Secret Selfie

I wore hair the other night. And then I posted a picture of it on Instagram, which also ended up on Facebook:



A friend told me that I was obviously insecure and looking for affirmation.

The funny thing is that I did get a lot more "likes" on this picture than I usually get. Maybe I was just looking for an ego boost because I'm insecure. Or...perhaps I was just playing by the rules.

Facebook is such an interesting world--at least the way I use and experience it. A post about a new hairstyle blows up with 50 likes in a minute, a new baby gets over 100 in the same amount of time, and a homemade flower arrangement gets 17-20. A post about an organization rescuing young girls from the sex trade gets...a few likes. Maybe one share.

I used to get upset about that, but I think now I just accept the fact that Facebook has its uses. For me, it's not a place to get a message across. I've tried--it doesn't work in my circle of "Friends". No--I mostly use it for keeping my mom and sister up-to-date on my latest style (given that I had no style in all my years living at home) and getting sympathy and attention when I need a quick fix. I can get those things either by posting a vague yet clearly distressed status ("Days like this make me want to hop on a bus to Texas, change my name and become a bartender") or, as in the case above, by posting a carefully-crafted picture of myself that I know looks really good. I just pretend I don't know it looks good.

Is that bad? I think about friends and family who have posted "selfies". I recognize that they are putting themselves (or one version of themselves) out there, on display, in a show of vulnerability. They/we are looking for acceptance and confirmation of the beauty we think we see in ourselves. When I post a selfie, I know I will get lots of comments. People are always anxious to tell me how good I look because, well, I'm a bald woman and need a lot of encouragement. So I post a nice-looking picture to get a few oohs and aahs. Sue me.

When we make a change that we feel good about or accomplish something we're proud of, we want to share it. People have always done this--now the audience is just bigger. Rather than asking your man if you look fat in your newest mall purchase, you can ask 400 people at the same time. And they will answer you, because they are looking for meaning in the world of appearances as well.

So yes, it is shallow. But it also speaks to something that runs pretty deep, actually. Something that I write about over and over again. If there were no audience, would we still be posting selfies? Why not? Why do we need to know that someone else will be looking at our picture before we decide to take one? Why not take a selfie just for myself?

That's my challenge for you tonight/today/this week. Take some selfies and don't show anyone. In fact, take your best selfie ever and don't show anyone. At least not for awhile. Appreciate your own beauty without the need to measure it against any standards. Fill yourself with contentment that does not come from outer praise, but from inner recognition of your place in creation (Hint: you are the crowning jewel).

If you come to this place of self-love, then you can post your picture if you want. We will all love it. No one will judge you for posting a picture of yourself just to get attention. We all do it. We all want the world to know what we look like whenever we do something that looks good. Nothing wrong with that...as long as it's not identity-forming.

The 10-Day Redefining Challenge--Day 9

I hate the thought of being loud. Of disturbing anyone. To the point where, more often than not, I get ignored because no one thinks I'm talking to them. I talk a lot, but people can't seem to hear me. Literally, people can't hear my soft voice.

I'm so afraid of being a loudmouth. Loud sounds tend to grate on my nerves, so I assume they do for everyone else. I like to whisper in restaurants, on planes, and in line for theater tickets. When I am with a person who speaks louder than I do, I squirm every time they open their mouth.

I also like to stay out of everyone's way. I hug the fence when I walk along the sidewalk, constantly turning around to make sure I'm not blocking anyone's path. I am offended on behalf of people behind us when I am walking with someone who is oblivious to the fact that other people might be sharing the sidewalk.

In short, I value my place in society to the extent that I am able to hide myself in it.

But today I brought my kids to Target, and the three of us were criticized by another mom there with her baby. My kids were actually not being too bad; they were each pushing a little cart, and I had to remind them that other people were trying to get by in the aisles (for some odd reason, 4 pm was like Happy Hour at Target today--every aisle was crowded), but they never actually ran into anybody. And they weren't being loud until we were in the checkout line. My son started crying when I told him he had to stop pushing his cart. I only had to tell him because the woman in front of me, the same woman we kept bumping into throughout the store, was frowning at my kids and rolling her eyes. I finally apologized, and she muttered something under her breath to me.

