Stereotypes (or: Anna is a feminist and just can't help herself)

In so far as I can tell there are two kinds of stereotypes floating around in this world. One type is based on twisted, biased and inaccurate observations – the inaccuracy of the observation yielding an inaccurate and unfair stereotype. The other type stems from fairly objective observations, resulting in a reasonably accurate (if not flattering) reflection of our society, if not the individual. Some stereotypes are blatantly one or the other, easy to classify and comfortable to discuss in large groups at wine tasting (or some place equally as pretentious.) Others outwardly appear to belong to one group, but when you really think about it, they suddenly (and disconcertingly) clearly belong to the other.

There are a number of stereotypes that I’ve never liked, and a few that drive me absolutely batty. One in particular, directly applies to me and effects me – and so is the subject of this blog.

I truly disliked the movie Knocked Up and it wasn’t until I read an interview with Katherine Hiegle that I realized why. It was the stereotype that the movie not only embraced but propagated: that of the manipulative girlfriend/wife/baby-mama who attempts to exercise complete control over and ruin the lives of their boyfriend/husband/baby-daddy, who in turn, are portrayed as innocuous guys just looking to have fun. It’s a stereotype that drives me insane – the concept that women are here to tie down, restrict, run, control and destroy the men in their life, while these poor innocent fellows are just trying to have a little bit of innocent, fun. It drives me insane, all most women want is to have a good time with someone who is capable of being considerate and monitoring their own behavior as an adult. (“I’m a guy” is a crappy excuse for inconsiderate and bad behavior!) I always considered this stereotype to be of the first type – based on incorrect and unfair observation. Then I took a good hard look and realized that (while incorrect in its broad sweeping generalization and extremism) it does have a basis in our society.

The women of my generation are afforded more options in life than ever before. (I offer up mad props to the mothers and grandmothers for paving that way!) I believe that the increase in options and socially acceptable life-styles has resulted in a broadening of our standards of acceptability on many fronts. While still underrepresented, female doctors, CEO’s, lawyers, engineers and movie directors are making huge impacts on society in general. Marriage, which was once all but a foregone conclusion, is no longer a certainty. Women can now broadly lay claim to the education, opportunity, freedom and independence to support ourselves. Gone is the dependence on our fathers (until we got married and then our husbands) for security, comfort and legitimacy. All of these things are available to us as individuals and we no longer lack respectability in life without a man to provide it. (And this is not to say that our Mothers and Grandmothers were not these things, quite the contrary, they are the ones to do these things first, who made it possible for us to do them now. What they were lacking – was the social approbation that we are as lucky as to take for granted.) With all of these choices in front of us, we’ve get to be as experimental as a fat man at a buffet for as long as we want, and then become as picky as a food critic in New York City when it comes to more important and more permanent decisions. Through the freedom of experience and increased self-determination we often come to expect more from our careers, from ourselves, from our friends and from the men in our life. We are often no longer willing to overlook or settle or accept what we deem to be insufficient.

You may think that I am unfairly characterizing the women of previous generations as weak willed and willing to settle for less than they wanted in life – please don’t mistake me. Since the beginning of time there have been intelligent, strong, trailblazing women who made incredible contributions to society and made the people in their life toe a hard line. My criticism is upon the standards of our society – to which many women adhered to for many (voluntary and involuntary) reasons.

While the role of women in our society has changed drastically over the past half century, the definition of what it is to be a ‘man’ has not change very much at all. Little boys are still raised very similarly to how boys have been raised for years. They have been taught not to cry, to not be sissy or girly, and to be strong and successful and that certain behaviors will be overlooked because of their gender. Society teaches them that they should be the primary bread winner in a relationship, that they cannot control their hormones all of the time and that speaking of women in a derogatory manner isn’t necessarily unacceptable. Sadly for them, these men are now finding themselves growing up with, socializing with, dating and marrying definitively untraditional women. Even Anne Coulter, the poster girl for uber-conservative views, thwarts tradition in her independence, strong opinions, her ability to out debate most of the men who come her way and her incredible media success Even while she spews sermons regarding the return of traditional gender roles, Christian morals and a ‘wholesome’ society, the mere fact that she, a single, successful and well educated woman is on talk shows, news programs and being quoted in newspapers for having definitive (and by some) respected political opinions. That’s anything but ‘adhering to traditional gender roles.’

