doing enough

I have a problem with "enough." I often feel like I could do more, or should do more. More as a parent, more as a wife, more as a friend, more as an employee, more as a volunteer. I collapse into bed some nights, weary but wishing for that more. Thinking I haven't done enough that day.

I'm reading a very good book right now - perfect for this time of year when I tend to take on more. It's called A Life of Being, Having and Doing Enough by Wayne Muller.

One part that I read last week has stuck with me. He writes about resetting our inner thermostat - that we all have a regulator inside ourselves that tells us when we are doing enough or too much. When we know how to "read" our body, it can tell us when our activity level has reached a comfortable level, or when it is uncomfortably busy.

BUT many people don't take time to read their inner thermostat (like me). Or the thermostat is broken and the house is on fire.

How do we know when we have taken on too much? Muller recommends asking this question when you approach a new task or responsibility:

• Am I truly able to say that I really love this or is it more honest to say that I can handle this?

He says that if we take on too many things that we can merely "handle", then we get to a point where we feel we are barely able to handle our days - that we have too much. If we choose based on things we love, we are more likely to be nourished and feel "enough" at the end of the day. 

I struggle with this. I know I tend to take things on with the "I can handle this" attitude. Because I think "well, SOMEONE has to do this." If I'm at a committee meeting, I want it to end as soon as possible so I go away with more jobs than I probably should, just to speed the meeting along and because I can handle it. Or so I think.

But I want to keep this love/handle question in front of me this fall. I want to hit my pillow at night and think "That was a good day. That was enough."

simple and special celebrations

I think a lot about celebrations at this time of year. One of our daughters has a birthday this coming weekend, and then there's Christmas. I struggle between wanting celebrations to be simple yet special. Sometimes my wish to be special drags me down the not-so-simple road. Sometimes my plans start out simple, and then snowball. Sometimes simple and special feel like 2 very different paths.

This year we're trying to keep things simple as far as gifts go - pjs and stocking stuffers. But today we're leaving for a 2 day mini-vacation to a hotel that's anything but simple, and very special with an indoor waterpark attached to the hotel. Simple goes out the window.

I've been thinking about what was special to me as a kid. When I was about 5, my parents woke me and my brother up in the middle of the night, packed us in the back seat of the pickup truck, and drove to beat a winter storm. We were off to Disney World, and I couldn't imagine anything more exciting than beating a storm to get there.

I still remember things about that trip - like watching the movie "Bambi" at the outdoor theatre at Fort Wilderness Campground, and crying when Bambi's mom was shot. And going on the "It's a small world" ride. And seeing the Country Bear Jamboree.

Kids get so much these days (mine included), and I sometimes wonder what is special. Candy from Hallowe'en hangs on til Christmas (sad but true in our house), Christmas candy til Valentine's, Valentine's til Easter. And food too - what foods are truly special when we, in our northern climate, can get oranges all year round?

How do you celebrate in simple, but special ways?

What are your memories of simple, special holidays?

looking back; looking ahead

I was looking in my journal from this time last year. I wrote about my word for 2010 - what the year had meant to me, trying to summarize it in one word. I chose the word "dive" because we had spent 4 months of that year in France, and dove into a new experience. We also dove into an investigation into different kinds of community living and visited 2 ecovillages. A year of a lot of learning and exploring.

Then I tried to choose a word that would lead me into 2011 - prod me on. I couldn't choose one, so I chose two: simplify and connect.

I really like this exercise - of looking back, and looking forward. Of choosing one word to light my way.

So I'm doing it again this year. As 2011 wraps up, I can see how the words "simplify" and "connect" have led me in different ways this past year. I've been inspired to declutter over and over and over again (still not done), to try out blogging as a way of processing ideas and connecting with others, to welcome someone new into our family, and to get better at saying "no" so that I have time for the "yes" things that I really want to do. When I look back, I can see some movement and improvement in some areas where I was yearning for change last year at this time.

The word that keeps popping into my mind for 2012 (can't believe I'm even writing that number!) is: CHERISH. For me, this word has connections to family, friends, community and the earth, and also to the small moments and memories. It means slowing down, breathing evenly, practicing gratefulness, and looking at the world with a sense of wonder.

Some images that say "cherish" to me:

quilts on a clothesline

Eden and a ladybug
Photo credit: Open Shutters Photography

What about you?

What is your word for 2011? What word will light your way in 2012?

simple Christmas wishes

We've had many conversations about Christmas wishes over the past few days. And I'm actually quite pleased with how they've gone. I'm all about encouraging simple wishes.