We continued:

Me: "Well, I sure hope you don't have to deal with any of these issues when your little one (the baby in the cart throwing his bottle on the floor) grows up."

Her: "Don't even start with me. You are out of control."

Me: "...Wow."

I felt so sad that my kids and I were not, and are not, free to move and speak at will without constantly bothering someone. The general public has no tolerance for my kids, and it hurts to realize that the sentiment which breaks my heart also resides there often. I often can't stand to be around my kids in public.

But they, and I, live here and play here and have just as much claim here as anyone else. Why should I care how loud my voice is when I'm in a grocery store? In a library, I get it. Believe me, libraries are sacred places to me. But in Target?

And how hard is it to step around a child who is blocking your path, in blissful oblivion (as children know how to enjoy much better than adults)? Is it really so hard to share this world with other people?

I would like to redefine what it means to be part of the crowd. I'd like to discover the beauty of my own voice rising above all other noise. I'd like to bump into someone and find joy in the fact that we share a space which connects us.

My challenge for the day is to turn up the volume and take up more space! I will consciously raise my voice a little louder today. I will walk where I need to walk and hope that others will accommodate me, as I will for them.

Some of you may not struggle with this; your problem may be the opposite. But that's another challenge for another day. Today we celebrate being free in our personal space.

Here I come!

My Kind of Character

Today I heard a fun program on my local talk radio. The hosts were talking about colorful characters who lived in and around Chicago. You know, those free spirited, eccentric oddballs whom everyone knew and had nicknames for. In the Windy City, apparently, we have had Racetrack Rosie, Kilt Man, Chicken Man, the Black Lone Ranger, among others.



I loved one of the host's insights that these "characters" are usually assumed to have mental illnesses, when in actuality they are often healthy, fully functioning individuals who are doing what they want do and indulging in what brings them joy. I've seen some characters in this fair city. This post will be the first time I've given them nicknames. I hope I do them justice:

--"Smiley Walker": The man walks everywhere. I only ever see him walking, and I see him absolutely everywhere within the 5-mile radius around my home. He always carries a medium-sized white plastic shopping bag at his side and he is always wearing the same clothes, but he is clean and groomed. This wouldn't necessarily qualify him as a "character", except for the fact that he smiles to himself. I always wonder what he's thinking.

--"Troll King": This guy rides his bike north around 8:30 in the morning, wearing a black kilt, black combat boots, a black T-shirt, and a white helmet. Why the nickname? Well...he's got long neon orange hair coming out the back of his helmet, and even longer neon pink hair sticking out of the top of his helmet, à la Troll Doll. I can't tell if it's his hair or some synthetic extension.

He would always ride alongside the car as I was taking my daughter to preschool. She called him the "crazy guy". I thought he had moved on, but a few weeks ago I saw him at an intersection, sans bike.

--"Singing Guy": This young African guy would walk around the neighborhood singing at the top of his lungs, wearing sandals. In the summer, in the winter, sandals all year round. In the winter he topped them off with an overcoat and a pork pie hat:


I haven't seen him in so long, I'm sure his family moved out of the area. I miss his exuberance.

Actually, we have several other "singing guys" in this neighborhood. You can hear them coming for blocks.

--"Crim": As in, criminal. But not really. This guy just wandered around muttering and grinning, always in a black leather jacket and Bulls cap, looking for locks to pick. I saw him picking our front gate lock outside my window when I first moved into my building. The cops said he's harmless, he does it to everyone. I guess it was our initiation into the neighborhood. I see him around, and truthfully I have a soft spot for him.

Does your city/town/neighborhood have any "characters"? Are you one of them??!!

I'd like to be one. Maybe I could be "Bald Lady". Get a cool tattoo on my head, a great wardrobe complete with huge earrings and long skirts, and some amazing shades. I should probably sing, too.

If not that, I can get a long hot pink wig that I've had my eye on and be "Wig Lady". I could walk around with a book in my hand and stand on corners reading. Everyone would wonder. So I guess I'd be "Pink Book Lady".

