by turns

Turning Points

My grandmother passed away on Sunday. It was sudden, but not. Unfortunately I wasn't able to be there, but she went peacefully, with family at her side. Thinking back it was really beautiful to think about my life with her and with my grandfather. Since I was a young boy they took me all over the country for weeks at a time in the various RVs they owned. At every opportunity they were always doing everything they could to broaden my horizons, both literally and figuratively. With them I saw most of the West and Midwest, which I think sparked my love both for the landscape, and people, of the US and the car as the vehicle for both my mind and body to explore the soul of this country. With them, and with my parents, there was never a question as to my worth as a human, the value of my thoughts and needs, and the priceless quality of my development as a person, which they always sought to further. Such a gift can never be repaid or fully honored except by passing it on, which I hope to do with as much love as they did.

Thank you, Grandma.

Days 3 an 4

Well, this past week has certainly been an education, which is pretty much what we signed on for, so there you go. It's also been one of the most stressful weeks of my somewhat shortish life. This is how it went down.

Yesterday (Day 3), Amia knew what was up as soon as Suzanne put her in the bike seat (the school is close enough to ride to). She started screaming as soon as bum touched seat. And didn't let up for FIVE BLOCKS. Yes, there must be some kind of record or award in there somewhere. Like, Longest Bike Ride While Screaming Without Taking Breath, or an award for Best Kidnapping Simulation. The night before and in the morning Suzanne and I tried to talk her down, talking about how much she liked school once she got there. She still seemed kind of confused. "I thought school was for when I'm big like you," she said, pointing to Suzanne. "Nope, you're big enough and we think you're ready, Amia. And you said you liked it, remember?"  Not so much. At the school she refused to go inside. People were staring. Kids watching. Amia screaming. Finally the teacher came and just kind of picked her up and took her in. 1.5 hours later the teacher said, "She calmed down as soon as she got in the classroom and started playing with the kids. She even consoled another little girl that was crying." She really likes it once she's there, so what's up? The teacher shed some light and it rang true the more Suzanne and I talked about it.

Amia's using the screaming/crying to kind of open up negotiations with us. She doesn't usually really scream or cry that much, but if she does my tendency especially is to figure out a compromise. Here's where it gets tricky. Parenting, it seems, is a really fine line between dictatorial, arbitrary authority and nuanced governance (for lack of a better word). Suzanne and I are both pretty firm on matters of principle and things she needs to do, either for her own safety or for the development of virtue. And when we issue a ruling (for lack of a better term), especially if it's concerning one of the above, we're very careful to explain as much as we're able and as well as she can understand the reasoning. For example, once when she was about to put her finger in an electrical socket which for some reason was brightly colored, all but inviting children to meet their end in it's fun looking embrace, I made a big deal out of it and surprised her with how big my reaction was. I then explained to her what could happen. The next day a similar situation presented itself while we were playing hide and seek. I watched from around the corner as she approached the brightly colored death trap, think about it, then continue running for me. And for similar things she's responded well. But there's some grey areas. For example, Amia can be really pick about some things, even intense, that seem small. She likes only Suzanne or I to do certain things like open a door or button her shirt. If she raises a big enough ruckus we've given in to her requests or negotiated. Doesn't seem like that big a deal and when you're trying to just get out the door (which can take between 10-120 minutes depending on the age and mood of the child in question and the season) why not? But what we're seeing is that she's generalized the behavior. That takes us to today...

As soon as she woke up from her nap she started screaming about not wanting to go to school. Suzanne said she kept repeating, "Momma, say I don't have to go to school!" That went on pretty much for the whole car ride. Once they arrived they repeated the same scene as yesterday, complete with the teacher coming out to help. After the class, again, "She calmed down as soon as she got into the classroom." She told Suzanne on the way home, "Mom, I'm ready to go to school." And at dinner she happily told us about how much fun she had, how funny her friends and the assistant teacher are. And Suzanne had some really beautiful interactions with other mothers that I hope she'll share on her bloggity. Here's our thoughts.

Reflecting on this we're being much firmer on setting boundaries and even in the past couple days she's responded really well. Plus, after she's been to school she's a completely different person for the rest of the day. She's so much more mature, confident, even happier. She's definitely ready. We think she's just giving up old patterns--both of behavior and just of the day. It's hard to go from being with mommy the whole day to being with all new people in a new place, man.