Here's a little look-back at some letters to Santa. This one's from Zoe to Santa 3 years ago.

Dear Santa, I want 3 things. A Barbie doll, Polly Pocket,
and Webkinz. I hope you are having a great day. Love Zoe

Two years ago, Zoe asked for an iPod Touch. Eden asked for a candy cane. Eden's request was granted; Zoe's was not. Mean parents.

My wish

Last year, Eden asked for a candy cane. Again - successful.

So this year, both Zoe and Eden have both asked for a candy cane. Eden added, "And I would also like one of those oranges that you can stick a straw into and drink out of." I have only had this kind of orange in Florida, so I've suggested to Derek that we consider going to Florida to grant this wish. But that just might be asking a bit too much. What was I talking about again? Oh yes - simple wishes.

These are the notes that Eden has written over the past few days:

Eden's note #1: To Santa Claus, I want a candy cane.

Eden's note #2 from this morning (she thought she should be more polite to Santa):
To Santa Claus, Can I have a candy cane for Christmas?

Last year Eden wanted to see Santa in the mall. She hopped up on his lap and he asked, "What would you like for Christmas?"

Eden: "A candy cane."

Santa: "Oh, I think you want more than just a CANDY CANE. How about a new doll?"

Eden: (nodding her head)

Really, Santa? What's wrong with just a candy cane? I told Derek about this, and he said, "Well, he does work for the mall, after all." But still. I was annoyed that he'd encourage this "more is better" idea in a 4 year old who had a simple wish.

So here's my letter to Santa this year:

Dear Santa Claus: You can do better. Honour the simple wishes. Love, Rebecca.

I'm dreaming of a stressless Christmas

At this time of year there are visions of sugar plums dancing through my head. And I start to get a bit antsy. And headache-y.

I long for a stressless Christmas - of a time of warmth and joy and giving and love. But the whole living in excess thing rears its ugly head around this time too, and I have to consciously think through my purchases. I want it to be a special time together as a family, but not a time that's focused on accumulating more stuff.

I've mentioned here my grandpa and his excitement over a plate filled with nuts, candy, and one orange. I long for this simplicity - this simple joy. But I get caught up in the trappings.

A friend of mine tries to have all of her holiday shopping done by the start of Advent. I think this is a great goal, but now that 1st day of Advent is only 6 days away. Is your holiday blood pressure rising just reading that? I love the idea of having the month of December for enjoying, soaking up all of the Christmas goodness - making food, but not rushing around the mall for gifts people don't need.

Another friend lets her boys - now 5, 8, and 10 - decide between a family experience or gifts. For the past several years, they've all agreed on a family experience, and no gifts. I love this idea too. They've gone to a special hotel that has an indoor waterpark.

Last year we went with our kids to see a production of Peter Pan and gave them a trunk filled with thrift store treasures to dress up and play Peter Pan at home. That trunk still gets pulled out, and the girls reminisce about the play.

I've really tried in past years to simplify for the holidays - expectations as well as gifts. I've tried to be done by the beginning of Advent, but I manage to sneak in more shopping during December because I don't think I've bought "enough". Because here's the thing: I do love to give. Whether it's bought stuff or handmade stuff, it is fun to give. But how much is too much, and how much is enough?

Here's my shopping plan for this Christmas. And I'll try to stick to it.

Derek and I are still deciding on a family experience for this year. Hopefully we'll know by December 24th. Besides that experience, this is the plan for our immediate family:

December: we plan to pack in lots of little things that have become traditions, like the outdoor Christmas pageant complete with real camel and donkey, our church's Christmas program, seeing the lights in Waterloo Park, putting out cookies for Santa and oats with glitter for the flying reindeer, reading little messages from our Advent calendar each day, and watching some holiday movies together.

December 24th: Open new pjs that are wrapped under tree. This has become somewhat of a tradition. New pjs for Christmas Eve.

December 25th: Open Christmas stocking, filled with some small gifts and goodies.

My shopping for our extended families will involve packing little hampers of comfort and joy. One year we had my siblings and parents over for meals - each couple for one meal. We let each couple choose Italian or Asian. The girls had prepared a dance routine for them as after-meal entertainment which was very entertaining. It was nice to visit with each family

SIBLINGS AND PARENTS: DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER PLEASE, OR RISK RUINING THE SURPRISE (which may turn out to be a surprise anyway if the elves don't get everything I dream of here finished in time for Christmas.)

