Finding Your Center

I have dabbled in ceramics and pottery over the years. One of the books that I love, still own, and look at every so often is called: “Centering: In Pottery, Poetry and the Person.” The author talks about the ideas behind centering your life, and living in a balanced place. The author juxtaposes centering in life with centering a pot on a potter’s wheel.

one of my pieces…

It is not easy, but with practice, skill, and persistence, a potter can throw a chunk of clay on a potter’s wheel and quickly center it. I remember in college my ceramics professor told us of a blind potter. The potter was amazing at centering because they were not looking at the clay to see if it was centered. They could tell just by feeling the way it spun around the wheel. We spent a few classes trying to center the clay while blind folded. That was an amazing experience to me. It taught me how to approach the wheel in a different way, and gave me almost a quiet, calm anytime I started out on the wheel on my way to centering.

If a potter begins to form the clay before it is centered then two things will happen: either his pot will come out lopsided or it will get so off-center that it will come off the wheel or fall over and the potter will have to start over. So it makes sense for the potter to spend more time in the beginning to make sure that the pot is centered, rather than go fast and have to start over again.

What a metaphor for life. If we just took the time at the beginning of a project, trip, plan, etc to find our center and be balanced we would not have to go back and start over again. If we go off course, we just have to go back to our center. Just as on a potter’s wheel, if we go off-center, we can bring it back to the middle and re-center if needed. This is only if we have not made it so off kilter that we have to start over completely, or if we have added too much water that the clay is too elastic and it is not possible to bring it back to its original form.

The potter teaches us to always go back to our center when we feel life has led us astray. Stop. Go back to center. Sometimes we have to change course. In the end, life falls into place when we start from our center.

Ms. Magazine Turns 40

I am a feminist. I believe in any initiative that fights for and honors the rights for women. I first became passionate about women’s issues in college, and that is when I started reading Ms. Magazine. There were times when I might have considered myself a feminazi. For those of you that have not heard that term, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines it as: “an extreme or militant feminist.”

I no longer consider myself a feminazi, I no longer have a shaved head, and I do not talk about women’s issues in every other conversation, but the passion is still deep inside me. I crave equality for all women. I want a world where a woman feels safe, has the right to decide what to do with her body, receives equal pay, is not abused, is not owned, and is not discriminated against. I appreciate the work that The Girl Effect, National Organization of Women (NOW), Girls, Inc, to name a few do to help empower women and young girls to grow up and stay strong women.

Ms. Magazine was created to bring the women’s movement to print, and I think the fact that it is still in print may mean women still need the printed word to inspire and invigorate their daily life. A quote from Gloria Steinem explains a bit of why Ms. Magazine started:

“I realized as a journalist that there really was nothing for women to read that was controlled by women, and this caused me along with a number of other women to start Ms. Magazine.”

So Happy Birthday Ms. Magazine. Kudos to having Wonder Woman on your first cover. Hopefully over the years all the hard work you have put into publishing Ms. Magazine have inspired women to be powerful superheros and badass wonder women!

Motorcycles, Peanut Butter, and Laughter

This Sunday is Father’s Day. I always am a bit nostalgic around Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. In some ways it is just another day that passes, but it also always reminds me of all that I miss about my mom and dad. My father and I did not always have the best relationship. In what would be his final years, he struggled a lot and I often felt like the parent in the relationship. There are, however, some good things I do remember about him.

He liked motorcycles, dogs, and peanut butter. He also liked to play.

We played board games together as a family quite often. I think what I loved about playing games most was that I had his undivided attention. Maybe that is a clue into why I tried so hard to learn the rules to the adult games (my brother and sister were older) so I could play any game in our closet and thus not ever be left out. I also remember when I would find him relaxing in his recliner in the family room. He was usually reading National Geographic, or a book or magazine about cars. Growing up his father at one point had a used car lot, and after being exposed to different kinds of cars, he fell in love. When I was in elementary school, I would come bug him, and he would pull out circle word searches, or other word mind games to play together. I would lean over his shoulder while he sat in the recliner to help with finding words. I loved having that 1:1 time with him.

While we did not go on family vacations (because we could not afford it) we did often go camping. My dad was involved in Boy Scouts because of my brother, and we many times went on family campouts with other Boy Scout families. Even though my sister and I were often the only girls, we always had fun and learned a lot. I miss those days. My dad also liked to go on motorcycle rides. Somehow my sister got to go more often. Maybe it was because she was older, or maybe because she was more relaxed on the bike. (I often would forget which way you were supposed to lean and I think that would sometimes freak him out). He loved being out on his bike.