So here they are, trying to get away with the debauchery that for hundreds of years was seen as the prerogative of men, but they’re not getting away with it. Women don’t sit on the sidelines of life anymore, they go to bars and clubs, and they’re sexually active outside of marriage (and not ashamed of it!) They prioritize their professions, they travel, they have friendships with members of the both sexes that are often closer and more honest then those that some men are willing to offer within a romantic relationship. So here we are, demanding more (and most of the time getting it) while many men sit on the side lines and think…wtf?!?

So – in some ways the stereotype may be true. Women are demanding more. Women are demanding decency, respect and equality. But just because more is expected of these men than was expected of their fathers and grandfathers, that doesn’t make those expectations unreasonable, unattainable or wrong. It just means that they might have to work a little harder for good women in their lives.

Anna is envious

I just read the blog of a college friend of a friend. I am so envious. I want to write like him. Methinks I've found my blogging mentor and he doesn't even know it.

After reading his blog I have to admit the following:

1. I am not pithy. Neither in thought nor in written word. Pith is a difficult thing to fake. I might be doomed.

2. I just am not as interesting as Curt. Life in Curt's head must be fun. Life in my head is far more mundane.

so....new goals. Develop a working expression of sardonic thought and pitch. Become more inherently interesting.

It looks like I have my work cut out for me.

What is it like to always have your feet firmly planted on the ground?

Another oldie but goodie -- I know it's a little rediculous to do this. But hey!! some of this is genious! :P

I ponder today: what is it like to always have your feet firmly planted on the ground? I must warn that when I ask this question, I am not speaking metaphorically, nor is this going to be an existential discussion with myself. I mean this question in the most literal of terms.
I've always thought that the view a tall person has of the world must be shockingly different from that of a short person. Elevators (and crowded spaces in general) must be such a different experience depending on our height. You've heard the joke about elevators smelling very different to little people, but it applies at five feet and inches as well. (Though most likely not quite as extreme. Armpits versus crotches? no contest!) Standing in small crowded spaces, nose on level with numerous strangers' armpits, trying ascertain whether it is better to breathe through your mouth, your nose, or if you can make it to the 4th floor without having to breathe in at all. Through your nose and you find yourself all too aware and intimate with numerous strangers' personal hygiene habits (or lack thereof.) Habits that range from non-existant, moderately noxious, mildly offending and not too bad. Even mildly offending can be pretty bad if you get more than one offender in the same elevator...needless to say, its not a tempting option! Through your mouth and you remember that 'smells' only occur when miniscule particles of the source become lodged in your nasal cavity, and do you really want those same miniscule particles in your mouth? Not breathing at all - well thats an option but higher you have to go and the number of stops along the way often take this off the table as a legitimate option. I can only imagine that when you are taller, rather than facing this dilemma, you are actually the armpit in question. It must be a completely different experience, I'm quite certain that tall people do not have quite the same dread of crowded spaces that a short person might. But I digress...the point being do tall people appreciate the fact that their feet almost always reach the ground?

I wore ballet flats to work today and was struck by in how many situations my feet truly don't reach the ground comfortably when I am not wearing heels! Now I am not a midget, nor am I even a remarkably short person. At 5'3" I am a mere inch to two inches below the median height for women in the United States, yet when I do not wear high heels my feet often do not reach the ground!

I first noticed this in Tuesday Morning Meeting this morning (a very long and onerous meeting in which we sit still for an inordinate amount of time listening to others speak and not saying anything) when I had to streach my toes out to get them to touch the ground. I spent a solid two hours swinging my feet like a toddler. Now this is a situation that I am supposed to act like a grownup with the ability to sit still yet I cannot impress upon you the discomfort of having your legs swing for extended periods of time. Its sad but true.

