Nurturing Tolerance

Last week I took a special field trip with my oldest daughter. Usually we go on field trips altogether, both of my daughters and I, but this was a special place not appropriate for my nine-year-old. Our destination? The Museum of Tolerance.

I have passed by this sign so many times on the freeway. I'd always noticed it, but didn't know much about it. Actually, something about the word "tolerance" made me feel vaguely uneasy - somewhere in my mind it seemed linked to the word "torture."  I am not the only one who thought that; when I told Daughter #1 we were invited to go, she mentioned the same uneasy feelings about the tolerance/torture connection. Which seems weird, I know, because tolerance is an essential and beautiful thing. But, I guess the word also triggers a unsettling feeling of the consequences of intolerance (which is unfortunately rampant in the world.)

It wasn't my idea to go. A very dear friend whose daughter is the same age (and who will be celebrating her Bat Mitzvah next summer) invited us to join them. Which was perfect as my daughter had been studying World War II (probably part of the reason she didn't want to go as she had an inkling of what to expect.) The potential of this experience was further enhanced by our cultural backgrounds. My friend and her daughter are Jewish and lost many family members in the Holocaust; my husband's mother (now deceased) was German and lived in Germany as a teenager during WWII - she lost a brother in the war (he was a soldier) and her pastor father was tortured by the Nazi's for helping Jewish people.

Our field trip started out in a bizarre fashion. Or, rather, I've just lived a sheltered life. When we arrived at the parking garage, I was stopped by a guard who mumbled something about needing to see my driver's license and something else which I didn't catch. So I fumbled around for my license, which of course I had not put in the proper slot, while the guard walked back up the incline - which I thought was little strange, but maybe he was worried about another car possibly entering. Finally found my driver's license and waved it out the window so he would know I was ready. But he stayed where he was and sternly said something about my needing to open the trunk of the car. Oh! That's what he had mumbled before (it wasn't just me, my daughter didn't hear the dude say trunk either). That was astonishing for me - I don't think I've ever had my car inspected before as if I could be carrying dangerous weapons and this encounter suddenly highlighted for me a visceral sense of the potential danger of hatred. I thought I was just going to a museum. Instead, there existed the possibility of violence.

Upon entering the exhibit, we needed to have our persons and purses go through the scanners like at the airport. I failed the test and had to be pulled aside to get scanned with the handheld doo-hickie and for some reason I needed to lift the hem of my pants so they could see my ankles (I hadn't shaved my legs for a bit, so that was slightly embarrassing!) My thirteen-year-old found my inspection very amusing. Her dowdy old mom - a suspect!

There were swarms of school kids there for field trips - junior high and high school. We descended the spiral ramp adorned with beautiful black and white photographs of the Holocaust survivors who volunteer at the Museum of Tolerance (MOT). The tour begins with information and exhibits about bullying and hatred and social justice and tolerance by looking at both historical and contemporary examples. Many of the exhibits are interactive using video footage and computer screens.

In the school crowd, there were all types of students. Some really into it. Others just passing the time. Some just goofing with their peers. I felt grateful that our daughters were there with my friend and me. In our small group of four we got a chance to discuss our impressions and feelings about the subject matter. This was heavy-duty and sensitive material and some of the exhibit had pretty intense, violent imagery. After the video about cyber-bullying our daughters got a chance to share with us what they might do in that situation (that was actually thanks to my friend - she is great at asking questions while I usually like to take in everything silently.)

We then began the section on the Holocaust. The newly acquisitioned Hitler letter detailing his plans was on display. We tagged along with one of the groups and we got to hear the docent explain about WWII and how many people blame only Hitler for the atrocities when in fact there were so many people, ordinary people, who were also to blame for the immense human suffering that occurred. I really liked how the Holocaust section began with each person taking a card with the picture of a child who lived during that time; at the computer stations we inserted our cards and we got to know about our child and their family; at the end of the exhibit, we find out our child's fate.

Midway through the Holocaust exhibit we left to hear a Holocaust survivor speak in the auditorium. All I can say is - wow. This is a must for everyone over the age of thirteen. Hearing this incredible woman share her story left the greatest impression on me, my friend and our daughters. All we saw, heard and discussed up to this point in the exhibit was brought poignantly to life. Living and breathing in front of us.

