Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Do Not Disturb
On my office door I have one of those hanging cards from a hotel that you attach to the doorknob to advise the housekeeping staff of your wishes. This one, from a hotel in Toronto, says “Do Not Disturb” on one side. On the flip side of the card is the same phrase in French—“Ne pas deranger”. But, as my husband pointed out, the literal translation of this phrase in French is, “Do Not Derange”. I love that. It’s fair warning to anyone in my life.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Sleeping with Bread
A favorite book of mine is called, “Sleeping with Bread” by Dennis, Sheila and Matt Linn. It’s about a simple discernment process that the Linns teach—helping us to see what matters and what brings us joy.
My favorite part of this book is the story that gives the book its title. This is the story:
“During the bombing raids of World War II thousands of children were orphaned and left to starve. The fortunate ones were rescued and placed in refugee camps where they received food and good care. But many of these children who had lost so much could not sleep at night. They feared waking up to find themselves once again homeless and without food. Nothing seemed to reassure them. Finally, someone hit upon the idea of giving each child a piece of bread to hold at bedtime. Holding their bread, these children could finally sleep in peace. All through the night the bread reminded them, “Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow.”
I love everything about that story –the problem and the simple solution. I can relate to the persistence of old feelings and fears—and how any kind of deprivation can cast a long shadow.
Each time I read it I ask myself: What am I trying to hold on to now to meet a need that was in the long ago past? Are all my shoes a kind of “bread”? Old relationships? Old ways of relating to others? And what new bread might I ask for and hold instead? Bread is a spiritual metaphor in every faith—so what “bread” can I hold onto instead of shoes, scarves, resentments, fears, jealousies and my own cozy ego?
My favorite part of this book is the story that gives the book its title. This is the story:
“During the bombing raids of World War II thousands of children were orphaned and left to starve. The fortunate ones were rescued and placed in refugee camps where they received food and good care. But many of these children who had lost so much could not sleep at night. They feared waking up to find themselves once again homeless and without food. Nothing seemed to reassure them. Finally, someone hit upon the idea of giving each child a piece of bread to hold at bedtime. Holding their bread, these children could finally sleep in peace. All through the night the bread reminded them, “Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow.”
I love everything about that story –the problem and the simple solution. I can relate to the persistence of old feelings and fears—and how any kind of deprivation can cast a long shadow.
Each time I read it I ask myself: What am I trying to hold on to now to meet a need that was in the long ago past? Are all my shoes a kind of “bread”? Old relationships? Old ways of relating to others? And what new bread might I ask for and hold instead? Bread is a spiritual metaphor in every faith—so what “bread” can I hold onto instead of shoes, scarves, resentments, fears, jealousies and my own cozy ego?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Cancer Doesn't Correlate
We so badly want cancer to be caused by something other people do that we don’t. She used to smoke. He eats so poorly. She’s a worrier/has a lot of anger/doesn’t express feelings. He was always in the sun. Maybe it’s a family thing? Was there cancer in his family? Didn’t her sister have cancer?
It’s our voodoo hope. “If I don’t do the things the things they do I won’t get cancer.”
But no, cancer doesn’t correlate.
It’s our voodoo hope. “If I don’t do the things the things they do I won’t get cancer.”
But no, cancer doesn’t correlate.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Infidelity Keeps Us Together
That’s the title of yesterday’s cover story in the New York Times magazine. Mark Oppenheimer writes about sex columnist Dan Savage and Savage’s suggestion that marriages need less fidelity and more flexibility. Basically what Savage is suggesting is that monogamy isn’t quite natural and that we do relationships a disservice by pretending or insisting that absolute monogamy be the standard.
What’s good is that Savage is not espousing secrets or affairs or running around—rather he’s advocating for talking to your partner before, after, and during marriage to say, “This is who I really am; what I really want; and “Will you still love me if I need to try this out?” In a way, he’s talking about a very high form of commitment.
But just the title and then reading the article was disturbing. (Click on the link below to read the article). Right away I found myself asking, “What if John said he needed something –some kind of sexual experience—I couldn’t offer or even try?” Would I love him enough to say, “Ok, go be you?”
I doubt it.