Now we're off for a very well-timed vacation with Suzanne's fam. Now that we know what we're getting into a little bit with this whole school thing hopefully next will be a bit less stressful. Ever since this whole thing started I've been getting these heavy headaches and just feeling really...compressed.

Prayers and all the support and love we've been getting from everyone, whether here, in person, or on Facebook, has really made all the difference. Thank you!

Super Doula!

I'm really proud of Suzanne. Right now she's helping her second couple through the miracle and marathon of child birth. One more birth assist, a class, and she's a full fledged doula. She's certainly having a trial by fire.

She went to the couples house in Chicago last night at 7. The mother was in early labor, but she was having trouble relaxing which kept her from progressing, so she asked Suzanne to come over. All last night I kept waking up, expecting Suzanne to be there each time. So when Amia and I woke up at 8 this morning I was suprised to see Suzanne was still out. Turns out they'd gone to the hospital at 1am. She progressed a little more then stopped. Last I talked to her, almost 3 hours ago at 11am, she was dilated 7cm, which means transition is about to happen, then pushing. So it was the last stretch, but still a ways to go.

This is the mother's third child, but the first time doing it non-medicated (as far as I know and last I heard. That's the plan, but it doesn't always go according to plan). This is wierdly similar to the first birth she attended, where it was kind of stop and go. That one ended up being 24 hours. I hope, for everyone involved, that the baby comes before then!

So Amia and I are hanging out, thankful to not be baking in our apartment. We went to the beach today and swam a bit, but then someone from the city came and told us the beach is closed because of the bacteria in the water. Nice. I'm gonna go make lunch for her now and hope that the last disc of West Wing Season 6 is in the mail. One of the great developments in recent weeks is that Amia likes watching West Wing with me. She likes the music and a couple of the characters, asking me to rewind it when their parts are done. I can't complain about that.

The Thing That Haunts Me

It's been two and a half years now since my mom passed. The thing that haunts me, and comes to mind so frustratingly easy, is how it feels to have someone you love so much about to pass away. I can remember so many things from that last month we had with her. And so much from that last week. Things I want to remember and things I don't. I want to know why I can't remember stuff that happened 5, 10, 15 years ago that well. And the part that haunts me is I know I'll go through these things again. Maybe not the specifics, but the general knowledge that someone I love will pass on. I remember in the months that followed I felt like not loving anyone, and life suddenly became dark. Things have brightened considerably. And I know that life has been and will be full of happiness and light. But it's those hurricanes of darkness that creep up on you with such violence, taking so much, leaving you reeling. And now being a parent I catch glimpses of what it must have been like for my mother, being a parent, knowing the passage will be made soon, and the pain that will be left in its wake. I sometimes wonder if I'd rather pass on like my mother did, knowing the end is drawing near, with time to say goodbye to life and to loved ones. Or if I'd rather go quickly and suddenly. In the end what is best for our family will happen. I have faith in that. As painful as my mother's illness was for all of us, I know that my mother was completely healed at the end of her time here. One of the unexpected elements of the four years she fought her cancer was how in tune I became with her healing processes. In the end, for me, that's what makes this all bearable, the knowledge that all was made right.

September 30

I felt like I couldn't go to sleep till I got this down for some reason.

A couple things have been going through my head. Precipitated by the fact that the second anniversary of my mother's passing came and went and I didn't even notice. I'm not sure why. At first I thought I should be bothered by that. But then I realized it's because I think I've run the course of my grieving. At this point in the process I've been thinking about a couple things.

One is that I've let go of a lot of things, including the grief. I don't need to look back with sadness at what happened. That sadness has lost meaning for me. What I remember, and think of in terms of my mom, is what she's like now. I talk with her, pray with/for her, think about what she's doing, feel her sometimes when I'm with Amia and thoughts of my mom will just pop into my head. The whole process of looking ahead, or more important even, being in the moment, has really helped me orient my emotions and focus.

Second is something I heard Deepak Chopra say. He said that just like nature follows the course of least resistance, so should we. Water flows and flows and if it overcomes an obstacle it finds another way around or through (in most cases). I've found that to be really helpful. Something I've learned from Suzanne is that the more you focus on something, the more you struggle against it, the more power you give it. This relates to the other thing I've been thinking about. I just saw a spoken word video with Henry Rollins. At the end he says he wants everyone to "live strong". That's puzzled me ever since I heard it. I have no idea what he means.

