Karen Frazier's Blog

Komen, Cancer, and Pinkwashing

2012-02-07T08:12:00.000-08:00

by Karen Frazier

The recent spate of negative publicity for Susan G. Komen for the Cure has really started me thinking. On the one hand, over the years I've been a supporter of Komen, participating in fundraising, training for the Breast Cancer 3-Day, and donating to the organization. Breast cancer is personal in my family, as it is in many. My sister and a close family friend are proud survivors, and I am grateful that we've come so far in breast cancer research and awareness that they both detected their cancers early through screening, and then were able to receive treatment that has left them both breast cancer-free. Over the years, I have supported Komen because I felt they empowered women and uplifted survivorship.

On the other hand, I've also been a huge supporter of Planned Parenthood. I wasn't always so financially comfortable in my life. Throughout most of my 20s, I did not have health insurance and was living right at the poverty level. Planned Parenthood was there for me, providing low-cost health services and cancer screening that otherwise would have broken the bank. Resultantly, much of my charitable budget each year goes to Planned Parenthood because it empowers women. It also helps women to make smart, informed choices with regards to reproduction, providing birth control to prevent both STDs and unwanted pregnancies. As a volunteer court-appointed special advocate/guardian ad litem for abused and neglected kids, I see first-hand the results of women having babies when they are completely unprepared to do so. It is not something I would wish on any child.

Naturally, with this history, I was disappointed to see Susan G. Komen for the Cure and Planned Parenthood at odds last week. I understand that there is a staunch anti-abortion lobby in the world. I understand that other people's morals and values are different than mine when it comes to reproductive freedom; however, Planned Parenthood is about more than reproductive freedom. It's about health care and cancer screening for women, something Susan G. Komen also supports.

In recent years, I've actually moved away from support for organizations like Komen because of something that I see I don't like - pinkwashing. If you ever leave the house and go to a store, you have probably discovered all kinds of special "pink" products that claim to support breast cancer. In fact, Susan G. Komen for the Cure recently released a perfume called Promise Me that ostensibly supports breast cancer. According to many credible reports, however, the perfume contains chemicals not on the label that have been linked to breast cancer. In another ill-advised move a few years ago, Komen partnered with KFC to hawk pink buckets of chicken, which contained saturated and trans fats linked to, you guessed it, breast cancer.

Komen's corporate agenda has concerned me for quite some time because of the use of breast cancer as a marketing tool to sell more product. Sure, some of those proceeds go to support breast cancer research and/or awareness. However, as one who has seen first-hand what breast cancer does to people I love and their families, I've always resented its use as a marketing tool. I don't like that companies make extra money off my family's pain, and I've heard many breast cancer survivors echo that same sentiment. Breast cancer isn't a sexy little pink ribbon, a cute pink handgun, or a pair of beribboned tennies. It is a deadly disease that continues to kill men and women around the world. It devastates families and leaves the women that do survive forever changed in its wake. Cancer treatment isn't a walk in the park. It is difficult, often painful, and extremely debilitating. Women with cancer lose many of the things they associate with their femininity - their hair, their breasts, their shape. They are warriors who deserve more than to be used as a cheap marketing tool to sell product that benefits breast cancer a little and corporations a lot. Instead, they deserve to be hailed as heroes who have fought for their lives and families, coming out stronger and more powerful than ever.

Komen certainly isn't the only breast cancer charity that engages in pinkwashing campaigns. However, they were the first, and they are the best known.

With all I know about Susan G. Komen, I've come to a fork in the road. I remain committed to breast cancer research. I remain committed to women understanding they need to perform breast self-examinations in order to detect early breast changes. But I am no longer committed to Komen. I know that the media has widely reported they "reversed" their defunding of Planned Parenthood - something I believe the media got wrong. Komen didn't reverse - they merely changed the way they were saying the message they'd been putting out for a few days. After their "reversal," they merely said Planned Parenthood was welcome to apply for more grants in the future. They said nothing about granting them, so the proof will be in the pudding.

In the meantime, the way Komen has handled this PR nightmare has been, in my eyes, unacceptable. Their VP, Karen Handel, just resigned from Komen today. She was a very loud anti-abortion proponent who, during her run for Georgia Governor pledged to bring Planned Parenthood to its knees. Although Komen denies Ms. Handel had anything to do with their decision to defund Planned Parenthood, insiders at Komen have said quite clearly Handel drove this agenda, and on a personal level it is rather difficult to believe that with a staunch anti-Planned Parenthood person at their helm, she had nothing to do with a move that completely defunded the organization. It is my belief that Karen Handel let her personal anti-abortion zeal trump her focus on Komen's mission to support women's health, with disastrous results. Unfortunately, Komen's staunch denials that this is so have made the organization appear untrustworthy. Their original decision to defund PP angered many. Their "reversal" angered many others. It's hard to see how Komen will come out of this unscathed, and that's really, at its roots, bad for breast cancer.

Why? Because love them or hate them, Komen has driven the conversation about breast cancer in this country for years. They have been the largest and the loudest, keeping the topic at the forefront of our awareness. In spite of my own personal ambivalence towards Komen for the Cure because of their pinkwashing and this latest Planned Parenthood madness, I've always seen the underlying good in what they were doing.

I don't want people to step away from supporting breast cancer research because of Komen's bungling of the Planned Parenthood issue. Does this mean Komen for the Cure will continue to have my support? Unfortunately, no. I will, however, continue to contribute to charities that are fighting breast cancer. They will just be charities that don't pinkwash and don't play politics.

For more information.....

About pinkwashing

Think Before You Pink (Breast Cancer Action)
I Will Not be Pinkwashed (blog)
The Big Business of Breast Cancer (Marie Claire)
Pink Ribbons, Inc. (Movie Trailer)
Pink Ribbons, Inc. (Book)

Breast Cancer Charities that do not Pinkwash

National Breast Cancer Coalition
Breast Cancer Action

Research before You Donate

Charity Navigator
American Institute of Philanthropy

Other

Learn about Volunteering to be a Court Appointed Special Advocate or Guardian ad Litem for Abused and Neglected Children
Support Planned Parenthood or find a Clinic Near You

Political Sound Bites

2011-11-27T10:49:00.000-08:00

by Karen Frazier

Jim and I frequently discuss why it is that conservatives seem so much more effective at getting their message out than liberals are. Although I tend to fall somewhat left of center myself, I always find the conservative position much easier to comprehend - even when it is an argument I believe completely lacks compassion or common sense. Why, I find myself wondering out loud, do progressive positions seem to be so much more difficult for the general public to relate to than conservative ones?

We have discussed this at length, and Jim has consistently suggested this disparity exists for a very simple reason: the Right is much better at sound bites than the Left. Up until recently, I would argue with him about this. Surely it was more complex than that. After all, the Right has an extremely efficient propaganda machine out there (FOX "News," anyone?), and conservative messages often play on people's fears. Then I saw a recent attempt at a sound bite by a progressive cause, and I suddenly realized that Mr. Always Right may, once again, be correct.

Several of the local Occupy movements here in Washington State recently banded together for a little side project - Occupying Wal-mart on Black Friday. Bless them, they tried to make their explanation for doing so sound bitey and simple. They were protesting the high cost of falling prices.

The high cost of falling prices actually sounds like a pretty good sound bite, no? Unfortunately, it isn't. Because what it sounds like they are griping about to a public unwilling to educate itself is that Wal-mart's low prices aren't low enough, and they're just looking for a (dare I say it?) handout. It sounds like they want the government to step in and control Wal-mart's prices so that they can get cheaper underwear, canoes, Christmas decorations, and whatever else one can purchase at Wal-mart. As card carrying liberal, even I can't get behind that type of a silly goal.

After a little reading, however, I discovered that wasn't at all what the local Occupy movement was suggesting by protesting the high cost of falling prices. Instead, they were protesting several, more complex issues:

The effect giant, corporate-owned stores have on local, small businesses who cannot compete with such huge coffers
The cost to communities when huge corporations come in and take over with low-paying jobs at the cost of local, better paying jobs
The fact stores like Wal-mart do not offer fair wages to their employees and avoid paying benefits by limiting hours
The recent Citizens United decision, which gave corporations like Wal-mart (who have already been granted rights of personhood) the unlimited capacity to influence public policy by protecting gigantic corporate political donations as "free speech"

Those are just a few of the many high costs of falling prices local Occupy participants are protesting, but those cannot be summed up in such a simple sound bite without further explanation.

We have become intellectually lazy in this country. We want to understand issues in the simplest way possible, with everything clearly delineated in black and white. Unfortunately, the issues our society faces have neither simple explanations nor easy to understand solutions. There is no black and white, and no "Right" or "Left" solution will be the only thing that solves our current issues. Jim has argued that, while he is sympathetic to what the Occupy movement is trying to accomplish, they have done a poor job of conveying their rather legitimate concerns to a populace hooked on sound bites. I agree. This has made it simple for opponents to marginalize the movement, rendering it an easy target for finger pointing, name calling, and ad hominem attacks that avoid addressing the issues altogether. Instead, Occupy's positions maintain a certain level of nuance that does not lend itself well to sound bites, turning a valid movement into a war on the character of a group of people with appropriate concerns about the state of our society.

Until we, as a society, are willing to look beyond the sound bite and delve into all of the factors surrounding issues, we will remain out of control of our country's political process. Our lack of intellectual curiosity and our inherent laziness in thought means we are willing to allow others whose motives may be suspect to seize control of our political dialogue, resulting in legislation that supports the loudest, biggest, richest and strongest of us while continuing to ignore the issues faced by the majority. If we want a true democracy in this country rather than the plutocracy in which we currently exist, then each person needs to educate themselves on the actual issues and not the sound bites and then exercise our voices. It is only then we can become, to quote Abraham Lincoln, a government "of the people, by the people, and for the people."

Rebuilding the Dream

2011-11-22T10:44:00.000-08:00

by Karen Frazier

We are in a real financial mess in this country. I believe there are several major factors at play, including economic globalization and dependence on large corporations rather than local small businesses. I also believe one of the ways to rebuild the American dream is at least a partial return to localization in the way we do business.

As long as I continue to support giant corporations with my consumer dollars, I am part of the problem rather than the solution. I have often expressed my belief that corporate influence has grown too significant in America – I believed this even before it was fashionable to be part of the 99%. The Citizens United decision granting the right of free speech (and massive influence over elections and campaigns) to corporations was just the most recent in a long string of legislation and judicial decisions that have eroded the rights of everyday Americans while providing powerful corporations with an even bigger hammer to smash the little people like ants.

Still, massive corporations have become a huge part of our everyday life. Each day, people interact with these giants. The money we spend with these companies enriches those that would just as soon squish the common man under their ginormous Frankenstein boot heels. Every penny we give them of our hard-earned cash makes them bigger and stronger, further weakening the position of the average citizen.

I get it. Times are tough, and Wal-Mart makes the paycheck stretch. Target is convenient, cheap, one-stop shopping. Safeway has variety and affordable prices. It’s a pain in the rump to switch from your big bank. And darn it! Amazon.com is just so convenient!

I’m caught up in this way of thinking, too. I often replenish my pantry at Safeway, and I admit it – I bought Jim’s birthday present at Best Buy and my recent router at Staples. I am part of the problem, and until I begin to speak with my dollars by putting them elsewhere, I will continue to be.

Still, I am working on it. I am taking steps to return the money I make to my local economy and support small businesses rather than mega corporations. How can we minimize the influence of these behemoths?

Move your money from big, multi-national banks to a local bank or credit union.
As often as possible, shop local. This year for Christmas, instead of doing the Amazon.com and big bank gift card thing (which is extremely convenient for me) I am purchasing gifts at locally-owned shops. Instead of gift cards, I am giving cash.
Participate in local food movements. Join a CSA (community-supported agriculture), shop at a farmer’s market, purchase beef, poultry, eggs, and other meats from local farmers, and eat out at locally owned restaurants rather than chains.
Eat fresh food instead of processed food. Processed food may be cheap, but it isn't good for you and it supports giant corporations that put all kinds of unnatural chemicals in the foods we eat.
Drink tap water rather than bottled water and soft drinks.
Whenever possible, use cash rather than credit or debit cards to pay for your purchases.
Make an effort to conserve energy. Turn off lights, set your thermostat at 69 degrees, and group your errands so you are hopping in your car and driving less often.
Before you make that next big purchase, ask yourself if it is something you really need. If it is, can you buy it from a local small business?

It’s not an all or nothing proposition. I don't do all of the above all of the time, but I am working on it. I understand that, in this day and age, economic necessity often drives the need to choose the cheapest and most convenient products. Still, every little bit helps. If everyone moves at least a fraction of the business they do with large, multinational corporations to small, locally-owned business, it may be enough to sustain those businesses so we can begin to rebuild an economic model in this country that supports more than 1 percent of the population.

Standing Together

2011-10-10T08:21:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

Dangerous class warfare! Scary mobs! Anti-American! Pushing a dangerous liberal agenda that could just affect policy in the same horrid ways that the protestors of the 60s did! If you're struggling right now, it's your fault you lazy ass!

I'm paraphrasing, of course, but these are some of the conservative responses to the growing twin movements, Occupy Wall Street and Occupy Together. Many of these hypercritical voices come from the same people that applauded the patriotic American tradition that gave rise to the made for mass media faux grass roots protest for the right wing, the Tea Party.

What is Occupy Wall Street actually? It's taken a while to gain media attention because the movement is not about media or influencing public opinion. Instead, it is a true grass roots movement of people who are fed up with what has happened to this country. While unions and Dems have piled on in hopes of gaining a little publicity for themselves, I don't think the movement really has anything to do with party affiliation or a certain "cause." At its heart are people like you and me - the 99 percent of Americans that have watched themselves slip backwards over the past several years in spite of working hard and doing everything "right."

Spending time on the movement's companion site, We Are the 99 Percent, one begins to understand just how bad it is getting out there. The people reporting on their lives are not lazy. They are not jealous of another's success. They do not begrudge those who have earned what they have through hard work. In fact, common themes arise as you read the harrowing personal stories.

The cost of a college education has risen so drastically that it has become accessible only to the wealthy or those people willing to go into massive non-dischargable debt for the rest of their life.
A higher education is no longer a guarantee of a better life. In fact, college grads are a significant part of the population of the long-term unemployed.
The cost of health insurance has spiraled so high, it is often out of the reach of even people in professional positions like nurses and attorneys.
A personal health crisis equals financial disaster in this country, regardless of whether one has insurance. This is due in large part to extremely high deductibles, the insanely high cost of medication, and the extreme charges for medical care. If you don't have insurance and you get sick? Forget about it - you're screwed.
Teens have little hope for the future. If they can afford to get an education or obtain tens of thousands of dollars in loans for college, they face few job prospects, terrible wages, and potentially lifelong debt.
Many people are working two jobs or 80+ hour weeks and still barely getting by.

Clearly, these are not lazy people who have maxed out their credit to irresponsibly purchase toys. Instead, they are hard workers crippled by job loss, frozen or cut back pay in spite of the ever increasing cost of living, or the insane cost of medical/dental care and health insurance in this country.

The protestors aren't trying to send a message to the media. They are trying to send a message to those who govern this country. They are sick. They are tired. They are fed up. They aren't asking for a hand out. They are asking for fairness and social justice.

Even if you aren't walking on the bitter edge as so many of these people are, chances are things have gotten a little more difficult for you, too. They certainly have for us.

Still, we are the lucky ones. We have a little health insurance. We have a little dental insurance. We still own our home. We both have paying jobs. Our lights our on, our water is running, and our home is warm. Our kids can still participate in sports and music lessons. While there has been significant belt tightening around here (and we ran through virtually all of our savings when I was laid off a few years ago), we're getting by; however, we are a disaster away from losing much of that. We no longer have the safety net we worked so carefully to build.

We are part of the 99 percent - more fortunate than many and grateful that we haven't sunk just yet. I stand with those who are protesting in cities across the world, sending the message that it is not okay for giant corporations to run our government, control our lives, and strip us of the freedoms upon which America was built. It's not whining - it's frustration regardless of how much the well-heeled would like you to believe their invalidation of the protestors. These are people at the end of their ropes, tired of the exploitation of the masses for the benefit of the few. This isn't a democratic or republican issue. It's a movement of people that just want a chance in life, regardless of the economic circumstances from which they spring.

Still, in spite of all of the comments that excoriate and invalidate this nascent movement, there is fear that underlies it. You can hear it in their rhetoric, and I think I know what it's about. We are the 99 percent. They are the one percent. They may have most of the wealth and power, but there are a lot more of us than there are of them. If we stand together, maybe we can change the world.

An Open Letter to My Teenage Sons

2011-09-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

Dear T & K:

I've always thought it was the height of cruelty when someone tells a teenager, "These are the happiest years of your life."

Sure, you can have a lot of fun when you are teenager, but there's tremendous pressure, too. Right now, it probably seems like everyone has an opinion about who you should be and how you should present in the world. In fact, everyone does: your parents, your friends, your enemies, your teachers, Oprah Winfrey...well you get the idea. Even commercials on television tell you that you are somehow not enough. Maybe you're too fat or too thin, too short or too tall. Maybe you suffer from the embarrassment of halitosis or athletes foot. Perhaps you just wear the wrong brand of tennis shoes.

I'd like to tell you that part is going to change, but it isn't.

Even when you are an adult, people will still be applying pressure to get you to conform to what they think you should be. That's why it's never too early to start getting comfortable in your own skin. Everyone faces challenges and feels that in some critical way, they are on the outside looking in at the rest of the world because there is just something so different about them.

I say it's okay to be different. In fact, it's a blessing. Those people with scowls of disapproval and their barbed asides focus on you because they are praying no one will notice whatever they've come to believe is so hideously wrong about themselves.

You are who you are in all your glory. You are smart, compassionate, competent young men, and it is important that you go through life believing that with all your hearts in spite of what the world's bullies want you to believe. Never be afraid to be the person you are, because he is perfect.

The bullies of the world are trying to trick you into believing you are somehow less than magnificent because it makes them feel better about their own shortcomings. They want you to feel lousy about yourselves because they feel lousy about themselves. When they are at their worst, take a deep breath and look them straight in the eyes. Once you see their own disempowerment there, it will free you from believing a single thing they say about you.

It doesn't take courage to judge another, you see. Instead, the courage lies in living your life with integrity. It lies in daring to face the world simply as yourself rather than as some representation of what you believe everyone else wants to see.

Never see yourself through another's eyes. Never use another to define who you are. Instead, take a look in the mirror and greet the young man standing there. He is you, and he is perfect. Never let anyone tell you anything else.

I'll always be in your corner.

Mom

Limiting Possibility

2011-09-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

I am an eternal optimist. I live my life with the belief that there always exists one more chance, another opportunity, an exciting possibility, a fresh start. As human beings, we become so bound up in what we believe our choices are, it never occurs to us that other solutions exist if we're just willing to step outside our small world of conventional thinking. Although it may not seem as if this is so, life is almost never an either/or situation.

People can change in the blink of an eye. An act of kindness can completely turn a negative situation into a positive one. Relationships that have long been stuck in a pattern of negative feedback can transform if one person decides to try something new. A new scientific discovery can radically change someone's health.

We live in an age of miracles, whether we believe it to be so or not. Our mistake, however, is in sitting back and waiting for a God-driven miracle or limiting the universe in such a way that the miracles we receive must come in a certain package.

It's like that old joke about the man on the roof of his house as the flood waters rise, praying for God to intervene.

A man in a rowboat comes by and says, "Get in!"

"No," says the man. "I have faith. God will save me." He continues to pray for his miracle.

Next, a speedboat comes by. "Get in," the driver tells the man.

"No! I am praying and God will save me," the man says. He continues to pray.

Now the water is nearly to the roof and the man prays harder for divine intervention. Suddenly, a light comes from the sky. Unfortunately for the man, it is also accompanied by the chop of helicopter blades.

A rope lowers down from the helicopter and a voice booms from above. "Grab on!"

The man on the roof refuses. "I have faith," he says. "God will save me."

The helicopter flies away, leaving the man alone, praying on his roof until the flood waters overtake him.

In heaven, the man encounters God.

"Why didn't you save me?" he asks.

"I sent you a row boat, and speedboat, and a helicopter," God tells him. "What more did you want?"

I often wonder what that man saw in his head as his miracle. What would have been acceptable to him? Clearly, he took a limited view of the world and believed in an either/or situation. Either he would be lifted to safety in a divine flash of light, or God would leave his prayers unanswered and he would die.

What either/or situation are you creating in your life? How have your limited beliefs caused you to visualize a solution in only a certain way? How many times have you passed up a rowboat, speedboat, or helicopter because it did not look like the miracle you were praying for?

Miracles - and I am not necessarily speaking in the divine or religious sense of the word - are there for the taking if you can step outside of the box of your own thinking. They may be tiny, subtle things that you pass up every day because you are focused on the giant, earth shattering one.

Someone I love has a disease called ankylosing spondylitis. It is a painful fusion of the vertebra one at a time until the spine is fully fused. For years, he suffered debilitating effects of the condition. Then, one day, he discovered a medication that changed everything. Suddenly, he had new life. It wasn't a flash of light and a faith healer smacking him on the head and shouting "You're HEALED!" Instead, it was the hard work of dedicated researchers that changed everything.

What gifts and solutions are you passing up because they don't come in the package you have envisioned? How are you limiting the universe by sending out a specific request and being unwilling to accept anything else?

I'm talking, of course, about attachment to outcome. When we attach to only one or two outcomes, we close the door on millions of other possibilities. We have many reasons for doing it. Safety. Security. Pain. Fear. Self-concept. Attaching to outcome, however, limits the number of options in our lives.

The key to transformation lies in being open to possibility. Miracles lie in going with the flow and not allowing your thinking to make only one or two options acceptable. We can open our lives to transformation if we approach the universe like a child, willing meander along interesting path and explore unusual opportunities that come our way.

We each have our own comfort level regarding how we interact with the universe. Stepping outside of that comfort level (even a teeny baby step), however, creates amazing new options that have never even entered our minds. How thoroughly you explore those avenues remains up to you. You can't explore them, however, if you are unwilling to acknowledge their existence.

Tilting at Political Windmills

2011-09-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

Photo used under creative commons license.
Some rights reserved, ©

Dominic Alves

by Karen Frazier

I had a parenting technique I used when my son was small that made everything so much easier. It's a pretty common approach, but it helped us move through life smoothly and gave him a sense of control. When it was time to do something, I would supply two choices.

For instance: "It's time for bed. Would you like to wear your blue pajamas or your red ones?"

He would be so distracted by the ability to select A or B that he would not realize I was asking him to do something he hated - go to bed.

While the technique makes the process of parenting easier and gives kids more of a sense of empowerment, it has nearly the opposite effect when we apply it to the American political system. Giving a child two choices of pajamas empowers. Giving adults two choices of politicians disempowers and is actually quite condescending, because voters only have the illusion of choice rather than any actual power or voice in our political process.

As voters, we are most frequently given two choices in our elected officials: choice A or choice B, also known as Democrat or Republican. Often, both really stink, and we wind up voting against a candidate rather than for one. It's a terrible way to do business, because two lousy choices are the equivalent of no choice at all. Back when I voted for major party candidates, I can only think of a very few elections where I voted for someone rather than choosing what I deemed "the lesser of two evils." If you ever watch election coverage, you may discover something surprising. A lot of people are far more passionate about keeping the other guy out of office than they are about their candidate winning.

I'm the person many people get frustrated with during elections. I frequently support a third party candidate, something many people tell me will take away votes from the guy that is not so bad and send the really awful candidate into office. I understand this reasoning and this frustration, but voting for a candidate because I dislike him or her less than the other one does not sit well with me. I want a real choice. I want to be able to speak up for something or someone I truly believe in, not just a candidate I hope will be more tolerable than the one I didn't vote for.

It's the equivalent of tilting at political windmills. I realize that very seldom will anyone I vote for ever get into office. Still, I do it anyway. I analyze what everyone has to say and then I vote for the candidate I believe in. Sometimes it is a Democrat. I don't think it's ever been a Republican, although there are a few I might consider. More often, it comes from a third party like the Natural Law Party, Green Party, an Independent, or a Libertarian.

I have but a single voice in the political process of this country, and I am trying to find the best way possible to have it heard. If that means voting for obscure third party candidates, so be it. At least it means I have spoken out for what I believe rather than following the crowd to keep someone I dislike out of office. In the end, I can live with that. I will continue to vote for third party candidates when I find one I like, because with my vote I am saying this: "The two party system does not work. Give us more choices and true empowerment. We're grown ups. We can handle it."

Social Activism - Social Justice

2011-09-04T10:00:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

Raise your hand if you've ever seen a copy and paste statement on your Facebook newsfeed. You know the type I mean - copying and pasting social messages about cancer, bullying, and other causes. I see several of these on a near daily basis, and my eyes just skim over them quickly before I move on.

Still, social networking has power. According to Facebook, it has more than 750 million active users, and the average FB profile has 130 friend connections. With so many easy connections, messages can spread like wildfire via social networking. In fact, Twitter's recent "Faster than Earthquakes" video is amusing, but it makes a larger point. Social networking spreads the word, and it spreads it quickly.

If that's the case, then social networking sites can serve as a powerful flashpoint for social activism; however, it's going to take a lot more than copy/paste of a canned status to do so.

Copying and pasting a status on a social networking site may show you care about an issue. It may allow word to spread quickly, but what are you doing about it otherwise? Are you finding ways to take meaningful action to bring about the changes you would like to see in the world? Bumper stickers, flags, and colorful rubber bracelets with messages on them may tell the world you care about an issue, but if truly matters that much, then what are you really doing about it?

I know the world's problems seem huge, and it's difficult to figure out how to take meaningful action towards social justice. At times, I've been nearly paralyzed with this notion, wondering how a small town soccer mom could do anything at all that would have even the slightest effect on all of the social, political, environmental, and economic injustice in the world. Sometimes I'm so paralyzed I think maybe the only way to go is to cut and paste a Facebook status so I at least send the message I care to my 130 or so friends.

Still, this I know is true. One person can change another person's world with a simple action. I can donate a few dollars to charities like Modest Needs or Samaritan's Purse and directly affect the life of a family in a very positive way. I can volunteer for a few hours per week on a crisis line, spend a day on a Habitat for Humanity build, or work towards some other cause and make a huge difference in someone's life. I can make an effort to share a smile, an honest compliment, or a kind word with everyone I encounter and possibly turn around another's bad day.

I'm not suggesting you give all your money to charity, spend all of your time volunteering, participate in protests if that's not your thing, or put the world's needs ahead of your own. I'm merely suggesting that if something matters to you, figure out what you have the time and resources to do about it and do it. It doesn't mater how much of a difference it makes. It matters that it makes one at all. After all, it isn't the size or the time of the contribution, it's that you are doing something.

For example, I feel very strongly about supporting local farmers who grow sustainable, organic foods; however, I don't buy only local and organic because it is not realistic. Still, I spend my $25 per week on my community supported agriculture box, buy fresh local eggs, and visit the nearby farmer's market regularly. I'm also saving up to purchase part of a side of local grass-fed beef with a few other families. All of this I supplement with trips through a grocery store where I purchase conventional foods that have been shipped from all over the world.

Here's another example. I'm concerned about exploitation of workers around the world, so I make an effort to purchase fair trade items when I can, and I avoid shopping at the stores I know are the worst offenders. I'm not 100 percent fair trade all of the time (or even 50 percent), but I find a balance that works within the context of my life.