In the article other experts on sex and marriage weigh in to say that some open marriages work but most do not—not because of the sex but because of the emotions and the dishonesty—again, not the dishonesty of the partner who needs to go outside the relationship but the dishonesty of the partner who agrees or acquiesces and then realizes they really are not OK with that.
But then the bigger and more personal question to myself is this: Do I have the right to want and insist on monogamy and fidelity in our marriage? This is a marriage that came to be from infidelity—so did I forfeit my rights by marrying a man who left his wife? Or do we painfully know just how high the cost is and not wish that on ourselves or on any others?
Reading this article provoked a deep and daring conversation with John about our love life and our sex life and our intellectual lives—and how we keep all of those alive so we can keep things fresh and exciting. And what it means to be sexually “good, giving and game” in a monogamous marriage.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/03/magazine/infidelity-will-keep-us-together.html
What’s good is that Savage is not espousing secrets or affairs or running around—rather he’s advocating for talking to your partner before, after, and during marriage to say, “This is who I really am; what I really want; and “Will you still love me if I need to try this out?” In a way, he’s talking about a very high form of commitment.
But just the title and then reading the article was disturbing. (Click on the link below to read the article). Right away I found myself asking, “What if John said he needed something –some kind of sexual experience—I couldn’t offer or even try?” Would I love him enough to say, “Ok, go be you?”
I doubt it.
In the article other experts on sex and marriage weigh in to say that some open marriages work but most do not—not because of the sex but because of the emotions and the dishonesty—again, not the dishonesty of the partner who needs to go outside the relationship but the dishonesty of the partner who agrees or acquiesces and then realizes they really are not OK with that.
But then the bigger and more personal question to myself is this: Do I have the right to want and insist on monogamy and fidelity in our marriage? This is a marriage that came to be from infidelity—so did I forfeit my rights by marrying a man who left his wife? Or do we painfully know just how high the cost is and not wish that on ourselves or on any others?
Reading this article provoked a deep and daring conversation with John about our love life and our sex life and our intellectual lives—and how we keep all of those alive so we can keep things fresh and exciting. And what it means to be sexually “good, giving and game” in a monogamous marriage.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/03/magazine/infidelity-will-keep-us-together.html
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Pure Romance
In the Sex and Cancer workshop a few weeks ago I got to hear Vickie Yattaw, who is a Registered Nurse and Oncology Educator. She provided a lot of resources. One was the company, Pure Romance—a “sensuality toy company”. Vickie recommended some of their lubricants for women during and after chemo and cancer.
These products are, of course, great for women during and after menopause as well. So I went online to www.PureRomance.com to place my first order. I’ll keep you posted on the products—I bought one that is pretty basic and one that is described as “chocolate” and “tingling”. We’ll see.
But the best part of my little adventure on the Pure Romance site is the founder—Patty Brisbane’s -- blog called “Under the Sheets”. She writes about couples and communication. It is the most delightful thing to see sex framed in the context of good communication and good relationships.
http://www.pureromance.com/
These products are, of course, great for women during and after menopause as well. So I went online to www.PureRomance.com to place my first order. I’ll keep you posted on the products—I bought one that is pretty basic and one that is described as “chocolate” and “tingling”. We’ll see.
But the best part of my little adventure on the Pure Romance site is the founder—Patty Brisbane’s -- blog called “Under the Sheets”. She writes about couples and communication. It is the most delightful thing to see sex framed in the context of good communication and good relationships.
http://www.pureromance.com/
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Fighting for Us
This weekend we battled. All the ingredients were there: hungry, tired, bad traffic, a long car ride, a difficult family member, my expectations, his assumptions.
Later, after the swearing was over, we talked about what happened. I need to speak up. He needs to ask questions. We need to plan for the emotions that are provoked by family. I need to take it less personally. He needs to take it more seriously. We both apologized.
But still later, after the make-up sex was over, we talked again and came to this new idea: When we fight we need to fight for the relationship and not against each other. Yes, easier said than done in the heat of the moment, but a new idea, that makes us allies --even in war.
Later, after the swearing was over, we talked about what happened. I need to speak up. He needs to ask questions. We need to plan for the emotions that are provoked by family. I need to take it less personally. He needs to take it more seriously. We both apologized.