Included in these happy hampers will be:

* homemade peppermint lip balm

* lavender wheat heating bags (I like the instructions here, but I'm not sewing a gecko shape - I'll just make big rectangles.)

* family photos that we had taken by my friend at Open Shutters Photography

* Fun Dip

* probably some good dark chocolate, possibly with sea salt or hot chili pepper

* homemade Bailey's Irish Cream

* and maybe some shortbread or jam-jam cookies if I'm so inspired

We'll plan a dance that the girls can perform, along with some songs on instruments or voices. And a homemade card for each.

I'd love to hear about your plans, if they can be shared. How do you enter this season?

expecting less

I have a problem: I always want to do more. There is a constant drumbeat in my head, sometimes louder than others, that pounds out "more...more...more...more."

But I feel like this needs to be my motto for right now: less... less.

I tend to have high expectations, which can be a really good thing. But it can lead to a lot of stress and disappointment, so I'm going to try something new for a season: expecting less. Of myself and of others. 

This seems a bit counter-intuitive, and my brain doesn't really like the sound of it. It goes against a lot of what I've been taught - to go for the gold, that if I can dream it I can do it, to reach for the sky, to push myself to be all that I can be. Normally, I want to be more creative, a better mom, a better writer, all things to all people, more, more, more... but this can lead to a feeling of never enough.

I want to be enough.

Here's one good example of expecting more of myself. Derek and I drove to Vermont to a funeral this past weekend - a nine hour trip each way. We drove Friday, went to the funeral on Saturday, then drove Sunday. Guess how many books I packed to read for a writing project that's fast approaching... 25! 25 books. Now that's just stupid. But it's not the first time. I pack all of this work, and then I'm disappointed when it doesn't all get finished. So on my way to Vermont, I told myself "expect less." Whenever feelings of stress would come to mind because of all that I had to do and the limited time before my deadline, I would say to myself, "less... less... less." And I had a great weekend!

"Expect less" could be a great motto for this Christmas season too - but probably not too many stores would use it as their slogan. It's something I want my kids to learn - to expect less, not more more more. Like my grandpa, who as a child was thrilled to come down on Christmas morning to find his dinner plate filled with nuts, candies, and one big perfect orange. Predictable, but very special. 

This tree struck me today because during this end of autumn season, it is expecting less. Each day it will hold less and less of the colour and vibrancy and fullness that the leaves and seeds bring. Soon it will be bare - the least it can be. Preparing for a distant season when it will again blossom and grow exponentially. Outwardly less, but inwardly holding much potential.

It speaks of gentleness and rest to me - not necessarily as the way I'll be forever, but for a season - because this is what I need right now. Even in the midst of deadlines and funerals and sick kids and travel - perhaps especially now - I need to expect less of myself. And this feels freeing and calming in a weird and wonderful way.

one Cheerio at a time

If you're looking to slow down your life, get a 10-month old baby, sit on a couch, and feed her one Cheerio at a time.

Do this for at least 15 minutes, preferably with no other distractions around you. Don't think about anything else, especially not lists.

It is bliss, I tell you, pure bliss.

not enough hours

I've been noticing lately how much I look at my watch. And it bugs me.

And I'm often running late or almost late because I just want to squeeze more more more into the time. And it's never enough.

I wish I could see each day as enough - see time as expansive. Not pack as much in. But I do, do, do. I'm a regular little red hen. I'm a human doing, not a human being.

But I want to rest more. Play more. Look at my watch less. Sigh less. *sigh*

"Slow down and enjoy life. It's not only the scenery you miss by going too fast - you also miss the sense of where you are going and why."  - Eddie Cantor

When do I feel that "time is enough" feeling? When I'm visiting with friends or family. Summer camping. Lying under the stars. Walking through the pumpkin patch. Tobogganing down hills of snow. Swimming or canoeing in the lake. Then time is enough.

how to not shop

Tip #1: I've discovered something: if I do not go in stores, I do not buy things. I don't consume as much or spend as much. Two very good things - for my home, my mind, and my wallet.

There are many times when stores are unavoidable. But there are other times when stores lure me in - with a sale, with an idea that I'll just go get ONE LITTLE THING - and I come out with a whole bag full. That's how much self-control I have. I can justify many things, especially when I'm shopping solo. Dangerous. Especially when I'm buying things from Mennonite Central Committee thrift stores.