I noticed it second today in the Ladies room. Without any kind of shoe heel, my feet don't reach the ground when sitting on the toilet!! We're not talking handicapped stall with an extra tall pottie for ease of transfer for the disabled, we're talking averaged height poop receptical! At this point I got to thinking 1.) this is obscene, I need longer legs damnit! And 2.) I wonder if this is another elevator question - does your experience of certain situations change depending on your ability to place your feet firmly on the ground?

I compounded this with the fact that I'm endlessly not graceful - which mean s that even when I'm walking, my feet probably aren't solidly on the ground then either. (I've been known to spontaniously fall over -- its a sad but pretty entertaining attribute.) I probably only spend a quarter of my day with my feet solidly on the ground...I wonder, am I missing out on so wonderful as to be on par with non-smellyrific elevators?

Vegas

Another transfer job from the good 'ol mySpace page:

1. I may have developed lung cancer in the 3 days that I’ve been here! Apparenlty I am far more in support of laws prohibiting smoking in public places than I thought! The concept of ’smoking sections’ being separated from ’non-smoking sections’ by a two foot wall seems slightly ludicrus to me. So...holla for anti-smoking laws!

2. I should have packed sluttier clothes. While I have never considered myself to be conservative in any meaning of the word, my lack of an article of clothing that can simultaniously boast glitter and sequins seems to place me in that catagory in Vegas.

3. In Vegas, at the MGM Grand the term ’West Wing’ is code for older and smaller.

4. I’m a really loud and indelicate sneezer! There’s nothing like sneezing in the middle of a silent conference to make you realize exactly how loud your sneeze is! For the record, the speaker stopped in the middle of their presentation to bless me...and I was in the 3rd to last row!

5. Nevada’s campaign i nthe early 90’s to make Las Vegas a more family friendly vacation destination (thanks Dave!) was incredibly successful. I never really considered a casino a good place to take your family - but apparenlty I am in the minority. I saw everything from adolescents wandering around on their own to infants in strollers pulled up next to poker tables. Creeps-a-lot.

6. People in Vegas tend to fall into one of two catagories: strikingly beautiful or smelly-because-I-haven’t-left-this-slot-machine-in-over-12-hours icky. This ultimately begs the question of, in the absence of a gray area, into which catagory would I fall?

7. Benefiting directly (and in a pretty expensive way) from profits made from patenting and over-pricing oncologic drugs makes me feel a little bit dirty -- and not in a good way.

8. Oxygen Bars may have successfully supplanted Pet Rocks as the most ingenious marketing of absolutely nothing to complete idiots. (Says the girl standing outside the window with a 40 in a paper bag. Klassy....with a K!)

9. Burlesque shows should make a come back, replace common strip clubs and return sensuality to the United States. Puritanical guilt be gone!!

10. Whoever set the tones of slot machines to resonate as ’happy sounds’ in our heads -- is a GENIOUS! I just kept finding myself be-bopping to the happy chimes of the slot machines as I walked around the casino.

6 Years Worth of Observations

So I didn't just write this - it's a copy and paste job from my (soon to be no longer) mySpace page. I'm kinda proud of it despite its sardonic tone...so I include it here before ex-naying my mySpace page.

I've been emailing with a friend from college for the past 6 years, ever since we no longer lived within shouting distance of each other really. Below are the conclusions reached from this ongoing conversation...nothing too provocative but really, I find it amusing and since this is my blog, I get to post it!

1. If you cannot find a babysitter and its not family friendly, stay home! I understand that having a child does not negate your need to have contact with other adults, but having little Montana and Blaze scream while kicking the back of my seat as they reel in horror at the 10 pm showing of Rambo is not only inconsiderate but bad for you children. You wanted kids, so suck it up, walk it off and go to Blockbuster.

