Stress

I was mean tonight.

I was mean tonight when I yelled,
"Enough is enough!" and
slammed the cupboard door.

I was mean tonight because
the garbage bag pulling and
the 2+ consecutive hours of whining and
the I-can-only-sit-in-your-chair and
the I-can-only-eat-your-food and
the I-only-want-to-drink-your-water and
the I-need-to-touch-every-dirty-thing-sticking-out-of-the-sink and
the I'm-too-tired-to-pick-up-my-toys and
the I-would-rather-bash-my-face-into-a-doorknob-than-let-you-brush-my-teeth
finally got to me.

I was mean when
I sent them out of the kitchen because
yet another glass of water
was purposely spilled on the floor.

And I was mean when I said
"I can't even talk to you right now!"
because I needed a moment to calm down.

I was mean tonight
but instead of being hard on myself,

I said:

"You need a break."




Yes, I was mean tonight.

And now tonight is over.

Hoffman Week, Day 5: Creative Writing

 Eulogy

I would have loved to give a eulogy at Barbara Hoffman’s funeral, though I would have been ridiculously nervous and probably would have started crying. I was not asked to honor her on this occasion (nor do I think any of her former students were) so in lieu of that, I have compiled what I would have said on that day (tears or no tears).

I cannot construct enough words to represent how much it meant to me to have you as a professor. The fact that you waited until my final semester at Marywood to pass on to your next form is significant to me in innumerable ways. You were a tremendous asset to my Marywood career, without which I do not know if my love of writing and literature would have grown so deep.

I may have been persuaded to take your class by my mother, but the reason I kept coming back was the relaxed atmosphere you created and your genuine nature. You brought extra dimensions to the class every time you showed us personal photos, artifacts or other trinkets that you collected over the years from all over the world. You may have not had any biological children, but you had the freedom and the means to educate yourself through visitation and you brought those experiences to your extended family of students. To me, that was invaluable.

You cracked me up. You inspired me. You made me feel as though I could write anything at all and it would be the most amazing piece of work you had ever seen. I rejoiced in the freedom I felt in your classes; the freedom that starts with a prompt and ends in a fully constructed piece of writing from the creative heart. This same freedom allowed me to feel less like you were a professor and more like a mentor or guru, one I should learn from and follow. You laughed at yourself and the mistakes you made over the course of your life, painting a picture that placed all of us on the same level. Nevertheless, I placed you on a pedestal.

I know that our time on Earth is finite, but still I did not think you would leave your body so soon. I had hoped you would be there to attend my graduation and the party afterwards. I had really hoped that you would attend my wedding. Further, I hoped I would be able to introduce my children to you and that they would be able to learn something from you in that and future meetings.

Was I disappointed when you left your human form? Yes, of course. So much so that I still feel intense sadness to this very moment. To be at peace with a person’s passing does not mean that one cannot still feel sad. I know it would disappoint you to have anyone still grieving for you for years after your death, but that is not what I am doing. My period of grief is long gone, but I still miss being in your presence.

Iborrowed this image. 

Today, I honor you. I will continue to honor your life with mine as long as I write. Though I may miss physically visiting your office to seek your advice, I am consoled in the idea that as long as I write from my soul, you would be proud. To your spirit, wherever you are, Namaste.

Hoffman Week, Day 4: Plath, Sexton, and Co.

OK, I cheated. I've had such a horrible case of writer's block, but I didn't want to disappoint, so I have chosen to post this poem from the actual class I took. Unfortunately, this was also the last class she taught me as she passed away before the end of the semester. I wrote this poem in response to the movie, Girl, Interrupted. It's not the worst thing I ever wrote.

I remember what it was like to be sane.
The grass was green, the sky was blue
and life made sense, even to a school girl.
Then one day, it went dark.
They told me I had to figure my life out by the end of homeroom.
I needed to have a plan for my future, one that involved college
Studying
And not boys.
I realized then I didn’t know what I wanted.
I couldn’t.
I still don’t know how they expected me not to go crazy,
constantly being compared to the better, prettier, smarter girls
as if I wasted my existence on
cigarettes, dead trees and alcohol.
I wanted to write.
Apparently, that was crazy.

Inside those padded, brick walls I fell.
Fell into a state of confusion
bliss
remission
reflection on the world and all who claim to be in it.
Inside is a different world
free from judgment
shame
privacy
and free from any decision you might have to make on the rest of your life.
Free. It was far from free to be in here, but as luck would have it,
My parents had more money than love for me.

Where did it go, the “world” I once knew?
I’ve emerged from the prison,
walked the plank,
chewed and clawed through my chains
and for What?
I returned to a place where nothing has changed.
For once, I am whole, just as everyone seems to be
falling apart.
I hope some day they will realize
that sanity lies only in the willingness
to be crazy.