This relates to my grieving process in several ways. One is that I never fought my emotions. I let them pass through me like water. In the end I'm not emotion--I'm spirit. When I felt intense sadness I just cried, wherever I happened to be. I didn't want to waste time healing by fighting what I felt, so I immersed myself in it so that I could get past it. And watching a scene in Six Feet Under I remembered another time when I was in South Carolina. In the show a character is out on a mountain after burying his wife. He stands up in the sunrise and just starts screaming as the camera moves up into the sky. Suzanne helped me remember that when I was in South Carolina a year ago I was all alone on this river, pretty far from anybody, and I just screamed and screamed. It felt so good to let go of all that tension, anger, and disappointment.

So weighing these two views, that of following the path of least resistance and the idea of "living strong", I guess that, for me, the former harmonizes with how I want to be in the world. I feel like by trying to live in tune with God's purpose for me I'm automatically following the path of least resistance, and nothing can really stand in my way, whether it's sadness, ego, or an SUV.

OK, another thought. I'm starting to glimpse how this all relates to parenting too. Being with Amia is really inspiring to me. She just loves everyone, and the world is a source of endless fascination. Raising her we haven't put a lot of limits on what she can do, instead praising and encouraging what she can do. I think that's resulted in several positive things. One is that she seems to trust us. In 99% of cases if we take something away she doesn't really fuss because she seems to trust us, because we rarely take anything away. Even things that might seem dangerous, that she might choke on or whatever. We always are nearby ready to intervene, and it doesn't mean we let her play with knives.  But one of the results is that she's very adept with things. She rarely falls off things because she's gotten so confident climbing up and down, and she's choked just once, on something that you wouldn't think to be a choking hazard. I hope what we're showing her is that she can trust her own instincts and intuition, and that the world is safe place, that she just has to navigate it with our help for now.

It's hopeful/helpful to think that you might be doing something right as a parent!

Confession #459.5

I often find myself with bread and melted chocolate in my pockets.

And it usually has nothing to do with Amia.

Being A Dad

One of the first things people ask me once they find out we have a baby is what it's like being a father. Sometimes they're a parent so they kind of know, or they aren't and really want to know. I never really know what to answer. I'm slowly realizing what it means to be a father, and the husband of someone who's a mother.

A big part of what I'm learning is that I'm seeing with clearer eyes the wisdom of something Abdu'l-Baha said. He said (I'm paraphrasing terribly here) that the mother has a right to expect the father to maintain the livelihood of the family, but the father doesn't. That, if possible, the mother should be with the children, as they are the first educator, and the father should earn the family's livelihood. Before becoming a father I wondered about this. In times like these where gender roles are, mostly rightly, being questioned at every turn, this seems like a surprisingly traditional thing to say. In that questioning, though, I thing we've gotten confused with what's 'traditional', 'progressive', and what's right. One of the beauties of this statement is that it's an ideal--it won't work in every case, due to economic factors or whatever, but if at all possible I'm beginning to see the beauty, and the difficulty, in this setup. I should also say my observations here are based on only our own experience.

I think I've mentioned before here how important the mother's role is, and how intense it is. I'll never have the kind of relationship Suzanne has with Amia. One realization I just had is that when you're a parent, of an 11-month old at least since that's all I know, your wishes, desires, interests, and even your body, are not really your own. Even more so for the mother, from the moment of conception and the body starts to change and they can no longer have coffee anymore, to the time that they're nursing and always have to be around, even if using a breast pump. I came to this realization after two straight days of Amia waking up at 4am. There's no one to call in sick to, or to ask a vacation from. It's like having a job that you never really get a break from. This was the realization subsequent to a related one where I realized that being a parent means being one 24/7. I also just heard recently that our relationships with God are patterned after our relationships with our mother, and our relationships with the Prophets of God on our father. At first that took me aback. But in seeing how Amia interacts with Suzanne I think that's pretty right on. Whenever Amia is scared she starts saying Mama, repeatedly, and looking around for her. Also whenever she's tired, hungry, and just needing a sense of security. These are all the same reasons I call on God and repeat His name (especially when I'm really hungry). I don't think Amia does it anymore than other babies. But I always joke with Suzanne that Mama is Amia's greatest name, the name she invokes to draw down assistance from a higher power. Thinking about what Suzanne provides, and what mothers are created to provide, both physically and emotionally, it is the closest thing to God that Amia understands. That's pretty intense. So where do fathers fit into this relationship?