After a quick pick-me-up lunch in the upstairs cafe (we were literally wilting as we had already been there three hours, although I felt a little guilty about feeling hungry after hearing the Holocaust survivor speak), we had enough energy to resume the Holocaust exhibit - which we all exclaimed was made so much more tangible after hearing an actual Holocaust survivor share her story with us. The part we resumed at was the point where a lot of human suffering and really unimaginable acts perpetrated on people were illuminated. This level of atrocity and suffering - there are no words to describe the feelings that learning the specifics of it invokes.

As a mother, I felt overwhelmed just imagining the heartbreak and agony of the families ripped apart. The human suffering. The gross cruelty. Since I work with mothers and babies, one of the last sections detailing newborn infants thrown out of windows their to their deaths was particularly disturbing and shocking to me - I just can't get that mental image out of my mind; the complete detachment one has to have from the very essence of their humanity to do such an act - I find that so very frightening.

I guess what is so truly frightening is that human suffering at the hands of others due to hate, fear, ignorance and bullying still happens every day. All over the world. And not just in far away places, but here. Here in our own cities. Perhaps our own neighborhoods and schools.

Going to the MOT reminded me of both our vulnerability and our responsibility. As a mother, I worry for my children, all of our children, entering a world inhabited by people who act upon intolerance, bigotry, fear and hate. As a woman with daughters, I am constantly aware of our vulnerability just as women. Hatred, discrimination and violence across the world is directed towards women. But, such acts also happen to men; and to children. Hatred is hatred and where it is fostered it will always try to find a target - any group, person, race - that it can fixate on.

Which brings us to responsibility. The responsibility of nurturing tolerance in our own lives. We can't control what others say and do. But we can control what we say and do. We can be conscious of how we respond to others and make a point to de-escalate violent words and actions. Not by force, but by trying to understand. We can become aware of our own prejudices and intolerances. We can help by being aware of what we think and say. Being aware of how we deliver what we want to say. Being aware of how we treat people. Being aware of how other people are treated. Having the courage to take action when someone is treated wrongly.

As mothers and fathers we can take action by nurturing our babies and children. Loving them, honoring them and gently guiding them seem to be the first steps in the mission to a more tolerant and accepting world. If a baby or child does not experience loving nurturance and acceptance, then how much more difficult may it be for this child to be able to give this to others? To exhibit forbearance and tolerance later in life?

I am someone who likes happy endings - I never finished Tess of the d'Urbervilles because after I awhile I saw where that novel was headed. So, I probably wouldn't have gone to the MOT without the encouragement of my dear friend. My daughter wasn't so eager to go either. But we were both blown away. We learned so much that day. We felt the fear of violence. We felt the sadness of loss. We felt the triumph of survival. We felt the hope of building a better future. This experience made such an impression on us that my husband wants to see exhibit, too; especially to hear a Holocaust survivor speak since the chance for this precious encounter will not always be possible. So, we have a date planned for the near future. A date for the heart, the soul and the mind - a date for a more tolerant future.

Tolerance. Compassion. Love. Believe in it and live it.



Photo credits from Flickr: 
"Holding Hands" - M.MartinPhotography
"Tolerance" - Peconic Windsurfer

My Inner Compass: A Path to Thanks Giving

Photo credit: John - Heaven's Gate (Flickr)

The frenzy of the holidays is now upon me. Today has been spent baking and cleaning as we prepare for Thanksgiving (the cleaning is no small task in our house; I am looking around in despair - was not this place somewhat cleaned up just two days ago? Aghhhh!) And the preparations always take much longer than I think they will take; I thought the kitchen would be clean already but I was blindsided by the amount of time the baking has taken. Right now I am avoiding a sink full of dishes to clean and dry (our dishwasher broke - should add an interesting component to the holiday.) This is the third round of dishes and pots and pans today. Ugh.