Hoffman Week, Day 3: Mid and Far East Literature

I didn't care what class Barbara taught, I was still going to take it. Even though I had no clue what Mid East Literature even consisted of, I relished at the opportunity to learn something knew from her. This willingness certainly paid off as I found one of my favorite books of all time through this class. 


If you haven't read The Tao of Pooh, I demand that you pick up a copy this instant and read it. No excuses. Your children can wait. ;)


I'm not lying when I say that this book changed my life. As I read it, I internalized every word as if he was speaking specifically to me. The practices and principles of The Tao resonated with me as nothing has before. While most of the characters surrounding Pooh worry about life or look at it with pessimism, Pooh just is. I strive to attain his level of consciousness, to be able to simply be.

I've always considered other cultures to be wiser and more progressive than our own in the US and Taoism is no exception. Ancient people all over the world were more connected to nature, connected to each other and to themselves than Americans will be in the next century. Though the actual Tao may be difficult to read in some respects, Benjamin Hoff's version brings all of its amazing qualities to a more comprehensible level.

I had several "Aha!" or "Yes!" moments while reading through this text. On page 21, Hoff writes "...the simple and the quiet, the natural and the plain." in order to describe Pooh's mindset. It was only after reading this phrase that I finally started to understand why Hoff chose to use these characters in his book. Though I used to watch 'Winnie the Pooh' as a child, I was often angry at Pooh and especially Tigger because Pooh seemed completely apathetic to anything and everything and Tigger consistently hurt others without getting into real trouble. In reality, Pooh is just in such a peaceful state of mind he has no need to over complicate life or situations and he sees true beauty in everything, even things often considered simple or plain. And Tigger, well, Tigger is still mean.

Another favorite quote of mine is, “Wisdom, Happiness, and Courage are not waiting somewhere out beyond sight at the end of a straight line; they’re part of a continuous cycle that begins right here.”(p. 137) Those of us in America seem to be constantly searching for the next best thing, for true happiness, or the item or person that will finally make our life complete. We do this as if we are going to be walking along one day and see happiness laying on the ground, waiting for us to pick it up. Pooh, on the other hand, has come to the realization that everything he needs to be happy is right in front of him, or rather, within him, and therefore he need not look any further.We have wisdom, happiness and courage every moment of every day but are too busy looking outside ourselves to utilize what is within us.

Next we have: “If people were Superior to Animals, they’d take better care of the world.”(p. 77) Take a moment to internalize that one. I know you've thought the same thing. Yes, animals fight and kill one another, but they do not do it for any reason other than survival (even males who fight other males over a female are simply trying to be the best in their pack, to survive.) Animals do not lie, over complicate things or analyze ideas to death. They simply exist. They respect the environment in which they live and they respect their neighbors. They don't eat when they're not hungry. They don't destroy things just because they can. We create so many problems for ourselves and blame others when we cannot find the right solutions. And People still think they are better than Animals?

Finally, I call upon this quote to brilliantly express my last point. “An Empty sort of mind is valuable for finding pearls and tails and things because it can see what’s in front of it. An Overstuffed mind is unable to.” (p. 146) When we are empty, we are at peace. We do not worry or stress or get upset or fight or get angry or desire. An empty mind is free to enjoy life for what it is and has everything it could want because it's not looking for anything. Emptiness does not mean you are dumb or blind or apathetic; it means you can allow all of the potential within you to come out in full force because it isn't being blocked by the cares of the world. Go ahead, strive to be empty. 

Did you read the book yet?

Hoffman Week, Day 2: Intro to World Literature

I must admit that I do not remember anything about this class, however, I know that as long as I make a good argument for my work, she will accept it. 

I miss you.

But I don't know why.
It's not as if I knew you that well, I mean
how well can you know someone who had an entire life before you.

So why should I miss you? I left for good reason.
I was happy to go because I wanted a new life.
I wanted to move on. To learn, to grow, to change.
Like you should.

I miss you. Time has passed but this remains true. Why can't I stop?

You never treated me specially. I was just another person in your life.
You hardly knew me and I know you didn't try to.
This made it easy to leave. But it was still hard.

Sometimes, I thought, I could walk away and never think of you again.
Sometimes, I can't stop thinking of you. I hate that I miss you.

But at least I admit it.

I'm sure not many people do.


I miss you. You were all I knew since birth. My home. My country.


But I would rather miss you than spend another minute within your walls.

