The Rapture that Wasn't

It's been more than a week, now, since the world was scheduled to end. No one is even talking about it anymore, when just two weeks ago it trended on twitter, and was in the status update line of nearly all my Facebook friends. I avoided talking about it, facebooking about it, blogging about it (I don't tweet ... though I do have an account). I avoided it for a couple of reasons.

First, I really didn't like all the teasing that folks were doing. Have you ever been afraid? Irrationally? Have you ever been convinced the world is going to end? That your friends would leave you? That your child would die? That your plane would crash? That you'll die in your sleep? That your husband/lover/partner/best friend will up and leave?

I suffer from anxiety and occasional panic attacks - so some of those fears and feelings are familiar to me. Irrational. Unwelcome. But familiar.

I don't think, though, that you have to suffer from panic to have the occasional feeling of being precariously close to the end of something. Brene Brown calls one version of it "foreboding joy."

So, those folks who believed that the end was coming on May 21st, they were simply, in my view, trying to control the anxiety that we're all a bit prone to -- the panic that comes with the certainty that it could all end in an instant. They were trying to control it by predicting it - by calculating down to the last second when it would happen. And, they were trying to ensure that they would somehow survive -- survive because they were "in" and others were "out" -- survive because their god would save them - yes after death, but save them nonetheless. I don't agree with their vision of god. But I understand and sympathize with their desire to control and define the end.

Because, and here is the second reason I couldn't join all the rapture talk, it really all could have ended on May 21st. One of the essential tenets of Buddhism, as I understand it, is that we humans are much too attached (for our own good) to ever-changing material reality. Our lives really could end in an instant. The gift of our days is an uncertain gift. The rapture folks have a germ of truth in their fears - they have the understanding that we're not in control of our days. Of course, they took the extreme of trying to calculate and control - but are they really the only ones of us who do this? What else is the datebook I carry? The computer schedule I update? The blog I am posting ... except for a manifestation of my interest in making a mark, setting it down, and being here -- now, and .... later?

So, I felt sympathy for the certain and scared Rapture believers, and sorry that their god was so unforgiving and exclusive and mean. But I also felt a kinship for the panic and anxiety - for the existential awareness of the transient nature of the reality of our physical world. Our challenge is to meet that transience as a gift and a joy - rather than a burden of worry.

Fish on Fridays

Those of you who read this blog because you actually know me, know that A. and I were vegetarian for more than five years - including during my pregnancy with W. and the first three years of his life. As he weaned, though, W. decided to eat meat (he started with salmon and went down the slippery slope of pepperoni and bacon, before settling on elk as his favorite) - and we decided to join him. We did for lotsof reasons -- we didn't want him to feel guilty for eating meat, when the reasons we had become vegetarian were primarily ethical; we had been really sick, with lowered immunity, since moving to Iowa, and some folks suggested that adding meat to our diet would help; we missed pulled pork; and, it was difficult and expensive to be vegetarian in Iowa.

We've moderated our meat intake again, after a couple years of omnivorous eating, and nowadays we follow these general rules: meatless mondays and fish on fridays. The first is from Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution (hey! have you signed the petition?), the second a longstanding tradition from my Catholic-raised mom.

Tonight's meal tasted so good, and was frugally elegant, so I'm sharing it with you, here.

I soaked a pound of dried pinto beans overnight and through the day. About 4pm, put them in a big pot and covered them with water, boiled them hard for 10 minutes (I borrow this simple recipe from Deborah Madison's brilliant Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, which is honestly almost the only cookbook you'd ever need), then reduce the heat to low and partially cover, simmering for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, I started some brown rice cooking (I used 2 cups Lundgren Farm's brown rice [this blog will NOT feature product placement, but this is the best rice I've ever used to cook with, I won't buy any other kind, and am thrilled that Costco sells 20 lb bags of it).

This, with good local whole wheat tortillas, some queso fresco, and a salsa (we had cilantro salsa tonight!) would make a great frugal meal (less than 1.00 per plate). BUT, since it was "fish on Friday" day, I splurged on 1/2 a pound of little scallops (cost me $4.50). After the beans had cooked for those 30 minutes, I added 1 1/2 tsp of salt, and cooked them another 10 - 15. While they cooked, I melted a tablespoon of butter in a small cast iron skillet, added a clove of garlic (pressed), and the scallops. Fried them quickly for 3 minutes, added a squirt of lemon, and turned them off.