I don't spend all of my time volunteering, but I have found a few causes where I feel there is a real need, and I spend some of my time doing that and balancing it with family, hobbies, and work. I don't give all of my money to charity, but I've figured out an amount my family can comfortably afford each month, and we donate it to causes that matter to us. These are seemingly small and inconsequential things, but if they help even one person, then I am leaving the world a better place for having been here.

While I do not consider myself a Christian in the traditional sense of the word, I do believe Jesus was a brilliant social activist. His documented adult life was a testament to social justice activism and an example worthy of following. Jesus believed in finding ways to enjoy and celebrate life, as evidenced in the Gospel of Matthew 9: 15 (taken from The Message):

"Jesus told them, 'When you're celebrating a wedding, you don't skimp on the cake and wine. You feast. Later, you may need to pull in your belt, but not now. No one throws cold water on a friendly bonfire. This is Kingdom Come!'"

He also believed in extravagant acts of compassion and social justice, which he shared through both his words and his example. Jesus was one man, but his words and actions changed the world so significantly he sparked an entire religion that remains strong more than 2,000 years later.

We each need to find our own level of participation in the world, pursuing the issues that concern us in the best way we can. If cutting and pasting a Facebook message is your way, then more power to you.

After all, according Buddha: "Better than a thousand hollow words, is one word that brings peace."

Coming Out of the Political and Religious Closet

2011-09-02T08:40:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

For most of my adult life, I've avoided discussing two things like the plague: politics and religion. I learned early that to do so often brought otherwise pleasant conversations and even friendships to a screeching halt...and that was in the 80s when the two topics were so much less polarizing then they are now.

This rule carried over even into my own family. I am the middle of three girls, and I've always believed my parents did a good job of raising us to be independent thinkers because of the diversity in political and religious belief among us. While I respect both of my sisters' belief systems as just as valid as mine, I don't really share them, so for years I've kept mine to myself in the name of family peace and harmony.

Recently, I've been looking at the roots of the thought I needed to keep my ideology to myself and realized something important. I've done so because I don't want people to dislike me, and because I hate drama and don't want conflict in my life. Lately, however, I've come to realize if my politics and religious views make someone kick me out of their life, then those aren't people who truly value who I am as a human being. I also have reached a point where I can't keep my own truth stuffed inside anymore for the sake of harmony. The problems I see in the world are too important to ignore, and if I do not speak out about what I believe, I am contributing to the problem rather than working as part of the solution.

That's why this blog has changed. I've stopped writing about inconsequential things like the size of my laundry pile and instead began sharing my truths. There is a certain freedom in all of this truth telling. I no longer hide behind a veneer of courteous correctness and instead fully engage in who I am. Now, if someone asks, I tell them how I feel rather than politely demurring or changing the subject. I don't run up to people on the street with a megaphone, but when conversations arise, I fully share my thoughts, not with hostility, but with simple honesty. It may be disconcerting for some, but if they don't really want to know or only want me to parrot their position, I'd suggest not asking.

I'm coming out of the political and religious closet. I am socially and religiously progressive. I believe in social justice, looking out for our fellow man, and for allowing all people to have equality. I support environmentalism, gay marriage, civil rights, reproductive rights, and sensible gun control.

I have a little bit of the socialist in me, because I believe the gap between the rich and the poor is ridiculous and I can't imagine how it would hurt an iota if the rich had slightly less so the poor could have slightly more. I am for truly independent media, free of corporate, political, or religious affiliation. I believe art adds beauty to the world and enriches life.

I have never voted for a Republican in my life, although I'm none too happy with the Democrats, either. I can't stand two-party politics, and have frequently supported third party candidates in spite of the fact it is "throwing away" a vote. I want to vote for a person I believe in, not the one I hate the least. I'd be thrilled if we could abandon partisan politics altogether in favor of truly independent candidates.

I think PACs are one of the worst things to ever happen to our political system. I believe the future of this country depends on how we educate our children and am appalled at how we are doing so right now. I believe corporations and powerful religions have too much control of our government. I believe in the separation of church and state. I support free speech in all of its forms and find censorship and activities like book burning horrifying. I am a member of the ACLU, MoveOn.org, Planned Parenthood, and many other "liberal" organizations.

I do not believe in a theistic god. One of my friends recently defined for me what I am - a Diest. I believe a creator exists, but I do not believe that creator is active in our daily lives or gives a crap who wins the Super Bowl. I believe Jesus Christ was an amazing human being, and his acts of social justice are worthy of emulation by every person on earth, but I do not believe he was any more divine than you or me. Still, I believe there was something so remarkable about the way he walked this Earth that many decided to create a religion around him.

I believe that many (not all) churches in this country have cherry picked Jesus' message in order to build their own power and agendas. In some cases, I believe churches have flat out perverted Jesus' message and example to suit their own selfish purposes. I believe some churches do good work in the world, but all churches could do so much more good with the power they have been granted. I believe other religions are just as valid as Christianity, and I support everyone's right to practice the religion of their choice - or to not practice it at all.

To list all my beliefs would take more time than I have to devote to a single blog, but clearly there is a leaning here that defines me as progressive. This is who I am in my core. It is my truth, and I will continue to speak and act on it. I want to somehow find a way to make this world a better place for everyone. I encourage you to do the same, even if your truth is completely different than mine. My wish for everyone is that we all live authentically, driven by passionate belief that can change the world. You live your truth and I'll live mine. Even if they are different, we can still be friends.

Still Waiting for My Jesus Contact High

2011-08-28T09:52:00.000-07:00

Dear American Christian Church:

I am writing to you today to request a refund of the monies I have paid at various points in my life on installment in order to assure I received a JesusContactHigh® from all your other followers and thus, EternalSalvation®. Since I was a child, you've told me that all I had to do was believe in Jesus as the SonofGod® and salvation (dot com) would be mine for the low, low monthly payments of $29.99.

It's okay I have a mind of my own, you told me. God gave me that mind for a reason: so I could choose to believe in Him. All I had to do to believe was hang out with other TrueBelievers®, and my mind would join the hive mind in one gigantic JesusContactHigh (dot com).

Well, I've waited and hung out with your followers for most of my life. I've tried repeatedly to find that MustardSeed® of faith. My mind, however, has battled me every step of the way. Surely God did not give me my keen analytic mind so I could ignore what it was telling me and just pretend I believed? Surely you weren't asking me to fake it? Surely none of the congregants at your gigantic box churches are hedging their bets, possibly pretending a little so they are on the right side when the Rapture® (dot com) comes. I'm probably the only one in the universe who has tried so mightily to believe in your teachings only to fall significantly short.

American Christian Church, it's not even that I necessarily have a problem with God, Jesus, or even that Divine spirit of God in action, the Holy Ghost. I look around me and see an elegant universe with such majestic beauty it takes my breath away. I look at works of art, read great poetry and literature, and hear glorious music that brings me to my knees with its power and beauty. Surely a Creator has driven such magnificence.

I have read the entire Bible several times, with a particular focus on the life of Jesus Christ, and I admire the heck out of the guy. Jesus was a radical who believed so deeply in social justice it drove his very existence and most likely got him crucified. So inspiring was his life, that it drove a group of disciples to create a whole new religion.

Jesus shunned the laws of purity in a time when purity law drove Judaism. Instead, he sat down and dined with the unclean and those on the fringes of society. He taught not just tolerance, but love for our fellow man. He taught earthly non-judgment, going so far as to stop a stoning saying, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." (John 8:7, KJV) Jesus not only believed in compassion, he walked and talked it.

So you see, American Christian Church (you don't mind if I call you A-Church, do you?), you and I kind of agree on some pretty basic points. I believe the brilliance of Creation underlies the universe (although I am rather certain it happened slightly longer than 6,000 years ago). I try to live according to the tenets of Jesus' example I cited above, with kindness, compassion, and a drive for social justice. Often I fall short, but boy do I try!

That's where things start to fall apart though, A-Church. I tried to have a relationship with you for much of my life, but I cannot. I do not believe, for instance, that if I attend the wrong A-Church (or God forbid, a church of some other faith altogether), I will spend eternity in the flames of Hellfire, even though some of your followers have told me this is so in such a loving and non-judgmental way, I found it inspiring. I believe one of your kind followers put it thusly: "You're going to Hell, bitch."

I do not believe that if I use my Sundays to gather among the faithful for my JesusContactHigh, I can behave any way I want during the rest of my week because my attendance has granted dispensation. I do not believe confessing my sins excuses them. I do not believe God hates fags (or gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered people), or that God has recently sent hurricanes and earthquakes to the eastern seaboard because He is unhappy an African-American Democrat holds the highest office in the land.

I believe Jesus would support universal health care, social justice nut that he was. I believe he would support loving marriages regardless of whether they were between a man and a woman, two men, or two women. I believe he would be disturbed by the death penalty (see John 8:7 above) and would be okee dokey with educating teens about birth control AND abstinence, knowing teens will be teens and preventing unwanted births means that children could be born into families that actually wanted and were able to support them. Not only that, but Jesus allowed women to be his disciples. Women! Imagine it, A-Church. Jesus held women in equal status to men, rather than suggesting they were there only as man's helpmate.

Here's a little something that might surprise you, A-Church. I have a hunch Jesus was kind of a socialist - a Biblical Robin Hood, so to speak. The social justice Jesus supported, you see, was not about making a whole bunch of money for a few fat cat, white, straight males while everyone else around them increasingly struggled and grew poorer. No, I think Jesus would have supported the haves paying their fair share to assist the have nots rather than greedily grabbing up as large of a piece of the pie as humanly possible. After all, how much is enough? Surely with the distribution of wealth in this country, where the top 10 percent controls more than 2/3 of the country's wealth (or even more disturbing, on a worldwide basis, the top 2 percent controls over half the wealth and the top 1 percent controls over 40 percent of it) is a little out of control. Isn't it?

I'm being a little presumptuous, of course, but I think Jesus just might agree. I know, A-Church, that you're on a prosperity kick and it's bringing in followers right and left. I know that promising God is there to answer your prayers for consumer goods and wealth is pretty trendy right now, but I sort of imagine it is making Jesus tremble on the cross just a little. Surely, God doesn't want only the TrueBelievers (dot net) to have giant, gas-guzzling SUVs and McMansions while the rest of the world fights for scraps of food?

Jesus also shared with his disciples that true power was in God. Yet, the few that sit at your head (did I mention they were mostly white, straight males?) greedily grasp for dominance, wielding God as a sword to cut down any who challenge them. I am certain, of course, that there are a few who are truly driven by a deep belief in God and Jesus Christ, but I suspect many have lost sight of their original belief system and mission as their fervor for power has grown. A-Church, your dominance in America is great, there's no doubt. You are present in governments and giant corporations that hoard power and wealth while raping the environment and widening the gap between rich and poor.

It's not that I think you're without hope, A-Church. I just think maybe it is time to step back and re-examine the life of the guy who started it all. I do see you as part of the solution, if only you could step away from your power, wealth, and might-is-right agenda. In amongst those people who see themselves as stand-ins for God whose job it is to hand out judgments all willy nilly are the humble few with their eye on an unpretentious carpenter from Nazareth. They are the ones who bring me hope for your future, A-Church. They are the ones out in the trenches seeking social justice, often at great personal cost. Many of them do not even realize they are doing the work of Jesus, and would be surprised if you told them they were. Instead, they see others in need of help, and they step in for no other reason than it is the right thing to do. While some are most certainly your followers, many others doing the same thing consider themselves atheists, agnostics, or even people of other faiths such as Buddhism, Judaism, Islam, Hiduism, Wicca, and many, many others.

I've got a little advice, A-Church. I know, I'm not really in any position to give it, but I thought I'd offer up a humble suggestion anyway. You can do good in the world, and with so many followers, they will look to your leadership as an example of how to live.

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye." (Luke 6:41-42, NIV)

Please, A-Church, instead of looking around your own faults to harshly judge others, take an honest gander at yourself. Certainly you can do better? I believe in you. You can be a force of compassion, love, and social justice. I know you can.

If you could do so, I'd even consider letting you keep my regular payments $29.95 for my JesusContactHigh. Sure, the money could have better served other purposes, such as feeding the hungry or providing shelter for the homeless, but I'd be fine with you keeping if you could just deliver on the promise of the man on whom you claim to base your teachings.

Think about it, A-Church. I would love to find my place somewhere within your organization. As it stands now, however, I'm just not sure I see that happening.

Sincerely,

Karen Frazier, Unsatisfied Customer

Is Home Birth for You?

2011-08-25T08:26:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

I have a confession to make. My family thinks I am crazy.

Just over 15 years ago, I opted to avoid the experience of the hospital maternity ward and instead have my son in a home birth.

Some of the comments I got from people I knew:

"Don't they have hospitals where you live?"
"Why the Hell would you do that?"
"I always knew you were nuts."
"Don't you think you're taking this whole hippie granola chick natural health kick a little too far?"
"But what if it hurts??????"
"If something happens to the baby, you'll have to live with it for the rest of your life. Rest. Of. Your. Life."
"Idiot."

Still, with those indictments and many others ringing in my ears, I opted for a home birth anyway. While I admit it is not for everyone, I did a significant amount of research before I made such a decision, and I discovered it was for me.

Though the numbers of the facts have changed somewhat in the 15 years since I made the decision, the reasons many women opt for home births remain.

Childbirth Is Not an Illness

Women have been giving birth for centuries. Somewhere along the way in the United States, however, we began treating pregnancy, labor, and delivery as an illness rather than a natural bodily function. It works for the medical industry, however. The average cost of uncomplicated prenatal care, labor, and delivery in the United States is around $7,600 (cost for home birth is around $2,500 for prenatal care, labor and delivery, and newborn care). More than 4 million babies are born each year. That means, if my math is correct, the medical industry makes in excess of $30.4 million on women birthin' babies, and probably more when you consider the complication rate of labor and deliveries in American hospitals.

The C-section rate for hospital births continues to grow. The New York Times reported 2007 numbers as 32 percent and on the rise. This percentage varies according to state and individual hospital; however, in general it continues to trend upward. Conversely, a 2005 study showed a 3.7 percent C-section rate for home births.

Also reported in the study, other medical interventions were lower, as well. While approximately 12 percent of the women opting for a planned home birth were ultimately transferred to hospital care at some point during labor, rates for other medical interventions such as forceps and vacuum delivery and episiotomy were substantially lower, as well.

Babies Born Naturally

The CDC reports that both the cesarean and labor induction rates have more than doubled between 1990 and the present. In many of these cases, the babies are considered "late preterm" babies, born in in weeks 34 to 36 of pregnancy (full gestation is 37 weeks). Studies show late preterm babies are more likely than full-term babies to suffer complications at birth including respiratory distress, prolonged hospitalization, death in the first year of life, and brain injuries leading to neurodevelopmental issues. While the trend is to "schedule" childbirth in such a way that doctors and family members can plan a convenient time, doing so may be at a cost to the health of the child.

During labor inductions, doctors administer pitocin, which is a synthetic form of the natural hormone oxytocin. The body releases oxytocin during contractions to drive labor, and following childbirth it releases a flood of the hormone to facilitate bonding. Statistics are hard to come by, but anecdotal reports suggest hospital usage of pitocin during labor is in excess of 70 percent. One report I found suggested 81 percent, although there was no citation for such a number, so it is difficult to know for certain. Risks associated with pitocin use include potential for fetal anoxia (lack of oxygen), increased chance of epidural, uterine or placental injury, and risk of fetal spinal injuries.

Epidurals present problems, as well. For instance, levels of labor interventions rise after administration of epidurals, because they may make it far more difficult for the mother to push. Epidurals can also interfere with the release of oxytocin, which can affect both uterine contraction and the early bonding experience between mother and child. Epidurals may also cause adverse reactions such as precipitous drop in blood pressure, headaches, nausea and vomiting. Because the drugs cross the placenta to your unborn child, they are also at risk of complications such as poor latching response, weakened muscle tone, and lethargy.

Home births are away from the hospital. Because of this, access to drugs and other interventions is often an ambulance ride away. The result is, if no hospitalization or interventions are required, a natural childbirth.

Making the Decision

Choosing a home birth is not something that should be done lightly. For mom and baby safety, a licensed, qualified midwife should be present, providing prenatal care. If you have complications or do not live within 10 to 15 minutes of a hospital, then a home birth is probably not for you. While childbirth is a natural process, things happen, and you need to put a plan in place for seeking medical intervention should complications arise.

My Experience

I have never once regretted my choice for a home birth. Had I given birth to a second child, I would have done it again in a heartbeat.

From the first labor pain until Tanner arrived several hours later, I was grateful to be in familiar and comfortable surroundings. I was also free to labor in exactly the way my body told me it wanted to. Giving birth is an intensely personal experience. I cannot imagine how different my delivery would have been if I'd been in a hospital surrounded by bright lights and strangers. Instead, I was able to remain where I was happy and peaceful, and from the moment my son was born we were able to bond.

Visit Karen's food and wine blog, The Zen Hedonist.

Socially Unsocial

2011-08-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

The Internet is an amazing tool. It's multiple uses connect people to businesses in ways that were once impossible. In fact, as a freelancer, I frequently write about what a wonderful public relations tool Web 2.0 can be for businesses if they embrace it as an invitation to a dialogue with their clients and actually hear what they have to say in order to behave in a responsible and responsive manner.

The Internet can also help people meet like-minded individuals, reconnect with lost friends, form special interest communities, and find (sometimes) accurate information about research topics. It serves as a gathering point for social and philanthropic action, as well.

These can all be positive things; but, just like the society it mirrors, the Internet also has a seamy underbelly. While we feel more connected on the Internet, aren't we really becoming increasingly isolated from one another and from "real life?" I just read the results of a survey where teens answered questions about the influence social networking has on their lives. I was stunned to see how many kids felt that it increased the pressure on them, because now every time they did something in "real" life, they had to put on a show so the pictures for their social networking sites were super awesome. Some even went as far as saying that the only purpose for doing anything in the "real world" was for the social networking photos and videos. Am I alone in finding that highly disturbing?

I have a few friends that seem to have fallen prey to this, as well. They document their every move on Facebook, somehow apparently convinced everyone is signing on to track their incredibly fascinating lives. When you're with them in person, they push for fabulous pictures so they can prove to the world their lives are, indeed, worthy of watching and tracking. I haven't seen it yet, but any day now I expect to login and find one of these people sitting on the toilet in with a big grin, a party hat, a bottle of Champagne, and a noisemaker to show that even going to the bathroom is way more fun for them than it is for you.

In one particularly sad case, I've watched someone I care for deeply completely melt down on social networking. You can't tell it by the pictures or the constant status updates - which run in direct opposition to what is actually happening in that person's life, but when you know the details the desperation, shame, and self-hatred becomes so alarmingly apparent that seeing it makes me want to cry.

I caught myself last night. I was having a wonderful time at a concert and fireworks show at the local fair, watching a highly entertaining band that has been a favorite of mine since the 90s. I found myself caught up in the show, smiling, laughing, clapping, dancing, singing. It was utterly delightful. Yet, in the middle of a song I didn't know so well, I felt the cellphone buzz in my pocket and pulled it out. Then I remembered I had a camera, and I snapped a photo. The thought popped into my head, "perfect for Facebook," and it stopped me in my tracks. For just a moment I'd stepped away from living my real life with the thought of sharing it with a bunch of people who most likely don't give a crap. I stopped myself from posting it just then, and returned to my enjoyment of the moment, feeling liberated.

My personal moment of FB weakness.
(The band is Presidents of the United States of America.)

This morning, I got up and posted the picture on Facebook, along with the photos I'd snapped as I became caught up in the lights of the midway. At the time I took them, I was in the midst of a creative frenzy, although sadly I only had a cellphone camera to capture them rather than a real camera. Additionally, while I have an "eye" for photography, I don't have any particular ability to back it up. Those pictures are, for me, only worthy of Facebook and a reminder of an evening spent almost entirely in the "now."

Caught up in artistic vision without the skills to back it up.

It's okay to share photos on Facebook. It's okay to share your thoughts in a blog, your videos on YouTube, and your one-liners on Twitter. All of these things can and do help keep people in touch. The problems as I see it are these: When they become your focus instead of a sideline, they keep you from living and enjoying each moment in your real life to its fullest. When you become caught up in the need to show others how fabulous your life really is, it disconnects you from your own sense of authenticity.

Many of my social network friends - the ones I know mostly online who aren't a current part of my everyday life - seem to fall into three camps. Those who post amazing, fun, fabulous things about themselves all the time, the ones who post a lot of "feel sorry for me" stuff, and the attackers who wield FB and other social networks like a weapon. None of us are any one thing. I'm not happy all the time. I'm not sad all the time. I'm not angry all the time. I am a multi-faceted combination of emotions, passions, thoughts, beliefs, levels of self-awareness, and activities. My FB page (and my Google+ profile, which I am not so good at knowing how to use) have very little to do with who I am. Certainly, there are snippets there. Pictures of people and places important to me, little flashes of social or political beliefs, and genuine friendships with a few of the many people on my contacts list. Still, if you were to study my FB profile, I doubt you would gain a very accurate picture of who I am at my deepest core.

Think of your Facebook (or Google+, or insert social network here) friends. I mean the ones you know mostly online and not in real life. What do you really know about them? What do they really know about you? How authentic are those friendships, really?

If you arrive at the conclusion I have, which is that social networking leaves room for a whole lot of inauthenticity, then I challenge you to step back into your real life. Seek out honest experiences and authentic connections to remind you just how amazing real life can be. Is there a place for social networking? Absolutely, but not in lieu of genuine experience. As with everything, it is about balance. How's yours?

There's a television commercial I love. I think it might be for Subaru, but I could be wrong. In it, a teen-aged girl sits with her laptop discussing how many FB friends she has, and what losers her parents are because they only have a few friends. As she talks, the onscreen images go back and forth between laughing parents and friends out mountain biking and the girl sitting in her lonely, sterile environment with her computer. I believe that commercial speaks volumes.

Who are you? Are you the girl sitting in isolation on a laptop, counting your "friends" and spinning your life in such a way that people can't help but find you fabulous, or are you the parents out exploring the real world and having a good time doing it? By all means, stay in touch via social networking. But don't forget to live your life.

Angry Politics

2011-08-18T09:19:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

"Anger is a wind which blows out the lamp of the mind."
~Robert Green Ingersoll

It comes from both sides of the aisle, the angry politics. One only has to turn on the news to see it. Of course, with corporate-controlled media whipping everyone into a frenzy of fear and rage about every issue, it's not surprising what a ticked off country we have become.

Do people have a right to be angry? Absolutely! Look at the state of our nation right now. I often wonder, however, just how different that anger would look were it not for media driven by a corporate political agenda telling Americans exactly what should raise their ire.

What concerns me about the world? I believe there are many problems that need to be solved. Here are just a few.

The growing gap between rich and poor
The fact corporations are given the rights of "personhood," but have so much power and cash that they wind up having even more rights than people
The fact our political system is up for sale
The push for a monoculture in our country, where the only people who count are wealthy, straight, white, Christian, conservative men
The marginalization of anyone who does not meet the criteria of the previous bullet point (people of color, women, LGBT, the non-religious and non-Christian, children, the poor)
Our utter disregard for our environment
Increasing isolation as we scurry to the suburbs and hide out behind our electronic media where we don't have to interact with one another face-to-face
War
World hunger
Religious factionalism
A broken political process in the United States
Corporate control of everything in our lives, from our water supply to our news media
Our selfishness and greed in the moment in lieu of an investment in future generations
The total lack of ability to connect on a human level
The fact much of our food supply no longer resembles anything that would have even been considered food less than 100 years ago
The high rate of abuse and neglect of children in this country

As a rule, I avoid popular media. I do not like being told what I should think or how angry I should be. I find that even media with a more "progressive" edge that falls in line with some of my concerns is fueled by anger rather than common sense, and I do not believe rage is the answer.

Am I angry? Certainly I am sometimes. Anger is part of the spectrum of human emotions, and it is often driven by fear. That's really how angry politics get you. They whip you into a frenzy of fear until your reptilian brain kicks in with its "fight or flight" response. In your reptilian brain, only one initiative rules: self preservation. Once in self-preservation mode, it is easy to justify any and every behavior against your fellow man.

The reptilian brain exists for a good reason. Human beings were once prey. Before people rose to the top of the food chain, they had to watch out for those predators seeking a tasty snack of human flesh. Fortunately, nature provided humans with the same instincts you can find throughout the animal kingdom, and early man was able to act without thinking in order to save himself.

Now humans sit atop the food chain, and we seldom have any need for our fight or flight response even though it remains a vital part of our biology. So here we sit with a hefty fear response and virtually no place to legitimately spend it.

Luckily, politicians and the media know just how to exploit that reptilian brain, and they do so on a regular basis. Then, instead of acting in a common sense manner to address the real problems of the world, we can fear anything that is different than us. How do we deal with that fear? We turn it into seething cauldrons of raging anger.

Fear and anger keep us from a life fully lived. They block compassion and thus, compassionate action.

The Roman statesman, Cato the Elder summed it up as follows:

"An angry man opens his mouth and shuts his eyes."

Anger happens. It is a force that sometimes feels beyond our control, and it can serve as the impetus to take action. In order for it to do so, however, we have to be willing to travel through the anger to its source. We have to recognize the fear driving it and then question whether our terror is valid.

I understand fear. All kinds of things can happen that threaten our existence, our way of life, and even our survival. Still, my father used to say that 95 percent of the things you worried about last year didn't happen. I don't know where he got that statistic or if he made it up on the spot, but it serves a larger point. All sorts of things could happen, but many of them don't. Even if something I worried about does occur, spending all of my time in fear of something never stopped it from happening, made it better, or changed a single thing other than my own personal state of mind and stress level.

There are many ills in the world to be angry about, but rage does not change them. If anything, rage keeps us from acting in an unselfish way that truly solves the problem. Instead of angry politics, I believe we need compassionate politics. We need people who are willing to step beyond the anger and look at the causes of the difficulty. We need to be able to assess a situation without pointing fingers. In the end, it doesn't matter who caused the mess. It matters how we address the situation once it arises.

Plenty of people wind up in situations that completely suck, sometimes through no fault of their own. At such times, it is very easy to cast blame, but doing so changes nothing. Getting ticked off at the cause of a problem never solves anything, and it often makes things even worse. What I believe such instances call for are cool heads and compassionate hearts.

Anger, fear, xenophobia, greed, self-justification, hatred: these are the things that brought about the current world situation.

According to Albert Einstein, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Isn't that what we're doing? We somehow think that the way out of the mess our country (and the world) is in is through more of the same: partisan politics, fear-mongering, finger-pointing, and implementing silly solutions that don't hurt corporations while taking more and more from the nation's actual human citizens. We've tried it. That doesn't work, but we continue to try the same thing over and over again with worsening results. Einstein was right. We are absolutely insane.

I am an optimist, and I believe real solutions exist. I do not believe, however, that they exist within the framework of "business as usual." I believe that we need to set aside our selfishness, greed, fear, and anger and find compassion. It is only when we can look upon our world with compassion that steps beyond self, tribalism and nationalism that we can find true solutions to the ills that plague the world.

I'm not talking about reaching across the aisle. I'm talking about reaching out with our hearts. Only when we remove the blinders of fear, hatred and anger will we be able to truly see our fellow human beings and connect in meaningful ways that can save the world.

