This week, I am stepping out of reality. At least my reality. Of course, all will still be real, but not my normal real, and that is something I deeply need.
Striving to Be Still…and Know
Tag: balance
And…Action!
When I was 9, I learned how to juggle. When I was a senior in high school, I won the P.E. Student of the Year based primarily on the fact that in our unit on Circus Stunts (oh yes, we did) I could juggle. (Let’s just say I took a little ribbing about that from my all-state wrestler friend.)
Juggling for me is like riding a bike—I can go a long time without doing it, but I never forget how. That’s why when I heard of a casting call for jugglers for the web series Tough Season 2*, I had the nerve to apply for it.
And I was chosen. To juggle. On camera.
Me.
And here is my story of the day I became a professional juggler.
I was told to bring “hippie attire” because it was a scene where a bunch of free spirits are at a juggling retreat. I raided my closet and found whatever might possibly be considered such, and off I went.
As soon as I arrived, I immediately feared I wasn’t worthy of being there. Walking behind another extra with a rolling suitcase, I commented, “Wow, you brought a suitcase…” to which he responded, “This ain’t my first rodeo.”
It was for me.
I stood in line for wardrobe between an older man and a young woman who recognized each other from a juggling event they both attended last year.
Oh, boy, was I out of my league.
The girl had a suitcase full of juggling clubs and hippie wear, and there I was with just my three balls.
I was a juggling fraud. What was I thinking when I said yes to this?
And if that wasn’t welcoming enough, there was Mr. Professional Extra who felt compelled to tell me how things are NORMally done. Over and over again. And then one more time, just in case.
The wardrobe woman looked my duds over and quickly decided I needed more, so she added a shimmering jacket, boa, and free flowing skirt to my top, and I was deemed acceptable.
Though my clothes were given a thumbs up, I still wondered if I had what it took. The casting agent told me all levels of ability were welcomed, but it’s amazing how quickly I was ready to discount myself.
By the time we walked out to the set, the jugglers had all introduced ourselves and broken the ice with a few laughs here and there. We all wondered how it would be when the cameras were rolling. It was good to know I wasn’t alone in my doubt.
And then we started to practice…and…I wasn’t the worst. I wasn’t near the best, but…I had every right to be there.
Now there was just this little hurdle left of being able to juggle after the word “action!” was shouted.
The actor who played the juggling teacher was to say, “Remember—the first rule of juggling is not to drop the balls!” while we all juggled our little hearts out.
Of course, the line was delivered, and inevitably one of us would drop the balls. Not that that was a deal breaker—because we were supposed to be at a retreat learning—but it was funny how we spazzed out just because we knew the cameras were rolling.
How many things are like that in life? Where you are able to do something just fine, and then you’re under a little pressure and suddenly you lose the control you thought you had?
It was as though my day as a “real” juggler was like a living metaphor for this blog—I can juggle. I will drop the balls. And then I will pick them up and start over again. And it’s the same for everyone else—no matter how skilled you are. We all can feel the pressure, make mistakes, and then choose to give up or pick up and begin again.
Sometimes trying too hard not to fail results in exactly that: failure.
Accepting that there will be the inevitable dropped ball here and there makes me a better juggler.
Before I knew it, the scene was over and we were done. We still had to hang out and wait…and wait…to see if we might be needed, but the overall experience was really a whole lot of fun.
I not only made some nice pocket money, but I learned I did have what it takes after all, and I had a great reminder to share with you here—that the juggling life we lead will always have dropped balls, and though it may get harder when life shouts, “Action!” we need to shut down the doubts and focus—and we will get the job done.
And, ultimately…knowing how to pick up the balls and keep going is maybe the most important skill of all.
*The web series Tough Season is in its second season and is a production of the NFL, the Onion, and Lenovo. I’ve watched some episodes and found it to be amusing. If you’re interested, check it out on IMBD and The Onion.
It’s as Simple as Punkin
I love dogs for so many reasons.
Bad day?
I’ll snuggle up to you and we’ll exhale together.
Good day?
Awesome! Let’s celebrate!
Leaving?
Bummer, man—really? Okay…but please come back soon. Please. Soon.
Coming home?
YES!! My prayers have been answered! You’ve returned! I love life! Let’s play! Did you bring me anything???