Who would you be?

In Passing

I have been asking this question ever since I can remember asking questions inside my head without voicing them aloud: what is the appropriate response/behavior on my part as I pass someone on the sidewalk? At 31, I still don’t feel entirely natural when I try to smile at strangers without inviting unwanted attention—but I also don’t feel comfortable avoiding eye contact. Then I just look scared.
What do you do? Please post a comment describing your experience and how you respond when others look at you a certain way in passing. I just think it’s a fascinating sociocultural study.

Inventory

Ways the world is changing me:

--I honk my horn while I'm driving now.
--I go to my job at a university with a plan in mind in case there is an active shooter.
--I get restless when it's too quiet.
--I can't go for walks by myself without at least some degree of fear.
--I can't go for walks at night, which used to be my favorite thing to do.
--My body rejects the staple food of my society: wheat.
--I drive with my phone on my lap.


Ways I am changing the world:
--I joined the Advisory Council for the park in my neighborhood.
--I teach English to immigrants and international students.
--I write this blog about how to recognize beauty "off the magazine rack".
--I intentionally send my kids to multicultural schools.
--I vote in Participatory Budgeting in my neighborhood.
--I sponsor two children through World Vision in Zimbabwe and Congo.
--I buy lunch for friends on a regular basis.
--I have my daughter in multiple therapeutic activities to provide her a solid foundation for dealing with her ADHD.
--I have taught classes preparing immigrants for their naturalization exam.


Just to name a few on a moment's notice.

Double Take

I read once that you should always add a picture to every blog post, so people will be more interested in what they are reading.

Well, I can't out a picture up tonight. You'll have to use your imagination. Tonight I'm writing about a woman I met the other day. I didn't take her picture, and I can't find anything that comes close to what she looked like.

She came in to the Dry Cleaner/Tailor shop in my neighborhood where I was picking up a pair of suit pants. This was last Thursday. It was a sunny day, not warm yet but no longer bitter cold. A decent wind was blowing, making it uncomfortable to walk long distances.

I was getting ready to pay for the pants, when this old woman came into the shop and asked the owner if she could use the phone to make a local call. She kind of shouted it, in a demanding tone, which immediately made me think she had a mental illness. She walked up to the counter next to me, and I turned to look at her while she was muttering to herself. She was dressed in baggy pants, high boots, a few layers of sweaters and coats, and a scarf wrapped around her head.

She looked in the full-length mirror that was propped on the wall to our left, and repeated over and over again: "I look like hell."

I wanted to deny it for her just to make her feel better, but I thought it would sound like an obvious lie. So I just shook my head and smiled at her. She began to show me the veins in her arms and tell me about the hospital she was just released from, where she came out sicker than when she went in. I never found out what her sickness was.

Somehow, the conversation turned to me and the state of my health. I assured her I was healthy, despite my own headwrap, and I started explaining my disorder to her. She suddenly became very lucid and attentive, and as she faced me head-on I could see that she must have been a strikingly beautiful woman in her younger years. Even now, dressed as a bag lady and drooping everywhere, she was not unpleasant to look at. Not at all. Right now all I can really recall are her large, brown eyes. Like a deer.

Well, after I described my condition to her, she asked if she could see my head. I've never had that request from anyone other than children. The owner of the shop, a cute little Korean woman, was also looking at me expectantly. So I pulled my scarf off in one quick, painless movement, and felt the color come rushing to my face. As I pulled off my scarf, the woman took a pronounced step backward and exclaimed "Oh, you are stunning!"

The very word I had thought of for her.

I've never had quite a reaction to my bald head. I took it to be genuine, coming from a woman who had clearly seen her share of both beauty and tragedy in this world. I felt like I had been given a special gift: my bald head was something to show off, my crowning glory.

It's interesting to me that we both realized each other's unique, breathtaking beauty only after we had taken the time to really see who was standing in front of us. We were able to see past the clothes, past the circumstances, and into the character of the woman before us, perhaps accentuated by our physical appearance. I've never experienced anything like that before. In that instant, she and I were queens.