Enough

2011-08-14T09:02:00.000-07:00

I was watching a documentary about the process of screen writing the other day. Bruce Joe Rubin, who wrote Ghost, wrote and directed movie called My Life starring Nicole Kidman and Michael Keaton. When it was completed, it was a critical and box office failure. Rubin was feeling quite depressed about this when he met a mother who was very ill with cancer.

The mother told him her husband had died a few years ago, and their young son had not been able to process his death. Now she was dying of cancer, and doctors had only given her a short time left. She and her son went to see My Life, and she told Rubin that on the way home her son sobbed and sobbed. When they got home, she said, she was finally able to have the dialog she needed to with her son in order to be able to die.

"That's when I realized," Rubin said. "I wrote it for her. That was enough."

The audience that reads my writing is arguably miniscule. The amounts I donate to charity are sometimes laughably tiny when you consider the grand scale of the world's inequities. Relatively few people attend my speaking engagements. When I do volunteer work, it is never anything grand or all-encompassing. It's easy to get stuck in the belief that my life's work is occurring on such a small scale, it does not really matter at all. Sometimes I feel as if I am chipping away at a mountain using a toothpick.

The problems of the world seem so huge, and as individuals we feel so small and limited in our power it often appears there is no way we can possibly ever do enough to bring about change. Sometimes, this has provided me with the impetus to throw my hands up in the air and say, "Nothing I could possibly do would matter."

It's only when I scale back my intention that I realize I can make a difference on an individual level. It doesn't matter the size of the difference I make. It matters instead that I make one at all. If even one person winds up better off for having known me, if the one person who needs to hear something in what I've written reads it and understands, if one person hearing me speak feels they gained important information, if one person I've encountered in my life somehow feels uplifted, then I have done enough.

That doesn't mean I should stop, however. It's exponential. I encounter a lot of people in my lifetime. If I can do something that makes them smile or feel empowered, then maybe they will go forward to help, as well.

Back in 2007, our county had severe flooding that displaced thousands from their homes and businesses. During that time, I volunteered at a United Way flood center, providing people that had lost everything with necessities like food, shelter, water, toiletries, and clothing. One day a woman came into the center. She no longer had a home, and everything in it was gone, as well. I talked with her for a while, and then gathered a box of things she needed. The next day she returned.

I greeted her and asked if there was anything else I could get for her.

"No," she said. "Yesterday you made me feel like a person rather than a victim. I've come to do the same thing for others."

Daily, she returned to the flood center, paying forward what she had received.

People matter. Whether it is one or thousands, you never know how what you do is going to change the world. What matters is we all try to interact in positive ways with the people we meet. If everyone followed the most basic maxim of human rights, The Golden Rule (treat others as you wish to be treated), we could change the world.

And even if it was only one single life? That would be enough.

Dark Corners

2011-08-10T10:25:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

I once met a man who was so full of light I could feel it radiating from his pores. When he greeted me and shook my hand, I felt awash in love. It was an amazing experience, and one I've never forgotten although it occurred more than a decade ago. I can still feel that encounter viscerally when I wish to recall it. He was so present, this man, and so utterly without judgment that for the brief time I spent with him, I felt renewed. His name was Reverend Charles King, and he was a cousin to Martin Luther King, Jr.

I was in a pretty dark place back in those days - in a terrible marriage, flat broke, unemployed due to a recent layoff. You wouldn't have known it to look at me, because I've always been really good at putting on a "brave face." Even when I was melting into the depths of darkness, I always pretended I had it all together, and that everything was just great. Sometimes, I even managed to convince myself.

To step into this man's presence was akin to a wash of brilliant sunlight after months of nothing but rain. For my fellow travelers who also live in the Pacific Northwest, you can probably relate to this metaphor of that brilliantly sunny day in February that both stuns and renews you. It was how it felt to me to be awash in a loving and non-judgmental presence.

It was only a brief encounter, but it affected me profoundly. I felt renewed, and remembered that I had the courage to pick up the pieces of the life I was in. I've only had a few moments that have sparked such drastic change in my life, but when I recall them they have the emotional power to bring me to my knees.

My husband, Jim, and I have a regular disagreement. I believe a single moment can spark a process of profound change in a person's life. Jim believes people are essentially who they are, and change is not possible or at the very least, it is tremendously difficult. In a way, I think we are both right. Epiphany can spark the process of change, but after it occurs one has a choice. They can either burrow further into the darkness, or continue along the road less traveled to seek the light. My meeting with Reverend Charles King may have been a start, but in the end I somehow summoned up the courage to take a leap into the void of the unfamiliar.

It's easy to stay who we are. It's easy to hide from ourselves, and pretend both outwardly and inwardly that all is okay. It's easy to ignore the ills of the world in which we live and the darkness of our own souls, burying ourselves in activities that don't matter in the slightest, people who don't really care, and consumer goods that only appear to make everything all better. We use these things to hide the reality of the world around us. We pile them in front of our darkest corners in order to block our view of the demons we believe hide there.

It's easy to sink into the morass of the familiar rather than facing an unknown future that may just require work to get from here to there. It's easy to use self-absorption for blinders so we can't see the suffering of our fellow human beings. Many of our religions, it seems, serve this purpose, as well. They allow us to self-righteously believe in our own inherent goodness. They teach us that if we, alone, have faith in the "right" God, then that God will shower us with His gifts. And if others lack those same gifts we have? Good news! It's God's will because they have not yet entered the path of the righteous. With that self-justification, we can ignore all of the pain around us and instead cast golden idols of self-worship. Mea culpa. Often the content of my blogs are as much for myself as for public consumption.

It is a line from a Thomas Gray Poem, Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, that sums up this philosophy so well.

Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.

Yet, when we close our eyes to ourselves and the world around us, are we truly happy? And if we're all completely blissful in our ignorance, then why are we so concerned with what everyone else is doing? Why, for instance, would we believe that someone doesn't deserve the same level of civil rights that we enjoy? Why would we be upset that gays be allowed to marry, or that women have control over their own reproductive rights? Why would we as a society feel such a need for retribution that we kill a human being for either real or imagined crimes? Why would we allow corporations to run our media, our country and our lives? Why would we rather spend time trolling people on the Internet than reaching out to the living breathing human sitting 10 feet away? How can we justify the killing of innocents in the pursuit of righteous nationalism? Why would we befoul our environment rather than preserving it, or poison our bodies with drugs, alcohol, pesticides, and the chemicals that pass as "food?" Why would we delight in another's pain, feeling smug about our own "wellbeing?"

As a society, we've chosen the "bliss" of ignorance and complacency rather than seeking wisdom. I believe that's because it is the easiest path - to hide first from ourselves and then from the world at large. Still, how long can the electronic thrumming of our current distractions help us retain that bliss? How long before we can no longer ignore that niggling dissatisfaction as it works our way up through our psyches? How long can we ignore our own dark corners because it is easier to do so? And how fully are we truly living life if this is how we choose to be?

Each of us has our own answers to these questions. I cannot judge another's path or timeline, nor is it my business to do so. I have only one path I can attend to and it is my own. When I met Reverend Charles King, his light served as a wake up call that set me on one path. Lately, I have been hearing other voices calling me as well, telling me that I am not nearly as awake as I so smugly believed myself to be. Now it is up to me to decide whether I will respond to those voices, or whether I will pile more junk in front of my dark corners, so that I can live on in the bliss of ignorance.

Drowning in a Sea of Familiar Strangers

2011-08-05T09:37:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

Life is crazy this way. We frantically run from place to place, barely noticing anyone or anything around us. We communicate with dozens - or sometimes even hundreds - of people every day without actually hearing or being heard, seeing or being seen. We see the people we know and love the best for a few hours each day when we finally decide to jump off the treadmill of life, but how often do we take the time to connect with them? Instead, we engage in an array of electronics that allows us to tune out of the world and large and instead sink more deeply into our own reclusion. We live increasingly isolated lives among familiar strangers, only seldom connecting for more than a moment or two.

America was, of course, built on rugged individualism. We prize this part of ourselves that we call "I," yet our own self-adulation often approaches hubris. I am no different than any other in this way. I've spent much of my adulthood finding myself, defining myself, and working around to really feeling good about myself. Very often "I" is the focus of our entire universe. So much so that we completely ignore or even forget our very real connection to everyone and everything around us.

I have been on a journey through my own psyche since I was a teen. I've always been a very introspective person, and much of my adulthood has been characterized by the struggle to discover who I am, why I am, and how I fit into the world at large. In my 40s, I've come to understand that whenever I think I've hit on the answer, it holds no permanency. Instead, each time I believe I've finally found the most authentic me possible, it turns out to be a sojourn before my restless and wandering mind moves on to the next. Ultimately, I now realize that no matter how deeply I dig into my own sense of self, I remain vaguely unsatisfied and reaching for more.

I think I know why this is. While I am clearly "enough" in and of myself, in my self-involved meandering, I've neglected my own most important aspect. I am far more than me, the individual. I am connected to everyone and everything by the spark of the Divine that resides inside of all that is.

In the Biblical story of Exodus, Moses encounters a burning bush occupied by none other than God Herself. When Moses asks in awe who He is, the bush answers, "I AM THAT I AM." For many, this is an entirely puzzling response. What was God trying to tell Moses? Far be it from me to attempt to interpret the Creator, but I've always heard that phrase in my head in this way: "I am that. I am."

What I've always believed God was telling Moses is that God is that. And that. And that. In other words, everyone and everything you see is all Divine. Regardless of the form it takes, everything and everyone you see, touch, taste, hear, feel, sense, and know is exactly the same thing. It is all Divine. That means that in spite of our rugged individualism, with credit to the Beatles, "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together."

In the past few years, I've been feeling a tug away from myself and in an entirely different direction. I've come to realize that these sojourns I've been making in my own psyche, while interesting, are ultimately unsatisfactory and always transitional at best. Instead, I've felt a pull towards compassion. If the Beatles and the burning bush are both right and we are all the same, then the only answer is compassion because another's suffering is my suffering. I'm not going to lie. I'm not always good at it. In some cases, I easily and deeply feel compassion. In others (particularly the people I don't "like," or those who I feel have done me some kind of "harm") I can't find it, but I'm trying. As I was struggling in my brain with one such person last night it hit me. The only way I can find compassion in that circumstance is to know "I am that. I am."

I have frequently defined my struggle with faith as one of the central efforts of my life. I am not what you would call a Biblical or Christian literalist. The narratives of both the Old and New Testaments have never made sense to me as actual historical stories, which has led to a nearly lifelong separation from the church in which I grew up. Recently, with the help of my father and some wise Biblical scholars, I've begun to realize that I don't need to have faith in ancient stories that don't make historical sense in order to live a life according to the example set in the New Testament by Jesus. The gospels, particularly Matthew, Mark, and Luke, are filled with stories of Jesus acting compassionately. Radical compassion, it seems, was Jesus' life. While I still have many questions about how literal much of the Jesus narrative in the Bible is, here's what I do know. It was his overwhelming compassion for all that sparked so many to follow him and ultimately call him Savior. Even if the man they called Jesus had never breathed a word about God, his very life was acknowledgement of the Divine in everyone and everything.

A few weeks ago, I was having a conversation with a pastor and his wife who had recently moved into the area. I was expressing my deep discomfort with traditional Christianity and faith, particularly with the idea of "witnessing" to others. Without the faith in the virgin-born, risen Christ that Christian traditionalists would require, I've never much felt I had much to say to anyone about God, and certainly not about Christianity. The pastor's wife responded to what I said with a quote by St. Francis De Sales.

"Witness at all times. If necessary, use words."

I've been told by many fundamentalist Christians that I am going to Hell because I do not have faith in the literal interpretations of the Bible. My mind rebels, you see. The church is the comfort of my youth, but I reached a point in my life where my intellectual mind would not allow me to accept such fantastical claims as those that arise in the Bible in any way other than as figurative language. When I have expressed those doubts over the years, many have witnessed to me with words, telling me that I am a doomed soul primed to burn in eternity. If it had just been once, I might have considered it an anomaly, but it has happened so many times that I've become naturally wary of sharing my thoughts on the Bible with many more than a trusted few. When we attend church (rather infrequently), I am the quiet one who sits off by myself looking uncomfortable. I do not and I cannot witness verbally, lest I give someone a fit of the vapors.

The St. Francis De Sales quote is freeing for me. It is, in my mind, a call to compassionate action I can attempt follow according to what I believe is the most significant and important example that Jesus sets in the gospels. I can attempt to live with a radical compassion that sees beyond the labels society has applied to everyone. I can try to recognize that even those who society recognizes as the "least" are exactly the same as me, and that we are all made of the same divinity. I can attempt to internalize in all my interactions, "I am that. I am."

I may not always be good at it. I may fail frequently. But in the attempt so far, I have found a measure of inner peace, satisfaction, and joy that all of my journeys through my own psyche failed to deliver. I am you. You are me. I can only hope that when we meet face to face, I will lead with the compassion that I know is there if only I can allow it to be.

Simply Happy

2011-07-31T13:49:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

It used to be that I would wait for some external event in my life to make me happy. Total and utter bliss was just around the corner, I believed. It existed in the right relationship, the right home, the right amount of money, the right job. If I could just get those things straight, then I knew that total happiness would be mine, and I would sail away with a serene smile on my face, awash in a sea of bliss for the rest of my life. Happiness was, to quote Little Orphan Annie, "always a day away."

Somewhere along the way, my definition of what would make me happy changed. I can remember the first time that epiphany hit me. At the time, I was in a bad marriage and had just lost a job I hated. I was living in a crappy little rental and we were scraping to have enough money to put food on the table.

One sunny afternoon, I was in my kitchen. The window was open and a warm scented breeze was blowing through the house. Birds were singing outside of the window and Tanner (who was three at the time) was happily chattering in the other room as he played with his toys. The sun slanted through the window, playing light across my hands as I worked. I was shelling fresh peas from the garden. At the same time, I could smell the sweet peas in the back yard, as well as the sweet/pungent scent of the pods as they crisply snapped between my fingers. In that moment, everything felt perfect and I knew, in spite of the circumstances of my life, I was totally and completely blissful.

It was an awakening for me. I realized that I could recapture that moment again and again. Not by recreating the activity, but by allowing myself to get lost in the simple pleasures of life. I could be blissful just by being in the moment and allowing my five senses to communicate.

Life is better now, that's for sure. I have all of the trappings of a "happy" life - the good marriage, the good kids, the nice home, the pleasant job, plenty of free time. I also have the stress that comes with those things - worries about finances, work, family, and a plethora of other things large and small. I am not always ecstatic and overjoyed, but I am generally happy.

What I learned on that day is precious to me. It is life's simple pleasures that make me the happiest - those things that engage my senses and pull me firmly into the now. Friday night, I sat and watched the stars in the mountains with friends. I was happy. Today I have been puttering around the kitchen, baking an apple tart. As I slice apples and pull and pinch at dough, I am happy. These are the simple moments I can build on, making my life one of happiness no matter what external circumstances exist.

The Wrong Yardstick

2011-07-07T09:27:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

I am sitting in my beautiful kitchen with a cup of tea and dogs dancing at my feet when I feel a little tickle at the corners of my mind. I get these tickles on a regular basis, and they serve to tell me I need to stop and pay attention for a moment, because an important thought is trying to work its way to my consciousness. I sit quietly, my vision slightly unfocused, allowing the thought to form. I'm surprised at what it is.

"Is this all there is?"

It's a fair question. I am in my mid-40s. We still struggle with bills. I never got that big "break," and I am neither rich nor famous. I'm no longer young. I am far from beautiful or thin. My career has been a patchwork of jobs cobbled together as I've rapidly changed directions more than once. I never finished that great American novel everyone was so certain I'd write. In spite of the greatness I envisioned for myself I am, at the age of 45, average.

This is what we do to our children. We tell them they can be anything - even the President of the United States! Our media delivers role models, and we aspire to be like them: beautiful, powerful, athletic, famous. Those are the people we pay attention to, and unfortunately they are the ones we use as yardsticks for our own success in life. Perhaps we long for the wrong things: power instead of empowerment, physical rather than inner beauty, fame ahead of humility, wealth and possessions over contentment and happiness, career success above service. We aspire to be so much more than we believe we are, never stopping to rejoice at the beauty our average lives yield.

I lost at least 20 years of my adulthood striving to measure up to the icons all around me, never stopping to consider who I was could possibly be enough, because I was not rich, famous, powerful, or physically beautiful. I have seen the same discontent in others, this surprise that in middle age, they failed to deliver on the promise of their youth by never achieving fame, power, fortune, and status.

Over the past five years, however, I have begun to ask myself, "And just what's wrong with this life?"

Certainly it doesn't measure up to television, movies, or romance novels. Yet I have carved out a place of contentment in the world, and when I use my own yardstick to measure it, I am doing quite well, thank you very much. What are the markings on my yardstick? Empowerment. Service. Compassion. Love. Joy. Creativity. Philanthropy. Friendship. Respect. Partnership. Character. Parenthood. Kindness.

These things won't bring me fame or pad my bank account but it's okay. In the absence of these qualities, I am unable to meet my own eyes in the mirror. With them, I like who I am and how I choose to live. If this is all there is, I am quite content, regardless of my failure to live up to the things our society reveres.

I may not be famous, wealthy, powerful, or beautiful, but by my yardstick I'm doing just fine.

Think for Yourself

2011-05-02T08:48:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

As my son and stepson move through their teen years, I've been thinking about the lessons that I would like to teach them during their passage into adulthood. Throughout their lives I've tried to teach by both example and the words I offer the basic principles of kindness, compassion and self-worth. Since Tanner was a baby and Kevin a toddler (he was three when he entered my life), I realize that with all of the the things I have both taught and modeled, there has been a common theme: think for yourself.

Recently, I was upset about something someone had said that was unkind to Tanner.

"It upsets me," I said, "That he would say that to you. You know, of course, that it isn't true."

In all his 14-year-old wisdom, my son looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm going to tell you what you've always told me. It doesn't matter what other people think. It matters what I think, and I don't think what he said is true. If it doesn't bother me, then it shouldn't bother you."

Talk about a stop me in my tracks moment. Lessons in life from a 14-year-old can be difficult to swallow, given I feel I've spent my life trying to teach him. He was, however, right. It mattered what he thought.

It often feels we live in a world where people want the simplest, easiest to understand, least nuanced answer to any question. I often wonder if people actually want honest answers, or if they merely want statements that confirm what they already believe. As a writer, I am frequently assigned articles on topics about which there are many conventional beliefs that have little basis in scientific fact. For me, taking an objective looks at those topics means researching scientific findings, discussing both supporting and opposing positions, and then allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions. Unless I am blogging or writing an opinion piece, I have never felt it was my job to shove my opinions down others' throats.

I received an email once after writing such a piece that examined some facet of spirituality from all angles that ended with an "it's up to you to decide" type of conclusion. In the email was a common complaint. "Get off the fence and tell us what you think. I think you are afraid of offending people."

It's a fair comment, but not entirely accurate. If you ask my husband or people who know me well, they will tell you that I most certainly do have opinions. I've got a ton of them, and I am not afraid to vocalize them in the appropriate circumstances. However, when I am writing a piece for public consumption, it's not about my opinion, it's about giving my readers the information with which they can form their own. My goal as a writer is to provide a thorough examination of an issue so that people will think, and in thinking, they will decide for themselves.

It seems everything has a slant these days. It's difficult to find unbiased reporting, because people want to hear about news and world events from those who share their worldview. Few people want their worldview challenged. I understand. Mine is challenged on a regular basis, and it is frequently an uncomfortable feeling. Yet, as uncomfortable as I feel when this occurs, ultimately, I appreciate the fact that it has, because it gives me the opportunity to use my critical thinking skills, examine my motivations, and refine my values.

It's easy to allow someone else's opinions to become your own. Finding a personal viewpoint or shaping a unique worldview is more difficult, because it forces people to examine who they are and what they believe. Without innovative thinking, however, we will not advance as a society. If we all become polarized to one viewpoint or another, then we will stop listening to the "other side." I am a firm believer that neither liberals nor conservatives hold the moral high ground. One isn't right while the other is wrong, and yet we're all about hysterical finger pointing when the other guy's viewpoint doesn't match with our own. To become trapped in political, religious, social, scientific, or any other kind of dogma, however, limits our possibilities.

I have long believed we live in a universe of pure potentiality. To narrowly dismiss something because it doesn't fit into our current worldview could mean bypassing a solution that can change the world. This is why, if I could pass on only one single lesson to my boys it would be this: think for yourself and never let someone else tell you what to believe. Those who do will change the world.

Reconnect

2011-04-28T06:58:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

The recent hate crime beating of a transgender woman named Chrissy Lee Polis in a Baltimore McDonalds disturbs many. In a video posted on YouTube (which I cannot bring myself to watch), two young women reportedly beat Ms. Polis viciously to the point of a seizure while one McDonald's employee films and the rest stand looking on. In the three minute video, it is reported, only one middle aged woman attempts to help.

How is it, people ask, that we have come to this point as a society? Regardless of how you feel about the transgender issue, consider this for just a moment: two young women felt justified in hurting someone for being different while people stood and watched the vicious beating of a human being and did nothing. At the same time, millions have also flocked to YouTube to watch the video. What have we come to?

We live in an age of disconnection when people outside of our immediate circle may not seem quite real to us. After all, we can interact with others with impunity on the Internet, sitting tucked safely behind our keyboards, meeting across a screen rather than looking into each other's eyes. In this way, people appear two-dimensional, detached from the same level of human emotion that we each have ourselves. Whether we believe it or not, the technology age has detached us from simple connection and compassion on an emotional level. At the same time, the "reality" television shows we watch provide one-dimensional characterizations of the people onscreen, reducing a complex and multi-faceted human being to a simple stereotype to better allow us to apply a label easily. We allow this manipulation for entertainment's sake, but we often do so at the risk of our own psyches.

People, however, are not labels. Chrissy Lee Polis was given a label - transgender - but she is more than that. She is a human being with hopes, fears, joys, concerns, and insecurities that would probably look startlingly familiar to both the young women that attacked her, and also to each person who has watched her beating either in-person or in video form. If all of those people stopped for a moment to look into Chrissy Lee Polis' eyes and talk to her on a human level, they might be shocked to see so much of themselves reflected back.

When we turn people into one-note characterizations we do so out of fear and insecurity. By stripping another of all that makes them human, we can feel some sort of power and superiority. We can revel in our own inherent "rightness." It's all around us, this tendency. Not only do you see it on the screens you watch, but it is also in political movements, religious movements, and all of the fractionalization of our society. In order to feel better about our own beliefs and positions, we reduce those who don't agree with us to something simple that we can then dismiss. Once we do this, we can spend all day reveling in how "right" we are, because we've made the other guy wrong.

Here's the problem, however. Human beings aren't that simple. Just because someone disagrees with me politically, spiritually or socially, just because they look different than me, just because they love differently than me doesn't make them wrong and me right. Nor do my beliefs, ideals, preferences, and behaviors make me inherently superior to anyone. If I choose to feel superiority in order to gain power, than it is false power I am reaching for. After all, that initial rush of power we feel when we revel in our own superiority quickly subsides, otherwise we wouldn't be on to the next victim so quickly.

It is false power that we reach for when we behave in this manner. While it's true that many of us never reach the level of beating someone we don't understand to a seizure, we each commit small "hate crimes" of our own on a daily basis in order to feel better about ourselves. We flip off the guy who cut us off in traffic. We make a snotty comment in a forum to someone we disagree with rather than addressing the issue respectfully. We make snap judgments about people based on a single fact or set of facts. Each of these things by themselves are tiny, really. They happens so often we barely notice, but they slowly erode our sense of connection with those around us, as well as our own sense of personal empowerment.

So if proving that we are right does not bring true power and wellbeing into our lives, what does? I believe the answer lies in two simple words: connection and empowerment. When we take a moment to truly connect with another, we can also reconnect with ourselves. Regardless of how different someone is from me, when I actually make the effort to honestly see them, I am always shocked at how much of myself I see reflected back. And when I step forward and actually attempt to empower another? When I do so, I also empower myself.

It's simple, really, how easily we could begin to reconnect as a species in order to empower one another. All we have to do is get out in the world and start to look in each others' eyes once again. I'm not talking about the banal exchange you have with the grocery store clerk, I'm talking about making an actual connection - the kind where your eyes meet someone else's, and just for a moment you attempt to see the spirit that exists beyond the superficial facade. Try it first with someone that you perceive is "like" you. Then, when you're ready, challenge yourself and try it with someone who you perceive as "different." Sure their appearance, religion, skin color, sexual preference, politics, socioeconomic class, or a myriad of other factors we view as "important" may be different than yours, but when you actually connect with them, you will be shocked at the similarities. They have hopes, dreams and fears just as you do. They have passion and compassion. They are, as you are, human beings just doing the best they can to make it through this world in the best way they are able. Perhaps if we could begin to reconnect, we could all do so together.

Degrees of Awesome

2011-04-23T04:47:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

In his book, The Social Animal, New York Times columnist David Brooks discusses how human beings perceive their relative level of awesomeness (my word, not his). Scientists have performed studies, and men, it seems, tend to overestimate how absolutely stunning they are, guessing an IQ well above their actual number, and in general believing that they are far more competent at everything, have a greater degree of knowledge about the world, and make a larger contribution than reality indicates. Men believe they are more attractive, more physically capable, and all around just more awesome than they actually are.

Women, on the other hand, tend to underestimate just about everything about themselves, assuming people like them less than they do, guesstimating an IQ that is several points lower than actual testing indicates, underestimating their physical attractiveness and capabilities, and minimizing their contributions to society.

Men, rock on with your bad selves. Self-confidence is a wonderful thing, and if you temper it with self-awareness you can avoid becoming a caricature of the male ego run amok. Women, let's talk.

I understand the whole underestimation of self issue, as I can illustrate with examples from my personal life. For instance, growing up I never understood I was intelligent. I believed until well into adulthood that I was of merely average intelligence, and everyone sailed through school and homework in the same breezy manner I did. I thought their minds were fountains of creativity, leaping easily to ideas and insights. I was certain that I was among the average students, well below the intelligentsia I held in such awe. You see, there was me and the average kids like me, and then there were the smart ones. How did I know they were smart? They wore it like a mantle, uttering big words and telling the rest of us how smart they were. I could, of course, only aspire to be like them. If you had asked me, I probably would have estimated an average to slightly above average IQ of maybe 110-120.

It was only in my 30s that I began to understand something. The rest of the world wasn't like me, and I was, indeed, kind of intelligent. I discovered this when people began to tell me that one of the things they valued about me was my intelligence. I truly had no idea. On idle curiosity one day, I took one of those silly little online IQ tests. Disbelieving of the results, I took another. It was, to say the least, surprising. Turns out I was actually one of the intelligentsia I had admired all of those years of my youth, and I just didn't know it.

This story can do one of two things. It can demonstrate a certain naivete about the world at large, or it can serve as a classic example of underestimating my own awesomeness.