2. If a man starts a conversation with "I don't want to hurt your feelings..." your feelings are about to get hurt. Its the kind of intro thats never followed by "you're too thin...eat some more lasagna while I get you a brownie." Women catch a lot of shit for the ever famous "we need to talk." This is the male equivilant.

3. Your outgoing message should say no more than who you are, possibly another means of contacting you (and if so, you should contemplate who would warrent your immediate attention without already having access to alternative contact information. Maybe you think you're more important than you are.) and that you will call them back. Any more than that is cruel and unusual. Save your new fave quote for your e-mail signature.

4. For those of you who still expect airline travel to be convenient and comfortable, let me offer a few words of advice. First, yelling at the counter lady will not help, it will not make the plane sprout an extra seat and it will not get you home faster. Second, leaning your seat back in coach is mean, especially if the person behind if you over 5 foot 3. And finally, you may never have encountered babies before but it turns out that giving a 4 month old the stink eye for crying at take off doesn't actually accomplish anyting. Have a little compassion. Get some earplugs. It'll all be over soon.

5. If you look good in a speedo, you will look even better any virtually any other kind of swimsuit.

6. I am not a cynic nor am I a pessimist (though my friend is both.) In actuality I am a bleeding heart who actually thinks that she might be able to change the world someday. But to all you pessimistic cynics out there, if there is ever a time to slam your crankiness into submission, its ever fourth year when there's an election: read up on the issues and cast your damn ballot. You must VOTE. I don't care who you vote for (well...thats not true, but we can pretend for a moment) but if you want to be heard, you have to talk.

7. To quote Elmer Fudd, "Be bwave widdoe wabbit." Take some chances, wear that great dress, wear your heart on your sleeve, ask someone to dance, say what you want and demand what you deserve. There's a good shot that you might not get the things you ask for but face it, if you don't try, you still won't have it. Note: only attempt the dance invitation if there's actual music playing.

8. Calling your friend to tell them that you are running late does not excuse the fact that you are constantly late. Figure out how long it takes you get ready and plan accordingly, respect other poeple's time.

9. Words Matter. Stop sugar coating reality, political correctness has its place and time but when starts to obscure the truth its usefulness has been outlived. Eating disordered means sick. Spousal abuse means wife beating. Enhanced Interrogation means torture. And for the record: the term enhanced interrogation was not first used by Jack Bauer on 24 and it wasn't coined by the Bush administration. That little piece of persuasive advertising / propoganda came from the Gestapo under the leadership of Adolf Hitler in 1937.

10. Recycle: I like my bottles of water and its like pulling teeth to remember to bring re-usable grocery bags. But honestly people -- Al Gore's gonna come get you soon.

11. Don't let work take over your life. Getting through life can be really heard and making ends meet can sometimes feel impossible. So, (my simultanious apologies and thanks to the University of Florida for NEVER paying overtime and Stonewood for teaching me this) get off your computer, turn off your crack-berry, go home and remember what it is to eat dinner, read a book, engage in a conversation or have some really good sex. (in whatever order you wish! :) )

I just don't understand sometimes....

More than once in my life I have paused from whatever I was doing and thanked God, Allah, my lucky stars, Mother Earth and the intelligent universe at large for having been born where and when I was. Not only was I born in the West, free from extreme oppression under religious law, but I was born to a generation endowed with opportunities and freedoms that outstrip those of all previous generations. I can vote, own property and sign legal documents; things that my grandmother couldn’t necessarily do. Being an airline pilot is just as, if not more feasible than being an airline attendant. My education, independence and profession are the prime factors most people use when deciding if I am “successful” or not. The fact that at 25 I am unmarried goes not only (generally) unquestioned but is seen as a testament to my ambition and the loftiness of my personal and professional goals – I am free from a stigma that actively pursued my mothers’ generation.