Hoffman Week, Day 1: Writing Skills

For day one of Hoffman Week, I focus on my writing skillz (and yes, it is that way on purpose). If this were an assignment, I might call it a reflection paper or a journal. Technically, I might also include it in the current Natural Parenting Blog Party, but I don't wanna push it. :)

The Essence of a Sleeping Child

I wish I had your face of peace. Your lips have never spoken an unkind word while mine have said many things that could be taken back. Your brow floats atop a sea of perfect skin while mine furrows and bends with worry, thoughts and concerns. Your closed eyes have not yet seen death, sadness, injustice or tragedy, while when I close mine sometimes that is all I see. When you sleep, you leave the physical realm and journey deep into your beautiful unconsciousness, commune with your higher self and refresh for your awakening. When I sleep, I don’t want to wake up.

Heidi as a newborn.

When do we lose our sleeping peace? Is it when we start working, suddenly have money to handle and the weight of the world falls on our shoulders? Is it when we enter high school and find out firsthand just how cruel humans can be to one another? Or is it when we first become aware that the world we entered into isn’t perfect, that we are surrounded by flawed, imperfect people who impart their personal conflicts upon us?

Surely, you are wondering how this childhood peace can be recaptured and once again sleep (and live) in tranquility. What is the simplest way to do this? Learn by doing; be at peace.

Make peace with your debt; it won’t be with you when you’re dead. Make peace with the naysayers because they don’t cry when you’re sad. Make peace with yourself. You weren’t designed to be perfect and you never will be; It’s best to just accept it.

What is the essence of a sleeping child? A sleeping child is peaceful because she has no belongings to weigh her down. A sleeping child does not concern herself with what other people are saying because it does not serve her higher purpose. A sleeping child is perfect because she is not trying to be.

Piper - about 3 months old.

Let go of everything in your life that does not bring you peace. Focus on the image of serene slumber and let it be your mantra. Think peace.

Namaste.

The Tao of Barbara

It was almost fall and everything was new, an oddity for sure since autumn is not generally associated with beginnings. For me, it was the start of my undergraduate career marked by nervousness and insecurity. The first day of classes was the most frightening of all, but even on that scary day, one in particular excited me. I had been able to secure a spot in a certain professor’s section who I had heard many interesting and wonderful things about. I walked to this class with a new classmate: across campus, through the rotunda, to the door and was finally greeted by…a clown.

   

“Writing skills?” She asked.

We nodded and stepped inside. Everyone looked as confused as we did, especially when she got up and walked on our desks. The first day of class, she proclaimed everything she could do despite her nervousness. After that, it would be up to us to keep learning and discussion alive.

Show and tell was a regular occurrence for this and every other class I took with her and it was certainly not limited to her own treasures. Though she showed us everything from pictures of herself in the Holy Land to pomegranates to foreign currency, if we brought in a rock and somehow made it relevant to the class, she’d love it.

We often took field trips, both during class time and after hours, to places like a local Indian restaurant, the graveyard next to the university and relevant movies. We studied the literature of the world in every class she taught and we were almost always able to have a real-life experience bring our education full circle. Each day in her class was a new adventure and I have never felt as good about writing as I did when I wrote for her.

In an effort to celebrate the life of this wonderful woman, I plan to spend a week in April sharing my own creative writing and hopefully that of many, many other people whether they knew this woman or not. Miss Barbara Hoffman taught Writing Skills, Introduction to World Literature, Plath, Sexton and Company, Creative Writing and Mid and Far Eastern Literature. If you feel compelled to write a piece relevant to any of those topics, please send it my way so I can include you in this tribute. Or, if you prefer, post your work on your own blog and allow me to link to it. Once again, I encourage you to think about writing something even if you did not personally know my favorite professor because she would be very glad to give anyone an excuse to write.

I Forgot to Cut My Toenails

A lot of people have a problem with feet. I can see that. I mean, they are a bit odd looking if you really think about it, but I think they get a bad rap. Some people have foot fetishes, which may or may not creep most of you out. Irregardless, that is not what I intend to focus on, so let's move on.

We don't think about our feet very much, but why is that? They might just be our most important body part, next to our hands, since they provide us with so much mobility. We stand on them. Some of us stand on them all day long. We rely on them to help us carry our children, laundry, grocery bags, books, and dishes from one place to another. We use them when we are in a hurry, crossing the street, chasing after our kids, scurrying to class, or getting to our car so we can finally go home. Sometimes we stomp them when we're angry. Sometimes they leave the ground when we jump for joy. When our beliefs are threatened, or our ideals challenged, we grind them into the ground like roots to hold us down. They don't just get us from Point A to Point B, they get us from unemployed to employed, student to graduate, homeless to homeowner, and single to married. Your feet brought you to the love of your life.

I am starting from the ground up, using my feet as the basis for this new venture because they are my stability, my rocks, what I depend on 24 hours a day without even knowing it. I have real feet, clearly in need of some maintenance, but this is my metaphoric foot. The foot upon which I stand; My first "real" post. It isn't that ugly, is it?

Bandwagon?

Have I jumped? Perhaps. Let's see how long it takes me to fall off.