Recently, I decided to treat myself to a manicure/pedicure at a local spa. While I love spa services, the prospect of spending two hours with a total stranger daunts me, because I am never quite sure what I am going to talk about with said stranger. After all, I'm just an ordinary soccer mom living a typical suburban life. Fortunately, on this occasion, the esthetician was a master conversationalist, and she soon was drawing out the details of my life. We discussed the subjects I write about and some of the things I do to obtain the information. We also discussed my volunteer work, my hobbies, and my footloose and fancy-free twenties before I had children. When it was time to move from pedi to mani she looked at me, smiled, and said "You've led a really fascinating life."

It had never occurred to me this is so. After all, I do what I do and always have. It has never seemed like a grand adventure so much as a string of unrelated fun events I managed to cobble together when I really should have been doing something more focused and responsible. I am a dabbler, you see. If something sounds kind of groovy, then I am likely to give it a try. I enjoy collecting experiences the way other people amass tchotchkes. I have big ideas, and I love to chase them down and bring them to life, regardless of whether they serve any greater purpose other than providing me the joy of creation. I always assumed that this meant I was vaguely unfocused and not terribly success-driven. Turns out that somewhere along the way all of those little things I tried grew together until they gained enough critical mass to make me interesting. Who knew?

I'm not sure why, as women, we underestimate the value of our lives, but I do know it is true. Yet women are remarkable. What women contribute to this world is vast. In many cases, we are the heart of homes and communities. Women are more likely to volunteer than men. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, about 30 percent of American women volunteered in some capacity in 2010, as did about 23 percent of American men. In many homes, women accept the largest responsibility for child-rearing. We develop careers, maintain homes, feed families, and strive to keep our relationships healthy.

I have tremendously talented friends. One is a brilliant biologist raising two bright and well-adjusted children. Another runs a business, raises two kids, and pursues her interests and talents with a passion. Another has chosen to share her musical talents with future generations, and yet another takes some of the most stunningly beautiful photographs I have ever seen.

I also have tremendously strong friends, weathering weight that would crush the average person. One battled breast cancer. Another nurtured her family after her husband was in a serious automobile accident that changed their lives forever. Others have risen from childhoods of abuse and broken the cycle in adulthood, raised children with disabilities, survived severe economic trauma, and withstood soul-crushing legal battles.

The women I know are rock stars, juggling so many balls at one time it is astonishing to watch. Yet each of these women would tell you they are just average moms doing average things.

Women of the world, it is time to stop underestimating your degree of awesomeness. The contributions you make to your homes, families, careers, communities, and the world at large are significant. I have yet to meet a woman I believe cannot move mountains to make the world a better place. Perhaps it is time that each of us step up and take ownership of this instead of downplaying our roles in society. If we can contribute this much with so little self belief, imagine how we could change the world if only we could perceive how magnificent we truly are.

Stepping Out of My Head to Hear My Heart

2011-04-14T09:08:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

I'm a reasonably smart person. I have a brain that constantly sifts through data and analyzes it endlessly, looking for connections and correlations. When combined with my curiosity over just about everything under the sun, I spend a lot of time in my head thinking about stuff.

I've never been one of those people who can empty my mind. Instead, I have multiple layers of thought flowing simultaneously through my brain. If you could step inside my head you would understand. It is a cacophony in there, with noisy thoughts piling up just waiting to come to the forefront of my attention.

That's why, when I receive a new piece of information, I think about it. I have a tendency to intellectualize everything. My first instinct with each new concept I encounter is to try and understand it from a rational level. If I'm dealing with a mathematical or scientific concept, then it's all well and good. As my brain picks it apart and puts it back together, I am more able to store the information for use at a later point.

When the concept is one that I need to feel to "get," however, I struggle. There are many ideas I've desperately tried to intellectualize over the years that truly defy rational analysis and instead must resonate on some deeper intuitive level. My tendency to intellectualize and rationalize is the reason I've been all over the map about God, for instance. It is also why my belief in supernatural phenomena ranges so widely depending on how far out I am from the stimulus that sparked belief in the first place.

For me, it's always been a dichotomy. My heart wants to embrace those things exceeding the bounds of physicality: the human soul, spirituality, the underlying interconnectedness of the universe. My head has other ideas. In the very moment I experience something larger than the physical with the potential to emotionally and spiritually transform my universe, I am the biggest believer on the planet. Some experiences are so crystalline and perfect, to embrace them as they occur feels as if I am truly floating in the arms of God and in that moment I have peeked under the universe's skirt. I ride that high for a while. Then my brain kicks in with the intellectualizing, and slowly whatever sustenance I received in the moment slips away in the incessant chatter of an overly analytical mind.

I live amidst a battle between my head and my heart. Frequently, what I feel and what I think are at odds. Yet, I often struggle with a concept mightily in my mind for days, weeks, months, or years on end. And then, one day it will happen. I get out of my head for just a moment, and the concept with which I have been struggling suddenly settles into me as a knowing. It is as if, just for a moment, I've stepped out of my head and my heart has spoken.

How Can I Help

2011-04-13T21:55:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

If you've ever had a friend or loved one in trouble, in despair, or just in pain, then there's a good chance you will be able to relate to what I am about to say.

When a friend, someone I care about, or even a stranger expresses pain, I always feel at a loss. What is it I am supposed to do? How is it I am supposed to respond? While I have compassion for their suffering, there is a part of me that thinks, "What the heck am I supposed to say to make things better?" I'm awkward that way. It is an aspect of interpersonal relationships that has escaped me for years.

I want to be there for the people I care about, it's true. The problem is this, though. I have a horrid case of foot in mouth disease. I am as well-known for saying the wrong thing in the wrong moment as I am for tripping over things that no one can see, but that my feet can easily find. I am, and have always been, graceless.

It's funny, really, because the me in my head is not graceless. The me that exists in my head always knows the exact perfect thing to say, and always gracefully sidesteps the ottoman like Rob Petrie's second take in the Dick Van Dyke show opener. Sadly, the me inside seldom matches the me outside, and I often barrel through life like a walrus on rollerblades, both literally and figuratively.

Still, when I see someone in trouble, I have two choices. I can open my mouth with the best of intentions and possibly gag on my own foot, or I can turn away and pretend I didn't hear them. When I do the latter, I lie awake, worrying the night away and railing at my ineffectual ability to do the right thing.

It's funny, really, that speaking on an interpersonal level often ties me up in knots. Clearly I am a communicator. As a writer, I often put my deepest and darkest self on the page. When I am at a keyboard or have a pen in my hand, the words come easily. When I speak in public, the words flow. It is on the interpersonal level that I frequently fall short because my mouth doesn't have a delete key.

Still, I have developed a strategy that, for me, seems to work. When someone is in pain, I now simply utter four small words of just a syllable each. As long as I put the truth in how I feel behind those words, and as long as I am willing to back them up with action, they have provided me with a way to communicate all of the compassion that I feel when I see someone in pain. Instead of solving the world's problems according to the way that I, in my clumsy oafish manner, think I should, I leave it up to the one in pain to tell me what they need.

These four small words open a door. With them I can communicate how I feel, and let the other know that truly, I am here if they need me.

If you are a reasonably intelligent person, and I can only assume you are because you read my brilliant blog (there's that oafish communication I sometimes engage in), then you have read the title of this blog and probably have an inkling of what those four single syllable words might be.

When someone is in trouble, this is what I now say.

"How can I help?"

When I do, I mean it. If I have asked you, please know that I am here for you, my offer of help is genuine, and my expression of caring arises because you deserve the best in life.

How Much Is Enough?

2011-04-11T09:43:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

I often take the things that I worry about in my personal life and place them in the context of the world at large. When I do so, my worries seem petty and small, because when it comes right down to it, I've led a pretty blessed life.

I've always been rather idealistic - something that has driven different people in my life to distraction over the years. I'm a silver lining kind of gal. My politics tend towards idealism, although I've gained a great deal of pragmatism (for me) as I've gotten older. I'm that voter who drives others crazy. I am the one who doesn't believe she should have to select between the lesser of two evils. I actually feel that we should have an honest choice and politics, and as such I sometimes "throw my vote away" by voting for obscure third-party candidates who actually seem to align with what the voices in my head tell me the world could be like if we'd just get out of our own way. While I understand that in any given election, my vote probably doesn't count for squat because of this proclivity, I also believe that if enough of us keep voting for third parties, maybe someone will finally sit up and take notice. I want to vote for a candidate, not against one, and my third party votes allow me to do so.

The saying "ignorance is bliss" rings with special poignancy for me when I hear it. There are many things I wish I didn't know about the world in which we live; however, once I learned those things, they became a bell that could not be un-rung. Since I have an intensely curious nature, I frequently wind up learning - well - a lot of stuff. I read books, watch documentaries, do research, and ask questions because I want to know. While these activities fortify my mind and broaden my worldview, they also sweep me further from my Garden of Eden where everything is beautiful.

I was recently talking with my father about how much the things I learn change my worldview, and not always for the better. I've always felt my father was a pretty wise man, and as usual he had wisdom to share in this case.

"You can become more aware," he said, "And still not let it change who you are."

I want to see the world as a good place filled with good people like I did as a child, but my adult years have taught me much of what is really out there. There are so many aspects of life in this world that deeply disturb me. What am I talking about? I have a list.

The wealth gap between the rich and the poor
The cycle of poverty
Child abuse and domestic violence
The total control corporations have over our government, and therefore our lives
The industrialization of our food supply
The fact that our government is unwilling to accept love and partnership as a legal construct regardless of the gender and sexual orientation of the partners
The havoc human beings continue to wreak on our planet
The callousness with which many humans treat one another
The cruelty we display to animals in order to further our own agendas
The environmental toxins we release into the atmosphere
The fact that we have not been able to overcome our inherent xenophobia as a species, and therefore fear our differences rather than celebrating them
The church's co-option of God and subsequent use to push institutional agendas that pull us apart rather than drawing us together

I could go on, but I won't. Not because the other issues don't matter, but because each of us has our own concerns, and yours may be very different than mine. That's okay. What matters is that, in a world full of problems, it is often difficult to determine how to be a solution instead of a contributor.

This is why I think ignorance is bliss. Because once we are aware of a problem, if we choose to look away rather than act, then we become complicit. Our inaction makes us no better than one who perpetrates the acts in the first place.

This morning, I woke up, took my thyroid medication and made some tea. After driving my child to school, I sat down in my comfy chair with one of the five computers in our house and began browsing our high-speed Internet. After doing some of my paid work online, I went into the kitchen where I scrambled some farm-fresh, hormone-free eggs and topped them with an organic scallion and organic avocados. Next, I poured the water that I have in my purchased five gallon water jugs and took the vitamins and supplements for which I pay a handy sum every month. I was a little cold, so I bumped the heat in my 4,500 square foot home and then got back to work on the computer.

The utter privilege implied in the first three hours of my morning routine is astounding to me when I break it down and compare it to the rest of the world. Not only do I have health insurance and a health savings account with which I can pay for my thyroid medication, but I have a vehicle and money for the gas to power it that drives me to the doctors' office (which my insurance pays for) to get the prescription and to the pharmacy to pick up the medication. When I make my expensive, organic tea, my hot water comes from a special water heating tap on my very clean bottled water dispenser. I also have the gas to pay to drive my child to school, the money to provide him with clothes, school supplies, and musical instruments. I have both the money and the technological know-how to own and use computers and pay for the Internet. I have a job, and someone actually pays me fairly well to sit at home in a comfortable chair, do research on the Internet, and write about what I have learned. I have the luxury of choosing the foods that I eat and deciding whether I want to spend my disposable income on things like bottled water, organic produce, and sustainably produced meats. I also can afford the transportation to local farm stands and/or farmer's markets. When I have health issues, I can make nutritional choices because I can afford the luxury of things like vitamins and artisanal foods. I can afford to heat my extremely large house, feed my four dogs and a cat, and still have money left over for things like shopping and entertainment.

While this is how it is in my world, it certainly isn't the way much of the rest of the world operates. There are families living within a mile of me who would look at the way I lead my life as utterly foreign. Some may not have homes at all. Others may only be able to afford a fast food meal per day to feed their families. Some lack vehicles, others can't afford gas. Some don't even have running water or a clean source of potable water. Many have illnesses they can't get diagnosed or treated, so they just live with them. Some children wake up every morning and fear for their personal safety. Others are grateful for school, because at least they get food there.

I have become very aware that my insular little world looks nothing like the lives that many people in locations both nearby and far away experience.

Every day when I drive down my hill in my soccer mom SUV, I pass the food bank. It is on Fridays that the food bank gives out its food from noon to 3 PM. When I pass on Fridays, the line always snakes out the door and queues onto the street. For many, this is their main source of food, and if some of the food bank contributions I've made over the years are any indication, the choices are often grim - things people have in their cupboards that they find themselves wondering, "Why on Earth did I ever buy that?" Those are often the types of food that wind up at the food bank.

As I see it, I have two choices when I drive down my hill past the food bank. I can look away and go on with my luxurious life, or I can do something. I am not proud to say it, but there are many times that I've done nothing. When I feel I can afford generosity, when I decide it won't inconvenience me or my family, then I give. I would imagine that I am not all that unusual.

When our backs are to the wall and we see signs of human suffering right in front of us, we are often spurred to action. In the wake of natural disaster, the generosity of the human spirit pours forth. When we don't see it, however, we can often turn away. Still, human pain and suffering doesn't only arise in the wake of a hurricane, tidal wave, flood, or earthquake. Human suffering occurs all around us. Millions live in poverty. Others face domestic violence and abuse on a near daily basis. Whether we choose to pay attention or not, the fact remains. It is there, just beyond the fringes of our consciousness.

I've heard the argument from the very wealthy before that the reason they are at the top is because God gave them what they could handle, just as He does for every person. This is a concept that is very difficult for me to understand - that God would give some so much and others so very little. If, however, it is true that God hands out goodies to people He believes could handle it, wouldn't it be because He also wanted them to be good stewards of the gifts He has provided? Perhaps, if you believe God has gifted you with plenty, it is because (s)He wants you to share that plenty with others who have received little.

For me, finding that balance between helping and still doing what is best for myself and my family is very difficult. I always feel that I don't do enough to help alleviate the suffering of others. How much is enough? In the words of my very wise father, "You do what you can."

My parents see helping others as a moral imperative, and their example is one that I seek to emulate. Still, I often find little satisfaction in the help I provide, because I find myself wondering, "Is it enough? Could I do more?"

What does doing more entail? Does it mean giving a little something to every homeless person I drive past who stands at an offramp with a sign? Does it mean contributing an increasing sum of my income to others? Does it mean volunteering more of my time to help? How much is enough? How much do we really need? $50,000? $500,000? $500,000,000? How do we know if we help enough? Is it only enough when we become Mother Teresa? Are we somehow not living up to our potential if we are not taking only the very minimum for ourselves and then giving the rest back to our fellow man? Where is the balance?

These are moral questions with answers that I can only arrive at for myself, just as you can only find your own answers. I'm really not sure of the answers, only the questions. The best I can do is let my conscience be my guide.

Foodstalgia

2011-04-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

I love to cook and always have. Even as a kid, I made up all kinds of things to try out in the kitchen. My adventurousness in that venue earned me the name of "kitchen disaster," because I was frequently so experimental things didn't always go as planned.

Still, I got better. I read cookbooks from cover to cover and devoured cooking shows long before cooking became a "fad." I learned about the alchemy of food and how to mix flavors, textures, aromas, and spices in order to create something far greater than the sum of its parts. Cooking remains, to this day, one of the greatest pleasures in my life. I am still an adventurous cook, and I seldom use a recipe for anything. This often results in difficulty when someone asks me for a recipe of something I've made. I can show them or basically tell them how I did it, but since the things I make are different every time I make them, I can't really quantify amounts or specify ingredients. All I can do is come up with a reasonable facsimile.

I've discovered that people really get excited about my cooking, and it is something over which I've frequently scratched my head. I am a good cook, it's true, but I am not as phenomenal as people tell me. Over the years I've thought about this, and I've arrived at what I believe is the explanation for why people get so excited about a home cooked meal or baked goods fresh from my kitchen. It's because they are real foods, and as a society, we've forgotten what real foods taste like.

Many of us now view cooking as an inconvenience. I am the first to admit that midweek, amidst music lessons, soccer practice, work, and other activities, I sometimes find cooking to be a huge inconvenience. The time it takes to peel, chop, season, and prepare real foods feels like a huge drain in a crazy busy day. Convenience foods are so darn...convenient. Here's the problem, though. They don't actually taste like "real" foods, and I think that our taste buds have adapted over time to accept the over-sweetened, salty, mealy, flavorless consumables as what food really tastes like. So, when we taste the real thing, it is often a revelation.

I doubt our great grandparents would recognize much of what we eat today as food. Potato chips, crackers, Ho Hos, canned soups and stews, chicken "nuggets," frozen or canned fruits and vegetables, fast food, out of season apples and bananas that have traveled hundreds of miles to get to us in the off season, corn-fed beef, and loaves of overly sweet, sticky bread. They all bear a resemblance to food, it's true, as if they give a nod to what food might actually taste like without ever providing the satisfactory flavor of a lovingly prepared meal from the kitchen of a joyful cook. Don't believe me? Try this. Buy a loaf of white sandwich bread from the grocery store and then bake up a loaf of your own white bread. Now eat them side by side. They really aren't even the same food, are they?

Some of the best meals I have ever eaten only had a few ingredients and involved no complicated cooking techniques; however, what they do have are fresh, natural ingredients that were put together by hand - not made in an industrial machine. While such a radical change to our food supply in the last century has yielded unprecedented convenience, it has done something else, as well. It has altered our taste buds, making it so we accept reasonable facsimiles of food as the real thing. When we actually taste the real thing, we are stunned at its simple deliciousness.

Last week, my son bought an apple pie at the grocery store. He was very excited about it, because he loves apple pie. He took one bite and looked at me in shock. He could not comprehend how someone could make a pie taste that way, but I understood. It contained a tough industrially prepared crust and utilized a canned apple filling. It wasn't a pie - it was some industrial image of a pie that paled in comparison to the real thing.

I took pity on him. Today, I am baking him an apple pie, made with crisp organic apples from Central Washington and a real, homemade crust that practically falls apart the second you put it into your mouth it is so flaky. Along with that pie, I will be slow-braising short ribs from farm-raised, grass-fed cattle, making mashed potatoes using actual potatoes taken directly from the earth (not potato flakes), and tossing a salad of new baby spring greens dressed with a simple vinaigrette. To do that, I will spend about two hours total in the kitchen, listening to music and enjoying the scents and textures that come as I chop fruits and vegetables. My dogs will gather at my feet to sample small slices of apple I cut for them, and my dog Spike will wind up covered in flour because he insists on standing between me and the counter as I roll my pie dough.

Perhaps two hours in the kitchen doesn't sound like anyone else's idea of fun, but I am foodstalgic. To me, it is a pleasant way to spend a few hours of my day to give my family "real" food so they don't forget what it tastes like.

A quick example:

My pie contains:

Pink Lady Apples (I can even tell you the name of the farm they came from)
Lemon zest
Lemon juice
Fresh grated nutmeg
Fresh grated cinnamon
Allspice
Butter
Flour
Salt
Sugar
Water

Mrs. Smith's Apple Pie contains:

SLICED APPLES, WHEAT FLOUR, WATER, HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP, VEGETABLE SHORTENING (PALM OIL AND SOYBEAN OIL WITH MONO- AND DIGLYCERIDES), MARGARINE (PALM OIL, WATER, SOYBEAN OIL, SALT, VEGETABLE MONO- AND DIGLYCERIDES, SOY LECITHIN, SODIUM BENZOATE [A PRESERVATIVE], CITRIC ACID, NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL FLAVOR, BETA CAROTENE [COLOR], VITAMIN A PALMITATE ADDED), FOOD STARCH-MODIFIED, CORN SYRUP, BROWN SUGAR, CONTAINS 2% OR LESS OF THE FOLLOWING: SALT, SUGAR, ASCORBIC ACID, CITRIC ACID, SPICE, CALCIUM CHLORIDE, XANTHAN GUM, MICROCRYSTALLINE CELLULOSE, CELLULOSE GUM, SODIUM ALGINATE, SODIUM POLYPHOSPHATE, CALCIUM PHOSPHATE.

The Water Conundrum

2011-04-10T08:55:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

I am far from a radical or an activist. Throughout my life, I've tried to make healthy choices for me and provide healthy options for my family. That said, I've also always believed in moderation (although I've not always been good at it in practice.) You can eat fruits and vegetables for the most part, but sometimes pie is okay, for instance.

I am also no longer a worrier. Once I was. I worried about a zillion things over which I had no control. Now, I realize I can't control them and worrying about them serves no purpose other than to spin me up and make me crazy. Conflicting news stories come out on a near daily basis about what is good for us, what is bad for us, and what just might kill us. I learned long ago that if I changed my habits every single time those stories came out, I would never achieve any level of consistency in my life. I would also make myself nuts.

What I'm telling you is this: I'm a fairly balanced person. I try to avoid extremes, and I don't believe or worry about everything I read. Still, I discover things that concern me, and at those times I seek to achieve a balanced perspective based on comprehensive research. I did that with artificial sweeteners, for instance. I researched them clearly and deeply and came to the conclusion that, for me, they weren't a healthy choice.

Several years ago, when my son was a baby, our city decided to fluoridate the water supply. Perhaps it was the new mom hormones coursing through my body, but for some reason this didn't seem like such a good idea. After all, in some of my new mom books they mentioned that babies shouldn't be given fluoridated toothpaste, and I knew that eating toothpaste was poison. That's why you spit it out rather than swallow it. I began to do research and discovered more about fluoride than I possibly could have wanted to know, including the fact that it was actually a toxic byproduct of industrial waste, and that lifetime overexposure to fluoride was linked to tooth discoloration, bone fractures, and certain types of bone cancer. Fortunately, citizens in our town banded together and no fluoride was ever added to the city's water supply.

Then we moved. The city in which my family currently lives does fluoridate its water supply. Since my children use fluoride toothpaste, I felt that consuming fluoride in water could lead to long-term health issues. With that concern, I decided to switch to bottled water; however, there's a conundrum there, as well. First, many water bottlers merely take their H2O from municipal water supplies, which just could be fluoridated. Likewise, there is very little EPA control of bottled water, and many reports have surfaced over the years of toxins and unsafe substances in the product. Additionally, with the commoditization of water, corporations move into municipalities and assume control over their water supply, even in times of drought. For instance, in 2009 when Atlanta was experiencing a severe drought that forced residents to strictly ration water, the local Aquafina bottling company continued to use the city's diminishing water reserves to create its product. Essentially, they used the water the citizens couldn't, and then sold it back to them at a significant markup.

Then there is the whole plastic and pollution conundrum inherent with bottled water. The single-serving bottles are made with Polyethylene Terephthalate (PET), a petrochemically derived plastic that has been linked to leaching toxins and benzene into the water it contains. Likewise, while PET plastic is recyclable, our nation's infrastructure lacks both the ability and the funding to recycle the sheer volume of plastics from water bottles. Additionally, few people actually make the effort to recycle, and massive amounts of PET plastic wind up not only in our landfills, but in our waterways and in the ocean. We are slowly filling up our world with mounds and mounds of plastic.

Could the solution be a five-gallon, reusable water bottle with spring water? It turns out there's a problem there, as well. While the plastic recyclable bottles may be less likely to find their way to landfills, they are made of a hard plastic known as Bisphenol-A (BPA). Industry has long used BPA to make things like baby bottles and reusable water bottles; however, reports in 2008 showed that BPA leached into liquids. Animal studies showed that even minute amounts of leached BPA act as hormones in the bodies of the rodents that consumed them, blocking the estrogen receptors and natural estrogens in our body. This may pose problems in developing bodies, and has been linked to various cancers and damage to the reproductive system in rodents. While the FDA utilizes two BPA manufacturer-conducted studies showing the safety of BPA as evidence that the product is safe, more than 200 independent studies (i.e. not performed by manufacturers) suggest otherwise. Ongoing research may tell the full story.

What started out as a journey to keep industrial toxins from my water supply has turned into a morass that pits independent research against our country's food and drug administration, which relies on corporations to self-report and perform their own studies into the safety of their products. Currently, I am opting for the BPA five-gallon bottle solution; however, I am researching various water filtration devices (reverse osmosis removes fluoride, other filtration systems do not) to see if there is a healthier option for my family so that we do not have to be subjected to long-term fluoride exposure at the hands of a well-meaning but potentially misguided municipality, nor will we have to drink potentially harmful water stored in petrochemical products that damage the environment, the areas where they "mine" the water, and potentially our bodies.

It's a conundrum, and I'm not afraid to admit that I am almost sorry I began researching it in the first place. The more I learn, the more I truly believe - ignorance is bliss. Once I know the facts, then the choices I make take on a new significance that may have both physical and moral implications about not just my family's well-being, but also the health of the entire planet.

Opting Out of Industrialized Food

2011-04-09T13:57:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

Recently, I've been spending time reading books and watching documentaries about the American industrialized food system. I came to the documentaries out of frustration for my health, which I've watched steadily decline over the past 20 years. Since I've always worked to cultivate good health, the decline has frequently frustrated and surprised me.

I've long been a believer that the industrialization of our food supply, while providing us with cheap, plentiful foods, may not be terribly great for human health. After all, as a species, human beings were originally hunter gatherers who lived off what they could kill or forage. What this means is that our earliest ancestors ate grass fed animals, fruits, and vegetables. It was only with the onset of agriculture in around 10,000 to 8500 BCE that human beings began widespread consumption of grains. Since humans have been on the planet in our current form for about 200,000 years, grain agriculture and consumption is a fairly recent development in our history. Who knows how equipped our bodies truly are to eat such foods.

Today's industrial food supply bears very little resemblance to the early agrarian society. Our diet is now almost entirely grain-based. In the United States in particular, corn and all of its derivatives make up the main source of grain in our diets. Even our meat eats corn now, although these are animals that are natural grass eaters, not grain eaters. Add to that the hormones and other byproducts included to supplement our food stock's diets to make them grow more quickly, as well as the pesticides not only put on the plant foods we eat, but also engineered into the seed stock so that the resultant plants are naturally pest-resistant, and one begins to see that the industrialized foods humans currently eat have traveled so far from the natural diets of our hunter-gatherer ancestors, that if they were alive today those ancestors would not even recognize what we eat as food.

Even during early agriculture, humans ate foods that were locally available and in season. They ate berries in the late spring, tomatoes in the summer, and root vegetables in the fall. Today, we can get any food all year round, and it sometimes travels hundreds to thousands of miles so we can have a tomato in the winter or a berry in March. Many of our foods are genetically modified in some fashion or another. What it amounts to is a giant experiment on the health of human beings.

We don't seem to be faring so well in that experiment, do we?

Our industrial agriculture and meat production do not appear to be making us healthier. Instead, illnesses of civilization such as type 2 diabetes, obesity, autoimmune disorders, cancer, and heart disease are on the rise. So are food-borne illnesses. We're getting fatter and feeling worse as we do it. At the same time, our foods are loaded with artificial ingredients (many derived from corn), chemicals that mimic the flavors of nature rather than natural flavors, pesticides, hormones, antibiotics, unhealthy fats, artificial sweeteners, and a plethora of ingredients we can't pronounce, nor do we know what they are. Then, they are packaged in petrochemical-based containers that may or may not leach poisons into our foods. Concurrently, the increasing incidence of monocultures in farming, lack of crop rotation, and rampant use of chemicals are depleting the soils of minerals, leaving many of the foods we consider the healthiest (fruits and vegetables) bereft of essential nutrients we need for good health. I won't even get started on antibiotic resistance or hormones.

