift back toward a better way began when I drove the kids from Virginia to California by myself. Rilla was six months old, Wonderboy three. Scott had already started his job out here, and he would have flown back to drive with us but I talked him out of it. If he came along, we’d be on the clock; he could only take so much time off work. If I drove alone, we could amble, stopping as often and as long as the kids needed to—which turned out to be very, very often. I had to abandon myself to the flow of the trip: letting go of the desire to control every move we made. We wound up having a wonderful time, the six of us, and I think a big part of the reason is because that 2700-mile journey was about taking each moment as it came. They were moments worth savoring, and savor them I did.
There is another kind of patience, a good kind. It’s the quality that allows a mother with ten places to put every minute to sit in the driveway drawing chalk figures for her toddler, or blow bubbles until the whole bottle is gone, or take half an hour to walk down the block, admiring every dandelion and ant that catches her little one’s eye. It’s the patience that plays a game of Monopoly with an eight-year-old until every last dollar is in someone’s pile, the kind that listens with interest to a detailed recounting of the latest phone-book-sized Teen Titans collection. That kind of patience isn’t about enduring the present moment until a better one comes along. It’s about enjoying the present moment for exactly what it is, with gusto and gratitude.
There’s “patience in suffering,” too, of course, and while perhaps that kind isn’t about enjoying the present (painful or sorrowful) moment, it too involves a willingness to accept the present moment for what it is. People who are patient in suffering tend to be people overflowing with gratitude for all the other things in their lives besides suffering. This is a very great virtue, and I think it grows out of the peaceful sense of appreciation for what is, now, as opposed to a longing for something different, something better: it’s the good kind of patience all grown up.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about all this in conjunction with unschooling, which is a whole way of living that embraces the present moment, rejoices in what is good about it. Unschooling says: this day, this encounter, this connection of ideas, this moment between us—this is very, very good. Unschooling begins with a dismissal of the kind of experiences that a child must “patiently endure” in order to be “educated,” but it is more than that, more than a rejection of one way of being. Unschoolers see everything in the whole wide world as interesting, connected, something they can learn about. (Scroll halfway down at the link and you’ll see why I linked that page in particular, though the whole site speaks to the point.) Instead of patiently (or impatiently) enduring the long wait at the DMV, an unschooler looks around, notices things, thinks about them.
Of course I’m not saying that unschoolers are the only people who approach life this way. Harvard professor John Stilgoe, the author of that book I’m still reading: he gets it. He sees what’s interesting in power lines and telephone poles and manhole covers. He has made these things interesting to me. Reading that book is making visible—even beautiful—all sorts of things that were ugly or invisible to me before. The other day I looked out my windshield sideways down a street and saw, for the first time in my life, how the rows of of drooping wires made a spiderweb against the sky: lacy, delicate, lovely.
It reminded me of Philip Isaacson’s book Round Buildings, Square Buildings, Buildings that Wiggle like a Fish, which showed me ways of looking at buildings that made every building interesting to me, made me see the artistry and history of the Brooklyn Bridge, the white clapboard church, the green glass skyscraper.
I’ll never forget reading, in college, Betty Edwards’s Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, and how one of her students said that after taking Betty’s drawing class and working on portraits, every face she looked at seemed beautiful to her. The drawing lessons taught her to really look at people, and when she did, she saw beauty everywhere.
I know I’m going all over the place here, but in my mind these things are all connected: this way of really looking, really seeing, noticing what is interesting and important and even beautiful about things many people whisk by without noticing. And what I can do for my children is refuse to fill up their lives with things they must patiently endure until a better moment comes. I can savor the moments as they happen, and give them the time and space to find what’s interesting and beautiful in every face the world shows them.
As I was writing that last sentence, Beanie appeared in front of me with a big smile and a present: a bracelet made of safety pins linked together, each pin shining with green and blue beads. “It’s for you, Mommy,” she breathed, so proud and excited. “Jane showed me how.” How patiently (the good kind of patience) she must have worked to slide all those beads in place.
I never noticed before what a work of art a safety pin is!
Add a CommentBlog: LadyStar (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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“Ooh! Isian Badlands. That’s Isia! The same place from the trunk we found in my attic in The Dreamspeaker!”
“Good eye, Goofy Bird, good eye. I wonder how far that is from where we showed up? You think the Venom Deeps might be around there?”
“I still want to know who she is. Maybe she really is that Vicereine person from Call of the Huntress.”
“Well you’d be mean too if some guy was trying to stab you with a giant knife.”
“I’d zap him with my lantern like the Halloween monsters!”
“Little bit is fearless, isn’t she?”
“Page Five has been updated. Fury of the Venom Legion updates every Thursday with a brand new color page.”
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“Okay, now I’m starting to wonder who he is.”
“‘Excellency,’ Cici. It’s a way of addressing nobility.”
“Page three is up. Fury of the Venom Legion updates every Thursday with a brand new color page.”
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“Here is a preview of page three of Fury of the Venom Legion our all-new color LadyStar web comic. Fury of the Venom Legion updates every Thursday.”