Despite all this, I am looking forward to the holiday. Thanksgiving has special meaning in our family. On my mother's side of the family, our ancestors came across on the Mayflower. One was the guy that fell overboard but managed to catch hold of some rope and got pulled back on board - good thing or I might not be here today. (The fact of his falling overboard is pretty exciting to our family as he is actually mentioned in books describing the incident.) His name was John Howland. He married fellow Mayflower passenger Elizabeth Tilley; they had ten children and eighty-eight grandchildren. I am trying to wrap my mind around those figures. They had more grandchildren than I had guests at my wedding. Wow. That also makes me distantly related to George W. Bush and Sarah Palin. Bummer.

I wonder what my ancestors thought and felt before they took this passage across the ocean to an unknown land. This was a dangerous journey to an "untamed" area - the New World. Such a journey required enduring known and unknown hardships culminating in trying to survive in a new environment with virtually nothing. This was an act that took enormous faith and courage. I think also an enormous trust in following one's instincts or heart. Stepping foot onto the Mayflower changed the course of their lives forever.

We all have different journeys that come up during the course our lives which hold the potential to transport us to a whole new realm of living and understanding. One of my most profound journeys began when I became pregnant with my first child. I stepped foot onto a path that would forever change who I was, what I thought and how I behaved. And yet, I did not know it at the time. I simply said, "Yes. I am taking this journey to a New World" without fully realizing what this New World would entail nor where it would take me.

Photo credit: Ryan G. Dickerson (Flickr)

I didn't know a thing about this journey of parenting. I had not planned nor prepared for it beforehand in any way. I knew absolutely nothing about birthing, breastfeeding or the responsibility of caring for another human being on any conscious level (although instinctively all that is there if we don't let society get in the way - but I didn't know that either.) What I did have was an internal compass - an internal guide (feeling) that let me know I was on the right course. And I had fortuitous encounters with outside guides (like a chance meeting with someone or finding the perfect book) which bolstered me, encouraged me and affirmed that I was headed in the right direction.

While I wasn't sure of specifics of how to get there, I did know where I wanted to go: I wanted the very best, most healthy start for my children; I wanted them to know how deeply they were loved; I wanted them to have a strong core sense of self which would offer them the best resilience to the obstacles that life would inevitably throw their way; I wanted them to have a solid understanding of who they were as individuals and a strong internal compass that would guide them well on their own journeys in life.

For me this journey started with an interest in natural childbirth - that was kindled accidentally by a neighbor who was studying the Bradley Method for her own birth. And one footstep down this path led to another and another. Desire for a natural childbirth led to an interest in breastfeeding; a little book called Twenty-Five Things Every New Mother Should Know led me to a La Leche League meeting (which was really unusual for me - I didn't really go to group things like that) which I loved; breastfeeding led me to the path of instinctive mothering - staying home with my children, carrying them or wearing them in a sling, bed-sharing (the crib became a really expensive clean laundry basket), and breastfeeding according to their need. I felt comfortable listening to and meeting my children's needs. Eventually my compass pointed unmistakably toward educating my girls at home. This definitely felt like a leap into the proverbial void - a journey like my ancestors into an unknown and unpredictable world.

These experiences have actually strengthened my internal compass. My intuition has become more finely tuned through mothering. My awareness of my relationships, of my environment and of all that is around me has grown. Listening to my internal compass has facilitated in me a stronger sense of self and self-confidence.  I have become more focused. More aware. More loving in a conscious way. This came from following my own unique path. Acknowledging and honoring my internal guide. And then moving forward from there.

Along this path I have cultivated friendships with some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. I would not know these fine friends if not for this particular parenting journey. If I had parented in another manner, taken a different path, our lives would not have intersected. Certainly not on any deep level. I feel so very grateful for their presence in my life.

Along this path I have taken my husband. A bit unwilling at times. Sometimes kicking and screaming. At times the path I was pointing to seemed absolutely crazy to him. It did not look like his friends' paths. It did not look like our neighbors' paths. Yet, he can now see what a beautiful and rich place this journey has taken us to (and is still taking us.) And he has influenced the journey, too  - especially during this time in our family life where he has really been trail-blazing with the girls by cultivating their interests and activities. He has become the head guide here; I am following along admiring the view.

