What have you learned lately?

I come from a long line of lifelong learners. I can remember my maternal grandmother telling me that she was learning how to interview people and write articles since she had agreed to be in charge of the newsletter for her condo association. She had to fit this in between her piano lessons and her yoga.
My grandmother also read the NY Times cover to cover each morning and clipped articles of interest to send to her various children and grandchildren across the country. My parents have followed suit and are both voracious readers and news watchers and always eager to learn new things.
I think that continuing to learn as we age is one of the big secrets of life (though its not really a secret)!
I recently attended my very first ZUMBA class and while it was strenuous exercise, it was also exhilarating to do something that I had never done before.
Thursday, I had the pleasure of attending the 4th annual UP Experience. Houstonian husband/wife team Sheryl & Ernie Rapp started UP to expose Houstonians to cutting edge thinkers and innovators from all over the country. The day includes 16 speakers from many different disciplines each speaking for 20 minutes and then providing an opportunity for questions in small breakaway groups. The speakers this year ranged from a young energetic tech guru to a food network personality with a movie-worthy life story to a scientist on the forefront of the field of regenerative medicine.
One of the most interesting things about UP is that sometimes the speakers whom you are least excited about turn out to be the most memorable.
I was fortunate to be able to attend UP two years ago, and I was impressed by the caliber and diversity of speakers. This year's group did not disappoint.  The education speaker this year was a young man named  Sal Kahn who began tutoring his cousins in algebra while he worked for a hedge fund. As his tutoring grew through the power of "YouTube," he realized that there was a demand for his high energy and specified instruction teaching style. Today, his Khan Academy distributes 2100 free educational videos and tutorials in subjects ranging from math to history. So far, the Academy's website has had over 54 million views and they are nowhere near stopping. With the help of  some major philanthropic supporters, Kahn is hoping to lead the movement for the democratization of education.
One of my favorite speakers this year was bestselling author Daniel Pink. Pink uses his background in behavioral science to take a new, and often profoundly different, look at human motivation. His latest book, Drive, looks at the fallacy behind the old "carrot and stick" method of motivating others. According to Pink's work, what truly motivates us is the opportunity to "realize our fullest potential." Pink shared stories with us about innovative programs at cutting edge companies which encouraged employees to pursue the things that they were passionate about. At Google, they call it "20% Time," and at a smaller company he mentioned, they call it "Fedex Days," because people are expected to play around with an idea and then present something the next day (like Fedex must deliver something overnight!).
I did not know that this existed in corporate America, but I left wishing it could exist in the world of private school education where I spend my days. How lovely to be given carte blanche for a small part of one's work week in order to explore something that one was intrinsically drawn to. I then fantasized even further about a school where students were given free reign one day a week to explore their passions. Pink explained that failure is an inherent part of this plan. "Ninety percent of the "free" work won't pan out," he explained, "but that doesn't matter."  Some of Google's best initiatives came from their "20% Time" and two recent Noble Prize winners in Physics made their revolutionary discovery during the "free" time at their lab.
I learned a little about a lot of different things at the Up Experience, but the most important thing I learned was how exciting it is to learn something new. So, I challenge you blog readers: This week try a new exercise class, pick up a new novel, sign up for language lessons, learn to make paella, read an article on the internet about a topic you know very little about. Stretch your brain, and it will take you to places you might never have imagined!

What does it mean to be female in 2011?

A few days ago, I was at the YMCA waiting for my Pilates Reformer class to begin and three women were sitting on the bench chatting with me. Two of the women were in their forties, and there was also a woman in her early 70's. The forty somethings and I were bemoaning the pre and post menopausal fat pooches sprouting up in unexpected places on our bodies. Words like "back-fat" and "belly fat"were being tossed around with humor tinged with fear. As women in our society, we understand that our looks are our currency, and we don't want to feel poor as we age. The fear is even greater when you are single, as I am, and have  been taught to believe that a woman's appearance may greatly affect her ability to find a mate. 

After a while, the 70+ woman jumped into the conversation. "I have parts of my body these days that I'd like to change too," she told us. "But, mostly, I want to make sure I'm around for a long time with all the parts in working order." The two forty somethings and I exchanged weighted glances. We agreed that how our body functions and what it allows us to do is what should matter; however, we also know that how we look has a profound and sometimes disturbing affect on how our lives unfold and how we feel about ourselves.