They ask so little—some basic care and decent treatment—and in return, their love is amazing. It doesn’t get much purer than a dog’s love.
I’ve been blessed to have great dogs throughout my life, and each one of them has had a distinct and wonderful personality. We have so much fun watching the two dogs that we have play and interact—they are a continual source of enjoyment.
Don’t get me wrong—they can drive us crazy, too—especially when someone has the audacity to walk by our house and the dogs bark like two raving banshees on meth. Then I maybe might raise my voice a teensy bit and gently tell them to shush. Just maybe.
But by far the blessings outweigh the challenges.
Our one dog Vito is a shelter dog that I am so grateful made his way into our lives.
I’m very comfortable admitting that there are many sharper crayons in the Crayola box than Vito—but he is our quirky little boy and we love him.
One of V’s little quirks is Punkin. It’s his absolute favorite toy, and the only one that has survived over time. While other toys made it less than a week when he was a puppy, Punkin was loved but left whole.
For whatever reason, Vito treats Punkin like a child would his favorite pacifier or blanket. He actually suckles the thing. He holds onto it with his paws and his tongue nuzzles a spot that is now worn bare.
And when Vito is extra happy, he goes and gets Punkin. When one of us comes home, inevitably Vito will run and get the toy and celebrate with a few suckles. Yea! My people are all home! I love life! I love YOU! How was your day?! Do you want to play? Have I told you lately how happy I am that you’re home?!
Punkin equals joy for Vito. It dependably lifts his spirits and helps him rejoice. To me, it’s representative of one of the great things about dogs—that easy and complete love that they are absolutely ready to give.
And so I love dogs. I love how they love with their whole hearts and forgive quickly and repeatedly. I love how they are fiercely determined to protect those they love. I love how they are thrilled to see me—even if I’ve only been gone a few minutes. I love how they will offer their bellies up as a way to say, “Go ahead—love me. I trust that you won’t hurt me.”
Dogs just bring it down to the simple. Beyond having their basic needs met, it’s pretty much all about love. What a great reminder for me day after day. I aspire to love with that same kind of openness and joy.
So while Vito won’t win any smart dog contests, he’s certainly won my heart. And I think he’s pretty okay with that.
PS–I’m totally not a fan of dressing dogs up in silliness, but Vito gets chilly when we go for walks when it’s cold, and can he help it if he looks this studly wearing his jean jacket? I think not.
The 9/6 Perspective
There are few times when a finger is pointed at you that it’s a good thing. Maybe you’re getting picked for a game of kickball or maybe you’ve raised your hand to be chosen for Let’s Make a Deal…but usually a finger aimed at you is a call-out of some sort.
Merriam Webster defines it as “the act of blaming someone for a problem instead of trying to fix or solve it; the act of making explicit and often unfair accusations of blame.”
I don’t know about you, but I’m getting exhausted with our culture of finger-pointing.
The polarization of society is something that really hurts my heart. Be it politics, religion—any number of social issues—people are so busy being adamantly, unwaveringly “right” and often just denigrating and denying the other side’s perspective, that our world is filled with hatred and so-called “righteousness.”
When I taught high school English, one of the exercises I created to try to get students ready for a healthy debate was what I called the 9/6 Perspective. (I had to put the numbers in that order because calling it the 6/9 Perspective would cause too much giggling in a room full of teenagers).
The exercise was very simple. I wrote a figure boldly on a piece of paper, set it on a desk, and had all of the students circle around. Then I’d have two students stand on either side of the desk and tell me what they understood to be written on the paper. Without fail, one would say “a 9” and the other would say “a 6.”
I’d ask them “Are you sure?”
“I know my numbers, Ms. Ancona….”
“Of course I know a 6 when I see one…”
They were certain of the facts in front of them.
Then I would ask the rest of the class, “Well….who’s right?”
This would result in multiple voices speaking up…”They both are!” “It depends!” “If you’re on either side, it looks right!”
And so on…And eventually we would put words around the reality that each “side” saw their own truth—though the answers were completely different.
But it was still their truth.
How you see things matters. Where you’re coming from matters.
And the same goes for the other person.
Now don’t think I see myself as righteous in this respect—my own stances can be passionate for sure (ask me about equal rights, gun laws, or preaching love over law and be ready for an impassioned response)—but I know that when we shut the other side down with scorn and disdain, we simply grow farther apart when the real challenge is learning to live together.