Freedom from these stigmas hasn’t come cheap. Women in previous generations worked hard for these, and we continue to work hard to keep them and get more. We work hard for our independence and as a reward get to go where and do what we want. Sometimes that means embracing derogatory terms such as “slut” or “whore” if it means having the right to define and express our physicality and sexuality however we see fit. Not saying that it’s necessary or indicative of confidence and freedom, but women today dress far less conservatively, with fewer compunctions about it than previous generations (with the exception of possibly the 70’s.) Yet (and I finally come to my point) what I truly do not understand, is why in a time when women are freely and openly expressing their sexuality through their clothing, will women not change in the locker room at the gym!

There are private little changing booths at the gym for those who wish to change in private. After working out the other day, I was untying my shoes and watched a young woman toddle in wearing giant heels (fierce one might say) a tight skirt and a low cut sweater. She looked great. Into the booth she goes and emerges moments later in spandex shorts and a sports bra. All I can think is….really? What’s with the false modestly all of a sudden? You’re clearly proud of your body (and should be) but in possibly the safest of all environments you need a private booth to change? I watched this little sequence repeat itself over and over with an array of women of all different shapes, sizes, but not age. This seems to be a habit of only women early thirties and younger. Why do they choose that moment, that place, to suddenly become (or give in to) 'modestly' and insecurity? Especially when older women walk around in their none-sies, seemingly without compunction. I envy that. The confidence and comfort to realize that, a.) nobody really cares and b.) even if they do, that's their problemo.

I am baffled by this idiosyncrasy that seems abundant with women.

What Dreams May Come...

I don’t generally put much credence in decoding one’s dreams. Maybe this is because I rarely have dreams. (Avid dreamers are usually pretty quick to jump on this, asserting that I have dreams but I just don’t remember them. But isn’t that kind of like the tree falling in an empty forest thing? If I don’t remember them, then effectively I didn’t have them since nobody else was there either…but I digress.) Maybe it’s from working in sleep research and hearing over and over that dream research is hooey and all conclusions are unsubstantiated. I don’t know, just never been a big fan.

Nevertheless I have recently started having a re-occurring dream and I do not like it. In this dream my sister dies, never in a specific or violent manner, but suddenly she is just gone and it is very clear that she will not be coming back. The majority of the dream is taken up by an incredibly acute sense of loss and ache…it’s horribly real and hard to shake once I wake up. The first (recent) time that I had this dream I woke up in an absolute panic at the thought that my sister might be gone. The initial panic faded once I realized that I had been dreaming, only to be replaced by a distinct feeling of unease. I had had this dream before. Several years ago I had a dream in which I lost my sister. It was the first time that I had ever even considered a life without her in it; she’s been with me my whole life after all. Honestly, it was what made me realize how incredibly important she was (and is) to me, how loosing her frightens me more than most things. But why has it started again? In the wake of the unease created by this dream, and the feelings experienced IN the dream itself I can’t help but start looking up what ‘death’ and ‘loss’ are supposed to mean in dreams.

Is this why we search for meaning in dreams? Because the feelings that we experience in them while asleep can be so acute? So strong? So real that they linger within us even after we’ve woken up?

The purpose of sleep is clearly restorative. Severe insomnia that hinders a person from sleeping completely for a prolonged period of time results in insanity and ultimately death. Clearly our brains require that down time, but it [the brain] never completely shuts down. Like sleeping fish that continue to swim against the current while slumbering, our brains continue to function while we sleep. My friend Ashleigh see’s her sleeping brain as a closet with thousands of closed drawers and when she dreams, it’s as if a small gremlin has gone in and started pulling things out of drawers and random and tossing them into her sleeping consciousness. It’s a fun picture and usually when I dream it is what I think of. Does that explain the incredibly clear and real dreams such as the one I have been having about my sister? Maybe it should, that at random certain drawers were open and my mind gave meaning to what came out. That doesn’t really make me feel better though.