What is it that makes shopping so much fun? It's such a satisfying feeling sometimes to come home with NEW THINGS - or with just something. My mom used to laugh at me because I'd spread out my new possessions on my bed and admire them for a few hours. I still do that.

Why? Is it the pursuit of happiness? That idea that more is better? The hunter-gatherer thing? That little kick, or mini-high you get when you put on new digs? Or see your children in cute clothes? I don't know, but I want to pay more attention to WHY I shop. I'm pretty frugal, but even so, things build up, and I buy way more than what we need. Need is even a funny word in this context. Hardly anything in our house is here because of a real need. It's all wants, piling up boxes and boxes of wants that make me feel good -- until it gets to be too much.

Tip #2: If you MUST go shopping, don't bring your wallet. I've found this is a really effective way to not buy anything. Load up your cart, then have fun putting it all back, knowing that your wallet is safe and so is your home.

unpacking

One of the only things I hate about the summer is this: unpacking.

I love all of the little trips here and there - day trips, cottaging, camping, summer camp. But I'm just not good at unpacking.

We came back exactly one week ago from camp, and here is our clothing bag: untouched, unpacked for 7 whole days. Not even unzipped.

unpacked suitcase and laundry. always laundry.

What does this tell me about me?

1. I've got relatively little self discipline when it comes to putting things away. This goes for the whole house and its clutter problem - not just a suitcase here and there after holidays. This is how my self-talk goes when I look at the unpacked suitcase:

self to self: Do you feel like unpacking that now?
self to self: Not really.
self to self: OK.

And then I leave it. Until I need to leave on another trip, and then I just transfer the not dirty things to the next bag and keep the cycle going. Or until it drives me crazy enough that I have to unpack it. At that point, if I don't, my annoyance just might land on some undeserving member of my family. Misplaced annoyance. It should be directed toward the unpacked bag, but instead it's directed toward a person.

This is how I need to talk to myself in the future:

self to self: (loudly and bossily) UNPACK THAT BAG RIGHT NOW! YOU HAVE NO CHOICE!
self to self: (sheepishly, hanging head) ok.

I need to toughen up and command myself to do things. Not ask, tell. Because myself will always say no  if asked.

2. I have entirely too many clothes if I don't even miss what's packed in a bag for a whole week. I read in this crazy article that many women have about 100 items of clothing and wear only 30. The article also goes on to state that women think about shopping at about the same rate that men think about sex.

Well, not me. I'm not a "shop til you drop" kind of gal. But I do have a weakness for thrift stores.

I don't want to count the articles of clothing I have, but maybe it would be a good exercise. We counted the kids' stuffed animals last fall - there were about 100. And then they gave away half. It was good for them to actually hear a number, instead of just hearing their mom say "You have too many stuffed animals!"

I still own things that I haven't worn in a good 10 years. I have purged - many times. But then new things sneak in, and I need to purge again.

When we were on sabbatical in France last year, we only had a certain number of clothes - but it was enough. And it all fit in our dressers! Now I sometimes have to shove to get things in.

And you? How do you tame your clothing drawers? How fast do you unpack after holidays?

burning pockets

In India, while studying the caste system, I lived in the "untouchable" section of a rural village. The following journal entry includes a spoken and unspoken conversation with a rickshaw driver and his wife (in photo below). While I spoke with them, I had a 100 rupee bill in my pocket (about 2$ Canadian). I've since been reminded of this feeling - where I'm the one with burning pockets, with money available, while someone else is not. What's my responsibility? 

It makes me uncomfortable to feel privileged.

We speak indirectly; I ask surface questions, you answer. 

You talk of money, of an income ranging from nothing to 50 rupees a day
You have 4 children, rickshaw rent of 10 rupees a day, barely enough food, an addiction to alcohol, and frequent problems with the police...

Do you KNOW that I stand beside you with 100 rupees in my pocket? burning a hole, I’m uncomfortable, hot, angry, helpless, tempted to hand it to you, absolve myself of guilt...

But you’re not alone, so many like you
I’m not alone, too many like me
palms sweating, 
mind aching, 
dollar bill 
pounding, 
pounding,
power.

to whom? for what purpose?


I ask him how many years has he done this?
20 or so but SHE answers: what can I do?
What can I do? I reply

our silent conversation screams and me, deafened by her pain, incredulous at the strength in her face

Yes, I’ll drink your tea. My filled stomach receives your food, your hospitality.
You have power, I tell her. You know how to survive. 
You have a kind of courage that I haven’t yet learned.