But still later, after the make-up sex was over, we talked again and came to this new idea: When we fight we need to fight for the relationship and not against each other. Yes, easier said than done in the heat of the moment, but a new idea, that makes us allies --even in war.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Spiral Worries
Ugh..the worries spiral. Work, relationships, work, relationships. When I’m sad I don’t want to work, when I don’t feel like I’m working well, I worry about losing my job, when I think I could lose my job I worry about what will happen to the relationship if I lost my job. The spiral goes faster until I cry or get so mad at him and me, mostly me.
I know that prayer and faith is the answer but I fight to trust God.
That feels like my task today: slow down and trust God. Even though it seems like the most counter-productive thing to do.
I don’t know where else to put this but in God’s hands. And when it gets—I get—like this it’s the most impossible thing to do.
I know that prayer and faith is the answer but I fight to trust God.
That feels like my task today: slow down and trust God. Even though it seems like the most counter-productive thing to do.
I don’t know where else to put this but in God’s hands. And when it gets—I get—like this it’s the most impossible thing to do.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Holding Our Own: Art and Death
Tonight in our class on Death and Dying we watched an extraordinary video called “Holding Our Own”. The subtitle is “Embracing the End of Life”.
This documentary is about fabric artist Deidre Scherer who creates fabric “paintings” from real life sketches of people who are dying. Her work is extraordinarily beautiful and her craft amazing in the ways she creates super-realism in portraiture using fabric. But the other beauty is her belief and philosophy about the role that death plays in life.
The second focus of this film is the Hallowell Chorus in Burlington Vermont. Hallowell is a group of amateur and professional singers that participate in Hospice in Burlington. They come to homes and hospitals to sing to and for people who are actively dying.
These artists speak about their feelings and beliefs about death and what they have learned about their own lives thru the experience of singing for and creating art with the dying.
This video was produced by Paul Newman and it’s available from Netflix or can be purchased on Amazon. It’s a fabulous intersection of creativity and death—which is to say generation-- or life and death.
This documentary is about fabric artist Deidre Scherer who creates fabric “paintings” from real life sketches of people who are dying. Her work is extraordinarily beautiful and her craft amazing in the ways she creates super-realism in portraiture using fabric. But the other beauty is her belief and philosophy about the role that death plays in life.
The second focus of this film is the Hallowell Chorus in Burlington Vermont. Hallowell is a group of amateur and professional singers that participate in Hospice in Burlington. They come to homes and hospitals to sing to and for people who are actively dying.
These artists speak about their feelings and beliefs about death and what they have learned about their own lives thru the experience of singing for and creating art with the dying.
This video was produced by Paul Newman and it’s available from Netflix or can be purchased on Amazon. It’s a fabulous intersection of creativity and death—which is to say generation-- or life and death.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Baseball and Safely Home
Sports, like religion, offer these consolations: A diversion from the routine of daily living; a model of coherence and clarity; a heroic example to admire and emulate, and a sense of drama and conflict in which nobody dies.
In baseball we begin and end at home. Home plate is not fourth base. Our goal in this game is to get home and be safe. Home is a concept rather than a place. Home implies safety, accessibility, freedom, comfort. It’s where we learn to be both part of and separate. The object in baseball is to go home, and to be safe.
When a runner charges home we lean forward to see the home plate umpire slash his arms downward signaling that the runner who may have crashed onto the ground in, in fact, safe. Isn’t that what we all want? I do. In my daily life I want whatever is bigger than me and whoever is judging me to see how fast I run and how precariously I slide and to say, as I slip and slide, “She’s safe!”
Those who believe, whose faith is strong, accept that umpire/God at his gesture and stand up relieved. Some, like me, despite wanting it are afraid to believe or struggle to trust. I have --over and over-- sensed that “safe” signal, but I am unbelieving. I run the bases again, skidding and scuffing. Again he signals, “Safe!”, but again I go to bat. What baseball offers that life does not is the agreement that we will believe it when we are told that we are home and that we are safe.