I, for one, am ready to opt out of the craziness.

I started studying our food supply because I discovered that I am allergic to casein (which is present in dairy products), and that I cannot eat gluten because it blocks my body from absorbing nutrients. These two ingredients were making me ill, and they are almost ubiquitous in processed foods. I had no choice but to opt out from a huge part of the nation's industrial food supply - processed foods - because so many contained hidden sources of glutens and dairy products. I immediately began to feel better when I did so, but I still had a long way to go.

My next step was artificial sweeteners. I strongly suspected they were the root cause of my migraine headaches. While I still have an occasional diet soda, I mostly drink water and tea now and I discovered something amazing. My aches and pains dissipated, and my migraines faded away. When I do have an artificial sweetener, I always pay for it for several days afterward with extreme soreness, and sometimes a doozy of a migraine.

If making these simple adjustments changes how I feel so drastically, what will happen if I do remove even more foods from the industrial food supply from my diet? Will I feel even better? This is what I intend to do.

I came home today with local seasonal organically farmed produce from the farmers' market, along with some grass-fed, hormone-free, organic beef and chicken, as well as farm-fresh hormone-free, grass fed chicken eggs. These are the foods that will make up my meals this week - nearly corn and grain-free in every aspect. Not only that, but the foods have traveled less than 100 miles to get to me, rather than the hundreds or even thousands of miles they have to travel when I select fruits and vegetables that are not locally in season.

Not for the first time, I am also considering participating community supported agriculture (CSA). Most areas have CSA programs available for people who truly wish to eat seasonally, organically, and locally. How does it work? You purchase a "share" in a farm (typically $300 to about $1,000), and for that amount the farm provides you weekly boxes of whatever they have harvested. I've long been fascinated by CSA programs and wanted to participate one. I'm almost embarrassed to admit why I haven't. It's because of beets. I'm terrified my box of vegetables each week will contain beets, and I hate those gross red things. I have, however, overcome my beet fear, and this spring, summer, and fall, I plan to participate in the CSA program of a local farm. The food bank is just down the hill from my house. They can have the beets. At the same time, I plan to purchase part of a local grass-fed cow, part of a grass-fed pig, and several grass-fed chickens to keep in my freezer. I am hoping that by eating in a manner that is closer to the way human beings originally ate without having to actually hunt or forage for it myself, I may begin to feel even better. I firmly believe that my health has been damaged the foods I have chosen to eat over the years.

Does this mean our current food supply damages everyone? I have no answer for that. I think that some people may be more sensitive to things than others, and I am clearly one of those people. While this amounts to a health experiment for me and my family, eating grass-fed animal protein and organic farm-grown vegetables can't be any less healthy for us than noshing on a diet of grain fed protein and highly processed corn products.

I am not idealistic enough to believe that every thing passing my lips will be from the local organic food chain. I realize that I will continue to occasionally eat processed foods, and I'm okay with that. Sometimes convenience trumps health, but I'm willing to give pastoral eating a try in order to learn whether it affects my health in any positive way.

For those who would like to learn more about our food supply, I can recommend some terrific source material.

King Corn (documentary)
The Future of Food (documentary)
Fat Head (documentary)
The Omnivore's Dilemma (book)
The Archevore Diet (blog)
Killer at Large (documentary)
Good Calories, Bad Calories (book)

Epic Battles

2011-03-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

It may not look like it as I sit and calmly sip my tea while typing away at my computer each morning, but before I get to this point, I've fought a series of epic battles just to get to this place.

The first battle of the day is always the "get mom out of bed" campaign. I don't get enough sleep. Even if I go to bed at 8 PM, I don't get enough sleep because I wake frequently throughout the night - something that started when I had a baby and never quite cleared up. Fortunately, my dogs are willing partners in this battle, and the make sure that I am up and at 'em as soon as their uncannily accurate sense of time tells me I should be.

From that battle I head upstairs to fight the next one. This time, I have no canine partners. I am on my own. At the top of the stairs lies my foe, a 14-year-old boy who has been known to sleep through a blaring alarm clock until it finally gives up and shuts itself off. He got this from his father - also a heavy sleeper. When we were married, I used to joke that someone could be murdering me in bed next to him, and he would sleep through it. I know this to be a fact, because he slept for hours through my labor until my water broke and I had to kick him repeatedly to wake him up. The teenager - he has the similar superpower of falling into oblivion until a herd of elephants jumping on his bed (or the rumbling of his stomach) finally propels him into the waking world in the morning. Worried about him sleeping through college, I went nuclear recently and bought a super alarm clock that not only wakes the entire house when it goes off, but also shakes his bed vigorously. On occasion, this even works, but not this morning. Instead, I become the alarm clock, every ten minutes tromping back upstairs to rewake him until 15 minutes before he has to leave for school.

Battle number three is with my own body. My hair, to be exact. Fresh from the salon, my hair is a perfect, glossy mass that my hairdresser, Edward, assures me I can manage on my own. I can't. I know. I've tried. Repeatedly. What Edward seems able to do in three sweeps of a flat iron takes me 45 minutes of grumbling. While his flat iron produces submissive and yet sparkling and smooth hair, mine merely taunts me. I sweep it through the hair, and it frizzes away from my head as if to tell me, "Not today, sucker!" Finally, after fighting the good fight, I give up and settle for "close enough," which really means not very close, at all. I have, however, become immune to the horrified looks from strangers. I always hope that they'll just think that, because my hair resembles Albert Einstein's, my brain must, as well.

Next, I battle laundry, stuffed dishwashers, and whatever other chores await. Finally, however, I make it to the kitchen where I make myself a cup of tea, head to my computer, and sit down to begin my working day.

Though my morning routine (and the rest of my day), I have come to believe that women are warriors. As a kid, I never understood this about my mother, a woman who raised three daughters, worked full time, kept a clean and tidy house, and always had dinner on the table. While I, too, am a warrior, my house is not nearly as spotless as my mother's. I try - but with four dogs, a cat, two boys, and a husband who has a condition unique to men known as dirt blindness, a more than full-time sole proprietorship freelance writing business, two volunteer positions, three flute students, kids that need running around, and a couple of hobbies, cleaning sometimes takes a back seat. I try, really I do. I don't get up in the morning or go to bed at night without working my way through chores that have magically built up. I try to get dinner on the table every night. Most nights, I succeed, although sometimes I tell people to just figure it out themselves. On those nights, I feel guilty.

This past weekend, I worked my way through what we affectionately call "laundry mountain." It took me two full days to scale the summit and whittle it down until you could, once again, see my laundry room floor. Again, it's not that I don't do laundry throughout the week. I do. It's just that the self-replicating mass grows and grows, even if I do a couple loads each day. The good news, however, is that after scaling laundry mountain this weekend with the intrepidness of Sir Edmund Hillary, planting my flag, and then tearing the mountain down bit by bit, we can stop buying socks. It seems that the entire base of laundry mountain was made of socks. Who knew? This is the magic of discovery that comes sometimes - the miracle of socks.

I may fight epic battles on a daily basis, and face even bigger battles on the weekends that I tackle larger projects; however, here's what I know. I do not feel embattled. I may be a warrior, but I am a peaceful one. I am content in the fact that, while cooking and cleaning may not be the ideal that many feminists hold of the modern woman, I have learned that doing these things are a form of self-care. I clean the house because I enjoy it clean. Trust me, the boys, man, and pets don't care. I cook the meals because I desire the nourishment of "real" food. Everyone else in the house would be content with a steady stream of processed and fast foods. I do these things not because I have to, but because I choose to, and, while it may appear that by doing so I am subjugating myself to take care of my family, what I am really doing is selfishly caring for myself. The fact that we are all healthy, happy, and reasonably sane makes each of those epic battles eminently worthwhile.

Part of the View

2011-03-28T21:18:00.000-07:00

by Karen Frazier

Sometimes you just know it is time to move on. This is a lesson that has come up in my life over and over. Often, I don't actually move on until far beyond when I should, and I've learned that if I ignore my instincts, then something forces me to move forward, anyway. For instance, I worked at a job I despised for eight years. As my time there progressed, I often thought of leaving; however, I was comfortable. I was able to telecommute four days a week. I made good money. I didn't have to work that hard. Resultantly, I stayed right there in my comfort zone even as I knew with every fiber of my being that I should leave. Finally I did, and not of my own volition. Hit with the economic crisis, the company laid off some of the higher paid, higher level positions. I was one of them. Message received. It was time to move on, and if I wasn't going to do it on my own, then the universe was going to kick me in the arse and make sure I did.

Moving on can be difficult for the best among us. Even those who claim to love change (like me!) often have difficulty making the decision to move forward. After all, human beings enter their comfort zones, and it can be very difficult to step outside of them. It takes great courage to make a major change in your life. Making the decision to change is frightening at best, and often terrifying. Closing your eyes and taking the leap into the great unknown can feel like jumping off of a cliff without a parachute. Will you plummet to the earth and land in a broken heap, or will you spread your wings and fly?

I value my intuition very highly. When it tells me to act, I often do, although sometimes those actions are delayed. I have remained in jobs, relationships, and friendships long after my gut has told me to walk away. Doing so, it turns out, is not good self-care, and the hurt in those situations almost always arises after I have thought several times, "It is time to leave." It is a lesson that I need to learn. Trust what my heart tells me. It is almost never wrong.

Learning that lesson is a process that involves trusting myself and trusting my instincts. Yet always, when I go with my gut, it leads me in the direction that my heart has desired all along. I decided long ago - I want to be part of the view instead of one who sits and observes it. Often that requires change and great leaps of faith. In the end, however, I usually discover something very important. When I leap off the cliff, I can fly.

Part of the View

history repeats again and again
until I learn
to quite the battle within
and trust my inner vision
as my guide to what lingers
beyond the edge of understanding

safety lies away from the edge
where I can wait
and watch opportunity slip away
leaving me to wonder
what could have been
or what might be
if for just one moment
I stopped peeking at the view
and became part of it

backing away from the precipice
I start to run
as fast as I can towards the edge
with my arms wide open
there is nothing on my back
but the wind
pressing me forward
as terror subsides
and joy flows
I leap off the edge at top speed
with my eyes wide open

Rendered Inarticulate

2011-02-18T18:10:00.000-08:00

I usually have a lot to say. Today, I have been rendered inarticulate by our House of Representatives, which is made up of more than 80 percent men. That's a lot of men thinking they can dictate women's health. Women with little access to basic care have received lifesaving treatment at Planned Parenthood. It's not just about birth control or abortion. It is about serving a need in women's health for girls and women who cannot afford it any other way. If you stand with Planned Parenthood, please click here and sign their letter to the Senate. Thank you.

Reflections on an Ordinary Life

2011-02-12T10:31:00.000-08:00

by Karen Frazier

At some point along the way, I had to come to terms with the fact that I was ordinary.

I think when most of of grow up, we do so that the belief that we are special, and that one day our lives will reflect that specialness in some way. There will be something about us as adults that shows the world just how extraordinary we are. Adulthood comes as a surprise. After all, there can only be a very small percentage of the population who become big stars, win Nobel prizes, grow famous, pen the great American novel, help the poor in Calcutta, become president, or perform a hit song.

The rest of us? We lead ordinary lives. We get up in the morning and go to work. We spend time with our families and pursue our hobbies, whatever they may be. We do okay with money. Like everyone else, we get by with what we have. Yet somewhere inside, that belief that we were supposed to be special still flickers, and in our subconscious we may begin to wonder what happened. So we chase extraordinary in whatever way we can - whether it is buying bigger and better things, working our tails off to distinguish ourselves on the job, trying to look more beautiful and youthful, or hoping to be the next big thing on reality television. We also compare ourselves to the other ordinary people around us. If we can find that one thing where we're better than the guy next to us? Maybe we're not so average after all.

These are not the things that make an ordinary life extraordinary. Did our parents lie to us when they told us we were special? Of course they didn't. Each of us has the seeds of beauty inside of us, and even in lives that appear ordinary, we can be something amazing. It's not that our lives are ordinary and lacking - it's that our view of special has become twisted into some silly and nearly impossible to attain ideal.

When I stop to think about it, I see amazing people leading extraordinary lives all around me every day.

Extraordinary is the person who stops to help someone in need. It is the friend who offers non-judgmental support to another. It is the nurse who genuinely cares about her patients' health, the mechanic who donates to the food bank every week, and the mother who curls up on the bed with her children every night to read them a story. Extraordinary are the spouses who take the time to look into the other's eyes and remember the connection that brought them together in the first place, the boss who chooses to mentor instead of control, the driver who allows someone to pull out ahead of them in traffic, the teacher who chooses to inspire, and the harried commuter who spots a sunset in the middle of drive time and allows it to take her breath away.

Parents who go to their children's sporting events, employees who show up every day prepared to participate in an honest day's work, mothers and fathers who provide healthy meals for their kids, and people who stop to really acknowledge, hear, and see one another? They are extraordinary.

This is what I see as special in this life: kindness, compassion, love, passion, authenticity, joy, recognition of beauty, presence, peace, and a willingness to contribute whatever gifts and talents you have to make your world a better place. In the end, special isn't about fame or fortune. It is about taking each moment in your very ordinary life and making it count. It is about reaching a space where at the end of the day, you can meet your own eyes in the mirror with compassion, love, and respect. It is about appreciating the small things, and finding those transcendent moments of peace and joy - even if they come when your hands are submerged in a sink of hot, soapy dishwater.

The capacity to be extraordinary lies in all of us. It doesn't lie in what we have, how we keep up with the Joneses, our politics, our religious views, or how much righter we are than everyone else. Instead, extraordinary sits tucked away inside, ready to reveal itself as we lead authentic lives in which we recognize the beauty in one another - and in ourselves.

Facebook Applications and Privacy

2011-01-27T09:38:00.000-08:00

by Karen Frazier

I just spent the last 20 minutes deleting Facebook applications from my account. As a writer for Reputation.com, I frequently write articles about maintaining an acceptable level of privacy and personal security on the Internet, and in my research Facebook applications come up time and time again as both a privacy and security threat.

Why does it matter? Your online privacy and security are important for a variety of reasons. Along with protecting yourself from identity theft, discouraging creepy stalkers, avoiding contact by unwanted spammers, and keeping specific data about you away from marketers, you may also want to protect your reputation. After all, the information that exists about you on the Internet can color perception of who you are. Any snippet of data, photograph, or comment can appear damaging, when taken in the wrong context.

People make little of privacy these days. We've become quite a voyeuristic society, seemingly peering in on others' private lives and scandals via reality television, forums, blogs, social networking sites, and others. Yet, 20 years from now how would you feel if a potential employer performed a Google search on you only to discover photos of the night you did body shots or unearth that not so kind post you made about a boyfriend who did you wrong?

In my younger years, privacy on the Internet was a big deal. Back in those days, the Internet was bright, shiny, and new. Nobody really knew whether people would use it for good or evil, and so they mostly kept their private details to themselves. In the early years of the Internet, I didn't use my real name, refused to post a photograph, and examined every interaction for signs of something sinister. Of course, it was unusual to have the Internet. Most people didn't. And those intrepid few who did had to use strange sounding protocols like gopher and FTP to get where they were going.

Since those dark ages, however, the Internet has become a fact of daily life. The World Wide Web suddenly made it easy to scream along the information highway, regardless of your level of technical acumen. As more people flooded the Web, something happened. We all began to trust it more. That trust has been a boon to many: identity thieves, marketers, employers wanting to learn more about potential employees, people wishing to discover more about potential mates, and the random creepy guy seeking the next object of obsession. Some even believe that the Internet has provided a boost to the government, which now has access to unprecedented information about the private thoughts, beliefs, interests, and activities of its wired citizens.

Social networking websites, such as Facebook, provide a particularly tempting array of activities that entice us to give it all up. After all, on Facebook we're only chatting among friends, right?

Sadly, that's not very close to the truth. Even with the most stringent privacy settings in place, Facebook still uses the private information that shows up in your news stream, the pages that you "like," personal data in your profile, and a myriad of other information you happily supply to give you oddly specific advertisements that seem, at times, to almost mock your lifestyle. You know the advertisements I'm talking about. They seem made for you. Weirdly so.

This year, in 2011, Facebook projects that they will make more than $4 billion from those extremely targeted advertisements, which means that your personal information, your comments, and the company you keep provides big money for the largest social networking website in the world. No wonder they let you use it for free.

The other issue with Facebook? Third party applications. Every time you take a quiz, make a list, play a game, remember a birthday, or perform anything other than a regular Facebook function (updating your status, writing on walls, sending messages, loading pictures and videos), you activate a third party application. Usually, a little warning pops up telling you that a third party application will gain access to some of your profile data in order for the application to run, and I'd guess most click "okay" without thinking about it twice.

Here's what you may not know: every time you use an application, it doesn't just access your name and your profile page, but the application's creators also very likely receive:

-Contact information
-All of your friends names and information that shows up in your news stream
-Everything you've ever posted on your profile
-Access to your photos
-Access to interests, schools, employers, hometowns
-Access to the names of family members

In other words, if you've shared it with Facebook, then you've very likely shared it with some random stranger who publishes a third party Facebook application such as a quiz entitled "How HAWT Are You?" or "Which Cartoon Fat Guy do You Resemble?" Not only that, but once you have granted access, until you specifically un-grant it by manually removing the application, those random third parties continue to have access to anything and everything you post on Facebook. You have to ask yourself this: Is learning which historical figure you most closely resemble worth giving up all of your private data?

Don't believe me? Go take a look at your applications, I'll wait. It's not very easy to find. Managing your apps on Facebook takes some doing - you have to really want it. Here's how to do it. From the upper right hand corner of your Facebook newsfeed screen, select Account and then Privacy Settings. On the lower left-hand corner of your screen, you will see a small link that says Apps and Websites. Click "Edit Your Settings." You should see a list of the applications you use. Click on the "Edit settings" to the right, and it will show you what information the application continues to access from your Facebook account. Want to delete it? Click the X. Remember, until you click that X, the creators of the "Top 100 Models with Belly Piercings" survey will retain access to your private data.

Privacy may not seem like a big deal, but consider this. Every piece of information someone can find out about you on the Internet gives them another piece of the puzzle that is your private identity. A clever hacker may be able to quickly discover those secret questions at the bank, or the source of your super secret password that you use for every account because it is something that is easy for you to remember.

For me, the question I ask myself is this: How much information do I really want people I know nothing about to have about me? The answer for me is clear, which is why I just spent 20 minutes deleting my apps, and another 30 minutes writing this blog. Now you know, and you can decide what it is you want to do about it.

Thanksgiving and Other Disasters

2010-11-24T20:33:00.001-08:00

I love Thanksgiving. Not for the food, the cooking, or the weather, but because in my family, it gives us the opportunity to laugh. A lot. Mostly at ourselves. My family has a string of slightly disastrous Thanksgiving stories that make for a lot of laughter as we retell them every holiday season.

I was reminded of this just tonight. This year, our plan was to travel to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving; however, the Pacific Northwest (and particularly the monster hill on which we live) is in deep freeze. We don’t do well in freezing conditions up here. Plus Tanner has a bad cold. So we decided at the last minute not to travel over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house. Instead, Jim bundled himself down the icy hill with my hastily scrawled Thanksgiving shopping list in his hand.

One of the items on the list was “foil.” Instead, Jim came home with a duck in lieu of a turkey. Apparently, as he tried to decipher my chicken scratch, he saw the word foil and read it as foie. Oh how cute, he thought to himself, she wrote it in French. As he checked out, the clerk asked him what the duck was.

“My wife must have wanted duck this year,” he told her. “She even wrote it on my list in French!”

Two things:

1. I am not in the habit of writing shopping lists in French.
2. The French word for duck is canard.

I’ve avoided roasting a duck in the past because, although I really love to cook, duck can be quite time consuming. Tomorrow I’ll be cooking duck. Jim and I couldn’t help but laugh. It is appropriate, given my family history.

It all began years ago when I was a ‘tween. We were packing up the dinner my mother had cooked to go dine at my grandmother’s house. Our house had a detached garage at the time. One that required a walk through the back yard into the gravely and oil stained garage.

Mom carefully packed the the turkey in a basket. Then she handed it to my dad with the fateful words, “Don’t drop it.”

My father rolled his eyes and headed out the back door.

A few minutes later, I made my way out to the car with a jell-o salad, only to find my dad on his hands and knees behind the car scraping turkey out of the gravel. He looked at me with a sheepish grin and said, “I guess I did drop it.”

The ride to grandma’s house was rather quiet and a little bit frosty in the front seat, although the giggling in the back seat more than made up for it. Fortunately it was a fairly short ride, and my sisters and I managed to hold it together. Sort of.

When we got to grandma’s house, my mother gave us all a serious look and said, “Whatever you do – don’t tell your grandmother.”

My younger sister was probably about eight at the time. She had a big mouth. She ran ahead of the family and burst through the door to my grandmother’s apartment. “Dad dropped the turkey and mom’s mad!”

At the time, only a few of us found it funny. Now we retell the story every year, passed on to the next generation. I still can’t see the picture of my dad scraping turkey up off of the garage floor in my mind, and I still can’t help but laugh.

We’ve had other smaller disasters at holidays. Pumpkin pie without sugar, extremely sour lemon pie – just little things. But they build stories that we share every year during the holidays. It’s our Thanksgiving tradition. Jim’s “foie” will go in the archives of stories that we will retell and laugh for years to come. We’re already laughing about it.

This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for my family’s wonderful sense of humor. No matter what else is going on, I can always count on our ability to laugh together. Happy Thanksgiving.

Let's Talk

2010-11-23T19:09:00.001-08:00

I usually try to stay away from politics in my blogs. It’s not that I don’t follow politics or have opinions. I do. I have very strong political opinions. It’s just that I believe this is not the forum for me to share those opinions. Most of you don’t come here to read how I feel about politics, of that I am relatively certain. Still, I’ve been thinking about writing this blog for quite some time. And as my friend Bert Coates pointed out, it ultimately isn’t about politics. It’s about a social issue. It’s just that politicians take social issues that are, quite frankly, none of their business, and turn them into political flashpoints. The case of Terri Schaivo comes to mind.

Still, something social has been going on, and it’s really been bugging me – because it’s just flat-out wrong. I was finally driven to write about it because of a comment (now deleted) someone made on a guest blog today. It was a single, simple comment. “Gay," most likely used in the popular vernacular "that's so gay." It's just a word, true. It can mean happy. It can mean homosexual. It can also be used as a slur, and there's too much of that going on in the world right now.

People, this has to stop. It is never, ever, ever okay to denigrate another human being because of their sexual preference. Or their race. Or their religious preference. Or their appearance. For too long, our society has felt a need to make others somehow less than us. I suppose it’s how we make ourselves feel better about our own foibles, but It. Is Not. Okay.

When a certain paranormal television celebrity made comments in an interview referring to people as a "f***ot", that wasn’t okay. He lost his job for it. In the wake of that firing, there was an outcry. “What about freedom of speech?” I agree. In this country you have the right to say what’s on your mind. But just because you have that right doesn’t mean it is morally okay to use hate speech. I have the right to jump off of a cliff, too, but I’m probably not going to do it.

I once asked someone who had just used the N word what the heck they thought they were saying. The person’s response? “It’s okay. I have a black friend.” You know what? I have gay friends and I have never once thought that made it okay for me to use gay slurs. Never.

Here’s the deal. If you think hate speech is just words, then perhaps you need to take a look at the effect that such words are having on our kids. There have been a recent string of bullying-related suicides. The kids were bullying other kids about their sexual preference. Why is one death ever, ever okay? It isn’t, and it needs to stop. Where do you think those young people got their ideas about sexual preference? Were they born thinking, “hey – if someone prefers members of the same sex, it just isn’t okay?” I don’t think so. Hate is a learned behavior. Your children are watching. They are listening. And they are learning what to think and believe from you.

I’m not a huge fan of PC. I think that we’ve gone too far with our overly PC speech. Some of it is so convoluted its downright laughable. But this isn’t about political correctness. It is about humanity. Every single person – whether gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, black, white, purple, fat or thin is a human being, just like you are. They have the same types of fears, concerns and feelings. They love just as strongly and hurt just as deeply as you do. How can any human being look into the eyes of another and not truly see what is there? Humanity.

Several months ago, I embarked on what I termed 100 Days of Namaste. I did it because I recognized in myself a certain lack of care, a certain level of unkindness, and a definite lack of humility. It wasn’t that I was an awful person, but I was definitely quite often an unthinking one. My 100 Days of Namaste were hugely eye opening for me. For 100 days, I worked to see and acknowledge the humanity inside of every single person I encountered. And what I discovered was that when I failed to acknowledge another’s light, it had nothing to do with the other person. Instead, it had everything to do with me. It had to do with my fears, concerns, prejudices, lack of humility, and lack of self-love. I learned that if I couldn’t find something to love in another, it was because I was unable to find something to love in myself. I learned that the world is a hall of mirrors, and what I see in another is merely me, reflecting back to myself. I completed my 100 days, far from perfect – but far more self-aware. I still have negative reactions to people. My first reaction is still often fear, anger, and even hate. But from my Namaste project, I learned to step back in those situations and evaluate what was really going on. And it’s always about me. Always.

I’m telling you this not to sound superior, because trust me. I’m not. I’m a pretty darn fallible human being. Instead I’m telling you this to offer you a tool for stepping back from hate. When you find yourself angry, filled with hate, or fearful, take a closer look at you. Ask yourself where the reaction comes from. What is it inside of you that is driving your reaction?

There’s nothing inherently wrong with anything. When you step back and look at things objectively, everything just is. Straight just is – there’s nothing you can do to change it. Gay just is. There’s nothing you can do to change it. Black, white, orange – all of these things just are. And if you find yourself reacting strongly to any of these things, then it isn’t because they are bad. It isn’t even because you are bad. It’s merely because there’s something inside of you that you need to acknowledge, love, and heal. Different is never better or worse than you. No one is inherently superior. No one is inherently right. And frankly, gay isn’t about right or wrong. It’s about love. Why on earth would you ever put someone down for daring to love?

We live in a world that is difficult enough to navigate without making it tougher for one another. If you can’t find kindness in yourself, then perhaps the best action is no action. Instead of moving forward out of fear, anger and hatred, maybe the best course of action is to stand down. It’s like our mothers taught us, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” It may sound trite, but I think it applies. Cruelty in word and deed is never okay. You never wind up better off in the wake of your own cruelty. When you tear others down, you also tear yourself down bit by bit and piece by piece. So stop. Please? If you can’t do it to stop others’ pain, then perhaps you can choose it to stop your own.

This is my appeal. Human to human. You have within you the capacity to make the world a better place. You have the capacity to make YOUR world a better place. If you can’t do it for others, then you can at least do it for yourself. Please stop hating. Please step aside and realize that we are all human beings. If even one person reading my words makes the choice to stop hating, then the world can begin to change. And it can be better for all of us.

Too Old to Play Barbies. Too Tired for More Kids. Now What?

2009-05-21T10:19:00.001-07:00

I just got the opportunity to buy baby clothes. Girl baby clothes.

When I was young, I always thought that I’d have a ton of kids - at least four or five with a few girls tossed in there. Instead I had one boy and married into another. That’s it. While I could still technically have more children, why on earth would I want to? I’m 43. I’d be ancient by the time I actually got kids out of the house.