Yes, but how long? she replies. For what purpose?

the up side of down

The up side of having a smoke fire in your kitchen is that you get to have someone else (actually, a whole team of people) clean your kitchen. These cleaning fairies (apparently cigarette-smoking fairies, from the evidence on our driveway) made our kitchen look brand new. I even love to do dishes in it right now - that's how much I love it.

I wouldn't advise having a smoke fire as a method of cleaning or de-cluttering your home, but that's what it's done for me. This smoke cloud's silver lining is that some wonderful cleaners (thank goodness for house insurance) came while we were gone to the cottage and thoroughly wiped down and cleaned our kitchen and main floor bathroom - every nook and cranny. I'm still finding marvelously clean areas, and it delights me each time I do.

The ceiling fan? There really was a fan under all that dust.

The kitchen and bathroom sinks? Gleaming.

The stove drawer where I was avoiding some mouse poo for an embarrassingly long time? Spotless. (I know, disgusting.)

The kitchen floor is just beaming. It makes me not want to really live in this space - it's so clean. More clean than I ever thought possible.

Every drawer and cupboard is a surprise - because of the cleanliness, but also because everything is all over the place. It will take me awhile to figure out where everything is, and where it's supposed to go. But some things are in new locations that actually might be better than their previous homes. And some of the stuff I think "why do I still have this?" so it's an opportunity to toss and make more room. And I'm a bit embarrassed to think of other people going through some of this stuff - treasures once upon a time - and that makes me want to toss stuff too. I keep thinking that it really must have been satisfying for them to clean the kitchen - they would have seen such progress from their work.

And as 3 machines continue to work to churn positive ions into our air, I'll continue on my purging journey to banish the bothersome, clutterful stuff from our kitchen. One room at a time. I think I can, I think I can...

the gift of emptiness

I don't know if I fully expressed how happy it makes me to see emptiness in our house: empty shelves, an empty closet. And to have newness fill it up. Very content.

how do I love thee, empty shelves?
let me count the ways...

In Gretchen Rubin's year-long Happiness Project, she spends a month focusing on boosting vitality, and de-cluttering is part of that. Her friend had told her that she always keeps one shelf empty. Rubin writes "an empty shelf meant possibility; space to expand; a luxurious waste of something useful for the sheer elegance of it."

We sang a song at church on Sunday morning called "God, fill me now." I had never heard it before, and I was especially attentive because it spoke of emptiness - something I had worked to create over the past week. Here's the chorus:

Here before you now; 
see, my hands are empty.
God, fill me now with you.


It made me think about the gift of emptiness. How we experience times of emptiness that can feel sorrowful and sad. But how we can also empty ourselves so that we can re-boot, be refreshed, and start over again. The second is the kind I crave.

Sometimes I fear emptiness. So I fill it. I fill my time and I fill my space because what would I do if the fullness weren't there?

But right now I don't fear emptiness - I welcome it. I recall other times when I've felt empty in a positive way - my mind is clear, I'm open, I'm empty and ready to be filled with grace and peace and a big dose of love. And then ready to give it away, only to be hopefully filled once again.

"We cannot let another person into our hearts or minds unless we empty ourselves. 

We can truly listen to him or truly hear her only out of emptiness." 

- M. Scott Peck

what is productivity?

"A new report finds that 20% of Canadian homes do not have internet access. Currently, the report characterizes these homes as - quote - productive."

I heard this last week on CBC's The Current and I laughed out loud. Because in my experience, it's so true. Internet use (like what I'm doing right now) can suck up many, many hours if you let it. Some of it can be productive, but there are times when I have to force myself out of its swirling vortex so that I can actually accomplish something.

Some days, I can be bothered when I look back over the day and wonder if I was at all productive. Wasn't there more I was supposed to be doing with my gifts? More ways of reaching out beyond my walls? Especially when my kids were young, and my days consisted of diapers, nursing, and not much else, I longed for something measurable.

Mowing the lawn is measurable - I can see the improvement. So is cleaning, but that so quickly gets undone, so it's not quite as motivating. Some of the times when I feel happiest are when I've created something - a piece of writing, something sewn, a piece of artwork, or a gift. That feels incredibly productive but also life-giving because something of me went into it (not like cleaning or other chores - they don't quite make it on the creativity spectrum at all for me).

In yesterday's post, the poem by Mary Oliver exalts idleness. That watching, waiting, noticing, and being silent can be forms of prayer.