In baseball we begin and end at home. Home plate is not fourth base. Our goal in this game is to get home and be safe. Home is a concept rather than a place. Home implies safety, accessibility, freedom, comfort. It’s where we learn to be both part of and separate. The object in baseball is to go home, and to be safe.
When a runner charges home we lean forward to see the home plate umpire slash his arms downward signaling that the runner who may have crashed onto the ground in, in fact, safe. Isn’t that what we all want? I do. In my daily life I want whatever is bigger than me and whoever is judging me to see how fast I run and how precariously I slide and to say, as I slip and slide, “She’s safe!”
Those who believe, whose faith is strong, accept that umpire/God at his gesture and stand up relieved. Some, like me, despite wanting it are afraid to believe or struggle to trust. I have --over and over-- sensed that “safe” signal, but I am unbelieving. I run the bases again, skidding and scuffing. Again he signals, “Safe!”, but again I go to bat. What baseball offers that life does not is the agreement that we will believe it when we are told that we are home and that we are safe.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Courage Sex and Cancer
Tonight, for the first time, I feel like I really get what courage means in CancerLand.
I was part of a panel at The American Cancer Society Hope Club in Latham, New York. We were bravely and boldly discussing what sex is and can be when a partner has cancer or/and is receiving treatment—or what happens after treatment to men’s and women’s bodies.
Much of my perspective is represented on this blog—the crazy hunt for honest and frank information, my belief that sex is so important especially during cancer—that when a couple is faced with the pain and fear and just plain crap of cancer that a healthy sexual relationship is a way to keep love strong and to boldly defy thanatos—the death wish.
So I read and spoke to all of that. And then…
And then Vicki Yattaw, RN from the CR Woods Cancer Center spoke about sex and cancer. Oh my God—this was the sex talk that every woman wants to hear—with or without cancer Vickie had the info, advice, perspective and loving humor on everything from how to have sex in every possible way, during every kind of health crisis, how to boost your own libido and help a partner boost theirs, and even “BoBs”—battery operated boyfriends.
Her information blew me away. I thought I shocked the crowd by sharing my story of having to ask John’s oncologist, “Can I swallow?” (The doc didn’t know). Vickie not only knew—(wait 48 hours after chemo) but she explained how people with colostomies have sex (they do and it can be great) and how orgasms decrease nerve pain and make you look younger. Yes!
I’ll share more of her info here in the next few weeks. But I have to say now that the best speakers of the evening were the participants in the group: some couples and many singles who had or have cancer and who want a sexual life now and later. People spoke so deeply and honestly—because Vickie set the stage for all of us to use sexual words—and showed me that everyone—young or old, plain or pretty, coupled or not—want good sex lives.
And thanks to Tracy Pitcher, MSW—Director of The Hope Club and Vickie Yattaw RN—there is the start of open conversation about love—and sex!--in the time of cancer.
I was part of a panel at The American Cancer Society Hope Club in Latham, New York. We were bravely and boldly discussing what sex is and can be when a partner has cancer or/and is receiving treatment—or what happens after treatment to men’s and women’s bodies.
Much of my perspective is represented on this blog—the crazy hunt for honest and frank information, my belief that sex is so important especially during cancer—that when a couple is faced with the pain and fear and just plain crap of cancer that a healthy sexual relationship is a way to keep love strong and to boldly defy thanatos—the death wish.
So I read and spoke to all of that. And then…
And then Vicki Yattaw, RN from the CR Woods Cancer Center spoke about sex and cancer. Oh my God—this was the sex talk that every woman wants to hear—with or without cancer Vickie had the info, advice, perspective and loving humor on everything from how to have sex in every possible way, during every kind of health crisis, how to boost your own libido and help a partner boost theirs, and even “BoBs”—battery operated boyfriends.
Her information blew me away. I thought I shocked the crowd by sharing my story of having to ask John’s oncologist, “Can I swallow?” (The doc didn’t know). Vickie not only knew—(wait 48 hours after chemo) but she explained how people with colostomies have sex (they do and it can be great) and how orgasms decrease nerve pain and make you look younger. Yes!