This made me think of a recent post, when I expressed my trouble with the fact that women always seem to give each other compliments about looks above everything else. I feel that I need to adjust my position on that a little. One friend said that complimenting a woman on her choice of attire is one of our "cultural greetings". It's a standard conversational routine. As a linguist, I get that.

It also struck me, in listening to exchanges between women over the past week or so, that women simply notice beauty and have to comment on it. I don't think we are being superficial when we compliment each other on some aspect of our physical appearance. We just love to see colors that go well together, patterns that create energy, fabrics that wrap the body in just the right way, and lines that carry our eyes as we take everything in.

I still want to be careful to compliment women on other things just as often, like the confidence they exude, their wit, or good questions they ask. But complimenting a woman on her looks because you have seen past your own insecurities and noticed a manifestation of another person's choice, personality or values is a gift that women should not be ashamed to use.

Females

These questions are for my female readers:

*When you meet up with a good female friend, what is the first thing you comment on?

*When you see a female acquaintance in the office, or an elevator, or on the train, what do you say to them?

*When you are standing in line at the grocery store with a complete female stranger, do you feel compelled to say something? About what?

If you are like me, you could answer each question by saying "I compliment her on some aspect of her appearance, usually clothes." I can't tell you how many times I have recently caught myself (or another woman within earshot) compliment another woman on something she is wearing.

"Nice sweater. Where'd you get it?"

"Ooh, I love those shoes. Where'd you get them?"

"Those earrings look great on you. Are they homemade?"

And it goes on.

Why do we do this? Male readers, if you are still reading this, how would you answer those questions? Do you feel the need to comment on other men's clothing and accessories? Somehow, I doubt it.

So why do women do it? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that women care about building each other up--at least on the surface. I have enjoyed being on the receiving end of such comments. Most recently I have gotten tons of comments on this great headcovering my sister got me for Christmas (I think it's officially called a "snood"):



I wonder if people think I am trying to get compliments. After all, the huge flower on the side of my head clearly wants to be noticed. I choose my apparel and accessories carefully, and when people compliment me on my choice of color or my skill in coordinating patterns, I feel validated.

Is that why I similarly compliment other women on their appearance? Is it because I recognize the struggle to step out of the house with the perfect blend of confidence, comfort and identity that most women aim for when they get dressed?

Or are women just silly? Why can't we stop ourselves from constantly saying "Nice sweater", thus perpetuating the myth that women are valued for looks and not much more? Of course, when we are first meeting someone or just crossing paths, we comment on the only possible point of connection--besides the weather, maybe.

I don't know why it's been bothering me lately. Every time I give, or hear, a compliment of this sort, a voice inside me screams, "There's so much more to her/me!" Should I just relax about it? Or should we occasionally find an alternative way to build a bridge connecting our island to this other person's island, opening up endless possibilities of further connection and communication?

Any ideas?

Time to Go on a Diyet?

A friend of mine forwarded a link to me today, and when I clicked on it I saw this:



At first, it reminded me of another image I saw on another friend's Pinterest board:


So at first I though it was a hoax--a writer using child-like penmanship in order to illustrate a point and garner some attention about an issue.

But as I read on, I became convinced it was true. A seven-year-old wrote that list. And her mom is naturally very angry at society for upholding the values we do concerning appearance and beauty, which eventually led to this little girl making such a list.

Apparently the girl heard about this "diyet" from a friend at school. Who knows how the friend heard about it. Maybe she has a big sister who reads teen magazines.

I understand the mother's frustration. I, too, am worried that I will be forced to talk about issues with my young daughter that she really shouldn't have to deal with until she's much older.

I might try to look at it another way, though. Maybe these girls are writing about "diyets" because they have read about them and they seem like important, grown-up things to emulate. Like when a kid writes a "menu" and takes your order, or "writes a check" to pay for toys in their room.

But let's say these girls are taking this seriously. This mom did exactly the right thing and talked to her daughter about the beauty of her body just the way it is. I also suggest having the friend over and doing some activities that will get counter-cultural messages across.