We've all heard that "idle hands are the devil's playground." Now I'm not so sure. Seems like idle minds (and bodies) are needed to pray and to really be present and attentive to God and to others around us.

I'm inspired by my grandma. Her productivity was in her work and her ability to create things of beauty. She would bake a pie, pick raspberries, weed the garden, hang out laundry, preserve some pickles, eat a hearty breakfast, wash, dry, put away dishes, and maybe even sew a little something - all by 8:30 am. It was humbling to see what she could accomplish, especially during my university years of sleeping in.

an example of my grandma's productivity

I'm inspired by my children. Their productivity is in their play. Sometimes this play means creating something artistic. Sometimes it means working alongside an adult, imitating their tasks. My younger daughter loves to get out her plastic lawn mower when we mow the lawn. She takes her job very seriously, walking back and forth over the grass and making sound effects as she goes. This is productive play for her, and she feels a part of what we're doing. My older daughter devours books and loves to play the piano. These leisure activities are expanding her mind and causing new connections in her brain - which seem like a very productive use of time!

the lawnmowing team

Many times my eyes are bigger than my stomach.  Every involvement and idea looks so appealing, and I love to just squeeze everything I can out of life, even if it leaves me all stressed out. Because it makes me feel productive.

"To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, . . . is to succumb to violence . . . The frenzy of the activist neutralizes his work for peace. It destroys his own inner capacity for peace." - Thomas Merton

This quotation speaks to me, and I strive for a balance between productivity and idleness. I seek to focus - to let things go - so that I don't succumb to this violence of overactivity and overcommitment.

Wishing you a wonderfully productive and peacefully idle weekend!

falling off the wagon

Already, you ask?

Yes.

I was doing so well for one day - I didn't buy anything or bring anything into the house for one whole day as part of my new challenge.

The next day I went grocery shopping and just brought home food - which is allowable. But then, in a moment of weakness, I logged on to kijiji and searched through the local bargains galore. One thing led to another and before I knew it I was driving home with a trunk full of an itsy-bitsy little bit of backyard clutter: a pool.

falling off the wagon

I felt extra sneaky because when I had broached the subject of The Pool with my husband a week earlier, he frowned and said, "It will kill the grass." I guess I didn't take that as an outright "no" because when he was safely in Winnipeg (24 hour drive away), I took matters into my own hands.

I thought about my reasons for buying the pool, and here's what came to mind:

• It was a good deal. Don't we all love a good bargain?
• It's a childhood fantasy of mine to have a pool on my property. And isn't that what adulthood is all about? Fulfilling childhood fantasies? 
• I could imagine a lovely summer family lifestyle avec piscine. I had visions of barbeques poolside, with the kids merrily splashing while the adults sipped wine coolers. All of a sudden, here was a fun reason to have friends over in the heat of the summer months. Here was a new lifestyle.

I know that this is how companies like Starbucks market their products. They say, "This is what your lifestyle will look like/feel like when you sip one of our lattes." And so I buy the lifestyle, and not just the product. I buy the vision of myself (what I feel like, and possibly how others see me) using that product. Sure, I like the taste too, but it's the coolness factor that tempts me and says "you really deserve this. Think about how relaxed you'll feel when you drink this expensive chai latte." I'm sold. Why does a cup of tea that can be made for 25 cents get sold for $5.00? Because I'm not just buying a mug of whipped spicy tea. I'm buying an experience; I'm engaging a brand. 

So many things have come into our house because of my imaginary lifestyles. Like home-school mom. I will most likely never be a home-school mom, but I have all the resources I'll ever need, saved from my teaching career. And then there's tap-dancing me. Why do I have tap-dance shoes when I took one class in university, and haven't since? Do I picture myself as a closet tap-dancer? Or mosaic-maker, with a whole huge bin of broken pottery waiting for that day when I'll feel like making a beautiful mosaic. Even being a teacher is an imaginary lifestyle for me right now. I haven't done this in 5 years. And then there's knitting-sewing-arts-and-crafter. I have enough supplies on hand to lead kid craft workshops every day for the next 2 months. Will I do this? Absolutely not. So why do I hold onto these things?

I keep other things because of fear and "what if's" -- what if I'll need this someday? What if my kid doesn't learn her multiplication tables because I got rid of that math game? What if I want to knit something out of the blue, just after I've gotten rid of my knitting needles that I never use? Most of these what if's are fairly stupid and easily solveable - if I want to knit, I can buy some new knitting needles. Easy. And there are other ways to learn multiplication tables. 