Acknowledging and listening doesn’t mean agreeing or embracing. To listen to a 6 when you are a fervent 9 doesn’t mean they win or you give in, but it hopefully brings the debate to a healthier level where opinions are offered without calling names or spewing hatred.
The ease with which we can “plant our flags” and take stands on Facebook and Twitter has only made the situation worse. It always saddens me so when I see someone share their hatred of “the other side” in a post, and then see the “likes” and comments that follow.
Before the ease of social media to share such things, the circles of disdain or hatred were smaller—or at least more under the radar. Now people share how others “disgust” them right after they post what a great time they had at the beach.
I think we can be better.
The person who sees a 9 when you know a 6 is right is still…a person. So while we can hold tight to our belief in 6, let’s not just be “disgusted” by the 9-seer. Let’s instead work toward what we might be able to do to get that person to walk over to our side of the desk and see the 6. Or maybe we need to do the very same to see their 9. And maybe when we’ve done that neither side will have budged a bit, but at least we might better understand why they believe in what they do.
I don’t mean to simplify life’s complex issues and people.
I know it’s not easy to extend grace when we are passionately entrenched on an issue…
…but I believe it’s what we are called to do.
And I very much believe in what the late, great Maya Angelou said time and again: “We are more alike than we are unalike.”
And if we look at one another that way rather than with contempt, we just might have ourselves a better world to live in.
Can’t Wait for the Weight
My niece’s wedding is a few weeks away. Heavier than I’ve ever been…except for pregnancy (and I’m pushing that), a few months ago I thought, “If I could just lose a pound a week…maybe I could look good for the wedding!”
Of course…that didn’t happen.
And now I am left with either feeling the absolute weight of my weight—and all the bad stuff that comes with that—or really trying to accept myself for who I am—someone who has “more to love.”
Do you ever feel like you’re missing the life you have for the life you’re never going to get? In feeling bad about myself, days tick by—ones I’ll never get back. To what end?
Now, I’m not saying I should give up the pursuit of trying to feel and look better—to be healthier—but I do need to stop beating myself up for those extra pounds. That’s no way to use the life God has given me.
Of course, I say this, I know this, but I don’t truly feel this. So many of us fight this battle. The mirror is the enemy. Photos are wince-inducing. The internal “little voice” hurls negatives at every turn. Failure.
Even my about-to-be 88-year-old mother is down enough about some additional pounds she has recently acquired that she’s commented that she just may have to skip her granddaughter’s wedding…Of course, while this is pretty much an idle threat, it illustrates the depths of her frustration with herself. Age does not necessarily breed wisdom.
Of course, me being me, I encouraged her to realize that no one will be looking at her weight—they’ll just think it’s great that a grandmother gets to see her granddaughter get married. “You can’t let a few pounds stand in the way of being a part of a wonderful experience, Mom. Don’t let the negative win over the positive…”
And it was in that very moment of cheerleading for my mom that I thought how very hypocritical I was being. How could I expect her to take what I was saying to heart when I felt so similarly?
Isn’t the negative winning in my own body battle?
Don’t I need to shut my little discouraging voice up and tell her to hit the %#$*ing road?
What if…what if…I grabbed onto my love handles and…didn’t hate them? What if I looked at my “extra me” and said “It’s okay if you never go away. These bumps and curves do not define me…they just are me…a part of me that doesn’t take away from the rest of me.”
How would it feel to let that sense of failure go?
I can’t honestly answer…because I’m not there…yet.
I am striving to make this truth, but it is a major struggle.
Because attempting to “accept myself” aside, I still want to lose every damn extra pound hanging around. There is no loving the love handles. Not yet.
Ultimately, I think this is the dichotomy that I must accept: To strive to fall in love with my body regardless of its shape, while at the same time attempting to put it in the best shape possible. Not so that I won’t hate the reflection in the mirror, but so that I will take care of myself and feel my best both inside and out.
Not settling, but not loathing, either.
I can’t wait for my weight to go down so that I feel better—and I can’t let my “more” make me feel “less.” Life is too short.
But as is the case with so many emotional things we can approach intellectually, it sure as hell is easier said than done.
So I strive…and stumble…and strive some more. And stumble some more. In fact, I think it should count as exercise! But I am not giving up the struggle.