A few nights ago, a powerful documentary premiered on the OWN Network. The film "Miss Representation" takes a look at the disturbing ways that women are portrayed in contemporary media. From the hyper-sexualized and provocative images that children are bombarded with to the disparaging comments made about women in positions of power. The images and the statistics that the filmmakers present are nothing less than shocking. The overflow of uncensored and unregulated images and opinions that we are exposed to  on a daily basis has reached unparalleled levels. With  new cable channels and internet sites sprouting up daily, access to anything and everything is just a click away. 

The filmmakers, and the experts they interviewed, pose some difficult and important questions: 

Where are the role models for our girls? Why do even cartoon characters like Disney's Tinkerbell dress provocatively? How do reality tv dating and  toddler beauty pageant shows shape the way young girls think about the world and themselves? How does a girl learn about being a woman when she is flooded with images of young wild and spoiled girls like Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian and Lindsay Lohan?  How do the heavily photo-shopped images of models in magazines force girls and women to feel that they can never measure up to some impossibly unrealistic ideal of beauty?

I struggle too with finding the balance between valuing who I have become as  a woman and obsessing over newly gray hairs and newly flabby abs. Clearly, I have not yet arrived at the place where I am allowed to love my body-- flaws and all. Thankfully, I am far more confident than I was as a teen and I am extremely proud when I see the way my own daughter walks through the world with a mixture of grace and bravado that I could not even have imagined at 19.  

This weekend, one of my favorite people in the world is in town to visit. Beth's only daughter, Hannah, is here staying with me and visiting a friend of hers. A beautiful and bright sixteen year old, Hannah naturally wants to spend most of the time with her friend, but I stole her away this morning for an hour of pampering at the nail salon. This common ritual of female beautification and bonding is relaxing and fun. Are we buying into some culturally created mandate of femininity? Maybe. But, I refuse to believe that focusing on my contributions to the world and my spirit must occur at the expense of my nails. 

Afterwards, as we were sitting under the uv lights waiting for the polish to dry, I asked Hannah what part of the country she imagined she'd end up in. Her family has a home in Dallas as well as a summer place on the cape, so I was wondering if she thought she'd end up on the east coast or in Texas or somewhere else altogether. She looked at me with her strong and serene gaze and said, "If I have to think about where I'll be in 20 years or so, I imagine myself in some small village in Africa building wells." 

WOW!! Let's put Hannah on tv. Let's showcase our strong, confident, bold and beautiful daughters. Let's remember that we can only strive for that which we are allowed to imagine!

What does it mean to lead a creative life?

My little fabric zippered bags.

A few of my Cape Cod beach photos.

One of my needlepointed pillows.

Whenever I am asked to describe myself by listing three or four adjectives, "creative"almost always makes the cut. Unlike other words like "genius" or "talent," creativity does not imply a particular level of mastery or prowess. At least to me, creativity is a way of being, and it is the way that I have always been. When I was very young, I wrote songs that I went around the house singing. My younger sisters heard my top ten list (which included catchy titles like "Love is Something Very Dear") so often that they learned them by heart and even remember the silly lyrics to this day.

During the summers, when I wasn't reading every children's book in the Charlevoix Pubic Library or taking swimming lessons from the adorable-looking twin brothers who ran the day camp, I was teaching myself a new craft. During the embroidery summer, I covered a denim work shirt with colorful little pictures and sayings. During the decoupage summer, I made funny little 3-d pictures by cutting out multiple copies of the same image and layering them on top of each other using a stinky smelling epoxy. When the glue dried, I would shellac the heck out of the thing and either try to sell it at the craft fair or gift it to my parents in the hopes that it would be proudly displayed. Henri Matisse is quoted as saying that "creativity takes courage," but I don't think I was one bit courageous. In fact, it wasn't ever about risk-taking because it wasn't about succeeding or failing; it was about experimenting and expressing myself.  I would love to think though that creativity does indeed take courage because then I could consider myself brave (and perhaps even foolhardy) in at least one area of my life!!
Since the embroidery and decoupage days, I've dabbled with knitting and felting and cross-stitch and needlepoint and sewing and quilting and even scrapbooking. I also consider cooking a very creative act and that might explain why I have such difficulty sticking to a recipe! I am also a writer and that is clearly one of the ways in which my creativity gets expressed. In the classroom, my favorite moments are those times when I do something unexpected with my students or am able to encourage them to "think outside the box."
The late S. African novelist and editor, William Plomer once wrote that "creativity  is the power to connect the seemingly unconnected." I am always thrilled when I read a paper where a student has linked things that I would not have seen as related. One of my newest creative outlets is photography, and I am looking forward to learning more about that craft when I have the chance to pursue it.
I am also a HUGE fan of other people's creative efforts. My daughter Emily is a wonderful artist and I marvel at the things that she has made. I hope that she will find room for creativity in her life no matter where that life leads her.