We had brown rice-pinto bean-scallop burritos with locally grown orange heirloom tomatoes, and fresh strawberries. It was yummy :-)

I entered a contest ...

For the record, I adore contests - especially door prize contests. I do not usually win - but I'll stay to the end of any party, just to see if my name is drawn. I do not like silent auctions, where you bid to "win" an item ... because it isn't winning, in my book, if you have to pay for it :-)

In any case, I entered a contest today - to attend, for free, a week-long women's writer's conference @Jen Louden's #Writer's Retreat. To enter, I had to write 250 words about why I wanted to attend. It was hard to read everyone else's entries - I skimmed through them - so many worthy essays, some that annoyed me, several that inspired. It was nice to read my honest reflections on why I wanted to be chosen, though. Not chosen. Why, if I had the money and time freely available, I'd go.

The post that I used to enter listed all the academic work that I've had published (or accepted for publication) in the past ten years - and it listed the three novels and one set of memoirs I've started and put down, in favor of the scholarly writing. I want to continue my scholarship - it makes me energized when I do it (I wrote 42 pages this week on two separate projects! Yay summer!) -- but I also don't want to turn 50 (in 11 years) and not have finally finished one of the novels I've had going for decades. I love to write.

Jen's workshop is one of four I'm interested in finding ways to do in the coming decade. I'll post about the others, later. I'd go on and on now ... but my husband, who has been working overtime and has put in a 14 hour day, just called to say he's on his way home. I want to meet him at the door with cold water and a plate of pasta! Wyatt has decided (at 9:40pm no less) that he is hungry, too. So it will be a party.

Present Moment

I had a bolt of awareness this morning - an insight into a behavior of mine that isn't very useful - and I want to remember it and share it, so I'm posting it here!

I was running late. Only 6 minutes late - but late (I hate to be late!). I swore in conversation with Wyatt - made it funny, but still, used "fuck," and, after I dropped him off at school, found myself indulging in a bit of road rage and driving too fast.

The meeting I was late for is at 8am - it's really hard for us to get out of the house in time for me to make 8am. I can make 8:15 no problem - but 8am just seems beyond our reach. And this morning was both "Take a stuffed animal to school" day AND "Take a flower for Teacher Appreciation day" day, which meant an additional 10 minutes of "stuff" on top of getting out the door. So the fact that we were only 6 minutes late, instead of 16, that should have felt lovely!

But, rather than feeling lovely, I was beating myself up

"I am such a failure!"

" I can't both mom and work outside the home!"

" I take on too much!"

etc. etc.

And I realized that I was going to walk into the meeting with a bad, nasty, angry energy.

The last thing I want to bring to this particular meeting - a group of faculty, staff, and students committed to infusing multicultural and global understandings into the culture of our academic institution - is bad energy! Yet I seemed powerless over the rage I was feeling at myself for being late.

And then it hit me, the bolt: Everything is Great. It is a beautiful day. I am making it to work safely. I will contribute to and enjoy this meeting.

So WHY am I taking bad energy in with me??

Simple: I was taught that if you're late, you had better walk in in a huff, upset with yourself and showing it, to signify that you didn't mean to be late!

You dare not walk in, smile slightly apologetically, and then jump right into the conversation! You dare not contribute if you're 6 minutes late. In other words, you must suffer for being late - and everyone else should suffer with you.

That this is insane may sound so simple, so obvious. But if this blog is (going to be) about anything, it is about how difficult the simple can be!

In that instant, as I pulled up to the curb and saw another (late! 6 minutes late!) colleague, I knew that I was powerless over my 38 years of training regarding lateness -- until I acknowledged it. So I did: I told my colleague my internal dialogue, shared it with her as she shared similar feelings with me. I said, "I can't believe I was going to bring negative energy into this meeting, a meeting I enjoy so much and a group I care so much about!" And I thanked her for her presence - for being late with me, but more, for helping jolt me out of patterns of behavior that do not serve me.

We are powerless over so much - but we can always chose a kinder, gentler, more self-reflective path. This morning, I was given that opportunity. It was hard, but I took it. And I am grateful.