I think that it is a desire to explain the inexplicable that drives us to create and refer to dream dictionaries and divine explanations for our dreams. This wouldn’t be so unthinkable; people do it all the time. Anthropologists explain religion this way, early people built belief structures around higher, all powerful, omniscient and intervening God / Gods to explain the things that observation alone could not explain: the change of seasons, time of day, birth, death, natural disasters. All of these things could be perplexing and frightening; it’s easier as a human to explain it away with a divine being than admit that not only do we not know, but we are powerless to prevent or even predict their occurrence. Maybe this is what we are doing with our dreams, creating meaning where there is none simply to quiet our minds and souls. Disconcerted (as I am) with the strength and clarity of some dreams and they very real emotions that accompany them, we look for meaning in the most interesting of ways.

Regardless – I would like my dream to stop and am hoping that by addressing it in my conscious state, it will cease in my unconscious states.

I have a problem

I just looked back over my previous 3 posts...I am depressing myself. Why can't I write a carefree blog about...oh I don't know...baby elephants? Riverdance?

I feel compelled to say to myself:


:)

If I love splenda, then I want cancer. Wait...what!??!

I love Splenda. Yep, that little yellow package of chemicals specially designed to be indigestible by my digestive system sits disturbingly high on the list of technological discoveries that I would not want to live without. (Also on the list are air conditioning [common, I live in Florida after all,] text messaging and freezer pizzas.) Perfectly sweet without derailing attempts to control caloric consumption, this little baby gets my vote of confidence every day. Still, there’s something a little bizarre about how it foams when introduced to a liquid. Creepier still…the foam / fizz takes a while to dissipate. Can’t help but wonder about this. So there I was, 7:45 am and thinking “hmmm…I bet this shit causes cancer.” It was this foaming / fizzing phenomenon that got me to thinking about all of the different ‘causes’ of cancer. I work in Cancer research and know better than most the sad truth that, well... we just don’t know what causes it. So why do news reports keep claiming that we do? So, like the GenNext-er that I am, I commenced to Google.

Apparently (according to my googling) the top ten ‘causes’ of cancer are as follows: tobacco products, carcinogens, viruses, bacteria, genetic predisposition, nutrition, advanced age, sunlight, cellular phones and oral contraceptives. Some of these are quasi no-brainers. Tobacco (it’s covered in explicit warning labels,) and carcinogens (which are actually defined as “a substance or agent causing cancer.” My only response to this massively redundant point is an oh so eloquent….duh. Virus’ (like the Human Papilloma Virus [HPV]) and bacteria (h. pylori) are far more frightening, if only because we cannot control them. Emphasis falls almost solely on prevention and education since these viruses cannot be cured (only controlled) once contracted, and bacteria are largely opportunistic, generally infecting tissues weakened by already established cancer. Genetic predisposition, advanced age and sunlight?!?! I guess we’re all just screwed. Cellular telephones: I really thought that this one had been debunked; apparently it still proliferates despite a distinct lack of reliable proof. Nutrition (and obesity) has a pretty valid claim, I think we can all agree that prolonged disregard of the nutritional needs of your body will result in some less than pretty and positive outcomes. So we come to my favorite, oral contraceptives. Oral contraceptives are perhaps the most frustrating of all that make up this not-so-comprehensive list of carcinogens. Studies have shown that prolonged use of oral contraceptives increases a woman’s chances of breast, cervical and liver cancers. Simultaneously it decreases their chances of ovarian and endometrial cancer. WTF?! If you are like me, this list probably frustrated you a bit, makes you feel a bit helpless that some of the leading ‘causes’ of the terrifying C-word are things that you cannot control. Is that why we continually claim to have “figured it out?” Comfort in ‘knowing’ where it came from but impotent to change it?