But the real issue here is that little girls are taking their bodies very seriously. They are learning how to put on makeup, accessorize, dance and walk in ways that make them feel grown up. Because our culture tells them that their value lies in how much attention they can get for their looks.

This mom was questioning her choice to let her daughter play with a Barbie doll. I've been there, making the choice between giving in to my daughter's wishes for pretty playthings and trying to substitute her desired object with something less damaging for her self image.

I let her have a Barbie.

Because ultimately, I think balance is key. I let her have a Barbie, but instead of a Barbie video for Christmas I got her a Veggie Tales movie about true beauty. I think it's okay for little girls to learn from an early age how to take their of their bodies. I think it's okay for them to be affirmed in their desire for "prettiness". The problem comes when we limit the idea of "prettiness" to a Barbie doll or Disney princess. Another problem comes when we indulge them in their desire to grow up too fast. We womanize and sexualize our little girls because we think it's so cute that they look like little ladies.

Look at this swimsuit from Target:


It starts at size 4. Some moms probably think their 4-year-olds look darling in this little mini bikini. Let's face it, a woman's body is very pleasing to look at. Fine. But is the idea of a woman's body so alluring that we must project it onto little girls?

I haven't even addressed the issue of sports, dance, gymnastics and pageants for little girls. Again, balance is key. We as a society tend to keep pushing the envelope--maybe part of our "westward expansion" mentality. We could stand to sit back and let things be.

I'd love your reactions and thoughts.

Thank Heaven For Little Girls

"Sugar and spice, and everything nice..."

Is that what we want our little girls to be? I picked my daughter up from a playdate this afternoon at a local cafe. When I got there, she and her friend were pretending to be bunnies. It was super cute. The problem was, the bunnies were getting a little too excited...and loud. The other mom and I kept trying to say things like "Volume down, please" and "Bunnies underground", but to no avail. The excitement level kept rising. There were a few other people in the cafe, on laptops mostly. One woman in particular kept glancing at the girls. Once, when I said "volume down", she said (to no one in particular), "Yes, shut up girls, please".

Mama lion came a'roaring. I didn't think I had a mama lion in me, but suddenly there she was. I had enough self control not to make a scene, but I did directly address this lady regarding my daughter.

Now, I am a quiet person for the most part. I love having quiet places to read and think and sip coffee. I like my evenings at home to be spent listening to soft music, curled up on the couch with a book. I am hyper aware of how loud I am when there are other people around me (like my downstairs neighbors). But to have a stranger tell my daughter to shut up was the last straw in a large haystack of restrictive measures forced on my kids by other people. My daughter has some special issues going on, and lately I feel like all I hear is "Her issues are not tolerated here." And "here" is pretty much anywhere.

Be quiet at school and sit at your desk. Be quiet at home so the neighbors can relax. Be quiet in the restaurant so others can eat in peace. Be quiet in church (though I must say, our church is amazing when it comes to letting kids be kids in our worship space). Be quiet on the train. Sit nicely in the waiting room. Don't make a scene in the grocery store. Don't bounce the ball while the coach is talking. Be especially quiet on airplanes.

It just goes on and on. And I get it. I do. We can't let kids run around screaming all the time. What kind of world would that be?! I guess I'm just wondering where the more energetic, vocal and excitable kids get to be the ones dictating proper behavior. Now that I am dealing with more of these issues regularly with my daughter, I find that we are being pushed out of public spaces that exist to help people relax. Well, where are the spaces, especially in the middle of winter, where hyper kids can also enjoy themselves?

And how, as a mom, have I contributed to my daughter's socialization as a girl who must always strive for stillness and quiet, so that other people are not bothered? It shames me to think of.

We need to let our kids know how beautiful they are, even if they are not embraced in public life.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 29

Umm, beauty...having a hard time with this tonight.

Oh--today I saw a woman who was clearly from Africa coming back from the grocery store with two bags of food in her hands...and a 24-bottle case of Dasani water on her head. She was turning around, she was getting keys out--and the bottles never wavered. Unbelievable.

Later at work I walked by a woman's office...and she was working on her laptop while she was walking on a treadmill. In a skirt and tennis shoes. Door wide open. And why shouldn't it be?