Along this path I have experienced the deepest love I have ever known if my life, both with my children and with my husband. I have gained healing and self-confidence. I have grown in infinite ways that maybe I will never completely understand, but yet I feel like I know so much more than I ever did before I had children. This was all because I said, "Yes. Yes, I will go on a journey to a New World trusting my self, my partner and nature to provide for me all that I will need." How very grateful I feel for this journey, this path that is still unfolding before me.

For you, I hope you are approaching your own unique path with gusto, trust and openness. Follow your inner compass - your heart. It will lead you to the most exquisite and beautiful places. Go... and enjoy. Godspeed!

Photo credit: Donald Leetch (Flickr)

The Sacred Keeper of the Family Ritual

Santa wasn't coming to our house this year. No, I haven't been naughty (at least not naughty enough, although that might be fun) -- just wiped. After a tumultuous year feeling as if I had been on the stretching rack to the point of breaking, the thought of gearing up for Christmas just felt like too much. I just wanted to run away. You see ... I am Santa Claus. I am so sorry to break the news to you - hope I haven't shattered your whole world. I want to believe in Santa Claus, too; if only he would deliver me a personal assistant and a housekeeper life would be pretty sweet. But, it ain't happening.

Why on earth am I writing about Christmas when it's October? I hear you - I find it annoying to see shops putting up Christmas decorations in early October (saw this happening at Macy's and spotted holiday cards at Barnes and Nobles - they're on sale btw). Hello! Halloween hasn't even been celebrated yet. My kids don't even have their costumes yet either. But that's the point. Because, as soon as October hits, it's all over for me - Youngest Child's Birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Mother and Sister's Birthdays, Advent, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Epiphany and Husband's Birthday. I am tired just looking at the list. I just complete one event, come up for air and the next one is coming relentlessly at me like rogue waves in the Pacific. I know what's coming - a lot of work for me. I was pretty enthusiastic when my first was a baby, but now after thirteen years of this I think I finally realize the truth: this is work and I am the one to make it happen.

So what's happening? What am I doing? Who am I? I am the Sacred Keeper of the Family Ritual. I am going to add that to my resume - sounds pretty darn impressive. That's because it is. It's a big job. I create, prepare for and maintain the many different  experiences that that we repeat over and over as family - these are also called family traditions. Sometimes a family ritual is ordinary like eating meals together each evening; sometimes family rituals are part of annual events, like going to the County Fair or celebrating traditional holidays.

 Family rituals ranging from from simple family meals together to annual holiday celebrations have great importance on the health and well-being of our families. Family rituals hold families together. They create a sense of security and are a marker of time for us and for our children. Positive family rituals foster good communication and strong emotional connections. Here's a link to an article I like highlighting some of the benefits of family rituals (I am particularly tickled with the section under Stage 1 where it quotes, "teens who do such routine family work as washing dishes show more concern and care for others." - now that's a good reason to get your teen's hands in the soapsuds!) And here's a link to a blog post about creating simple family rituals.

In my family, I am the primary Sacred Keeper of the Family Ritual - kind of like the director and producer - I make it happen. I suspect that women are generally the ones who take on the heavy-workload part of this job - it may not be so 100% of the time, but I would bet that's the case the majority of the time. Just sayin'. My husband is more of the techie and stage prop guy who I have to direct around - he definitely adds his touches, performs a lot of the manual heavy lifting and follows through; he's just not planning or orchestrating the whole thing. The success of family rituals, however, depends on every family member's involvement, enthusiasm and support.

Family rituals make an impression on us - they affect us. The way we approach our rituals speaks volumes about who we are and what we value. They tell a story. Our family story. Are we connected to traditions handed down from our family history? Are we creating new, different rituals arising from our own individual family dynamics? Is thoughtful consciousness put into our ritual experience or is it done without thought or care? These experiences that we choose mold our children's beings and affect their experiences and the memories they will carry of family life and connectedness.

I appreciate having a reminder that the effort I put into these experiences has value. That creating and sustaining family rituals that have meaning for my family is something worth doing. When creating my family rituals these are some elements I like to keep in mind:

Breaking from the daily grind: Just getting through the day-to-day can be overwhelming; there is so much to do. Family rituals can provide a time of reprieve - whether it's as simple as purposefully gathering to watch a family movie together or as entailed as a whole day devoted to celebrating an important event.