Now I’m not saying that we should stop looking, or searching or asking these questions. (Heck - I'd be out of a job.) I’m not suggesting that we stop adjusting individual (and often inane or inconsequential) behaviors and commit to healthier more sustainable lifestyles. I’m suggesting that we stop pretending like we have all the answers. I’m suggesting that next time a smoker is diagnosed with lung cancer that we not all sigh internally and think “well, they should have stopped smoking.” If we’re going to take that attitude then we’re going to have stop going outside during daylight hours, eat a raw food diet (heterocyclic acid found in cooked meat = bad,) avoid alcohol, oral contraceptives, cellular phones and mass transit (bacteria proliferates after all.) No more Splenda, fluoridated water (i.e. all water,) caffeine, pasteurized or unpasteurized milk or x-rays when we break bones. If you burn your toast? Don’t eat that either. Also…stop masturbating, that’s been linked too.

It’s a frustratingly comprehensive list that’s discussed in the most absolute of terms. I know that articles espousing “now that we know the cause…we know the cure” are written to give hope to those battling a terrifying and dangerous disease. I don’t mean to demean or belittle that hope. They need it and we all need it. But does admitting that we don’t know it all yet preclude hope that there is a cure? That there are answers?

As for me, I’ll eat my orange every morning for breakfast, and wash it down with my foamy/fizzy coffee with Splenda.

I Believe in the Resiliency of the Human Soul

History shows us that we live in a world that has born and continues to bear witness to unimaginable suffering stemming anywhere from quirks of nature to ignorance and hatred. In terms of ranking, a broken heart doesn’t even register on the same scale as genocides, extreme suppression of expression and the denial of basic human rights, or true social tragedies. Nevertheless, mending a broken heart, a hurt that seemed indeterminable, has given me respect for and belief in the resiliency of the human soul.

A few months back, a person very dear to me walked out of my apartment and out of my life with no warning and very little true explanation. While I have always considered myself to be independent and strong, this loss laid me to a low that I had never experienced before. Generally a proponent of keeping personal issues away from the work place, I crumbled and spent days sitting in my coworkers’ cubicles just to be close to another human being while I grieved. I lost 30 pounds distressingly fast, cried in public more often than I ever would have considered acceptable, watched all 5 seasons of Grays Anatomy on DVD, left town every weekend for months and lost interest in everything from food, to sleep. As it always does though time passed and the fog slowly lifted. My soul began to heal.

This experience, though it may seem trivial in nature to some (and it is in some ways, though not in others) opened my heart to what my eyes see every day at work: how extraordinary the ability of the soul to heal truly is. Cancer (and its subsequent treatment) is a disease that emerges unexpectedly and has the ability to wreak havoc upon every aspect of a person’s life. I watch as adults and children alike suffer physically and mentally because of a genetic mutation that despite our best efforts, we can neither prevent nor explain. It is the epitome of senselessness. In this particular instance however, I speak not of the patients themselves but of their caretakers and families for the simple fact is that most of the patients I come in contact with, do not survive. Their families however, not only suffer psychologically in watching a loved one struggle, but they continue to suffer long after the disease has run its full course. Yet time and time again I witness these families turn their hurt into doing incredible good in the world. They volunteer both time and money to a wide range of charities. They return to say “thank you,” “hello”and“just checking in” to the nurses and doctors who cared for their loved ones. They support and continue the good things their loved one once did, and they add their own on time. They hurt, they grieve, they heal, and ultimately, they thrive.

Through this suffering however, time and time again I have been privy to triumphs of the human soul both large and small. I’ve seen people with more reason than most to be depressed, actively combat it and find the good, the hopeful, the funny and the redeeming. Through physical illness, financial hardship, crumbling relationships and wavering social structures these people stumble and sometimes fall but get back up, to fight another day. Many of the patients do die, but some do survive. I truly believe that those who do not, live on not only through their families and friends, but also through those of us who were lucky enough to meet them, even if towards the end of their life.

Hurt, whether exacted upon us by nature, by pure twist of fate, by other people or by ourselves inevitably leaves its mark. The time needed to grieve and deal can’t ever be predetermined but time taken to truly do so has a remarkable result: the soul heals. The wound made on my heart all those months ago is still healing, and I have no doubt that there will probably be a small scar to help me to remember. Still, the fact that something as simple as the warmth of the sun and a cup of coffee can bring a smile to my face again gives me hope for those who are currently grieving and those who will have to grieve in the future. They will suffer while their grief and despair run its course, but they will emerge on the other side, albeit one scar heavier, to enrich the world with the contribution of their life to the world.