How beautiful to see traditions and quirks being lived out in the middle of "normal" life. Of course. Because traditions and quirks are what are normal for us. Maybe not to everyone else, but they are identity-building for us.

Unfortunately, I have always tried to "fit in" and hide anything that sets me apart from what I consider to be mainstream. But I think it's time to free my mind and live in the oddities and customs that make me who I am.

Isn't it fun, after all, to begin to get to know someone well enough to discover those things that make you go "huh"?! Like, "Wow, I never realized you could carry water bottles on your head", or "So, you like to dance in your living room in front of a mirror?"

How about those things that you have always done, never questioned, and could never let go of? The things that never enter your consciousness until you move to a new place where "those things" are done differently? Take pride in them and rediscover their beauty. Don't hide them.

And let's look at the flip side: when you see someone doing something that is clearly not in the realm of "normal" for you, look on in a spirit of admiration and non-judgment. After all, the things you take for granted as "normal" are probably pretty quirky to someone, somewhere.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 27

Israel Idonije. Defensive lineman for the Chicago Bears. Nigerian-Canadian. Daycare teacher? Founder of a charitable organization that serves at-risk youth in Chicago and impoverished families in Africa? (Check out the Israel Idonije Foundation.)

I heard him on the radio today. I love hearing about people who surprise me. As much as I hate to admit it, I view the world and the people in it through stereotypes much of the time. I love being confronted by my assumptions and shown a different news reel, so to speak.

I have been listening to public radio a lot lately. I love hearing about people, places and events that are hidden from the mainstream. These stories open up whole new avenues for me. My city is taking on new dimensions now that I am hearing real stories from real people every day in my car. I have a list of places I want to explore and events I need to put on the calendar.

Here are just a few:
Louder Than a Bomb: Chicago Youth Poetry Festival
Peace on Earth Film Festival at the Chicago Cultural Center
On Being American and More: A community conversation

It's a beautiful thing to become invested in your city or your community. I am growing to love Chicago and all the amazing programs going on here. Now, I don't have time to become a local activist or anything. But I do have time to take a step back and appreciate the fact that Chicago is not always what I assume it to be based on my very limited experience.

What stereotypes have you recently been delighted to find are wrong?

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 22

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm doing things a little different today and posting in the morning! A few reasons why:

A. I want to see if the time of day affects who sees and reads my blog;
B. I already saw beauty today and I can't imagine seeing anything better;
C. I hope to spend my evening Valentining, not sitting in front of this computer!

Wow, sorry for all the exclamation marks. I must be happy today. Well, it is Valentine's Day, which means love (in all its forms) is all around.

You know, there is no better place to be on Valentine's Day than at the grocery store. Not only are you probably buying chocolate for yourself (admit it), you also get to watch the most beautiful thing ever: men buying gifts for their Valentines.


I don't want this post to sound trite. I realize that many people are dealing with pain, loneliness, broken hearts, and guilt today. But maybe it will help to read about the beauty of the interactions between strangers on this day when love and romance are celebrated (don't let your cynical side take over...I know this is a Hallmark and Hershey kind of holiday, but let's push doubt aside for the time being).

This morning I was at the store buying deodorant for my husband (that's what Valentine's Day can devolve into after years of marriage!) and I decided to pick up a couple plush animals for my kids. While I was in line, this guy in front of me was going back and forth between two very similar Valentine bouquets. He was undecided right to the very end. I so wanted to intervene and reassure him that both were equally lovely!

(Picture this guy, only in a parka, hoodie and military-style boots.)


The male cashier gave him such a big smile and genuine "Have a Happy Valentine's" that I had to come home immediately and blog about it. How beautiful is it to see two grown men looking like proud eight-year-old boys?!

Now, I don't know this man's story. I don't know who the flowers were for, or what was going on in his mind and heart when he decided to buy them. But as I looked around I saw dozens of other men holding heart-shaped boxes and balloons--not being terribly creative, but certainly making an effort--and I thought it was a beautiful sight. For that instant, they were thinking about how to please a partner, friend or relative. The toughest exteriors often conceal soft, plush hearts that only want to please. That's lovely, isn't it?