Some of my most satisfying, simpler times of living with enough were during camping, traveling, and living overseas experiences - making do with what I had, and feeling free - like it was more than enough.

So why can't I live like this at home, in my regular life? 

putting the house on a diet

Sometimes I read blogs of moms that have 4-6 children, who homeschool, farm, preserve, knit, practice yoga and daily meditation, sew, workout, and blog, among other lovely things. And I wind up feeling just a tad inadequate.

I think we like to show our shiniest sides - and that's ok. I have many not-so-shiny sides that I like to keep hidden. But, in the spirit of honesty, and just so that you know that I'm more than just a "make-preserves-out-of-roadside-weeds-and-backyard-bubble-tea-and-blog/brag-about-it" kind of girl, I'm about to show you the worst.

Are you ready for it?

kitchen counter (see the Easter baskets still there?)
embarrassing.

bedroom

somewhere there is a desk

I'm embarrassing myself just looking at these. Here's the thing: sometimes I yell, sometimes I fight with my family members, sometimes I'm grumpy in the mornings, and boy am I ever messy. So messy. And these are not just isolated piles, contained in one room of the house. They're EVERYWHERE.

I try! I really do. For a couple of days, I can be Miss Neat and Tidy. And you might be saying, "I've been to your house. It's not so bad."

I will tell you a secret. Unless you have stopped by unexpectedly, there are kind fairies who shove most of the main floor clutter into a storage closet like this:

stuff to be dealt with a couple of years from now

In an effort to simplify, and to de-clutter my mind as well as this house, I've decided that the house must go on a diet. It is getting too stuffed. It's bursting at the seams. Its metabolism is alarmingly low. Lots of stuff comes in, and few things go out. So we've got to find some ways to burn off excess fat from our house.

I thought that for the month of June - for 28 more days - I will give myself a "seriously-reduce-the-house's-input" challenge.

This is my "COME ON IN" list so far: library books, food, 2 new articles of summer clothing (this is a DIET, not a total fast)

And here's my "GET OUT" list so far: excess paper, books I'll never read, clothes I'll never wear, and maybe some other stuff too

And you? Does your house need to go on a diet too? Feel free to join in the fun!

"national do one thing at a time" day

This past Monday, Jian Ghomeshi (CBC Radio, "Q") declared it "National One Thing At A Time" day.

As a woman, I think I'm expected to be a good multi-tasker. But I'm not. When I bake something, I frequently forget about it the minute I put it in the oven. This has resulted in many burnt offerings and disappointments. Thank goodness for loud oven timers. And if you arrive a bit early and I'm still trying to work out the timing of everything needed for our lovely meal? Well, watch out - my attention to you (a good thing) will result in over- and under-cooked food for our bellies (a bad thing).

I'm easily distracted. I can go to the laundry room with the intent of putting in a load of laundry and returning DIRECTLY to my writing (which is my day job right now). But then I see an area that could be tidied, or read an interesting article on the back of a Cheerios box, or find a box of letters that I think I must sort NOW.

I need to tell myself "NO! Not right now, Rebecca!" and force myself to leave the scene.

I know that I can accomplish a lot when my focused is narrowed to one singular task. And I know that I can find more joy and enjoyment when I'm just thinking about one thing at a time. My mind starts to worry when it's flitting from one thing to the next. This Zen proverb speaks to me out of its simplicity:

When walking, walk. When eating, eat.

Or this Italian one:

Often he [or she] who does too much does too little.

Or this one:

If you chase two rabbits, both will escape. 

Speaking of 2 rabbits, there are 2 lovely backyard bunnies who entertain us some mornings. Here is one:

I tried to get both in one photo, but couldn't - so I focused on one!

But I digress - this post is not about rabbits. It's about focus.

OK. I get it. I have a monkey mind, often jumping from one thing to the next. I have to be intentional and try really hard to tune out the noise sometimes. It's about focusing on certain (positive, helpful) thoughts and comments, and letting go of the rest.

For me, focus is also about priorities. I need to resist the temptation to do more. I need to resist the temptation to consume more. To have less, do less, and then magically have more - more time, more space, more room for surprises. And sometimes it means choosing to focus on what gives me life - spending time with family and friends, creating music & artwork & gifts & food for others and with others, and having a wee bit of quiet time too.

This great article speaks about the price we pay when we multitask - particularly what our brains look like "on computers." The bursts of information through e-mail, phone calls, text messages, etc. is re-wiring our brains. Research shows that heavy multitaskers experience more stress, fractured thinking, and lack of focus.