Our Birthday Table sans the Tante Migi cake; Youngest voted for ice-cream cake this year

Yes -it's a homemade ice cream cake in all its bumpy glory

In our household, birthdays are sacred days with special family rituals. The birthday person arises to find the main dining table cleared of its myriad piles of books, school materials and what-have-you, and decorated with gifts, flowers and a special family recipe - the Tante Migi Cake; no "school work" is done on that day and we often go on a special outing; we have our special cake and open presents in the afternoon; the birthday person chooses a restaurant of their choice for a special birthday dinner (we don't go out a lot so this is a big deal.) This is the ritual that has developed over time in our little family and is now expected with great anticipation.

Bestowing beauty: A family ritual is an opportunity to consciously bring beauty into our lives. Flowers, candles, and other items that are artfully arranged can bring a sense of uniqueness and sacredness to any event. Decorations abound everywhere in stores, but I especially love things from nature or made by my children. For the fall we have collected pumpkins, gourds and leaves, and my youngest child made Halloween decorations out of salvaged wood pieces and acrylic paint. The table by our front door is a special place where we can put decorations to celebrate each season. Decorations that are saved and used year after year give children (and adults!) great delight when they are unpacked to be used for the special occasion.

The beginnings of our Autumn display

Bringing joy: A family ritual is a chance to evoke pleasure and good feelings for each family member. Anticipating and then experiencing a particular, expected family ritual can result in feelings of satisfaction and contentment. Family rituals often center around food or include food; the sharing of food raises oxytocin levels in our bodies - oxytocin is often referred to as the "love hormone"; it's the hormone that helps cinch our feelings of connectedness. We can get the same good feelings from oxytocin when we look into our family member's eyes, which is probably more likely to happen in the slower, more conscious environment involved in family ritual experiences when we are enjoying each other's company. Consciously being aware of what might particularly delight or bring joy to our loved ones during a family ritual can be fun a puzzle to solve; it could be as simple as picking out a favorite flavor of ice cream as a surprise for dessert.

Yum! At the LA County Fair

 Another article I read came to a clear conclusion about family rituals that I find so true  - (this article is a little bit longer so I'll quote the part of the conclusion I found particularly meaningful):

First, families are constructions of our own making, requiring a mindful, knowledge-driven approach to their maintenance and success. Second, family rituals are commonly underestimated and overlooked; as decades of research supports, family rituals are some of the most powerful sites of rich and meaningful family interaction, and are the primary contributors to family identity...conscious attention to making and maintaining a strong family is difficult and ceaseless, yet fruitful and highly satisfying work (my emphasis).

Yes, it is work, isn't it? That's always been my point. So, as we enter into another holiday season, know that all your efforts to create special experiences and memories for your family matters. Those family dinners, family game night, family hikes every Saturday, and special holidays - whatever it is you and your family do, it all counts. You are working hard and it's all adding up to strong bonds and positive feelings in your family - whether you're a couple or a family of ten. Creating positive, conscious family rituals creates a strong foundation on which love can flourish and grow; we can then bring forth this love into the rest of the world - it needs it. This year, for us, Santa Claus is coming to town. How about for you?

The Importance of Being Vulnerable

 I've been wanting to share this video with you . I just love this talk. Plus, I had no idea someone could even do this kind of work for a living! Sounds good to me...

There are so many things I would love to write about from Brene Brown's talk, but for this post I am just going to focus on what she said was the crux of what separated wholehearted persons from regular folks (at least regular folks here in the Western world, I'm thinking) - Brene identified the variable which separates the wholehearted from the rest of the crowd as this: wholehearted persons believe that they are worthy of love and belonging.