What beautiful interactions have you witnessed today? Whether you have someone giving you a Valentine or not, maybe it's time to redefine Valentine's Day and see it as a chance to witness unselfishness all around, if only for this one day. No matter your situation, that can be celebrated.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Days 15 and 16

Your eyes do not deceive you. Due to the migraine and general malaise that knocked me out at 8:30 last night, I was unable to post anything for you. I know you have been waiting with bated breath to see what I will say. And yes, it's "bated", not "baited". I checked.

So today you get a two-fer.

Yesterday:
"for nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose..." --from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

I read this yesterday and it confirmed what I had been feeling for awhile...purpose really is beautiful. We need to have goals, big and small. I hate to say it, but my old habits (which I still fall back on all too often) of escaping into naps, movies and Internet time-wasting when I'm stressed, tired, restless, or depressed (pretty much all the time) just don't fulfill me like I always think they will. When I am working or have a plan for my day, I just feel better. I may be a bit harried or tense sometimes, but overall I think that's better than the lifelessness I descend into when I don't have purpose...and the resulting guilt and shame. That's why Rick Warren's book was so popular.

Don't get me wrong--I don't want to be a workaholic. I probably need more breaks and "down time" than the average person. But my down time needs to have a purpose in order for it to truly bring me rest and lead me to wholeness. If I plan to watch a movie because I know I need it, fine. I can watch it and enjoy it and not think about it later. If, however, I have no specific plan for my day and I just end up watching a movie, I end up feeling sad, stressed out about all the things I didn't get done during that time, and guilt that I wasted two hours of my life.

Moderation in everything. I'm a big believer. I just have to get out of my bad habits and bring more purpose to my days.

Today:
Rhythm is beautiful. I had another lesson on the djembe today, which I never thought I would be able to play. It turns out that I just have to learn my little rhythm part and play it, no matter what everyone else is playing. Speaking of purpose, it's so much easier for me to play a set rhythm than to try and improvise. That's why I love this drum class--I get a certain part and I play it. And I'm part of the circle, adding to the song.

I learned a samba rhythm today!! I have myself chills, really. It's so beautiful to feel a steady beat and move to it, improvise on it, and just know that it's...right. That even if you get lost, you wait for that 1-count and you can find your way back.

Thank God for rhythm.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty: Day 4

Today I was struck by the beauty of what can happen when you open yourself up to people. A new friend spontaneously asked if she could hang out with me and my kids this afternoon, even though we haven't known each other very long. I was so glad she asked! We had a great time getting to know each other better.

Later this evening I met a great group of people from an organization called Traffick Free, as my husband was hosting a meeting in our home (which is why I was out for awhile with my kids and my new friend). After being at church this morning, attending a baby shower after church, getting to know a new friend this afternoon, and then meeting new people in my house tonight, you would think I would be exhausted right now.

The old me would have been. I used to see social encounters as barriers to my own free time. I dreaded going out; parties drained me. But now I get so refreshed and energized by being in community, whether new or familiar, that I would seriously consider communal living. I'm not kidding. There is something so freeing about learning how to be myself around people, even people I am meeting for the first time, and expecting that I will enjoy their company...and that they will enjoy mine. I never used to believe I had it in me to be social. But I see myself as part of the group now, whereas I used to be a wallflower.

What about you--are you drained or refreshed by social activity? Do you see community as a beautiful, organic thing, or simply a necessary part of living in this world?

30 Days of Redefining Beauty: Day 2

Today I had so many moments of beauty that I wondered how I would choose one to write about. Then came another stressful evening and I find myself needing to write about all of them.

The first happened this morning as I set off for an errand in my car. I turned on NPR, but instead of talk I found myself listening to a lovely little track that so perfectly fit my mood at the moment.

Then, I went to a nonprofit organization with a friend today. It's not quite in my neighborhood, but close enough that I know the area pretty well. This agency serves those in poverty, equipping them with skills they need to gain employment. While there, I saw a bone thin man with stringy hair shuffling around--and I knew his face. I've seen him on the train before. It hit me then that I really am getting to know my community. I was struck by my interconnectedness to other people.