I want to practice unitasking - to train my mind to have a singular focus. Not for the whole day, certainly - and maybe not even for one whole hour. But to be where I am, concentrated on one task at a time.

This text speaks to me of focus, and of paring back - having less to have more:

Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Luke 12:32-34)

I want my heart/treasure to be focused where it matters. Sometimes this will be on mundane tasks, and often on life-giving ones. I find that lists help me focus on work and mundane tasks. But do I need lists to focus on the important ones too? Like being fully present (and not scrolling through a list in my head) when a child is telling me a VERY long story?

Anyone have a good pattern for purse-making - ones that don't wear out? I may be up for a sewing project soon. OK. Getting off-track again.

How do you focus on one thing at a time, or on what really matters?

lessons from France

It's been exactly one year since we boarded a plane to return home from our sabbatical in France - on May 13, 2010. Even though we spent 4 short months there, several big life lessons (and some not-so-big) have continued to challenge us since our return. Here's my list of lessons from this time:

1. Nice boots and scarves can spruce up any outfit.
2. Hot drinks are best consumed from real mugs while sitting and visiting with others.
3. Seize the day! We love day trips where we've learned a bit about the area, and want to learn more about our local history in Canada.

on a Swiss day trip to the Chateau de Chillon

on an Ontario day trip to Crawford Lake
(we LOVE this place!)

4. Did your Mom ever say, "It's not a fashion show"? Well, in some parts of this world, it definitely is.
5. It is a very, very good feeling to be warmly welcomed to a new area.
6. We like the Canadian education system.
7. Long, relaxed meals are a wonderful thing. So is cheese for dessert.

cheese dessert plate

8. It's perfectly OK to stumble around in a language that's not your mother tongue.
9. It is good to slow down and rest.
10. Time away from internet and TV can be very productive.
11. Public transportation is a very good thing, especially when it is reliable, efficient, and Swiss.

playing on the dinosaur slide on
a Swiss train

12. Meeting more than once a week with a faith community/friends is a good thing.
13. It's refreshing to not be able to go Sunday shopping.
14. It is definitely worth it to buy quality chocolate and cheese.

sampling chocolates at the
Cailler chocolate factory

And you? Any life lessons you'd like to add to the list?

one word

In December, as part of Reverb 10 writing prompts, I attempted to choose a word to hold as my word for 2011. A word to inspire, motivate, push me on, act as my guide on the side, encourage me to expand who I am. And it was hard to choose just one.

So I chose two:

SIMPLIFY 

and CONNECT.

And the two are related to me. The more I simplify - my thoughts, my possessions, my home, my involvements - the greater capacity and time I have to connect with others - my family, friends, earth, self, and God. The more time I have for surprises, spontaneity, and play to enter too. Connecting can take other forms too - like this blog.

I've been reading The Call by Oriah (HarperOne, 2003). In this book, Oriah encourages us to find and embody the one word we are each called to live/teach/be/share with the world. A tall order. But it intrigues me. A quote from the book:

Remember - there is one word you are here to say with your whole being. When it finds you, give your life to it.

She says we should give ourselves completely to this word - or to our struggle with this word. Oriah's word is "rest" - and she finds it VERY hard to do that. She writes:

Living your word means opening the door that fear has closed.

It was hard for me to choose one word for the year, let alone finding one word for my life. What would I choose? Create? Collaborate? Communicate? All things I love to do, so they don't have that "edge" that she refers to. Things that I find hard to do: fail, finish what I've started, resist thrift store deals, clean up around the house, say no to interesting-sounding-projects, act out of courage instead of fear, and rest. But all of those feel a bit heavy to take on as my "word."

Perhaps "voice." For years, I've wondered if I had one. I participated in a 7-month study tour to India, Indonesia, and North American native communities way back when. We studied issues of peace and conflict in the various places we visited. It was truly fascinating and life-changing. One native elder in Canada met with our group near the end of our 7 months together and said, "Sound your voice. You have been given a gift. The gift is not for you to keep to yourselves; it is for the people."

Those words have stayed with me. How often I can think of my life as boring, average, with no words to offer. But I'm beginning to hope that I can offer something. And I know that I love to give voice to others' stories too. So there. Voice. I'll sit with that for awhile and see how it feels as my "life" word.

someone who's not afraid to sound her voice

(or at least her fashion sense)

And you? What words are you embodying for this year? For your life?