“This is a preview of page 18 of The Varcarel Jade the free LadyStar web manga. The Varcarel Jade updates every Monday with a new page.”
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“I’ll bet you anything that’s that Vicereine person from those chapters in Miss Shannon’s book. She’s like scary powerful.”
“I hope we don’t have to fight her.”
“Hey man, we’ll do what we have to. If she wants a fight, we’ll power up and take care of business.”
“Well, let’s at least find out what’s going on first. She might not be trying to destroy our treasures like that Cryptic was.”
“Fury of the Venom Legion updates every Thursday with a brand new color page.”
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“She isn’t kidding, ladies. You have to come see this.”
“We were looking for Shannon-sama. She was here a second ago.”
“We’ll find Miss Shannon later. You have to see this, like now.”
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“It’s a new Varcarel Jade comic page!”
“I love those borders with the calm colors.”
“It’s Page Sixteen!”
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Even in a lonely place
There shall be no fear
For a protector walks with you
Turn, and nothing is seen,
even in the moonlight
But she is there.
Even from the distant darkness
there is strength in her words
A Friend
“That’s the ring. That’s the ring we found in the jewelry box in Jessica’s attic.”
“Miss Shannon picked it up. I wonder if we’ll be finding that ring again soon?”
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“Z-bot to Hana. Detecting a Varcarel Jade Web Comic Update. Transmitting coordinates.”
“Outstanding, Z-bot. Page fifteen verified. I love a good hockey game. Acey out.”
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“Time for another web comic update!”
“Yay! It’s Varcarel Jade Page Fourteen!”
“Roller hockey game! That was the one at the Sports and Crafts fair.”
“Yep. Good game too. Hayashi even cheered.”
“We got lots more updates, minna! Visit again soon! Ja!”
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“That’s one of those monsters from my dream at the Lithic Pavilion.”
“I think something weird is going on again.”
“Is it the Halloween monsters?”
“Nope, don’t think so, but we better be ready anyway.”
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“I know! I know! We have a new Varcarel Jade comic page up, and it’s in color!”
“I knew we’d have the best update today. Have fun minna! Ja!”
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“Yep! It’s Varcarel Jade Page Twelve!”
“And don’t forget to jump back and check page four for a nice introduction to our official charity. Rock Camp is win.”
“We’re going to have articles to go with all of our comic pages soon. Don’t miss the next page. I hear it’s going to be super cool! Have fun everyone!”
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“Did you know that our comic site has extra sites where there’s lots of stuff and even sample pages? There’s even a site called The Web Comic List where we gots two pages!”
“Yeah, the first page is for the book side, which is this site, and then there’s another page for our web comic.”
“And they both have number buttons! Looky!”
“Hey, we used to have that one over on the left side next to the vote button didn’t we?”
“Yeah! That’s the button for our book site, and it says which rank we are from aaaaaaall the comics on the whole Web Comic List site.”
“Wait a second, there’s almost 11,000 comics on that site.”
“Guess we’re in there slugging then, because we’re almost in the top 1500!”
“Yay for us! Then we gots a whole different button for the comic site, even though it looks the same.”
“Coming along, isn’t it? We’re getting there, sports fans!”
“Our friends can go and vote for us too. Add our sites to your favorites list and help us get higher in the rankings. We have two pages on the Webcomic list, The Magical and Mysterious World of LadyStar and LadyStar: The Varcarel Jade.”
“We also got a page on a site called ‘Comicspace’ where we listed both sites again. It’s LadyStar on Comicspace and people on that site can add us to their friend list. We already got 13 friends!”
“More coming up too. I hear we’ve got a new listing coming up on a big site, and we still have our Buzzcomix Vote Button.”
“Yeah! And the more votes we get the higher in that list we go too. We’re going to be the best web comic because of all our friends that visit us. Be sure to vote for us if you can! Ja ne minna-san!”
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“Check out Goofy with all the introductions to our books!”
“Yay! We gots a comic update! Varcarel Jade Page Eleven is new!”
“There’s always something new on our site.”
“Sure is. Have a great weekend everyone!”
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LadyStar is the story of a group of girls who each have a powerful weapon they wear disguised as a priceless jeweled treasure. With their magical weapons, Jessica Hoshi and her friends can transform into the Ajan Warriors, champion defenders of the enchanted realm of Aventar!
“Hi! I’m Jessica Hoshi! If you like stories about action and adventure and discovering magical treasures and fighting evil monsters, you’ll like our new web comic the best! It’s the story of when we fought some yucky monsters called liches! Me and my friends have lots of exciting adventures together! You can read LadyStar: The Varcarel Jade for free! Right in your browser! The comic is updated twice a week with new pages! So tell all your friends and come visit us as much as you want! There’s always something fun happening at the Magical and Mysterious World of LadyStar!”
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Beauty is never made up. Just that sometimes there is a photo.
Oh, I'm so excited to start on this novel!
Beautiful. And, your first paragraph made me chuckle ... sometimes that's just the way it has to be, and you described it perfectly!