Kind of like the Prophets, we're there to back up what the creator says and does (trying to not sound too blasphemous here). One of the biggest ways I'm trying to do that is by providing for the family. I've been blessed with work, and colleagues, that I love, and for which I'm every day grateful. I know it could be a lot worse. But what that's also meant for me is that I'm gone a lot. I'm at work, it seems, more than at home (for more on this see post where I called work home). I tried to make my peace with this fact early on. Because not only do I miss picnics on the beach and naps holding little Amia, but I have to see her cry every morning when I go to work and leave again at lunch. About the second month I opened up to a book of Baha'u'llah's writings to this passage (again paraphrasing terribly)--all that one has given up in the path of God you will find whole and in tact in the next world. Immediately all my cares went away. Because it took me out of this moment and shifted my perception of what life means.  That's been able to sustain me and make everything alright. Now I wouldn't mind if the National Center went to 3 or 4 day work weeks of 5 hour days, but until then I think we'll be alright.

4 out of 5 Bloggers Agree...Blogging is Good

It's been great to see a whole new generation of people start blogging just recently! I realized the other day that the majority of young people I know have a blog or are thinking about starting a blog. I really want to know what it means to people to blog, to have this outlet. This made me think about why I continue to blog. I remember thinking that I might get tired of it after a while. But here I am almost a year and a half in and not even thinking about stopping anytime soon. So why do I do it?

I began with the conscious vision of working out some things I was going through, particularly with my Mother's passing. Now it's moved onto documenting a whole other chapter in my life, that of raising a human being. And I specifically wanted to do it publicly to learn and share what I've learned, and also to have that discipline. I have a hard time journalling on my own, just for myself, because I don't really see a purpose for it, but doing it publicly added another dimension of some kind of responsibility. But I've slowly realized another unconscious project I had for my journeys in blogland. I grew up really afraid to share my self, to let others in, and perhaps more importantly, afraid to really move out of my self to meet others, and I think I was the poorer for it. Once that realization crystallized I came to see this blogging process as one big trust fall. I decided early on that it would be pretty personal, this blog 'o mine, because I wanted to do away with the personal/public split that I felt was really stifling me. After my Mother's passing, and with the coming of Amia, my view of the world shifted. I came to see it as less and less a 'dangerous' place, and realized that as long as I'm sure within my self and the about the purpose of my creation, there's nothing to be afraid of. And I noticed, too, that those relationships that were the most intense, fruitful, and re/creative were the ones that had the most trust, love, and openness. Once I realized that I realized I could either live in the kind of world I want to live in, one marked by trust, love and rich relationships, or wait until it comes about and then be the way I want to be. Ever since then I've been trying to live the former. And this blog has been a great way to practice that.

Things that got me through

There's been a couple movies and shows that have really helped me deal with my Mother's passing and death. Before the events of a year and half ago, I think I was pretty scared of death. I think because I'd never seen it. It was invisible, taboo to really talk about, and I didn't know anyone who'd dealt with a major death and was willing to talk about it or that I felt comfortable asking (if you ever want to talk about it with me feel free! I'm almost always willing). Now I've seen it. I have the example of my Mother's truly fearless, even joyful passage to the next world. I've seen someone go from life, my thinking they might stay around for a while, to serious physical decline, to coma, to passing, until we in this world were left only with the soul's physical temple and memories of a bright and cloudy past. Some time later I volunteered, as a member of the Local Spiritual Assembly, and as someone who felt like they'd been given a gift, to help prepare a body for burial according to Baha'i custom. The gift I felt I'd been given was the respect, care, and compassion that several women showed my Mom, after she'd passed and needed to be prepared for her body's earthly home. They spared no expense and no emotion (I'm not sure what that means exactly but it feels right. I think it means they gave their all) during the preparation. It was truly a blessing. And I felt like I had to pass that gift on, that I'd gotten from it what I could. So having dealt with all this myself it helped a lot to have examples, so here they are.