Plus, there’s the whole aspect of raising girls. My sisters both have girls. I was a girl once. From what I can tell, boys are MUCH simpler. Their clothes aren’t as cute, but it’s a trade-off. But I still love girl clothes. And baby clothes. And babies.

When I had Tanner, my boss’s wife, Sally (who was also my next door neighbor), went nuts. I had him at home on the couch (intentionally - but there was a midwife present), and Sally was at the house within ten minutes of his birth. For months, she would show up almost daily with gifts. Tons and tons of gifts. Much of Tanner’s baby stuff was from Sally. She also would babysit him at every opportunity she got.

Now I get it. Sally was about the age I am now at the time. Her kids were ages seven and up. Just because I understand the practicality of not having kids after a certain age doesn’t mean that there isn’t always a part of me considering it. Intellectually, I know it would be madness (the kids would outnumber us! We’re old! Do I really want to be 62 before I get kids out of the house?), but emotionally….c’mon - it’s a baby!

There’s a reason why so many women go crazy for babies. They are cute. They are tiny. You get to buy cute little clothes, soft little blankies and good smelling lotions and soaps. But, at a certain point in our lives, we come to the realization that babies are probably no longer in our best interests. So who do I dress up then? I’m too old to play Barbies. Right?

In my case, my options have come down to my dogs or other people’s babies. Jim’s co-worker’s wife just had a little girl, and I went nuts at the baby store. Cute little ruffly dresses. Teeny tiny socks. Little baby flip flops (seriously!), soft little blankets. I’m feeling pretty satisfied in the baby department right now.

My baby is now taller than me. He has a deep voice and fuzz on his upper lip. He no longer lets me pick out his clothes. What’s a mom to do?

Bring me your babies, ladies. I’ve become my neighbor, Sally. I’ll play with them. I’ll shop for them. And then, at the end of the day, I’ll send them home with you. It doesn’t get any better than that.

Perfect Moments

2009-05-16T11:34:00.001-07:00

I just experienced one of those perfect moments in time - where everything crystallizes and you know that you are exactly where you should be. Surprisingly, it came while I was on my knees scrubbing a toilet.

Tanner and I were cleaning side by side this morning. As mundane a task as cleaning in, we were enjoying one another’s company and spending time together chatting while we worked. Tanner went upstairs to practice his saxophone, and I went into the bathroom to scrub toilets.

Tanner was upstairs trying to work out a riff on his sax. You know where I was. I had the window open and the air from outside was blowing in. The bathroom was lit by sunlight. Along with the sound of Tanner’s saxophone came sounds in through the open window. Frogs singing in the woods. Birds going about their day. A distant neighbor running a lawn mower. I had the two little dogs playing at my feet as I worked. The bathroom - including the toilet - smelled fresh and clean.

Tanner finally got his riff worked out and I called up the stairs to him, “That’s it!” And in that moment, everything paused. I knew I was exactly where I should be. It was perfect.

These are the moments that make life unspeakably beautiful. In the midst of the craziness - kids, pets, jobs, - there are little moments that come at unexpected times and bring you to your knees at how perfect it all really is. For me, these moments are always a gift. It can be a note in a piece of music that makes me weep, a look or a hug from a loved one, a moment of peace in the chaos, or a moment when all is exactly right even though my head is in a toilet. It is in those perfect moments of beauty that I become centered in right now and everything else slips away. It is in these moments that I not only believe but know that I am exactly where I should be.

Confessions of a Domestic Goddess (wannabe)

2009-05-10T14:04:00.000-07:00

If my mother were to stop by and take a look at my laundry room, I’m pretty sure she might walk in, take one look and say, “I knew it!”

Well - maybe not right this second, because I have been cleaning my laundry room today. For three hours. It’s part of a larger initiative of spring cleaning that I’ve been doing for the past three (four?) weeks. Our washing machine was broken, and the only person who could make it work to do a load of laundry was Jim. This has been going on since December. I put him in charge of getting the repair guy here. I finally gave in and called on Wednesday last week. The washing machine was repaired on Friday.

When we moved into our house, Jim and I had an agreement. It was a big house. We can’t afford staff. I’m the staff. So Jim promised that if we bought this house that he fell in love with, he would take one thing off of my hands. That one thing was laundry. Here’s what I learned. Jim has a different idea of “doing laundry” than I do. It involves washing and drying. And piling it on the laundry table until someone a) wears it again or b) folds it and puts it away.

I’ve pretty much been popping into the laundry and digging through piles to find clothes since December. Usually about once a month I finally get sick of piles of laundry and fold everything and put it away. This time it went a little longer than usual.

So today, as part of spring cleaning, I ventured into the laundry room. Gaaaaaahhh! But I did discover where all of the lint from the dryer screen had been going. Under the folding table. Three and a half hours later, I emerged. But the laundry room is spotless. Sort of.

Now I’m taking a break before I head out to clean the wall of windows from the suicide ledge that runs along the front of our house.

I’d love to tell you that my house is always spotless. I’d love to tell you that I make nutritious meals from scratch every single day for my family. I’d love to tell you that my children have never uttered a swear word. I’d love to tell you that I greet my husband when he returns from work in silky lingerie or a dress, heels and pearls.

But the truth is, my son said sh*t at an alarmingly early age. Jim comes home and I’m wearing sweats. I manage nutritious meals a several times a week - I’m a great cook when I’ve got time to do it. And don’t even get me started on the house. It starts out every Saturday by noon spotless. But by 12:02….ay yi yi. It never ends.

I am not the domestic goddess that envisioned I would be when I was a lively, perky 20 year old.

I am busy. I work as a freelance writer. A lot of time is spent both hustling work and managing a business. The rest of the time is spent writing. And maintaining this site as well as writing for and editing this magazine. Oh - I teach flute lessons, too. Plus, I’ve got a very active kid. He participates in sports in the spring and the fall. He has music lessons, plays in music groups (both at and away from school) and he needs rides everywhere. All of the time. He’s a joiner.

And so, something’s got to give. What this means is that I don’t make every meal from scratch. I don’t always keep the kitchen spotless. There are piles in my laundry room. And don’t even get me started on the yard.

In the midst of all of the insanity, however, there’s a lot of joy. I have happy, well-adjusted (if occasionally foul-mouthed) kids. My career allows me the flexibility to be the mom who puts my family first - so the kids know that they can always count on having mom there if they need me to be. I am creatively fulfilled. We enjoy spending time together as a family. My house is filled with laughter and music. And laundry.

Maybe it’s okay that I don’t live up to the ideal of domestic goddess. I’m definitely more Lucy Ricardo than June Cleaver most days. Perhaps that’s what that lively 20-year-old knew deep in her heart that she would grow up to be. Happy, fulfilled and just a little bit messy.

Kids, Dogs and Cream Colored Carpets

2009-05-07T13:20:00.000-07:00

I could have saved myself some typing and titled this blog "Duh". But I figured what the heck. Not only that, but you can probably guess the entire contents of this post just from the title. No psychic vision required.

Six years ago last month, Jim and I bought our dream home. The bones of the house were good - about 4000 square feet with a wonderful kitchen with huge pantry, a great room that is 46' x 30' and has a wall of windows looking out on the valley below us, a roomy upstairs that has a family room, guest suite and art studio, and a nice shiny new addition with a huge laundry room, bathroom and two bedrooms. It had an unfinished basement with some serious wine cellar/rec room potential that is the same size as the great room. It also had a "secret" room. Okay - so it's not so secret anymore, since you now know it exists. I'll stay quiet about the passages. Oops.

As I said, the bones of the house were wonderful, and the price was right. We got it for a song from an old couple who was looking to unload it - so we wound up buying the house with six figures worth of equity already in it. As a matter of fact, it had as much equity in it as we paid for it. Seriously - highway robbery. But I digress.

We weren't happy with the fixtures. At all. A little bit at a time, we changed things out to make the house as pretty as its bone structure indicated it should be. First off - new heat pump. Next - light fixtures all changed out. New appliances. Paint. Moldings. Doors. Sinks and faucets. We pretty much did cosmetic upgrades on most of the house.

Our last upgrade was the carpets. The carpets in the house before were an ugly cheap Berber. I hated them. They ripped up my feet and just weren't very pretty. Okay - they were butt-ugly. But we were okay with that because we had young kids (under ten) and a new puppy. Once the kids were a bit older and the puppy was housebroken, we went in search of new carpets.

My cream colored carpets in happier days (with Spike, who'd just returned from the vet)

I'm a very picky person, and I have a very specific vision when I decorate. So I had an idea of what I wanted for a carpet. We dug through thousands of carpet samples in every carpet store in town before I found IT. It was a lovely loop and pile carpet in a honey cream color that had a soft, plush feel and was rated for heavy traffic so it would retain its loveliness. It was also Stainmaster, so it repelled stains, right? Maybe not.

$10,000 later, I had an installation appointment set. Or rather, two. One for the front of the house, one for the back. On front of the house day, all of the furniture was stuffed into the back of the house. The installers came in and ripped out our old carpet, and then installed the new one. It was lovely. It was also, apparently, confusing to the dog. 30 seconds after the installer left, he peed right in the middle of the carpet. Carpet incident #1.

But I was ready! I cleaned it up with my trusty steam cleaner - and the carpet was once again pristine.

That was about four years ago. Since then, our home has been the site of grown up and kid parties. We've raised three puppies and taken in an ill-advised pound dog (who now lives on a farm on Whidbey Island). We've cared for sick kids who aren't very good at making it to the bathroom before sick happens. We've had floods and storms (whoda thunk in the rainy Pacific Northwest) that have come in on people's shoes. And then there was the ink pen incident of '08. We rearranged the furniture after that one. Don't ask.

At first, I was insane about my beautiful cream colored carpets. Everyone removed their shoes. No one was allowed to eat anywhere but in the kitchen. And then my son's father (my ex husband) managed to sneak a chocolate milk shake back to my son's bedroom, which he promptly spilled all over the floor. The dad. Not the kid. Carpet incident #2. I was right there. Spraying, cleaning, spot botting until I removed every last stain from my lovely carpet. But after that, things went downhill.

Don't get me wrong. I still clean my carpets. Regularly. I feel like I spend more time spraying, dabbing, vacuuming and blotting with some carpet cleaner or another than I do living my life. I have two little spot cleaners - a Spot Bot and a Little Green Machine. I have two full-sized steam cleaners - one that is smaller and easier to pull out for a smaller area of cleaning than the other. I have two vacuum cleaners.

I also have two boys - now almost teens, and three dogs. In retrospect, cream colored carpet was perhaps not the wisest choice ever. Proof that even smart people can make stupid choices.

Consider this my public service announcement. Cream colored carpet is LOVELY. That being said - if you have a life, and you want to actually be able to live it on your carpet, you might want to consider a darker color.

As I said. I should have just titled the post "duh".

A whole lot of living has happened on my cream colored carpets

2009-03-17T19:40:00.000-07:00

I'm going on day three with a sick kiddo. Today we had to spend three hours at the doctors' office as he received intravenous fluids and an antibiotic infusion. He's been a sick boy. I haven't slept. I just showered for the first time in three days.

I'm a worrier. When my son is sick, I become vigilant. I watch him constantly. I lie awake at night listening for him to make a sound. I get up multiple times to check on him.

When he was little and he was sick, he would come to bed with me. That way I could watch him from the comfort of my own bed - maybe even drifting off to sleep for a few moments here and there. Or, sometimes, I sat up in a chair all night and held him, giving him whatever comfort I could. On those nights, he slept in my arms; but, if I tried to put him down, he woke up and worked his way right back into my lap.

Now I can't hold him, and he thinks he's too big to crawl in bed with me. At 12, he's bigger than I am. But, I can sit next to him and stroke his forehead. I can get him popsicles, dry blankets and soft pillows.

It is days like these when I am glad that I have been blessed all of these years to be in the position to be a work-at-home/stay-at-home mom. I know there are many who don't have the luxury of the choice I made. They aren't able to sit up all night watching a sick child in restless sleep. They can't make the choice to suspend everything to care for a child who has become ill.

It's easy to forget how blessed I truly am. I've gone hours at a time without adult conversation. I'm the mom who is called to chaperone groups of noisy kids. I spend a large portion of my time driving my son from place to place. I've spent days where the only thing I've seen on TV is Sponge Bob.

And yet, as the last three days have reminded me, to do these things is a luxury. I have been given the most important gift a mother can be given - the gift of my son's childhood. I am there for every activity. Every soccer game, concert, award assembly and play, I am there. I know his teachers. I know his friends. I know where he is when he is done with school. For each and every one of those blessings, I would gladly sacrifice days of speaking to adults, reading a book, and watching grown-up television shows. For that I will gladly weather every pointed look when someone asks "Where do you work?' and hears my answer.

It is a truly privileged position I am in, and for that, I am endlessly grateful.

Is This Really Me?

2009-03-01T08:30:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make. Yesterday, while I was walking around in the pet store with my dog in a dog purse, I came across a cute little yellow sweater with bunny ears and a poof-ball white tail. I bought it. My dog is wearing it now.

I'm not sure how this happened. One day everything was going along just fine. I never understood why women dressed up their dogs, and I always thought carrying them around in a purse was a danger to everything in the purse.

And then I got Peanut.

Peanut is the world's cutest dog. He is a little four pound puff of fur - half Pomeranian and half Yorkie. He's a Porkie. He is all black - except for a puff of white fur on his chin that looks like a goatee, a little patch of white fur on his chest and little poufs of white that are at the end of each of his paws. He also has two dun-colored racing strips that run along the base of each ear on the back of his head - as if he has been given a bad dye-job. Those dun-colored stripes are his Yorkie heritage coming out. Also from his Yorkie ancestors - little bits of fur that stick out from his face like Juice-Man style eyebrows, and a tuft at the top of his head that sticks straight up. Believe me - he is unbelievably cute.

Right now, he is wearing a little yellow bunny sweater and a collar that says his name in bling. I think I've totally lost it.

The evolution went something like this....I was going to the pet store. He cried in the crate, so we stuck him on a leash and took him with us. But he was wild on the leash. At the pet store, I saw a dog carrier that looked exactly like a cute purse. The dog purse (which we now call the nut sack - he's "the Peanut", the purse is a sack...well, you see what I mean) became a fixture in our life. As fall approached, the Peanut would shiver in any weather under about 60 degrees. Not conducive to potty training a puppy if they are freezing when they go outside. Along came the first sweater - a manly little "letter sweater" in black and tan that said "WOOF".

It's a slippery slope folks. I'm just warning you now. He looked so darn cute in that sweater - and he is so calm when he rides around in the nut sack with his head sticking out of it....well, we now have many nut sacks, and the sweaters have gotten progressively silly and less manly.

And so, I look at myself in the mirror with my dog in a silly sweater with his bunny-eared head sticking out of my dog purse, and I think, "Who the heck is this woman?" I'm kind of worried. Next thing you know, the Peanut will be wearing a pink tutu, a crystal bone barrette and ballet slippers. Or that $7,000 Swarvoski crystal-accented dress I just saw at the dog boutique....

Brilliance at 2 a.m.

2009-02-20T15:48:00.000-08:00

It is the blessing - or curse - of the writer that we seldom get a good night's sleep. Or at least, that is the case with me.

I go to bed with stuff in my head. Writing stuff. It takes a while to quiet down all of the words and the ideas competing for my attention. Often I wake up in the middle of the night with new stuff in my head. You've got it - writing stuff. I learned long ago that thinking, "Oh I'll remember..." and going back to sleep causes me to lose some of the best ideas ever. Or at least they seem like the best ideas ever at 2 a.m. to my sleep-addled brain.

So, I keep a little pad next to the bed. If I wake up, I surreptitiously turn on my little book light, using my body to shield it from my slumbering husband, and quickly write whatever thought has popped into my head.

Here's what I've discovered. I'm only occasionally brilliant at 2 a.m. I love those mornings when I wake up and there is something a) legible, b) understandable and c) usable on my little bedside pad. Unfortunately, those mornings don't occur terribly frequently.

More often than not I wake up and see something scribbled like, "write story on belly button lint," "what if a hot dog got married and had a family," or my personal favorite of all time, "a day in the life of porridge." I'm not certain - but I don't think that is what I meant with the last one - but it is how it came out. Go figure.

This morning, I woke up to a good one. It actually held up in the light of day and didn't involve the anthropomorphization of food. All good things. I'm working on it now, and I'm happy to report that I think it's going somewhere. Probably tonight, I'll go to sleep with it in my head. And then, inspiration will strike at 2 a.m. Tomorrow, I may have my ending. I'm sure of it. "What if sausage did somersaults?"

Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire

2009-02-19T13:09:00.001-08:00

After more than 20 years as an employee, I am leaving corporate America for life as a self-employed freelance writer. I am excited. I am terrified. I am doing it.

My career to date has definitely served a purpose, and I am grateful for each experience I've had. In the past 20 years, I've had seven jobs. Two of them lasted right around eight years apiece. One of them was a terrible fit. And yet, each one of taught me a valuable lesson and provided me with the skills necessary to take my career to the next level.

And now, I'm done. I can't see returning to a career in the corporate world. Because, for me, corporate America doesn't feel like a very good fit. While writing has been part of each of those jobs, I've often had to compromise who I am in order to maintain my paycheck. I haven't felt much like I was making a difference in the world, just writing about the same product in a teeny tiny niche market for years and years on end.

I've had an important realization. All of these years, I've been working hard to advance my career, and in the end, it wasn't a career that mattered to me. What matters to me is getting out into the world and giving people a voice to communicate their passions. It doesn't matter to me what it is they are passionate about. If someone has a passion for what they do, and they want to communicate it with the world then I can use my passion to help them communicate theirs. To me, that makes waking up in the morning exciting and fulfilling.

I had another important realization, as well. All of these years in corporate America, I've been working so that I could maintain my stuff or get more stuff. And that feels empty to me. I have an urge to simplify. Maybe this is my midlife crisis. We have so much stuff - and it isn't where I derive my satisfaction. Instead, that comes from my family, my friends, my relationships and my creativity. Instead of focusing my energy on not losing my stuff, I want to direct my life force at those things that really matter. Trusting, all the while, that by being true to myself and following my passions, I will have what I need to get by.

Having it All

2009-02-08T13:35:00.000-08:00

I have always attempted to have it all. My goal in life has been to be the best parent I can possibly be, while still having a professional life and a personal life. Oh - and did I mention keeping a spotless home, putting nutritious family meals on the table every night, coaching, teaching music, volunteering and being a wife?

It's a juggling act.

Here's the thing. I can't imagine which one of those things I would drop off of the list. And so I do them all. Sometimes, this involves making choices. For instance, recently my passion (writing) was conflicting with my profession (writing for a company). I had to make a choice. So I combined them. Now, I am a freelance writer and editor, as well as a journalist and editor for a magazine. No more Corporate America for me.

So far, so good. I may not make as much money as I did in Corporate America, but I wake up every day excited, energized and ready to go. I am happier with what I'm doing, and my schedule has become much more manageable. A happier me makes me a happier, more easy-going mom, wife and friend.

Here's what I've discovered. It's all about balance. I can have it all. I can have my career, do the things I love, spend time with my family, attend all of my kids events and more. All I have to do is come from my center, listen to my heart and be fully present with each task I undertake.

That is how I bring the best of myself to all that I do. By not allowing my focus to waver from the person I am with or the task at hand, I can be fully present in all that I do.

I can -- and do -- have it all. How's that for juggling?

Quantum Afterlife

2009-01-25T09:51:00.000-08:00

This month’s Scientific American (February, 2009) features an interesting little news tidbit on something called “Quantum Afterlife.” Sounds right up my alley – quantum physics, afterlife – of course I need to blog about it!

Recently, quantum physicist Seth Lloyd of MIT was investigating the use of photons for illumination. He was trying to win DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) funding for his research. Well – it worked for him. But there was a caveat – quantum illumination would work, but only if quantum entanglements were destroyed.

Quantum entanglement – or “spooky action at a distance” is the proven principle in quantum physics where particles that become linked receive and react to information simultaneously, no matter where each particle exists in time and space. So, even if the two particles are separated by light years and a million years, they will both receive and react instantaneously to the same information. I’ll pause for a moment to let you reflect on the implications of this.

What Lloyd discovered is that when the entanglement was destroyed in the quantum pairs, the pairs still retained the same information and the same benefits as before the destruction of the entanglement. In other words, there is still some entanglement intact, even after its destruction. This is being referred to as quantum afterlife.

Lloyd’s findings are still too new to have really fleshed out all of the whys or hows. But, as always in quantum physics, what it shows us is that what we currently understand about the universe is miniscule, and that our measurements and perceptions aren’t necessarily the ultimate reality.

When we have a piece of evidence, the only thing we can do with it is examine it perceptually. In our case, our perceptions are based in the three dimensions that we are able to perceive - plus time. When we run anything through our brains, our thinking is limited by that limited perceptual ability.

That being said, our universe has far more than the dimensions that we perceive. There are at least nine folded dimensions (as borne out by mathematics) - probably even more than that. We can't perceive those dimensions because they are beyond our way of physically interacting with the universe. Not only that, but particle entanglement shows us that what we perceive to be time and distance are likely merely perceptual. They don't necessarily have anything to do with ultimate reality – at least on a quantum scale. And since quantum particles and vast empty spaces make up the very fabric of our universe, I’d say this is kind of a big deal.

So, as paranormal investigators - here we sit with our limited perceptual ability, gathering evidence and assessing it. Yet, we're missing huge chunks of information. Until we find ways to measure beyond what we can perceive, and start to then incorporate those new measurements into our world view (and our investigations), then we probably won't know what's really going on out there.

It is why I believe anything is possible. New discoveries that are even stranger than paranormal events are being made every day. And for us, as humans, it is difficult to wrap our brains around anything that falls outside of our ability to perceive. While this certainly doesn’t prove that the paranormal is, indeed, a reality, what it becomes for me is a reality check. There is more to ultimate reality than I can ever know. And so, my mind will remain open and at the ready to learn amazing new things about our universe.

Life in Perspective

2009-01-18T12:44:00.000-08:00

Death and illness are a part of life. We got a moment of perspective on that this week. On Friday night, my step-son's long term babysitter (he's been with her since he was three) died suddenly - while my step-son was with her.

I had been worrying about all sorts of things that didn't matter up until the very moment that his mom called to tell us what had happened.

Perspective can happen in a moment. It is all about what you do with it.

When I look at things through the eyes of my kids - and I think about how I want them to approach life, it is a lesson (or a reminder) for me about how I should approach it.

What do I want my kids to know?

Death is part of life, and the people who die only die physically - their legacy of love lives on in all of us whose lives they touched. Love is all there is. Life is too short to do things that make you miserable. Pursue your passions. Live in the moment. Embrace joy. Remember that we are all one and treat everyone with the care and compassion with which you'd want to be treated. Take care of your body, your spirit, your mind, your heart. Your word is your bond. Keep an open mind. Pursue the common good. Even if you feel you aren't making a difference, you are making a difference in the hearts and lives of those who love you. Everything about you is perfection. Everything happens for a reason. Care for the earth. Care for your fellow man. Never stop learning. Love freely and without condition. Pursue truth and knowledge. Bring your passion to everything you do. Don't listen to what anyone else says you should do - find your own path in life. You are deeply loved.

I could go on and on. My point is this: the big picture perspective like these sometimes slip from our view until a single moment snaps everything into focus. I guess those are the blessings hidden in what often feels like tragedy.

Separating the Wheat from the Chaff

2009-01-17T21:13:00.000-08:00

As I was interviewing world-renowned ufologist, Stanton Friedman, yesterday for the February issue of Paranormal Underground, I was impressed at his focus on the data. What Friedman says makes sense to me. He says there are many sightings of UFOs. A small percentage of those UFOs are genuinely unknown objects that are most likely flying saucers.

I’m not sure whether or not I agree with Friedman’s conclusions about the origins of the UFOs – I haven’t done the extensive data review that he has – but what I am impressed with is that he is willing to sift through the masses of data to find the relatively few examples that have credibility and possibility.

In my travels through the paranormal world, I’ve found that there is a ton of data out there. No matter what the phenomena, there are eyewitness accounts, personal experiences and more. A lot of it is, quite frankly, easily dismissed. Some of it can be proven to be explainable by some natural phenomenon. Often, the credibility of the witness is suspect. Sometimes, the experiencer is unclear as to what they actually observed, rendering the data obtained unusable.

Ultimately, in paranormal research, those types of cases amount to nothing more than noise that obfuscates the genuine, credible data. Unfortunately, it is the noise that the skeptics often focus on, arguing that the abundance of non-credible data renders all of the data worthless.

It is that kind of all or nothing approach that becomes an impediment to genuine discovery. Like Friedman, one must be willing to sift through all data in search for scientific truth. And there’s a lot of data out there to sift through.

The task is daunting, but ultimately worthwhile. If one genuinely wishes to pursue the truth, then one must be willing to sift through the mountains of data in order to uncover the tiny gems that hide in the rubble. It is there in which the possibilities lie.

Flooding

2009-01-08T16:35:00.000-08:00

I’ve been sitting high and dry in my house on the hill and watching the landscape of people’s lives change. Since yesterday afternoon, the waters have been rising. Dykes have been overflowed – or just run around. Rivers have yet to crest. Helicopters are dropping victims plucked from the flood waters on the football field at the high school out our front window.

All of this just 13 months after our last devastating flood. The flood of December 2007 was called a hundred year flood. As in, occurs once every 100 years. This is the third such flood since 1996.

I am in the line of second responders. I am a recovery volunteer. I know my job well, because I haven’t had time to forget since the last flood. I work in the recovery center, where heart-broken people come in and tell us their needs. We do our best to fill them.

We give them stuff. We listen to their stories. We look at the pictures on their cell phones that they show us so that we can understand that they had something, and that the reason they have need is not through any personal failing of their own. Instead, their need has come from a place beyond their control – the wrath of Mother Nature.

Many of the people I will work with over the next several weeks have barely caught their breath from the last time. They have only just recovered, and now here they are again. The last time this happened, I looked into the eyes of others and saw broken hearts. And often, broken spirits. It is impossible to look into those eyes and not help. Unfortunately, the help that I can give is to provide them stuff. I can’t heal their spirits. I can’t give them back their faith that things happen for the best. I can’t repair their sense of security.

Twice in the span of 13 months, their lives have been altered in ways barely imaginable to those of us who sit secure in warm, dry homes. The waters will recede. The stuff will be replaced. Hopefully, spirits will be repaired. But somewhere, deep inside, the world will always feel just a little less safe to them. And that isn’t something I can do anything about – no matter how much I want to.

Possibilities

2009-01-06T09:30:00.000-08:00

Someone recently posted the question on the Sci Fi Ghost Hunters forum, if you are a skeptical believer, what keeps you from becoming a full blown skeptic (or a full blown believer)?

This got me thinking. Probably because I categorize myself as just that - a skeptical believer. Is that an oxymoron like jumbo shrimp? I don't think so.

I spend a lot of time perched on the fence. Occasionally I waver to one side or the other, but usually I wind up back in the middle. Why is this? Am I merely a wishy-washy waffler (how's THAT for alliteration?) who can't pick a side? What is it that drives me to seek answers to the unexplained?

Do I believe in ghosts? I don't know - I don't disbelieve in them. Do I believe in past lifes? Most likely. Near-death experiences (which I just wrote about for this month's Paranormal Underground)? I'm not sure, but maybe.