365 days of forgiveness

"I believe in forgiveness. I give it freely and in doing so, free myself."
-- Yolanda Young

As I look back over the past year (yes - I know that this reflection is moderately trite but hey, it's my blog) trying to find a redeeming factor, life lesson or point in it all. There was a lot of hurt in this past year that came from a number of different angles. Some of the hurt has healed smoothly with no scars so to speak. Some of it has scarred over, it no longer hurts but the memory of the hurt is visibly present. Some of the marks, I suspect, will never fade entirely. (Not necessarily a bad thing.) Looking back over all of this I am primarily relieved that it's in the past but also find myself looking for the point, the purpose of it. I know that sometimes things are nonsensical and that looking for meaning is simply the human way making ourselves feel better. Still, if nothing else, I have learned that forgiveness is not only a gift to the person being forgiven, but an equally if not more valuable release to the giver.

I have learned that familial ties grow and change in leaps and bounds, not gradually. The introduction of new relationships of differing strengths and characteristics forces these old relationships to change, and sometimes these changes hurt. The hurt is worse when the changes in question are being enacted on something that, in its longevity we naively assumed to be unchangeable. So sure, it hurts and it takes more time than you might like to stop hurting. It might take longer than you'd like to truly forgive when you feel wronged or betrayed. But the forgiveness (on all sides) in the end forges new bonds. Stronger, more flexible, more appreciated and hopefully more able to endure.

I have learned to be more discriminating with the use of the term "friend," both expressed to others and within my own mind. The sting of false friendship is something that most people discover in secondary school, apparently I was sufficiently antisocial to have avoided this! Up until now. :) I can blame-game recently proved-to-be-false friendships on any number of circumstances and people but it all boils down to poorly placed trust. To rectify this within my own consciousness I concluded that such people (while not intentionally or or innately malicious) simply weren't deserving of my friendship or high regard. Along with this was an unrecognized belief that friendship and forgiveness be withheld together. Really though, it's the opposite: they don't deserve the energy that is inherently given towards a grudge, and forgiveness will free me. In forgiving their actions I free myself from wasting energy, from unwanted angst, and for more worthy people and things.

"The devils greatest achievement has been, to get people to believe, that he doesn't exist."
-- C.S. Lewis

Perhaps most difficult of all to forgive (and honestly, to even write about) is that of a broken heart, of deception and of disregard all by a loved one. We all have demons with which we struggle, but it seems to me that it is only when we deny their existence that we threaten ourselves (and more importantly) those closes to us. We have all done things that we regret, that hurt people unnecessarily and even cruelly. Do WE deserve to be forgiven for these actions? Do those who hurt US in such ways deserve to be forgiven? In this instance I believe that forgiveness can take two different forms. There is forgiveness without continuance. You can forgive a hurt, but that doesn't mean that you open yourself to be hurt again. I believe that this forgiveness should without doubt be given as soon as you have it within you to give. The risks are minimal and all that can come of it is personal freedom. Then there is forgiveness with continuance. The risks in forgiving someone and then letting them back in are high...however the rewards can be high also. Thinking back to instances in which I, though sincerely repentant for my actions, was not given that second chance. I wish that certain people could have forgiven me in this way, but sometimes you don't get to choose. I don't believe in giving forgiveness until it is genuine, and for me forgiving heartbreak and deception was the hardest I've ever had to work. I personally have gone the high-risk route...it may bite me in the ass, but thats okay. It's a "wisk" that I am willing to take!

I believe that holding grudges poisons the soul. Given this belief how can I not work towards forgiveness? 2008 kinda stunk. 2008 definitely left its mark. From the stinky-ness and hurt of 2008 I take the knowledge that while it may take time, patience and a whole lot of concerted work, that forgiveness is worth the effort.