City of Angels. I just watched it again recently, as I do about every year now. The idea that there are angels, holy beings, everywhere helping, even in a small way, accords with how I think things might actually be. It's also a pretty beautiful vision. To think that the veil between this world and the next is so thin, and that we're surrounded by people who love unconditionally.

Six Feet Under. This is a show on HBO. It's about the Fisher family, a family of morticians. The very first episode of the first season the father passes away, leaving the business to his two sons. So throughout the first two seasons at least (they're all I've seen and the only ones on DVD) they're dealing with his passing. Everywhere they go they see their father in many different manifestations. Sometimes they're talking with him and he's either visiting them, in a sense, or it's their imagination. Or they're dreaming with him. Or they're remembering something from their past with him. One of the most powerful scenes is when Nate Fisher's girlfriend gets the two sons to ride the bus the hit their father and killed him in his car. The other son whose name I can't remember finally opens up and cries, and deals with his father's passing. Before then he'd been too much of a mortician, dealing with it as a business. One of the other powerful scenes is when Nate finally confesses to his brother his fear of an illness he has. The way he opens up and just lets everything go is something I've never seen on TV, only in real life. And another story line that struck close to home is when the Latino man who prepares the body has to prepare an infant for burial at the same time that he's expecting his second child to be born any minute. I found that such a real fear to expose and deal with. Throughout the show I really appreciate how death is approached by all of the characters, including the ones who are customers at the funeral home--with anger, denial, humor, love, fear, comfort, loss...I've found all those emotions to be part of the equation.

American Beauty. My favorite line of any movie anywhere is in this movie. The boy next door says, Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world you can't take it, and you feel like you're heart's going to burst. His quest for beauty, even in death, has been really inspiring to me. Deep down, and I think he says this in a way, the search for beauty is the quest for God, and He can be seen anywhere if you're looking with the right eyes. So true.

21 Grams. I think it completely and totally represents the chaos of life, and the relative unimportance of time, through it's nonlinear storytelling. And the last lines are amazing, contemplating what's lost when someone passes, and more, what's gained. Hence the name, which refers to the fact (?) that a body loses 21 grams when they die. What are those grams? The soul? Their fears? Their sins? That's what this movie deals with.

All these things have helped me in another way and given me some direction. All these things I've listed, artistic representations, are gifts themselves that someone had the courage to make and give. I've always enjoyed writing, and have, through this blog, come to see it as an art. Whether my writing is "good" enough to consider art is not that important to me. My own sense of it as art, rather, has helped me focus on it as a serious soul process that demands clarity, focus, attention and love. And that's been an invaluable thing.

One cool thing then two cool things

Last night Suzanne and I went for a walk with Amia. She loves being outside, looking at the sky, and then falling asleep. First we went to the playground to take her down the slide. There was a couple there with a little boy. We start talking because the little boy is just enamored with Amia. He keeps asking his parents if he can giver her a hug, tries to give her a kiss and ends up blowing her one, then caresses her cheeks really, really gently. It was soooo sweeeet. As we start talking with the parents all these similarities come out. Their 2 year-old boy is named Elihu (I think that's how you spell it), which is the old version of Elijah. That's the name we would have given Amia had she been a boy. Then they ask where we're from and it turns out the husband and I are both from Chile. I was born about 2 hours south of where he lived. He grew up in Glen Ellyn, the town bordering the town I grew up in, Wheaton. He speaks so-so Spanish, has a Middle Eastern name AND his mother is a Baha'i. I couldn't believe it. They were such a fun couple. They're both musicians, he a jazz guitarist, she a jazz singer and stay-at-home mom. They invited us over to their big Evanstonian house and we're hoping to go on Friday after lunch. It's so easy to meet people here.

The second thing is that I saw the season finale of Deadwood, a show on HBO. It's a Western. I'd have trouble making a general recommendation for the show. It's profane, graphic, explicit...and genius. The writing is perhaps the best writing I've ever seen on TV. And the finale of season 1 ranks up there with the 4th season finale of the Soprano's for me. The depth and complexity of the characters, the writing, the pure and raw emotion the actors are able to summon, they're all just amazing. I'd have to say those are the 2 best things I've ever seen on TV. With those 2 shows, plus Six Feet Under, I'd have to say that if I could just get HBO and not any other channels I would pay some serious coinage.