A painting Emily made in Middle School that I have displayed in my bedroom.

Emily's version of Van Gogh's iconic painting.

A beautiful ceramic plate Emily made that always reminds me of Frida Kahlo.

My first quilt, a Single Irish Chain for my first baby, Josh!

A few of my felted purses.

The beautiful quilt Beth made me for my 50th bday.

        Bill Moyers said that "creativity is piercing the mundane to find the marvelous," so go out there and find yourself some marvelous!!!

Have you connected with the transformative power of story?

Sorry this 18th post is a few days late! It's been a busy weekend between Yom Kippur and grades/comments being due! One of the assignments that I was trying to finish grading was an Interview Memoir that my seniors had done. The students were asked to interview a family member who was at least 10 years their senior. They were supposed to gather details about a particularly memorable time or event in that person's life. If they had never heard the story before, they were then asked to ponder how this story changed their view of this relative. If they had heard a different (or truncated) version of the story, they were asked to imagine why the versions may have differed. Though there were other pieces to it, that is the assignment in a nutshell.
I received some very interesting narratives. Several students had parents who had undergone life-threatening illnesses or circumstances prior to their child's birth. One girl recalled how angry she had been when, at the age of twelve, she'd inadvertently stumbled upon the information that her dad had survived a terrifying battle with cancer in his early twenties. She felt betrayed that this story had been kept from her. For this assignment, she interviewed him about the details of his struggle and questioned him about his decision to shield his daughters from the knowledge. He explained to her that he believed that children needed to see their parents as invincible and that his story would have compromised that.

 I guess I disagree. I think his story was an important part of the person he ultimately became. Our stories define us because they showcase the ways in which life has been uniquely ours. Isak Dinesen once wrote that: "All suffering is bearable if it is seen as part of a story."  Somehow, it is both the telling and the framing that turn challenges into stories. If I can place a difficult moment in the context of a life, I can begin to make sense of it.

I grew up in a household of storytellers. My father's sermons were stories told to a congregation full of people whom he was trying to reach. He connected with them through the power of story. Yes, there were deep messages, but they were embedded in stories that touched us in emotional, intellectual and spiritual ways. One of my favorite times during the High Holidays, used to be when he would tell the story at the Children's Service. One of his favorites was "The Land of No Second Chances." For years and years, people would come up to him and talk about their fond memories of hearing that special story.

My mother is a storyteller too. She has an imagination as big as Texas, and one never knows where it will lead her. As little girls, we were happy to have her regale us with creative bedtime tales that showed us how clever and silly our beautiful mother was.  She continues to amuse (and sometimes shock) her grandchildren with her crazy stories. She even wrote and published a book of Jewish Holiday Tales so that others could share her storytelling gifts.

While I have always been a lover of fiction, it is the true stories people tell about their lives that most captivate me now. I believe that the telling of our own stories can be transformative, both for us and for those who know and love us. In her beautiful book, Writing for your Life, Deena Metzger addresses this idea when she writes,  "Stories heal us because we become whole through them. In the process of writing, of discovering our story, we restore those parts of ourselves that have been scattered, suppressed, denied, distorted, forbidden, and we come to understand that stories heal.  As in the word remember, we re-member, we  bring together the parts, we integrate that which has been alienated or separated out, revalue what has been disdained....Writing our story takes us back to some moment of origin when everything was whole, when we were whole."
When my student wrote her father's story, she re-created a piece of him and made her father whole. We are our stories and if we don't share them, we can never be fully known, by ourselves or by others.
So, if you are a writer, write your stories down. If you are not a writer, become a storyteller, allow others to fully know you because you have shared your stories with them. It is not an accident that all religious narratives are collections of stories. We are meaning-seeking creatures and stories allow us to create order out of chaos and transform seemingly random events into powerful narratives. So, begin now...."Once upon a time I........"

What does it mean to believe in G-d?