Wow. I think we need a moment to really absorb the profundity of that statement. The wholehearted possess a deep sense of worthiness and a strong sense of love and belonging. Does that statement make you want to cry? I feel like crying. The sad fact is that so many Americans struggle with something as basic as their feelings of worthiness. This doesn't happen in all cultures. I am remembering a statement from one of Jack Kornfield's books that said when he was training with the Buddhist monks they were perplexed by this particular (and peculiar to them) state of struggle/unworthiness - it didn't exist is their communities

Whoa. Okay. Let's just sit with that for a moment. It's not just a fact of life that everyone struggles with unworthiness. This develops somehow. There is some type of cultural difference the allows for the development of this negative state among its people.

Photo by Luca.gargano

This is a complex issue with more than one source. But I want to get back to the basics - the building blocks so to speak. In Traditional cultures, mother and baby pairs have natural births, breastfeed and remain in close contact with each other day and night. Breastfeeding goes on for several years (world-wide average is 4.5 years and that includes our crummy U.S. statistics.) A baby's dependance and need for his mother is generally understood as a normal development and to be expected of babies and toddlers. Closeness and community are encouraged.

In the U.S. distance is encouraged from the beginning. Our highly medicalized births rely  on technology and many mothers feel a distrust of their bodies as if they were machines that might malfunction at any moment; mothers and babies are more likely to be separated in a hospital birthing scenario.  Immediately after the baby is born everyone's asking and joking about whether the baby is "sleeping through the night." Babies are expected to sleep away from their mothers in cribs. Bottles and pacifiers are culturally accepted and preferred over the natural state of breastfeeding, especially in public. Mothers in the workforce have virtually no support in the workplace with pathetic maternity leaves that barely give enough time for these mothers to even get their milk supplies established, much less for them to even enjoy breastfeeding and their relationships with their infants.  Parents are encouraged to leave their infants for "date night" before the baby is barely out of the newborn period in order to assure the "strength" of their marriage/relationship. I could go on and on, but I think you get my drift.

Brene states that the underpinning for this sense of worthiness of love and belonging is rooted in vulnerability. That those who are wholehearted embrace their vulnerability as beautiful and necessary. She says that the state of vulnerability is what allows us to be seen, really seen. 

Photo by tacticdesigns

Humans are at their most vulnerable state in infancy. For a more in depth explanation of this concept, I like this article which explains the biological reasons for a baby's vulnerability and what his needs are: The Science of Attachment: The Biological Roots of Love  A baby is unable to regulate his own self and relies on his mother for regulation of his body and his emotions. He relies on his mother for nourishment. He has absolutely no concept of his separateness from the mother in the beginning - at this stage he truly is one with the world. His concept of himself as a separate being develops over time and even when he develops this awareness of himself as separate from his mother, he still needs her to help him regulate himself. He cannot meet his own needs. Human babies are in fact very dependent for a long time.

Photo by Kim+5

A baby can only try to get his needs met by communicating with his facial expressions, body language and cries. Something is not right, something feels funny - baby communicates. Is mother there? Is she responding? Is he really being seen? But the mother holds the cards of power in her ability to respond or not to his needs. Responding to her infant and helping him reach a balanced state based on his needs and his cues creates in the infant this sense of worthiness - this sense of love and belonging. This is the time to do it - in the early years - to build in the child, this incredible human being, these blocks of self-worth because it really is a more difficult job later on (if even possible.) This happens by respecting and responding to the little one's needs, by embracing his dependance and by mother being there.

And I think that this togetherness is essential for the mother in fortifying her sense of self-worth, too. She is the center of her baby's universe. She is the essential one. It is through her that her baby is nourished and satisfied. Baby thrives due to this interdependence with his mother. What some women are afraid will undermine their autonomy and independence, thinking (wrongly perhaps) that yielding to an infant's unrelenting needs may weaken their own sense of self - this act of complete giving is in fact empowering. When a mother experiences her body's ability to care for and nourish her infant - well,  Breastfeeding Makes You a Mama Bear! Mama gets her grrrrrrrroove.

Mothering through breastfeeding is also an opportunity for healing and for strengthening our own sense of ourselves. I firmly believe it is a second chance for those of us who did not get the strongest building blocks in our own infancies. Sometimes it brings up painful feelings, but by working through the discomfort in the end we come out stronger. And we also get the amazing opportunity to create strong selves in our babies and children. To relish their wholeheartedness. How can we not feel gratified by that? It's a worthy goal.