I’ll share more of her info here in the next few weeks. But I have to say now that the best speakers of the evening were the participants in the group: some couples and many singles who had or have cancer and who want a sexual life now and later. People spoke so deeply and honestly—because Vickie set the stage for all of us to use sexual words—and showed me that everyone—young or old, plain or pretty, coupled or not—want good sex lives.
And thanks to Tracy Pitcher, MSW—Director of The Hope Club and Vickie Yattaw RN—there is the start of open conversation about love—and sex!--in the time of cancer.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
You Look Great and Other Lies
Click below to read a great article from today's New York Times on how to be a good friend to someone who has a serious illness:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/12/fashion/what-to-say-to-someone-whos-sick-this-life.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/12/fashion/what-to-say-to-someone-whos-sick-this-life.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Sex Ed for Cancer and Caregivers
Next Monday night The Hope Club (formerly Gilda’s Club) in Latham New York will host and evening of Sex and Cancer. It will be a panel presentation and open discussion about the anatomy, physiology, chemistry, etiquette, hope, fear and what real people really do when they make love in the time of cancer. I’ll be part of a panel that will provide information, education and lots of opinions and laughter too. And refreshments!
The panel includes Tracy Pitcher, Director of The Hope Club and Outreach for the American Cancer Society and Vickie Yattaw, RN—nurse educator—who does lots of education around sex and cancer. So bring a friend and come join the discussion.
Monday June 13th 6 to 8 pm at The Hope Club One Penny Lane—off Wade Road—off exit 6 of Route 87 Latham, New York
The panel includes Tracy Pitcher, Director of The Hope Club and Outreach for the American Cancer Society and Vickie Yattaw, RN—nurse educator—who does lots of education around sex and cancer. So bring a friend and come join the discussion.
Monday June 13th 6 to 8 pm at The Hope Club One Penny Lane—off Wade Road—off exit 6 of Route 87 Latham, New York
Monday, June 6, 2011
What the Living Do
Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up
waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through
the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,
I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,
I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.
What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss--we want more and more and then more of it.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:
I am living. I remember you.
"What the Living Do" by Marie Howe
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up
waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through
the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,
I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,
I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.
What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss--we want more and more and then more of it.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:
I am living. I remember you.
"What the Living Do" by Marie Howe
Monday, May 30, 2011
Memorial Day 2011
Simple rituals. Simple facts. Yesterday I gave a talk on military mental illness and the economics of veteran’s mental health. I was blessed to have the podium at a wonderful social justice church in Troy, New York. I spoke about the China Marines and the survivors of the Palawan massacre in World War II.
Today John and I went to the local Memorial Day parade. We walked for an hour—he looking for students and me waving to vets—the older the better. And the “Vets for Peace” and “Grannies for Peace” too.
The man who married us was walking in the parade and he came over to say hello and gave me a flag on a stick. “You need a flag to wave” he said. And indeed I do.
Today John and I went to the local Memorial Day parade. We walked for an hour—he looking for students and me waving to vets—the older the better. And the “Vets for Peace” and “Grannies for Peace” too.
The man who married us was walking in the parade and he came over to say hello and gave me a flag on a stick. “You need a flag to wave” he said. And indeed I do.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Gratitude
When I write the word “Gratitude”
I think recovery.
I don’t think “cancer”.
I think gratitude for him
for me, for this
--surely not this?
We are grateful or we are not.
We say Yes! and Thank you!
All around me well-meaning
friends say,
“You can say ‘No’!”
But I say Yes
I don’t No
Who knew…
“It’s like a relationship on steroids” I
told a friend
then realized
that was no metaphor.
I think recovery.
I don’t think “cancer”.
I think gratitude for him
for me, for this
--surely not this?
We are grateful or we are not.
We say Yes! and Thank you!
All around me well-meaning
friends say,
“You can say ‘No’!”
But I say Yes
I don’t No
Who knew…
“It’s like a relationship on steroids” I
told a friend
then realized
that was no metaphor.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Relationships and Cancer
Relationship and cancer. Relationship with cancer. Relationship when you know your heart will be broken--but not before it is healed and opened wide. Take a look at this relationship and cancer story from today's New York Times.