Finally, tonight I had to drive into the city for a high school basketball game. I didn't want to, because I thought I would be stuck in traffic for too long with hungry, screaming kids in the back. But the road was clear, and the city was beautiful tonight. I was reminded how much I love getting out and seeing the night lights.

So, how about you? When was the last time you felt the interconnection between you, your fellow human, and the place where you live?

30 Days of Redefining Beauty: Day 1

Two recent thoughts have inspired this new project. One occurred yesterday as I was thinking about my status report on Facebook. I was going to report that I had a nice day, but I stopped myself because, to be perfectly honest, I can get more attention if I write about my troubles. I thought, how sad that I prefer to define myself as a victim, dragging others into my darkness just so I will be pursued. Where did I get the idea that beauty was not as interesting as pain?

The second was gifted to me during a session of spiritual direction that I attended today. This particular spiritual director, who is also a trusted friend, helped me see that the ways I have traditionally tried to care for myself and "rest" often have the opposite effect, leaving me drained and far from refreshed. Instead of seeking "rest", I might be better off asking "What will lead me closer to wholeness?" After all, there are activities that may sound exhausting beforehand but may actually fulfill and revive my soul once I dive in.

After contemplating my life recently and unpacking these two thought experiences that occurred within a day of each other, I have come to the conclusion that I need a new way of looking at my life and living in it. I'm tired of seeking beauty in places that look promising but turn out to be traps. And I'm tired of wallowing in the negative all for the sake of attention and affirmation.

So, to the project: For the next thirty days, I will write one post per day in which I describe something beautiful about my day. My hope is that I will set myself on the road to optimism by forcing myself to find beauty in unexpected places--and to take it in as a gift more valuable than mere drama.

I hope you will join me. Please feel free to add your beautiful moments in the Comments box each day.

TODAY: I volunteered in my daughter's first grade classroom for an hour this morning. I have not been looking forward to this, because it totally broke up my day and I was afraid I would feel like I hadn't gotten an adequate break from being a mom during the day, leading to a tense afternoon and evening.

The beautiful part is that I really enjoyed getting to know the kids in my daughter's class and watching her interact there. I saw her relative to other kids and realized that many of my fears about her socialization process have been founded on assumptions. I began to understand her teacher a little better--a woman I had previously judged to be much less personable than she actually is.

The lesson from today, I guess, is that I need to reserve judgement until I have seen "with mine own eyes". A simple truth that was illustrated beautifully for me today in a room with 28 six- and seven-year-olds.

Why Do I Facebook?

A friend on Facebook recently posed this question in her status, and it really got me thinking...

My Facebook page is a contradiction to anyone paying attention. The pictures show smiling kids, romantic bouquets of flowers, peaceful sunsets, and other beautiful images that I'm sure make anyone outside of my family and close circle of friends gag.

But my status reports often hint at the fact that I am stressed out, restless, discontent, and insecure.

So what's the truth?

Well, Facebook is not exactly where people go to find truth, is it? You can't know someone by their Facebook page. And yet, that's my basis for connection with most people I know, unless I see them regularly face to face.

People reading my Facebook page might imagine that I have nothing but free time--enough time to take, edit and post several pictures on Instagram everyday. They might also think I am the kind of person who knows how to appreciate beauty and is living the good life. They might think I have the perfect family but have to post that I'm stressed out once in awhile so people don't get jealous.

The truth is, Facebook has become the tool by which I process fleeting moments of experience. I have a feeling, and I post something to see how my feeling looks and sounds in a world where others will interact with it. Facebook doesn't begin to represent who I am or what my life is like, but it does provide a pretty accurate timeline of the moods I go through.

And more than anything, I want to be understood. I want to be known and loved for being uniquely me. So I post representations of my moods in the hopes that people will find them lovely.

Sad? Maybe. But at the end of the day I'm grateful for finding this outlet that fits my schedule and short attention span (and doesn't require any artistic talent).

So...why do YOU Facebook?