What I miss most about my dad was when he laughed. If he thought something was funny enough, his entire body would shake and his eyes would start to water. Once he started laughing like this, he usually could not stop. I loved seeing his entire body experience the joy of what he found funny. The last movie I saw with him was the Cameron Diaz movie, “There’s Something about Mary.” I had been visiting him over Christmas and we watched it the night before I headed back to college. I remember how hard he was laughing and thus how often the tears were coming out. He died a few weeks later. I never knew that would be the last time I would see him.

Thank you, dad, for the motorcycle rides, and the reminder that I need to play more. It is not always easy, but it is important. We all need to laugh so hard we cry.

Cheerleading, Wax, and Spiders

I have a confession to make. Yes, you may laugh as some folks do when I tell them. Okay, I will just come out and say it: “I was a cheerleader.” Gulp. I said it. Have you stopped reading? No, okay, good. Ready for the rest of the blog that might mention cheerleading?

I just finished reading “It’s Not About the Pom-Poms: How a 40-Year-Old Mom Became the NFL’s Oldest Cheerleader–and Found Hope, Joy, and Inspiration Along the Way” by Laura Vikmanis. At the age of forty, Laura is the oldest NFL cheerleader. When I first heard of her book, the idea intrigued me. How did she do it? How did she make the team, and how did her body handle it? You can find the answers and so much more in her book.

Laura went through a horrible and abusive marriage, and came out stronger, more independent, and in control of her life. It is a must read for anyone that might be in a tough marriage (she gives you a picture of how she made it through her divorce), as well as a view into NFL cheerleading. NFL cheerleading is definitely not as glamorous as it may look on the outside. AND – they make no money at all! Laura was a Cincinnati Bengals (called the Ben-Gals), and the pay was $75 a game. They only cheer at home games (about 10 a season) so that equals $750 a year. They do not get paid for the hours they practice (they spend more time in practice then the football players do). They are not paid for manicures, highlights, hair cuts, waxing, etc. yet they are expected to ALWAYS look perfect on and off-season. Wow. Is it really worth it?

While I did not make note of any specific quotes from her book, I did write down this quote in her section specific to body waxing. As said by Jerry Seinfeld:

“I will never be able to understand how a woman can take boiling hot wax, pour it on her upper thighs, rip the hair by the root, and still be afraid of a spider.” Page 124

I guess I am not that kind of woman because I can handle hot wax and spiders, although I know some men that cannot handle either. From my view of Laura I think she can too.

Do You Feel Heard?

Growing up my dad would often say: “Children should be seen and not heard.” Usually it was when he was grumpy, upset, or angry, but it made a mark on me. I think for many, many years I found it hard to speak up and say what was on my mind. I think in my head, I had replaced “children” with “women.” I saw many boys and men speak their minds and they were listened to, but when I would try to speak up, I felt timid and like my ideas would not be meaningful or have value. So I kept quiet.

Jump from childhood to the middle of college. I was a Sociology major, taking classes on race, class, and gender. I was learning I had a voice. I had shaved my head, I was starting to talk, and it was as though a pipe had burst. I had found my voice. It had only taken me 10-15 years!! I have vowed (thank you Chris for going along with me on this one) that my children will be heard. I will watch that if I have a little girl, that I will hear her just as if I have a little boy. I want my children to be proud of what they have to say, to be bold, and to feel that even if others disagree, that they should still speak their mind.

Sometimes we have those days when we do not feel heard or understood by others. One of my pet peeves is when you are talking to someone and you can tell they are not listening. So when I read the Daily Om from May 24, 2012 I appreciated thinking about the relationships in my life where I feel listened to and understood (unlike as a kid). I specifically like this line:

“When we are in a relationship where we feel listened to and understood, we count ourselves lucky because we know how rare that experience is.”

As I mentioned earlier, it took me many years to be able to stand up for myself and communicate to those close to me how important their presence of active listening meant to me. In my mind, active listening and communication is a form of love. It says I care enough about you that I will be present in this moment and listen to what you have to say and hear what you might need right now.

Fast forward to 2012. I now speak my mind freely, at times possibly too freely. I know I have a voice. I know it matters. I know it should be heard. Is there someone in your life you are not listening to? Someone that needs so earnestly to be heard? Have you taken the time out to listen to them?

A good reminder for us all.