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2011/05/16/health/100000000821590/love-endures-all-even-cancer.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=thab1
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2011/05/16/health/100000000821590/love-endures-all-even-cancer.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=thab1
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Save the Date: Sex and Cancer
There are a lot of things to feel squeamish about with cancer. But sex isn’t—or shouldn’t be—one of them. So here is a chance to listen, learn, talk and ask questions about sex and cancer. Mark your calendar:
Monday June 13th --7 pm to 9 pm
at The American Cancer Society Hope Club (formerly Gilda’s Club)
One Penny Lane—off Wade Road—off exit 6 of Route 87 Latham, New York
There will be a panel presentation and open discussion about the anatomy, physiology, chemistry, etiquette, hope, fear and what real people really do when making love in the time of cancer. I will be part of the panel along with other experts on cancer, caregiving and sex.
Monday June 13th --7 pm to 9 pm
at The American Cancer Society Hope Club (formerly Gilda’s Club)
One Penny Lane—off Wade Road—off exit 6 of Route 87 Latham, New York
There will be a panel presentation and open discussion about the anatomy, physiology, chemistry, etiquette, hope, fear and what real people really do when making love in the time of cancer. I will be part of the panel along with other experts on cancer, caregiving and sex.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Sex Education
When I was in Junior High there was a popular song called “Get Yourself a College Girl”. The boppy, beach-boy lyric went like this: “”Get yourself a college girl, a well-read book, a knowledge girl. Get yourself a coll-edge girl.”
I hummed that song all the time—maybe thinking it was affirmation that skinny but smart girls like me could be just as desirable as my classmate Bethany Springer, who started wearing a bra in Grade Six.
Now I am reading the new book, The Social Animal, by New York Times columnist, David Brooks and last night my eyes were opened by this paragraph:
“Men want to do the same sexual acts regardless of education levels, but female sexual preferences differ by education, culture and status level. Highly educated women are much more likely to perform oral sex, engage in same-sex activity and experiment with a variety of other activities than less-educated women. Religious women are less adventurous than nonreligious women, though the desires of religious men are not much different than those of secular ones.”
I guess a little learning goes—and comes—a long way.
I hummed that song all the time—maybe thinking it was affirmation that skinny but smart girls like me could be just as desirable as my classmate Bethany Springer, who started wearing a bra in Grade Six.
Now I am reading the new book, The Social Animal, by New York Times columnist, David Brooks and last night my eyes were opened by this paragraph:
“Men want to do the same sexual acts regardless of education levels, but female sexual preferences differ by education, culture and status level. Highly educated women are much more likely to perform oral sex, engage in same-sex activity and experiment with a variety of other activities than less-educated women. Religious women are less adventurous than nonreligious women, though the desires of religious men are not much different than those of secular ones.”
I guess a little learning goes—and comes—a long way.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Cancer101 Cancer Planning
“There are wedding planners and baby planners; why not a cancer planner?”
That’s what Monica Knoll thought as she struggled through years of managing her own cancer, and that thought led to her design and launch of the nonprofit and web-based, Cancer101.
Knoll was motivated to find and found a new kind of resource for people going through lengthy cancer treatment as a result of the way her work and career were impacted by first breast cancer and then later ovarian cancer. She found quickly that cancer stigma is strong and persistent in the workplace. Juggling cancer in the long-term is a challenge to workers and workplaces. Hence Knoll’s creation.
Do take a look at: http://www.cancer101.org/
That’s what Monica Knoll thought as she struggled through years of managing her own cancer, and that thought led to her design and launch of the nonprofit and web-based, Cancer101.
Knoll was motivated to find and found a new kind of resource for people going through lengthy cancer treatment as a result of the way her work and career were impacted by first breast cancer and then later ovarian cancer. She found quickly that cancer stigma is strong and persistent in the workplace. Juggling cancer in the long-term is a challenge to workers and workplaces. Hence Knoll’s creation.
Do take a look at: http://www.cancer101.org/
Friday, April 22, 2011
Good Friday
I have an Easter memory from years ago. I was living in Washington, DC, and that year was a low point in my life. My older sister had recently died and both of my brothers were seriously ill; my best friend was leaving town, and on top of that I was questioning my work.