"Oh Lord, I pray that RachelAmyLizzyDaddyMommy never has breast cancer or any kind of cancer or any bad disease or accident amen, I pray we all have healthy normal children of our own,  easy safe deliveries, happy marriages, and long, safe healthy happy lives AMEN ."
To the best of my recollection, this is the prayer/mantra that I repeated in bed every night as a child/adolescent. I don't remember when it started and I don't remember when it stopped, but I know that I repeated this prayer for years and years and years.
When I reflect on the words of that childhood prayer now, I am struck by how clearly it represents all of my fears about the world that I was growing up into. For some reason, I was a fearful child. Although my family provided a very safe haven and I had loving parents and a room of my own and plenty of food to eat and clothes to wear, I worried. My relationship to G-d (if one could call it that since relationship implies a two-way dynamic) was based on asking for the bad things I worried about NOT to happen.
For example, for some reason I worried that I might not be able to have children (probably because from a very early age I knew how badly I wanted them). Perhaps some heroine in a book I'd read had lost her mother in childbirth and that's where that fear came from. I don't know for sure. I also don't know where I came up with the idea that G-d's role in the universe was to protect me from pain and hardship. It was as if I believed that G-d might not protect those who didn't directly ask for his protection.
I was able to have three healthy children of my own, but I was not granted a happy marriage and our family was far from cancer-free. So, where does that leave me?
My mature self certainly understands that one's relationship with G-d cannot be like one's relationship with the lady behind the counter at the cafeteria: "Yes, please...could you give me one order of happy kids and a side of lasting love and put a little extra health on the plate for good measure?"
Still, as I have suffered different pains and losses in my life, I will admit looking skyward and asking:
"Really? Where the heck are you?"
What does it mean to believe in G-d? Does it mean that you believe that there is a higher power operating in the universe that we cannot see but that we believe exists? Does it mean that you feel that
 G-d is omni-present and omnipotent and that each move you make is somehow pre-ordained or choreographed by an all-knowing deity? Far greater scholars than I could hope to be have tried to tackle this...so I don't expect to solve that question in this humble blog. However, as I sat in services this week, celebrating Rosh Hashana, I couldn't help but consider how my Jewish heritage and its liturgy have influenced me.
                            "On Rosh Hashana it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed.
                               How many shall pass on and how many shall come to be.
                               Who shall live and who shall die......"
And then the prayer continues listing all sorts of terrible things that could destroy our precious and fragile human lives. The prayer ends with these lines: "But Repentance, Prayer and Charity temper judgements severe decree."
So, young Rachel wasn't completely off track. There is a very real sense that I was taught to believe that G-d had control over my life and if I prayed to him, I could somehow travel an easier/better  path. Now do you see why I'm confused? I know that I have drastically and unfairly over-simplified this issue. Firstly, the prayer itself directs us to repent and to do good deeds as well as to pray. But still. to a worried child/teenager it must have seemed that G-d (and G-d alone) had the power to help me avoid the many land-mines that I envisioned popping up in one's life.
It is time, I think, to come up with a more grown-up, more complex, view of G-d. When Jacob wrestled with G-d, his name changed. I don't think we can wrestle with G-d and remain the same. Sometimes, I feel like my understanding of the events of my life requires that I get in the ring with G-d and that we battle it out together. And then, perhaps, I will have to change my name, too.

This act of wrestling is such a fundamentally real part of being human whether you are Christian or Jewish or any other strand of faith. My friend Julie and I recently saw a beautiful and complicated film called, "Higher Ground.' Vera Farmiga both directs and stars in the film which was based on the 2002 memoir, This Dark World by Carolyn S. Briggs. In the film, the main character and her husband find themselves drawn to a very strict fundamentalist Christian sect after a horrific car accident in which their baby girl is miraculously saved. While the protagonist has doubts from time to time, her faith is strong. It is only when she watches her best friend morph from vibrant, lively woman into a vegetative state, after a brain tumor is removed, that her doubts overwhelm her ability to believe. The film takes no shortcuts and provides no easy answers. Even at the end, there is no real resolution in terms of  her inner battle. I think that was one of the things I liked most about the film. We can straddle the worlds of faith and doubt; we can wait for a clear sign (like the burning bush that G-d showed to Moses) or...and this is what I am trying to learn to do...we can believe that our faith is evolving. That it takes two steps forward and then one step back.
When I'm moving forward, some things are very clear to me. For example, I have dealt with things that I would rather not have encountered or experienced...BUT I have emerged on the other side triumphant and stronger. My children's faces still look like miracles to me every time I see them. The friendships I have been lucky enough to enjoy feel somehow divinely directed. So, I do believe in G-d, but I have not yet figured out exactly what roles each of us has to play in our relationship. And for now, I am certain that uncertainty is something that I need to grow more comfortable with.