Pretty definitive answers I have, huh? I decided that, for me, if I had to boil down the essence of my position as a skeptical believer, it would be two words: experience and proof. I've had experiences. I haven't seen definitive proof. Poof - I'm in the middle.

The universe is full of infinite possibilities. In the quantum world, strange things are accepted as science that would appear positively paranormal (there's that alliteration again) if I didn't understand the quantum science behind them.

Here's a for instance. In quantum physics, there is something known as "spooky action at a distance". How's that for a cool phrase? Actually, the other name for it is quantum entanglement, and it goes a little something like this: in the quantum world, two or more quantum particles can be linked together so that you can no longer have one without the other. The thing is, these parts can be separated by vast distances - light years even. They can even be separated by time. And yet, it doesn't matter. In entangled pairs, if something happens to one, it happens to the other instantaneously. This has been noted experimentally with spin. If the spin is changed in one of the quantum particles in the entangled pair, then it instantaneously changes in the other - no matter where in time or space the other half of the entangled pair is. How cool is that?

Yes, the universe is filled with infinite possibilities. We think we know a lot about it. On some levels, we do; however, there is still much out there to be explored. Much new information to be gleaned. Too much that is unexplained to just stop asking questions.

Skeptics often cite Occam's Razor as proof that only the observable and quantifiable exist in our universe. Occam's Razor - if all things are equal, the simplest answer is the most likely answer. Which begs the question - couldn't it be that sometimes the simplest answer is reincarnation? Or a ghost?

This is what drives my skeptical belief. There is more to the universe than we understand. There is more at play than can be observed. And so, we continue to seek answers. We can't possibly know what those answers are until we find them. Frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Our Mysterious Universe

2008-12-28T11:01:00.000-08:00

A recent survey done in the UK in association with the release of the X-files movie showed that more of the respondents to the survey believe in paranormal critters like ghosts and aliens than believe in God.

Spend time talking to people and allowing them to feel safe that what they tell you won't be judged, ridiculed or spread around, and you just might discover that many, many people have at least some "fringe" belief or experience - whether it is conspiracy theory (such the "Loose Change" theory of 9/11, the Kennedy Assassination or the argument that Neil Armstrong didn't really walk on the moon), a belief that aliens walk among us or an encounter with a ghost.

As human beings, we seek to explain the apparent randomness of the universe in ways that make sense to us. The universe is a mysterious place. Quantum physicists are continually discovering just how weird things really are here on planet earth.

Here's one for you. It is a commonly held understanding that two particles of matter can't occupy the same space at the same time. If you and I crash into one another, we are not ever going to occupy the same space. We're going to bump and move into our own space.

Quantum physics, however, has revealed that photons (an energetic form of matter) can briefly occupy the same space at the same time as they pass through one another. So there goes that understanding. And I'm not talking vast empty spaces (which make up the universe) passing through more vast empty space. I mean that the exact same quantum particle can be in the exact same space at the exact same time.

This can lead to all sorts of theorizing - some involving folded dimensions, some involving the nature of matter. My pet theory, however, involves the nature of time and space. We view time and space as absolutes. We move through space, we move through time. We experience these constructs and therefore they are real to us. However, if particles can, indeed, occupy the same space at the same time, how real are they, really? Perhaps it is that time and space are merely perceived, and thus, illusory in nature. Maybe the only place is here and the only moment is now. That would mean that, at our very essence, we are all in the occupying right here and sharing the moment of now. It is only our perceptions that lead us to believe that we are separate.

Imagine the implications of learning that we aren't separate from one another. If there exists no separation, doesn't it follow that we are all one? And if that is the case, can we really ignore the hungry or hate our enemies?

Of course, that is my theory, and I could be wrong. Or, I could be right. The point is this: we live in a universe that is far beyond our perceptual ability to understand. Which leads people to seek to create order out of what seems like chaos. Often that drive leads us to believe in things that aren't provable. Things like Ghosts, UFOs, God.

All of this rumination inevitably begs the question - do we really want to know? If every mystery of the universe was explained tomorrow with irrefutable proof, then what? What would be the impetus to move us forward, seeking solutions and answers? I, for one, like the mystery.

The Art of Skepticism

2008-12-27T09:19:00.000-08:00

Recently, I came across an opinion piece in Scientific American (January, 2009 - Telephone to the Dead by Michael Shermer) that talks about Christopher Moon's use of Frank's Box as a means to communicate with spirits.

All and all, Shermer has some good points in his article - certainly worth adding to one's knowledge-base when attempting to determine the scientific validity of devices like Frank's Box.

Later, I was reading an article written for Paranormal Underground by none other than my beloved husband. The article looks at the role anoxia (lack of oxygen) might play in near-death experiences. I believe my husband to be a brilliant man, and he also made some tremendously valid points that one might wish to consider when making a scientific evaluation of the near-death experience.

There was, however, a problem with both of these works of skepticism (sorry, honey!) It is (or was in my husband's case - he fixed it when I pointed it out to him) what I call the skeptic's attitude - something that is often present in the writing of those who believe they have seen the light and want to convince others to come away from the dark side with them.

What is this skeptic's attitude, you ask? It is one that appears to be of condescension. That subtle (or sometimes not-so-subtle) tone that appears of "I'm smarter than you and you are a fool to believe in _________________."

I have no problem with skepticism, per se. I tend to believe myself to be an open-minded skeptic about many, many things. I believe that the world (and particularly the paranormal field) needs skeptics as much as it needs believers, and that both play an important role in the exploration of our universe.

But, I also believe that there is an art to skepticism. There is a way to put your ideas out there that doesn't belittle others for theirs. To put forth thoughts in a way that says, "I have seen the light, you are stupid because you haven't," merely causes those people you are trying to convince of your point of view to slam their brains shut and not listen to what you have to say.

The human ego is a funny thing. We all want to feel that we are intelligent people who don't make foolish choices or have foolish beliefs. When someone challenges those beliefs in a way that makes us feel somehow less, then our most likely counter-move is to either attack or ignore the one who we feel is making an assault on our very beings.

There is an art to belief and there is an art to skepticism. Or at least this is true if we want those on "the other side" to listen to our point of view and thoughtfully consider what it is we have to say.

In open-minded discourse, there is no place for condescension or ego. If we truly want to be heard by those who believe or understand differently than we do, then we need to communicate our understandings in such a way that says, "Here are the facts. Here is the science. Here is my understanding of that science. You are welcome to study it all and see if what I say has any validity to your world-view." And then we need to step back and let people decide for themselves - without judging the conclusion that they reach as somehow less than or more stupid than our conclusion.

The world is a subjective place. Different facts can have different interpretations. Nobody sees the world in quite the same way. This is a good thing, because it has led to amazing discoveries and astounding advancements in science. But all of these advancements started with perhaps the most valuable of human commodities - an idea, an open mind, the wherewithal to explore, discover and learn. Anyone who pursues an idea with an open heart and an open mind is possibly leading us to a bold new discovery or understanding. And that, in my book, is what it's all about.

Paranormal Experiences in Unexpected Places

2008-12-10T11:58:00.000-08:00

I've noticed an interesting phenomenon since I started writing for Paranormal Underground. When I mention what I do, inevitably the person I am talking to gets a look on their face and then tells me of an experience they have had that they believe to be paranormal.
Some do it quietly - in an almost embarrassed manner. Others are more comfortable talking about it. I have not had one single person not relate a story to me - even people that I am sure would dismiss paranormal as hogwash.

I've heard all sorts of things. "I grew up in a haunted house," "I had a near death experience," "I believe I am the recincarnation of .....," "I had an encounter with a succubus," "I saw something in the sky," "I believe I saw bigfoot," "Something strange happened to me - here's what it was and I can't explain it."

One thing ties all of the stories I've heard together - the teller has an absolute belief that what they experienced was real. Many preface it with something like, "I don't usually believe in this stuff, but here is a true story about something that happened to me."

This leads me to the conclusion that there is more in the universe than we could ever imagine. Perhaps our current view of science isn't advanced enough to be able to explain much of the unexplained. But just because it is unexplained doesn't mean it isn't real. The belief on the faces of the people I've talked to convinces me that the paranormal experiences of others are absolutely real.

We forget this when we seek scientific explanations for the unexplained. It is easy to forget that behind each story is a human being who believes 100% in their experience - even if they can't explain it or if it goes against their view of the universe.

As human beings, we seek answers and explanations. Some things are, by their very nature, much easier to explain than others. But that doesn't mean that the unexplained experiences people have in their lives are not real. As we seek answers, we need to be sensitive to this. Sometimes, there isn't an explanation. And we have to be careful not to invalidate the experience of another in our search for the truth.

If our scientific history has taught us anything, it is that the "truth" of science is often a moving target. We seek explanations given our current understanding of scientific principles. When that understanding changes, it has far-reaching implications. It is one reason why my personal motto remains "Anything is possible." Once the world is flat. Now it is round. Why? Because anything is possible.

Who knows what science will discover next. The field of Quantum Physics offers amazing possibilities - and explanations of natural phenomena that are so strange it would seem almost paranormal. It's exciting to contemplate what we will discover next. And what could be better than living in a world where the possibilities are endless? I can't think of a thing.

Rosie O'Donnell - Please Shut Up

2008-11-28T19:48:00.000-08:00

I may be feeling a bit ranty today. That being said, I still believe this needs saying: Rosie O'Donnell - please shut up. Nobody cares about your personal dramas and fights with the gals on The View. Oh sure - people will read what you have to say. People will watch your interviews. But that's because watching you is like watching a particularly horrifying train wreck. It's really difficult to look away.

Don't you realize, Rosie, that your personal antics and ad hominem attacks on others take away from the social initiatives that you support? Let me give you a for instance. Instead of people listening to your impassioned agruments for something you feel strongly about - oh - say - gay marriarge - people listen to your mentally unbalanced attacks against your perceived enemies and think, "yeah - like I'm going to get behind that nutbag."

The thing is, Rosie, I agree with some of your political positions. But when you have a cause, you can't help but harm that cause when you bully, attack, talk over people and make very public jabs at people who disagree with you. Your tactics are just as bad as those pundits that you rail against on the right.

Oh - I understand. You have a lot to be unhappy about. The Bush years were rough on almost everyone. But your personal antics are so distasteful that reasoned people are embarrassed to admit that they agree with your social positions.

It's fine. Make the arguments for your positions. Stand up for that in which you believe. But don't, for a second, believe that you are helping your cause with your attacks on individuals, not issues. Nobody wants to hear it. Nobody cares.

People who are blessed enough to be in your position have the power to change the world. Your words and your actions can be used to support social change. What a shame that one who has been given your blessings is using your powerful voice for random pettiness rather than to effecitvely advocate for the change that you would like to see in the world.

There. I've said it. Rant over. Carry on.

What Resources?

2008-11-28T19:45:00.000-08:00

Here's a quote from a recent article about the government's proposed $20 billion bailout of Citigroup:

The action, announced late Sunday by the Treasury Department, the Federal Reserve and the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp., is aimed at shoring up a huge financial institution whose collapse would wreak havoc on the already fragile financial system and the U.S. economy.

"With these transactions, the U.S. government is taking the actions necessary to strengthen the financial system and protect U.S. taxpayers and the U.S. economy," the three agencies said in a joint statement. "We will continue to use all of our resources to preserve the strength of our banking institutions, and promote the process of repair and recovery and to manage risks."

I have only one question......WHAT RESOURCES?????? Excuse me, but isn't our government broke? The government didn't have the resources for the first bail out. They don't have the resources to bail out the auto industry. And the sure as %$@ don't have the resources to bail out Citigroup.

But my hysterical girly nattering on about money aside, the argument for the bailout of Citigroup is the same as all of the others. It would be catastrophic to the economy if we didn't. I've got news for you. It is already a catastrophy. And charging up the nation's credit card is - well, just ridiculous.

It's not going to stop. One company/industry after another is going to knock on the government's door with their pockets turned out and a tin cup in their hand. And then they'll take whatever money that the government gives them and continue to spend foolishly. It's akin to me giving the guy standing outside of the licquor store and reeking of booze money and then being surprised when he walks in and buys some hooch.

We are being called upon as individuals to tighten our belts, spend more responsibly. Of course the government wants us to do that. We can tighten our belts so that they can then rest the burden of government's and corporate America's stupid choices on the backs of us, the taxpayers.

When my family has no resources, we certainly aren't bailing out other family members using our credit cards. We have helped family members (usually the victim of their own stupid choices) when they've needed bailing out in the past. But only when we had the RESOURCES to do so. What we discovered is that all they did was continue to make their stupid choices, and then return to us time and time again for a bailout. Eventually, we had to start to say no - because we weren't helping them, we were just temporarily propping them up and enabling them to continue to make the same poor choices - only with our money.

Yep - I'm making a point on a very small scale - but could it be true on the huge scale of governments and corporations, as well? Time will tell, but I suspect that all our government is enabling their bailees (I know that's not a word) to continue to make the same poor choices - with the taxpayer's money. But then, what's another $20 billion between friends?

Enter the Hero

2008-11-26T17:11:00.001-08:00

I was thinking about rescue fantasies earlier today. Perhaps it is significant that this occurred while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing a toilet.

You know what I mean by rescue fantasy – fair maiden is in a heap of trouble until the handsome knight gallops up on his steed to save her. And they lived happily ever after.

There is tremendous widespread buy-in to the rescue fantasy amongst all segments of the population. We begin the indoctrination process early. There are very few fairy tales that don’t have rescue fantasy elements to them. We continue indoctrinating our kids through their teens.

If you don’t believe me, witness the tremendous popularity of Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight books and now, the popularity of the movie. Twilight is a huge rescue fantasy.

It’s not just women who buy in to this. Men do, too. There is tremendous pressure to be the hero, to be the provider. Here’s a for instance…before I met my husband, I was doing quite well, thank you. It’s true – I was a single mother. But I had a terrific, well-paying job. I was happy. I had an active social life. I wasn’t scraping to get by. My house was ALWAYS clean, my laundry always done, and my meals were easy to prepare. I was quite happy being single.

When I met and fell in love with my husband, he didn’t save my life, but he was an enhancement to it. I chose to be with him not because I had to, but because I wanted to. But I was doing just fine on my own.

My husband is a wonderful man. I adore him. I am happy that I married him. We have a great life. When there is a jar to be opened that I can’t get, he opens it for me. When there is a spider in the bathtub, he’s right there to whisk it away. When the cat shoves a dead thing under the door at the top of the basement steps as a gift for me, he removes it. When the garbage disposal is broken, he fixes it. When there is a bat in the house, he dons his protective gear (I swear to God – covered head to toe with not a single bit of skin showing), grabs a racquetball racquet and hunts it down. And when he does these things, he proudly says to me, “What did you ever do without me?”

The truth is that I did those things myself. I put socks on my hands and ran with a spider towards the front door. I had a grippy thing that made opening jars easier. I put on disposable rubber gloves and carried off dead things by the tail. I know how to fix the garbage disposal. I am perfectly capable of tracking down a bat, trapping it in a room and leaving a window open for it to fly out.

I allow Jim to do these things for me for a simple reason. Well – because several of them are icky – but that’s not the main reason. It is because it makes him feel like he’s my hero. And that works for us. He needs to feel that he rescues me in small ways every day. It is what he has been taught it means to be a man in a relationship – just as women are taught that they need to be rescued.

Perhaps it is this rescue fantasy that is part of the reason for the financial crisis. We are trained to believe that there is that one THING that will make our lives better, and rescue us from the drudgery of real life. Unfortunately, that thing is a moving target – and so we buy thing after thing after thing in hopes that this next one will supply the magic that was promised to us by advertisers. Unfortunately, that thing doesn’t exist. But we keep hoping that it does, and that it will make us smarter, more attractive, funnier, younger, skinnier. It will make the sun shine brighter, and will fill our days with excitement and joy. It will scrub toilets, do laundry, impress the neighbors – you name it.

We spend and spend in hopes of finally attaining that thing – or combination of things that will miraculously transform our lives. We try to rescue ourselves with things, and yet, when we wake up the morning after and look at ourselves in the mirror – we’re still just us.

Our country right now is involved in a huge collective rescue fantasy named Barrack Obama. Not to dis on President-Elect Obama, because I have nothing but respect for the man, but we are pinning our hopes on him. We’re counting on this one single individual to pull our butts out of the fire. That’s a lot to pin on an individual, no matter how amazing they are. Nothing short of spectacular success and total turn-around will allow him to live up to the expectations that we have built in our collective minds. And I’m right there with you. I hope he succeeds. This nation needs a savior. But if he doesn’t, it won’t be because of his failings as a president and an individual. It will be because the expectations were too high, and the task too huge. And America lived happily ever after.

Here’s the problem with happily ever after. Eventually the hero has dirty laundry, or leaves dishes in the sink – and we’re back to scrubbing toilets. Eventually that thing that we desired with all of our hearts breaks, or fails to perform, or turns out to be just ordinary rather than extraordinary. Eventually the savior fails to walk on water and turns out to be a fallible human being. And so we move on to the next hero, the next thing, the next savior.

In the end, after the heroes, the things and the saviors, we are left with ourselves, our choices and our lives. Perhaps it is time that we become our own heroes and realize that if it is change we are looking for in our lives, then we need to be the change that we want to see. Change can start on the smallest of scales and move outward in waves. One person making one decision can change not only their own life, but the lives of others, as well. Instead of looking for the hero to come in and save us, the time has come for each of us to reclaim our power and be our own heroes. That’s a rescue fantasy I can live with. And we lived happily ever after.

A New Vision

2008-11-13T13:46:00.000-08:00

One morning, neuroscientist Jill Bolte Taylor woke up to a unique opportunity. A blood vessel in her brain burst, causing her to lose function in her left hemisphere – that part of the brain that gives us our sense of identity and separateness from the rest of the world. As she the cognitive functions of speech, motion, the ability to interpret numbers and language, and the process of linear thought ebbed, it occurred to Taylor that, as a neuroscientist, she was being given the ability to study the her brain experiencing a stroke from the inside out.

Her functions shut down one by one, and Taylor found herself inside of the right hemisphere of her brain – where she had no sense of herself as separate from anyone or anything. And she was overwhelmed with a sense of peace, love and connectedness with the universe.

It took Taylor eight years to recover the activities controlled by her left brain; however, she emerged with a new vision and view of the universe. Taylor discovered that when she was in her right hemisphere, her creativity soared, her connection with everything around her brought about peace and a sense of oneness with all of humanity, and she had found a place from which she could operate in order to benefit all of mankind.

In sharing her experience with others (her talk can be seen here), Taylor contends that we all can choose to spend more time in the right hemisphere of our brains where we can regain our connection to one another and to learn to not only peacefully coexist, but to bring about a better earth.

Imagine what we could become as a species if we lost our sense of separation. How could we hate? How could we harm one another – or even behave carelessly towards each other if we discovered that we all are, indeed, connected? If I am you and you are me, then it benefits all of us as a collective to treat one another with kindness, compassion and love.

Definitely something to consider as we go about our daily lives as individuals.

In Memory of Tuba Man

2008-11-06T07:28:00.000-08:00

For more than 30 years, Seattlites attending sporting and theater events in Seattle were often treated to the sounds of a tuba as they approached the venue.That's because Edward McMichael - aka Tuba Man - was there with his tuba to entertain.

A life given to the joy of music, Tuba Man happily belted tunes and offered big grins and a hearty laugh to event attendees. If there was no event, he could be found in the Seattle Center, playing for passersby. He was a Seattle fixture.

Sadly, he is a fixture no more. Edward McMichael was beaten to death this past weekend by a gang of street thugs, looking for money and a good time. Why someone would beat a simple, gentle soul is beyond me. The cruelty of the act is shocking.

The magnitude of the tragedy has stunned the region. Tuba man was a beloved character who brought a smile to the face of all who saw him and heard his jolly tunes for over 30 years.

Godspeed, Tuba Man. You will be missed.

The Common Sense Party

2008-11-01T09:57:00.000-07:00

For today's entertainment, I am allowing myself a self-indulgent rant. You can agree with me or disagree with me - it's all about self-expression. But if you'd like to join me in a little self-indulgence after reading this, please feel free to rant in my comments section. I'll be right here, cheering you on.

Here goes....

We are being told that Tuesday's election is one of historical proportions. Think of it - either an African American or a woman will occupy one of the highest offices in the land, come January. This is 2008. Why on earth are we just getting to this point in our history now? Shouldn't a woman or person of color being voted into the presidency or vice-presidency be something that has already happened? How is it that we are so socially backwards as a nation that we are still worrying about things like the Bradley Effect. How is it that we are so socially backwards that a presidential candidate believes that picking a woman as a running mate - one who is obviously rather unqualified for the position - is the perfect counter move to his opponent being an extremely popular black man?

Am I alone in seeing how strong prejudice remains in our country when race and gender plays such a strong role in this election? I am neither a Republican nor a Democrat. To apply those labels to oneself is to limit free thinking. Both parties have good points. Both parties have bad points. And I don't believe a thing candidates from either party promise. I don't believe a single attack in all of those television ads that are costing taxpayers (on McCain's side) or donors (on Obama's side) millions of dollars. So much spin exists in every word that comes out of politicians' mouths that I am surprised our country hasn't slowly been buried under a pile of dookie since this whole election started. Or maybe it has. I'll have to check the satellite pictures on Google Earth.

I am not a fan of the two-party system of politics in America. I read a book once called A Reason to Vote by Robert Roth that talked about how difficult it is for third parties to gain a foothold in our political system. It doesn't appear to be in print anymore - but if you can pick up a used copy, it is well worth reading. It will open your eyes. Here is the Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/Reason-Vote-Robert-Roth/dp/0312243162/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1225556965&sr=8-1

Third parties are kept from political debates through all sorts of political maneuverings by the government and both major parties. In this, the Democrats and Republicans stand as one - covering their own asses and keeping out interlopers. It is why so many promising "third" parties (such as Libertarians or the Natural Law Party) have failed to make inroads into our political system.

For instance, in the State of Washington, we have a primary system where all parties are on the ballot in the primary. Then, only the top two vote getters for each office are on the final ballot. Those of us who would choose to vote for third party candidates in the general election are unable to do so. This should make you angry - it does me. Our freedoms are being squashed in order to keep donkeys and elephants in power - how dare we, as Americans, choose to vote for some upstart without a D or R behind their name?

I propose that we start a new party in politics. We can call it the Common Sense party. Or maybe the All Night party. No - the second one would just be fun. Beer bong, dudes!

But I digress - the Common Sense party. Think about it - a party that actually uses common sense to govern our society. Can you imagine a society in which the government didn't involve itself (and thus, waste our taxpayer dollars) in highly personal issues such as assisted suicide or death with dignity? Remember Terry Schiavo? How on EARTH should the government ever have been involved in what was a very private family matter? How about a party that doesn't tell you whom you can choose to commit oneself to? Why on earth should the government ever be involved in sanctioning marriages or commitments? Or a woman's right to choose? I'm sorry - but a bunch of wealthy, hypocritical white men should never have their noses in that issue. They are, perhaps, the least qualified people on the face of the earth to be able to say what women should and shouldn't have the right to do.

While the current financial crisis in this country (and the recent power crisis in California) has shown us that some level of government regulation might be warranted in a capitalist society, certainly we don't need the government in our private lives or decisions.

How much government is just the right amount and what should the role of government be in a society? I'm not sure that I know the answer to that, but I certainly have a lot of opinions about what the government should not be. Sometimes knowing what it shouldn't be is the perfect beginning for defining its role in a society. What I do know is this - the government of the United States of America is far too involved in the personal lives and personal choices of Americans. What it needs is a little common sense.

Yes - I know that there will always be people out there who make idiotic decisions, and therefore need the government to be the nanny state that holds their hand and bails them out whenever they don't do their homework and make a bad choice. But, perhaps if the government stopped holding hands - stopped interfering in people's personal lives, stopped trying to legislate personal morality and values, then those people would be forced to live with the consequences of their choices - which may just lead to the making of better choices. Then we'd have even more members for our Common Sense party.

So anyone in? Common Sense party. All Night party. Really - whatever you choose would be great, because it is a choice that the government isn't trying to make for you. And to me, that just sounds like common sense.

Rant away, friends. I'm happy to listen.

It's Debatable

2008-10-16T09:05:00.000-07:00

It’s all over now but the crying. Oh – and the voting. Last night’s debate was the final one before we vote in less than a month. I watched it on CNN, where they had a trend graph of a focus group in Ohio with undecided voters who were watching the debate and somehow indicating their agreement or disagreement with what was being said. They separated the voters into male and female – so there were man-lines and woman-lines running continuously across the screen.

I got so fascinated watching those lines that I forgot to pay attention to what the candidates where saying. But I learned a lot. Not about who to vote for. I learned something far more important than that. Chicks dig Obama. Whenever he spoke, the woman line was higher on approval than the man line, and I don’t believe I once saw the woman line dip to the negative side of the trend.

Sometimes this made sense. When Obama was talking about abortion, for instance, the woman line was high at the top of the approval scale while the man line was much lower. When McCain spoke about abortion, the man line was higher on the approval scale, while the women dipped below the median and into disapproval. It’s natural that women care much more about Roe v. Wade than men do. Other times, the lines moved apparently randomly. I was surprised that the woman line wasn’t higher as McCain spoke of his running mate, Sara Palin. The man line was way up there though. Wait – maybe that does make sense. Never mind.

When I wasn’t watching the lines of the trend graph, I was fascinated by the lack of lines on McCain’s face. Seriously! I don’t know what kind of spackle they used to pull off that little bit of magic, but by God, I want some!!! If they can make a 70-something year old man’s face look as smooth as wax, imagine what they could do with my teeny tiny ones. Yes – I choose to believe that a) my lines are teeny tiny and b) that there is a magic spackle that will look natural and hide them. Don’t shatter my illusions.

Yep – last night’s debate was all about lines for me. Trend lines. Lines on faces. And, of course, the most important lines of all. Lines of BS. The misrepresentation of their opponent’s positions to make them sound hideous and smoothing over of the facts of their own positions to make them more palatable was rhetoric at its worst. There were several times when I told the dogs (who were the only ones in the house who had the stomach to watch the debates with me), “Wait – that is just not true!”

So in the end, who won? I’m going to have to say that we did. Why? Because it was the last debate. We don’t have to be called “my friends” or hear about “Joe the Plumber” any more. And, in just a few weeks, we will no longer have to listen to rhetoric or watch negative campaign ads that demonize the choices made in the past by any candidate. Oh – and best of all, our all-important prime time television shows won’t be interrupted by anymore stupid debates. Sweet!

A Sign of the Times

2008-10-10T19:05:00.000-07:00

I just saw on the news that Puget Sound Energy (a large power utility in the Puget Sound region) has the highest number of customers disconnected for non-payment in their history.
State regulations stipulate that they can not have more than 3% of their customers disconnected for non-payment at any given time, and they are rapidly approaching that limit for the first time in their history. And it's not even winter yet.

It's just another sign of the times. My guess is that people are either trying to stay in their homes to the detriment of their other bills, or they have been living on credit cards to meet their expenses. Unfortunately, now the credit market is so tight that they aren't allowed to use their credit cards anymore (or the cards have maxed out).

It's not surprising. Costs have risen - especially for what people consider the necessities - food and gas. People's house payments went through the roof when their uncapped ARM interest rates rose.