I have no idea what I’m wearing to my niece’s wedding, but I know I will aim to look my best, curves and “extras” included, and with the haunting of the “pound a week” failure knocked off the guest list.
At least until the wedding photos come in…
A Question of Honor
While teaching years ago, I had an interesting exchange with a group of students in my sophomore English class. They were working together on a project, and I overheard one of them say, “Did you see how Mr. So-and-So (another teacher) left the room during our test? He deserves for us to cheat.”
This totally caught my ear, and I inserted myself in their conversation. “What do you mean he deserves for you to cheat?” and the girl replied, “Hey, if he’s going to leave the room and basically invite us to cheat on the test, then I’m going to take him up on it! He deserves it for being so stupid.”
This, of course, did not sit well with me. “So any teacher that doesn’t keep watch over you like a hawk is stupid and basically giving you the right to cheat?” The students chimed in in agreement.
I asked them if they considered themselves to be honorable people, and they all kind of looked at each other like I was speaking Cantonese. I rephrased my question: “How do you know you have honor if you never get the chance to be honorable?” I explained that if they are always treated as untrustworthy and ready to do the wrong thing, they would never learn whether or not if—left solely up to them—they would do the right thing.
We talked some more about it, but ultimately I did not change their minds—at least no one let on that I might have. As far as they were concerned, it was the teacher’s responsibility to make sure they did not cheat—not theirs.
External factors, not internal ones, decided their behavior. It was one of those days as a teacher that put a ding in my armor of hope.
I’m a worrier. It’s in my DNA, unfortunately, though I desperately try to let it go as I know I should. But I just find too many things to worry about, and one of them is the state of honor in our world.
How we behave when “no one is looking” is taking new paths with our growing technological world. And, sadly, as far as I see it, too many of those paths are scary and mean—and sometimes terribly destructive.
As I’ve written before, the way people feel entitled to make hurtful, nasty comments online really hurts my heart. It seems that the ability to write anything you want with little recourse has emboldened an awful lot of people to say an awful lot of awful.
Recently in the news there’s been coverage on an app called Yik Yak that allows people to post completely anonymously, and it has become so brutal that schools are asking the developers to block it in the radius of all schools.
Certainly we have had bullies and jerks since the dawn of time, and many a bathroom wall has been scrawled with malicious comments, but with the ability to reach entire schools and beyond with the touch of a “send,” the ability to be scathingly cruel is reaching new—and powerful—lows.
When did this become the norm? It’s not okay that our world is increasingly more tolerant of snipe and snark.
Even sites like Yelp have created a culture of the haughty know-it-alls who are ready to rip any business they feel “deserves” it. Don’t get me wrong—I believe in the concept of community reviews—but there is a way to go about it that shares your opinion without trying to take down whatever business is in your sites.
Would these “reviewers” say this to the business owner in person?
Personally, I think that’s a pretty good gauge about whether or not most comments should be made. If you’re not willing to say it right to the person’s face, then don’t blast it for everyone else in the world to take in. People’s livelihoods are at stake, and while it might feed someone’s ego to make snipey comments about the meal they had at a local restaurant or customer service they received at the dry cleaners, I ask that we keep honor in mind as we make those comments.
I’m not saying we need to only leave positive reviews or comments. I have let several companies know when I have been unhappy with their service or products. (For instance, there was the time I told the hotel rep directly that our stay was really poor and they told me to take it up with corporate, and when I did, corporate’s remedy was to give me 30% off of my next stay at the very hotel I was complaining about. Sigh.)
But we can be more honorable, can’t we? Can’t we comment as though there is an actual human being on the receiving end of our words….because…there is.
Anonymity shouldn’t breed cruelty. It shouldn’t be a shield behind which we can throw stones to hurt others. It shouldn’t be a way to “get even” in a world where there’s already plenty of hurt to go around.
I can’t see how being able to get away with things—be it cheating on a test or making mean-spirited comments—makes anyone walk taller or feel better about themselves. But honor sure does.
There’s a wonderful quote from To Kill a Mockingbird about the character Atticus Finch from his neighbor Miss Maudie. She says he’s “the same in his house as he is on the public streets.” A high compliment on the value of being true to yourself and acting honorably.
As far as I’m concerned, I think the world needs a LOT more Atticus Finches.
thejugglestruggle.net 