In my journal that April I wrote, “Am I depressed?” When I read those pages now I laugh and shake my head. “Depressed?” That I even had to ask. In that long year I thought I’d never laugh again, just as I thought I’d never again feel love, the joy of easy friendship, or the satisfaction of good work.
I went to church that Easter out of both habit and desperation. I had grown up in a church going family. It was what we did. And so to honor the family that I was losing I went. I chose a big downtown church for Easter services—one with hundreds in the congregation--not daring to visit a smaller church where I might have to speak to people or be embarrassed by my own tears. I wanted the paradoxical safety and anonymity of being in a crowd.
The minister that Easter Sunday said many things that I don’t remember but one sentence has stayed with me all these years. He said, “We live in a Good Friday world…” That I understood. A Good Friday world is a world full of suffering, questioning, unfairness, trouble, mistakes, hurts, losses and grief. That was certainly confirmation of my life that day. “But”, he continued, “We are Easter people.” Those words stopped me cold. I was stunned to be reminded that painful morning that there was something other than what I was feeling.
My life was not instantly transformed; his words did not change the course of my brothers’ illness; nor give me answers to my questions. But the idea of being “Easter people” gave me a pause in my grief and the teeniest hope that there really did exist something other than pain.
Today all of the things that hurt so much back then have changed. As my brothers died friends came forward to help. I began to write and publish. Months later I fell in love and moved to upstate New York where a new life began with new friends, new work and yes, of course, new problems.
What strikes me now is that this believing in “Easter” in the midst of “Good Friday” is as much about being an American as it is about being Christian. Americans are, by character, a people of reinvention. There is an extra layer of intention that we bring to “new life” that isn’t true even in other predominately Christian cultures. As Americans we are future oriented, we look forward not back, and we are, for the most part, a culture of optimistic, hopeful people.
The gift from that Easter service many years ago was the reminder that we are, by religion or culture, a people who believe in possibility. When our hearts are shattered we are sometimes shocked to discover that there is joy as well as pain inside. Out of the ashes of our mistakes, from our defeats and even our despair, we rise again in better lives.
In my journal that April I wrote, “Am I depressed?” When I read those pages now I laugh and shake my head. “Depressed?” That I even had to ask. In that long year I thought I’d never laugh again, just as I thought I’d never again feel love, the joy of easy friendship, or the satisfaction of good work.
I went to church that Easter out of both habit and desperation. I had grown up in a church going family. It was what we did. And so to honor the family that I was losing I went. I chose a big downtown church for Easter services—one with hundreds in the congregation--not daring to visit a smaller church where I might have to speak to people or be embarrassed by my own tears. I wanted the paradoxical safety and anonymity of being in a crowd.
The minister that Easter Sunday said many things that I don’t remember but one sentence has stayed with me all these years. He said, “We live in a Good Friday world…” That I understood. A Good Friday world is a world full of suffering, questioning, unfairness, trouble, mistakes, hurts, losses and grief. That was certainly confirmation of my life that day. “But”, he continued, “We are Easter people.” Those words stopped me cold. I was stunned to be reminded that painful morning that there was something other than what I was feeling.
My life was not instantly transformed; his words did not change the course of my brothers’ illness; nor give me answers to my questions. But the idea of being “Easter people” gave me a pause in my grief and the teeniest hope that there really did exist something other than pain.
Today all of the things that hurt so much back then have changed. As my brothers died friends came forward to help. I began to write and publish. Months later I fell in love and moved to upstate New York where a new life began with new friends, new work and yes, of course, new problems.
What strikes me now is that this believing in “Easter” in the midst of “Good Friday” is as much about being an American as it is about being Christian. Americans are, by character, a people of reinvention. There is an extra layer of intention that we bring to “new life” that isn’t true even in other predominately Christian cultures. As Americans we are future oriented, we look forward not back, and we are, for the most part, a culture of optimistic, hopeful people.
The gift from that Easter service many years ago was the reminder that we are, by religion or culture, a people who believe in possibility. When our hearts are shattered we are sometimes shocked to discover that there is joy as well as pain inside. Out of the ashes of our mistakes, from our defeats and even our despair, we rise again in better lives.
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