Meanwhile those of us who have sacrificed part of our income each month in order to save for retirement are rapidly watching our nest eggs disappear. The market is in a free fall. I know, I know - buy low, sell high - there's never been a better time to get into the markety, blabbity blah blah. Good thing I'm not planning on retiring soon.

I've heard pundits say that we need to restructure our economy. In principle, I agree. Certainly our reliance on credit, our propensity for living above our means and our desire for stuff, stuff and more stuff is a big part of the problem. It comes from the top and works its way down. The national debt is now too big for the national debt clock in Times Square. Obviously this country is credit-crazy. There was a time not that long ago when we weren't - when people saved for what they wanted rather than charging it.

But things are different now. The electronic age has changed our concept of money. By paying for things and managing our finances electronically instead of using cash, we've separated paying for things from knowing exactly how much money we actually have to spend. It is quite a different thing when you pay for something by pulling cash out of your pocket, and see how much you have and seeing how much is left vs pulling out a debit or credit card and running it through a machine.

A few examples of this. I was at the Great Wolf Lodge (a huge indoor water slide/hotel). When you check in, you are given a little electronic pay pass that is hooked to your credit (or debit) card. Whenever you need to pay for anything during your stay, you just use the little electronic pay pass. It is used at every restaurant, the gift shop, the spa - everywhere you go in the hotel. From a business standpoint, this is brilliant. It separates people from the concept of money, and they have no clue of how much they have actually spent until they receive their bill at check out.

Another example. I see people pay for things with their debit card all of the time, and they NEVER write down the total in their check book register. Typically this happens with people my age and younger - I always notice people of my parent's generation writing the transactions in their registers. My question - how on earth do they know how much money they have to spend if they aren't keeping track of what they have spent?

One more example - on a recent shopping trip, I bought several items in different stores at various registers. I probably checked out through six or seven different registers. Not once did any of the sales clerks tell me what my total was. There was a time when this would have been unheard of. Now it is the norm. Just another way that our concept of money is being further separated from the reality of money.

We've been running on credit. And the credit card companies have been riding the wave - offering more and more credit to higher and higher risk customers. Fees for credit cards and interest rates have skyrocketed. Some credit card companies charge close to 30% APR. 30%!!! If I loaned someone money and then charged them 30%, I'm pretty sure the law would consider it as usurious. But if a big corporation does it, well that's just business.

Is it any wonder that at some point, the whole house of cards came tumbling down? We've been spending money that wasn't real for years with no concept of how much we were spending or how much that left us to use.

Inventions like the debit card are a double edged sword. We've traded having a really solid concept of how much money we have for the convenience of swiping a card.

Is there a way out of this mess? As always, I am an optimist. Of course there is. That's the good news. The bad news is that it is going to take a lot of work from people who have become complacent. Happy with the status quo. We want things quick and easy. And we have no concept of how to go about actually living within our means. We've forgotten about delayed gratification. Saving for those things that we want instead of pulling out our Master Card.

On the other side, the rich won't be terribly willing to make changes for the common good. Business is business, you see. There is no room in business for conscience and for looking out for others, especially the little guy. Ethics, social responsibility, empathy all take a back seat to the pursuit of the almighty dollar. Consider AIG. They just accepted billions of dollars from the tax payers after begging for a bail out, and a few days later took their executives on a retreat at an exclusive spa that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars - and they're planning another one. Where's the conscience in that?

There's no help in government, either. The fat cats in the legislature are out of touch with their electorate. After the bailout failed the first time, they didn't go back and streamline it to make it better and more effective. Instead, they tossed in a bunch of pork to get the votes they needed. How is that looking out for the common good?

So if businesses won't look out for their customers, and the politicians won't look out for their electorate, then it is up to us to look out for ourselves and each other. We each need to take the responsibility of educating ourselves financially seriously. And, if we're in a position to do so, we need to help one another when times are tough.

It is possible to find a way out of this mess. But to do so, we each need to take responsibility for our own finances, learn how to live within our means and help others where we can. And In the end, we will wind up better for having done so, and our children can inherit the strong, solid America that they so richly deserve.

Unexpected Blessings

2008-10-10T12:08:00.001-07:00

I’m sitting here with my head leaning back against a chair back and my laptop propped up on pillows so that I can see it without moving my head. Yup – neck pain has come home to roost.

I’ve had a neck condition for years, and it occasionally flares up. 20 years ago, I was rear-ended by a drunk driver in an SUV. She was going about 40 mph. I was stopped. I’ve had upper back/neck issues ever since.

It always comes at what seems like an inconvenient time, this pain. It is always when I am really, really busy. And it always feels like a curse – because the pain is pretty severe. But maybe, it’s really a blessing.

When I have a flare up, I have no choice but to slow down. I simply can’t run around at the frenetic pace that my life usually requires. Instead, I am forced into a position where I am still, and where I can reconnect with myself and my life.

In the past few days, I’ve had the opportunity to sit and talk with my son and husband without something else going on. Usually conversations take place while I’m doing something – driving, cooking, doing laundry, doing dishes. I’ve been able to really pet and love on the dogs as they have come to visit me.

I’ve had time to read. I’ve had time to think. I’ve had time to sleep. And worrying about the housework is useless, since I can’t really do it right now anyway.

Maybe my neck flare-up is a reminder that, in the midst of my extremely busy life, I need to take the time to slow down and make some breathing space for myself. Not such a bad thing to remember, because those breathing spaces are where I have a chance to reconnect with everything that I love, and to rediscover my very essence.

Life is like that. Blessings can come from places you’d never expect. Illness can help you to rediscover hope. Being broke can help you to rediscover that family is more important than stuff. Loss can remind you of all of your gifts. Grief can bring about grace.
If we just slow down and pay attention, we are given everything we need to remember who we are and what is important. That, in itself, is an unexpected blessing

Whatever happened to personal responsibility?

2008-10-07T10:19:00.001-07:00

I was just watching a newsbreak, and there was a woman talking about how unfair losing her home was and how hard it was on their family. While I am certainly sympathetic to people who lost their homes during our country’s financial woes, I also have to pause and wonder if these people realize their own role in things. Frankly, in the whole real-estate/banking collapse/federal bailout, I have not heard one single person say, “I made some choices that led to this.” Nor have I seen anyone who feels that they should have to face the logical outcomes of such choices.

When Jim and I bought our house (and later refinanced it), every lender we talked to tried to put us in an ARM. In each case, we were adamant that we were unwilling to even consider anything that wasn’t a 15 or 30-year fixed mortgage – mainly because we didn’t want to buy a house that at some point we could no longer afford. The pressure was great from the lenders, certainly. All of the lenders were shocked that we wouldn’t consider an ARM – but we held firm. Ultimately, the lenders worked for us, and had to give us what we were asking for.

If, for some reason, we wound up losing our home, I would know that it was my choices that led to the loss of the home. It would suck, but choices have outcomes. Financial choices have financial outcomes. Claiming ignorance or coercion should have no bearing on those outcomes. Nobody is going to come and bail me out, nor would I expect them to.

So now we have all of these people who didn’t make productive choices – for whatever reasons. It’s okay. They chose what they chose. They wanted more than they could afford, and there was a product available that allowed them to get that. But certainly they had to be aware there was some risk involved in an uncapped adjustable rate mortgage. Weren’t they? They gambled. They lost. It happens. Odds are usually stacked in favor of the “house”. But, many of the people who made those poor choices are being given a “break”. Not only did they get the obscenely low introductory rate, but now they are being given a nice fixed rate. Where’s my low introductory rate? Simple – I don’t get it because I decided not to make a financial choice that could get me into more house while risking losing it. So what have I learned? Don’t worry about making good choices. Go ahead and make a poor choice, somebody will be along to fix it. What have the people who made the unwise choices learned? Go ahead, throw caution to the wind. If you screw up, somebody will be along shortly to fix it for you.

Perhaps if people were truly ignorant as to what the potential risks were of the various mortgage products, then we need to spend some time in our education process requiring a basic personal finance class in order to graduate. Yes - I know. In a perfect society, the parents would teach this to their children, but obviously that has failed as colossally as Lehman Brothers or Washington Mutual.

And speaking of – don’t even get me started on the banks. Or our elected representatives, who were unable to vote for a bailout until it was padded with enough pork (such as tax breaks for NASCAR) to make it palatable.

This is what we’ve become – our society. A bunch of self-involved babies who make choices that lead to instant gratification with no eye towards the long term and what kind of world we are leaving behind for our children. And when the obvious consequences of our choices come home to roost, we expect to be bailed out because “it’s just not fair.”

Puhleez. It’s fair. Poor choices were made. The outcomes have been severe. That’s the way things are – what is not fair in that? When I make a poor choice, I expect a negative outcome. Perhaps we would grow and become better as individuals and as a nation if we were forced to face the consequences of our choices. Perhaps our children could learn from us if we all manned up and admitted that mistakes were made. Maybe then we, as individuals – and as a nation – could pull ourselves up by our bootstraps through hard work and hard choices rather than behaving like the spoiled children we have become.

Politics as Usual

2008-10-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

Washington State has an assisted suicide initiative on our November ballot this year. Depending on the spin one reads, it is called “death with dignity” or “legalized murder.” Sadly, when most voters go to the polls, they will have no idea what they are actually voting for, as each side does everything they can to obfuscate anything resembling truth about the initiative. Rather than merely stating what is at stake, each side screams about what’s wrong with the other side’s position, rather than telling us what’s right with their own positions.

There’s no doubt that the assisted suicide initiative is an extremely important piece of legislation. Conscientious voters will want to be sure that their vote is consistent with their code of ethics. If only they could actually get straightforward answers. Instead, the initiative (like most initiatives) is written in complex legalese. Most voters won’t even try to read the text of the initiative. Instead, they will rely on the doublespeak coming from both sides.

Sounds like politics as usual. So what’s a voter to do?

Political season is exhausting. Everywhere you go, one is bombarded with political ads that give no real information – whether about the issue or about the candidates. Millions of dollars are spent on ads during political season – and almost none of it has any substance. I would guess that a majority of voters have no idea of what/who they are really voting for.

As long as millions of dollars are being spent every political season, perhaps at least some of the money should be spent on genuine voter education – the kind of neutral coverage that lays out the facts of initiatives and the true positions of political candidates. Imagine if the only ads that were on television went something like this…. “Hi – my name is John McCain/Barrack Obama, and I am running for President. Here is what I believe….” Why mention the other guy at all? If one’s beliefs are deeply held, well explained and stated with conviction, isn’t that enough? It would certainly be enough for me – I would love to hear in plain, simple language each candidate’s position without having to slog through all of the crap that is slung from both sides.

Let’s face it. There are few of us without a few skeletons in our closet that could be dredged up as evidence of our “poor character.” Most of us have something in our past: we inhaled, dated the wrong person, made misstatements or missteps, told a lie, made a poor choice. We’re human beings. It’s what we do.

And yet, candidates’ histories are paraded before us, and we are all concerned with their poor moral character. Um – hello….what about the poor moral character each of us has shown at times during our lives? It is the height of hubris to stand with our fingers pointed at others while ignoring the three fingers pointing back in our own direction. I am a firm believer that people always do the best they can at any given point in their lives, given the tools with which they have to work. When we know better, we do better. When we have better tools, we make better decisions. And as we make better choices, we become a new person who is more capable of making better choices because we have more tools in our arsenals.

Doesn’t it then follow that candidates who have made poor choices in their past might also have gained more tools as a result of the consequences of those choices? Frankly, I wouldn’t want to elect someone to office whose life has been smooth sailing, because the first time a crisis or moral dilemma arose, what experience would they have to fall back on when making difficult choices?

I know I am not alone in my weariness during political season. I try to make good choices in the voting booth that are consistent with my values and ethics. I make an effort to watch debates, slog through the full text of initiatives, and listen to all sides with an open mind and lack of judgment. I’d like to think I am not unique amongst voters in making an effort to educate myself about the true facts of the choices we make at the polls. Certainly, there are many who do as I do. Unfortunately, there are probably as many – if not more – people who, for whatever reason, simply listen to the propaganda being bandied about as fact. It is easy to fall prey to emotion that arises from ad hominem attacks against a candidate or issue.

In a little under a month, we go to the polls to make some extremely important decisions, and the onus lies on each of us to make sure we are informed enough to vote our true conscience – not just what some well-placed political ads tell us our conscience should be. Our country is in trouble. We need to find a way to solve the issues we have. The best way to do that? By determining what is important to each of us as individuals, listening to the true facts of initiatives and candidates’ positions, ignoring the negative attacks and then collectively voting for those candidates and issues that resonate with each of us. Maybe if enough people do that, we can find our way out of this mess.

I’m an optimist – I still believe we can get there from here. But to get there, we each have a responsibility to set aside our busy lives for just a few minutes to become informed. I’m up for it. Anyone else want to join me?

Lessons I've Learned from Cancer

2008-10-02T08:55:00.000-07:00

It's breast cancer awareness month. I am all too aware of breast cancer right now with my older sister in the process of chemotherapy to fight the disease. She is the second woman in my family to have breast cancer. The other was my "other mother" - a close family friend who has always viewed my sisters and me as her daughters, and we've always called her our other mother. She has been in remission for the past ten years.

I believe that most people know someone who has been affected by cancer in some way. It is a disease that doesn't discriminate by age or economic status.

What I've learned is that how one deals with cancer, and how one chooses to fight, is highly individual. I've known people who crawl inside of themselves and barely come out. I've known others who rally the troops and accept the support of their community. Others batten down the hatches and choose to fight with every weapon in their arsenal.

The most remarkable battle with cancer I've ever witnessed was my childhood pastor, Donel McClellan. He succumbed to his battle with pancreatic cancer on May 13, 2005. And he made his personal battle one of giving - to him, it was his journey back to God that he shared with his family, his congregation and anyone else who chose to follow his journey in his highly personal and very beautiful blog.

Donel was a remarkable man who lived his life with tremendous grace. He married both my older sister and me. His daughter was a friend of mine. During high school, he was a big part of my life - not as a pastor, but as a human being.

From Don's battle with cancer, this is what I learned. God (or whatever you choose to call the unifying presence of the universe) is in everything. And if we choose to, no matter what our circumstances, we can look and find the hand of the Divine. All we have to do is seek, and we can be transformed.

From my other mother's battle, I learned that there is strength in community that can sustain us, even in the darkest times. I also learned from her that when the darkness goes, you can use your experience to be light for others.

My sister's battle with breast cancer has just begun. And yet, she is already a teacher for me as well. We were discussing all of the offers of help that she has received from people. Like me, like my mother, my sister has never been very good at asking for or accepting help from others. We're all perfect - you see. We have to do it all, and do it by ourselves or we aren't successful. In one conversation, I suggested to her that she needed to accept the help that others were offering. Her response? "Yes - I've come to realize that when people offer help, it is their way of honoring me. Accepting that help is my way of honoring them." The lesson? It is something I've always believed but perhaps not been as good at allowing myself to experience as I'd like to be.... Accepting genuine offers of help is another form of giving. People who offer genuine help do so for a reason that is highly personal to them. If we refuse that help, we are not honoring them, nor respecting the processes that they are choosing by offering the help in the first place.

During the floods last December, I volunteered every day for about six weeks at a United Way flood center. During that period, there were four different types of people who came in. The first, of course, were the flood victims - those people who had lost everything and had, through no fault of their own, come to a place where they had no choice but to accept help from others. The second group was the donors - donations poured through our doors. Money, food, clothing, toys, household goods, personal health care items - you name it. These people were driven to help and this was the best way they felt they could be of assistance. The next group was the volunteers. These were the people who felt that they could best help on an interpersonal basis - offering emotional support, comfort - whatever people needed in the moment. The final group? The politicians. They were there for personal gain. They didn't help. Period. They got in the way. They pretended to care when the cameras were on.

But I digress. During this time, I learned a lot about giving and receiving. There was crossover between the groups. Donors became volunteers. Volunteers became donors. Flood victims became volunteers, as well, because even during their greatest times of need, what they really wanted to do is give.

Giving is a cycle - it benefits the giver as much as - if not more - than the receiver. Receiving is a gift - and it isn't all about receiving. It is about giving back to the giver and allowing them to have an experience of themselves that they wouldn't have had if the receiver hadn't chosen to accept the gift.

That was ten months ago. Now, here that lesson is again in the form of my remarkable sister. Receiving is a gift to the giver. Lesson learned.

I would highly recommend Donel's blog if you have the time. If you follow his journey, beginning to end, perhaps you, too, can find the presence of the Divine. It is Donel's last (and lasting) gift of love to those he left behind.

Giving Pills to Pets

2008-09-20T11:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I took both dogs to the vet. Alone. In the car. With two hyperactive terrier types. I'm proud to say that I didn't leave any dents anywhere, nor are there any marks on my car.
In the car, Ass Hat (a.k.a. Spike) - the little one - likes to stand on my lap with his paws on the streeing wheel and his head directly in my field of vision. He does let me press the gas pedal, but only because on his 14 lb frame, getting his foot down there would be a bit of a stretch.

Attention Whore (a.k.a. Sammy) stands beside me on the center console between the two seats. At various times throughout the drive, I will feel cold pokes on my neck, sholders, belly under my shirt, and I will jump until I realize that it is just Attention Whore's nose.

It is really miraculous that we are all in one piece. Suffice it to say, I go the back way that is less traveled.

Attention Whore is really a sweet and lovely dog - but he seems to have one habit that is a bit annoying. He's a nervous/excited pee-er. When we got to the vet, I gave them both ample time on their leashes outside to a) sniff and mark their territory on the distrubingly brown/yellow plants next to the front door and b) wrap their leashes around my legs and each other until the three of us were tied up in a gordian knot.

So I figured I was safe. Both dogs had done their thing - so nothing left in the tank, right? Nah. I've discovered that dogs ALWAYS have something in the tank. They keep a little something in reserves just in case. And Attention Whore's reserves were tapped as soon as we sat down in the waiting room and he opened up on a display of pet toys. I now have a supply of toys that I didn't need. Anyone want a slightly soiled toy, cheap?

It turns out that both dogs have a small case of bordetella - kennel cough. Probably brought home from the pound by Attention Whore and passed immediately along to Ass Hat. So now, they are on pills.

As one who spent most of my life with cats as animal companions instead of dogs, there is nothing more horrifying than hearing that you are going to have to give your pet a pill. Over the years with cats, I have tried a number of techniques to pill my cats. If you hide it in food, all of the food except for the pill gets eaten. If you use a pilling syringe that you stuff to the back of your throat, they let you know their displeasure by peeing on the furniture. And, then there's the "place it in the back of the throat, hold their mouth closed and stroke their throat until they lick their nose" technique. I don't know how much success others have had with this technique, but let me tell you about the last cat I had.

She alway seemed to know when it was pill time. Therefore, I would have to chase her through the house, crawling under and around every piece of furniture we owned. When I would finally catch her, the struggle would be on - I'd have to wrestle her into a position where she was tucked firmly under one arm to contain her claws. Then I'd have to pry her mouth open - her jaw was surprisingly strong - with one hand while having the pill at the ready in the other. Finally, I'd perch the pill on the tip of my finger (with one hand) and jam it into the back of her mouth. Then, I'd hold her mouth closed while she wiggled and bucked to get away, and stroke her throat when I could catch it.

That cat figured out the system, and she'd lick her nose. Great, I'd think, pill swallowed. I couldn't have been more wrong. As soon as I'd release her jaw, out would pop her tongue with the pill on the tip of it. And so, we'd have to start over from scratch. Truth be told, I'm not sure that she EVER swallowed a single pill, because I'd find them all over the house.

Naturally, with this as my experience, I was terrified when the vet said I'd have to give both dogs pills. I've never given a dog a pill before. When I got home last night, I said to Jim with some dread, "We have to give the dogs pills. Twice a day. For FIVE WHOLE DAYS." I must have sounded rather distraught, because he looked at me strangely and asked if I'd pilled them yet. Nope. I was waiting for the reinforcements.

Jim took two pills, wrapped each in a piece of ham and fed the ham to the dogs. That was it. The stupid creatures had no clue there was a pill in there. No pills have been found around the house. It's like magic.

I'm sure that this is an allegory for something in life - giving dogs pills vs giving cats pills - but I'm not sure what. Maybe just a reminder that not everything is as hard as it seems. Or maybe just a way of helping me to remember why I switched from nearly 40 years as a cat person who had never owned a dog to a dog person who will never again own a cat.

Our last cat is what finally did me in. We live in the woods, and that cat would kill things and gift them to me. One day I was working with the back door open, chatting with Jim through the doors (he was outside working on the swimming pool), when I heard him yell the cat's name. I looked down just in time to see the cat deposit a live snake at my feet. I am terrified of snakes. A dog would never do that.

Or there was the time when Jim was away on a business trip. She was howling at the front door to come in, so I opened the door and she streaked past me with a live bat in her mouth, which she dropped on the living room floor. The bat immediately streaked up into the air and Tanner and I had to chase the thing around the house until we cornered it into a room and pushed it out the window with a tennis racquet. Did I mention I'm terrified of bats, too? A dog would never do that.

Then there were the mice. The cat had a way of getting into our basement (we never figured out how), and she would bring mice to the door at the top of the stairs (which we always keep closed). She would then proceed to shove the dead or half-dead thing under the crack in the door - where I would find it the next morning as I staggered down the hall from my bedroom. Do I need to say it? A dog would never do that.

But wait, there's more. There was the bunny that she put in Jim's tool box, the eviscerated squirrel she left on the front porch and all of the dead things left at every door of the house.
And then, there were the french doors in our bedroom. This is where the cat discovered she could howl all night long to either be let in or out. We tried igonring it - but she would not be ignored. In /out - In/ out. We finally decided we would get some sleep by locking her upstairs for the night. Which is when she started peeing on a very expensive rug we had up there. A white one.

There's still more. On nights that Jim worked, she would stand in the entry way and howl. Finally I would think something was wrong, so I'd walk down the dark hall, unsuspecting, and that damn cat would jump out from behind a corner at face height, making me scream at the top of my lungs.

Fortunately, my son's dad had a habit of telling me all of the possessions that Jim and I owned that he wanted. "I'll take that piano if you don't want it." Um - no. "I really like your dining room table, can I have it?" Um - no. "It would be so cool if your cat would come live with me." Really? Sure - take her now. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out.

So, now I'm a dog person. They are stinkier. They are noisier - but still, in the end, much, much easier.

Reflections on Mortality

2008-09-19T10:36:00.002-07:00

In the past month or so, two important people in my life who are roughly my age have been diagnosed with cancer. This led me to ask my husband last night if maybe we are just getting to an age where people in our age group's bodies slowly start to break down. It seems young to me, but maybe that is where we are. Certainly makes one begin to contemplate one’s own mortality.

Oddly, I have no fears about my own mortality. I have never really had much of a fear of death - although I certainly have a desire to stick around until my son grows up, because that boy needs me. I don't have a death wish, but I don't fear dying, either.

I'm not really fond of the concept of those I love dying before me. It has always been my belief that love doesn't die with the people we love who leave us. What matters in a relationship is not how much we are loved, but how much we love. The love that is left behind in the wake of a death is the legacy that person leaves behind. If we want to experience a person after they are gone, all we have to do is revisit the love we have for that person and allow ourselves to experience it. Certainly this has been my experience with my grandparents as they have passed. I don't know that it has changed my grieving process - I still grieve, but ultimately the realization that my love for that person remains unchanged is what brings the light back through the darkness.

I believe love to be an energetic force that exists in our universe, unchanged. I also believe that love does not need to be reciprocated in order experience it. If I am relationship to someone, what matters from my end is the love I feel for them, regardless of how they feel about me. This is the kind of love that is transformative. This is the love that changes the world.

When the day comes that it is time for me to leave this world, those who grieve for me will have the love they have for me as a means to experience me. And the love that I have for them will remain, unchanged, for all eternity.

Letting Go

2008-09-19T10:36:00.001-07:00

The most difficult thing that I have encountered as a parent is the process of letting go. As the mother of a 12-year old boy, this is at the forefront of my parenting strategy right now. I am having to trust more and more that what I have done up to this point as a parent has instilled good sense, a good moral compass and a spirit of independence into my child.

Parenting is equal parts rewarding and heart breaking. We are in the process of raising human beings who present in the world in a unique and responsible way. My urge has always been to pull my son in tight and curl up around him in a protective ball so that he will never have to experience a moment’s worth of pain or disappointment.

But this I cannot do. To do so would not prepare him to do what he ultimately has to – walk away from me – first one step at a time, and then at a full out run as he embraces his own life. And so, instead of pulling him in tighter, I give him tiny pushes that allow him to explore his place in the world. I am in the process of letting go.

The Courage to Hope

2008-09-18T11:39:00.000-07:00

The news isn’t good. Hurricanes, floods, financial collapse, unemployment, soaring inflation, war. And that’s just on a national level. Lord only knows how world and national events trickle down into individual lives.

It’s enough to make one feel downright defeated.

One of the things that separates human beings from our animal brethren is our propensity to fret about the future and relive the past. Watch a dog – they have no such worries. They live in the moment with no concept of worrying about what is to come or lingering on what came before. Instead, they remain happily focused on what is. They deal with whatever is happening in their lives only in the very moment that it occurs.

So much of the pain that we experience in our lives comes from unnecessary worry. My father used to say that 95% of the things you worried about last year didn’t happen. And what good does worrying do, anyway? It is a source of pain that pulls our focus from the present, causing us to miss those small moments of experience in which joy lives.I’m not suggesting that one hides their head in the sand. Certainly it is beneficial to be prepared for all contingencies. So put preparations in place, and then focus back on what is now.

Much of the pain we experience also comes from dwelling on our past. We carry the baggage of anger, hurt and pain with us throughout our lives. The burden gets heavier and more oppressive. Dwelling in the past is another source of pain that pulls us from the present moment. Certainly, we feel what we feel in the moment. I’m a big advocate of allowing oneself to fully experience feelings – no matter what they are. But must we choose to linger on those feelings for months or years to come? The choices is ours as to whether and when we will put down that heavy baggage.

True release lies in this moment. It’s really all we have. The past is over and we can’t change it. The future hasn’t happened, and we have no way of knowing what will come. Worrying about it gives us no control, nor does it change anything but our present experience. Spending time wishing that others would behave differently or worrying about how others view us not only is none of our business, but it is a Sisyphean task, at best.

And in the moment is where joy is. Joy comes in all forms. In can be a perfect moment, distilled in time. It can be the warmth of water on your hands as you do dishes. It can be the laughter of a baby, the caress of a lover, a moment shared with a friend. It can be a song that touches us or the movement of our bodies as we go about our daily routine. If we’re focused on the future or the past, we might miss these moments of joy, so caught up are we in our own head space.

Focus on this moment allows us to hope. As we begin to experience more of those moments of joy by getting out of our heads, we begin to realize that the darkness on the outside is not a part of us. We have total control over our own inner environments: even as storms rage outside, inside we can be the very picture of peace. To do this takes courage. When we hope, we feel we have something to lose. We risk disappointment. But to stay focused in the present – that is the very essence of meeting the challenges head on with strength and courage. As we become aware of our inner spaces, we become more aware of who we truly are. We learn how much we love, how much we are loved and how much we can find laughter and joy no matter the circumstances.

The news is bad, it’s true. On the outside. So I will sit, breathe, and focus who I truly am in the now.