Fifty-five dollars for what? Nothing.

Guess what! I have no criminal record. That's right. I sent in my $55 to the police station, so that they could go find out that I had done nothing wrong. How messed up is that?

And what's with everything in this world being represented on paper? Everything that a person is, everything that a person owns, can be found on pieces of paper. Paper to show that you were born, paper to show that you were baptized, paper to show what grades you got in school, paper to show you graduated the school system, papers to show what you bought at the store, papers to show that you are innocent, papers to show that you own property.

And they even have papers to show that you REALLY ARE dead! Not just pretending to be dead I suppose... maybe there's a lot of people out there who fake death... Dunno. Why else would they need a death certificate?

I think there's too much paper being passed around every day that represents items, time and people. It's rather like insanity. Why do we think that individuals are tied to these little things that sit in our wallet, with our pictures and big numbers on it? If this little card is stolen, there we go, down the drain. That's our IDs, and if they get taken, we're erased from reality. So what if the computers malfunction that recognize that little card and then we truly get erased from the system? That's all it would take... for our numbers to be accidentally deleted because of natural disasters, or some sort of machine malfunction that contains the files on the... on the... well where ever the big files go where police men take $55 from you and then spend a couple minutes looking on four databases to find out if you did anything wrong. The information goes somewhere, and that would really be unfortunate if numbers were misplaced or servers went down and thousands of people's lives essentially, went down the drain... like a blip.

I think our system is too reliant on numbers, statistics, and pieces of paper. What would the world be like if we took all that away, and actually had to go out and get to know the people in out neighborhood? Would it really be that much of an unsophisticated chaotic place? I don't think so.

And personally, I'd like my money back.

Change

Change is always inside of us, no matter how much we desperately want to curse, blame or give credit to our surroundings or environment.

A little while back I had a moment of different feelings that I have never felt before. It was so distinct. The feelings were simple. “There is such a change coming your way that you will take leaps where you took baby steps before.” And I didn’t know what to do because I was driving a vehicle at the time, and when something that direct and that blunt hits you that strongly, the first impulse is to stop, stare blankly, mouth agape and just sit in shock, but I can’t exactly do that while driving a car. Instead, I pressed the gas harder and stared wide-eyed ahead, a smile forming on my lips and no words to express. It was such a huge feeling of excitement that washed over me that I sped my vehicle WAY over the limit for quite a distance before I came to again and realized how much over the limit I was going.

And for a while I held the thought in the back of my head, and said nothing to anyone. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Because maybe I had just dreamed it, maybe it was just the sunshine, maybe it was just my imagination. But here I am and over and over I am finding myself staring at a ladder that is leaning against the very walls that not long ago I stared at and saw as obstacles.

The change is in me. I am what’s changing. The ladder has always been there, but I have never seen it before. Now I see the ladder and I see a way over the walls and as it becomes clearer that it is this opportunity to climb the ladder over the wall that I am supposed to take. It is this change, in these future moments. I battle the fear inside and take a step closer to the ladder, and as I do, I feel such joy!

It’s so exciting to see the path laid out ahead of me like this. For so long it’s been a path that has lead to a wall. But now I see that there is a way over the wall and my journey is opening up. The path is leading to the ladder, not the wall, and I couldn’t see that before. The wall is fear, and the ladder is courage. The other side of the wall holds so many frightening experiences… exciting experiences. To hold back would be stupid. The opportunities are endless once I cross this wall. This is what I believe it is like to fly. This is what it’s like to have change.

I'm no doctor, but I have things to say.

I'm not a doctor, and I'm not a mommie. A doctor would care about a cut. And a mommie, well mommies always care. But Stephenie doesn't seem to care that I'm not a doctor and that I'm not a mommie. She doesn't care a bit that she doesn't even know me. She tells me about her cut anyway.

Stephenie is a little three year old who one day at work (I work at a daycare) took her finger, and after staring at it for a bit, strut over to me and stuffed her finger in front of my face. I said "what Stephenie?" and she told me, "I fell off my bike yesterday and my finger got scraped on the cement. See? I still have to wear a bandaid." And I smiled and gave her finger a kiss, which apparently was what she wanted, and then I ushered her back onto the play room to play with her friends.

I think it is so simply beautiful that a child can talk to me about the tiniest thing and believe that I will care. What a powerful gift. What if we all could simply tap into that ability to say how we feel, and what we are thinking, and what is going on in our lives? Little Stephenie wanted to know that I cared, and I think that's what we all want. But no one can ask us what's going on in our minds or in our lives if we don't show them some part of it. We may wonder why no one asks, why no one cares, and the answer is we don't stick our fingers in front of anyone's face and say "This is what happened to me yesterday. See?"

Perhaps the solution as to why no one asks about our lives is that we don't ask them. And so maybe we need to learn to ask questions like kids ask questions. Out of curiousity or care for other people. Or maybe 'just because'. I hope that I can be curious like a little child and be willing to share what I think and what I feel with those around me, trusting that they will care about my sore finger, even though they aren't doctors or mommies. I hope you can too.

So what happened to you yesterday? I went hiking.

Learning to walk

I’ve pondered to myself in the quiet wee hours and in moments of hectic turmoil about how good I am. I wonder to myself, 'was I a good person because I smiled at that person? Is that what makes me good?' I present questions to the air to be answered by silence and more questions. Then I ask 'does it make me a bad person that I don't want to wear pink?'

And still I get no answer.

I've thought long and hard about choice and agency. It seems that God was so adamant that we have agency. And yet, I wonder to myself, if I do anything good what so ever, credit goes to him? Where then is the incentive to do good? I need credit, simply for motivation sake. I need some sort of feed back that I'm a better person or deserve happiness because I did good. Else, God says 'You do what you will, but if you do good, then give the credit to me.' And I say, 'ha. I'm no fool.'

But then I got thinking. (As usually happens when I'm awake or conscious... which makes me wonder: are we sleeping or awake if we are knocked unconscious?) Anyway, I got thinking. Why would I give God credit for something that I did myself? I asked, 'why would I, who did all the work, say to my maker that he gets credit for how I used my time? Yes he made me, but I'm a living choosing being, so why does that give him gratification and glory every time I do something good? Does that mean I don't get any credit if I do something good?

And then I had a thought that I don't know how it got there (this was a while back, mind you). I'm not sure if I saw the action, or heard it somewhere or made it up, but it explained the answer very well, and maybe the credit goes to him. ;)

It’s a very simple analogy. It's quite simply like a child learning to walk. The child must be prompted at first by parents to take those steps, mom once or dad another, urging the little one forward. The parents teach the child to take steps and use their feet in the process of learning to walk. Then, as the child begins to learn, the parents are needed less and less to guide them in walking, but then the child needs the parents to lean on when they are learning to tie their shoes, and to steady them as they learn to ride their bike or to pick them up if they fall down. The child needs them there to give them support and love.

The credit at first goes to the parents that the child can walk, and even after the child learns to walk, there is credit due the parent, but it's almost entirely due to their coaching of the child as they learned how to walk. The child eventually learns to walk on his or her own but the child learns to choose when and where to walk, and that is not to the parent's credit. Where, and when the child walks is no longer credited to the parent, only that they taught the child to walk.

In the same way, God teaches us goodness, or truth, and we give credit to the help he gives, but then God gives us wings to fly and we choose where to go. He prompts us, gives us signs, but he will not force us, it must be our choice to fly back to him.

Questions unanswered

I was required to write a letter for work, which discussed the idea of cultural diversity in child rearing... Well it got me thinking. So I decided that I would post some of my thoughts.

The letter required that I describe my attitude towards 'child rearing' and 'child guidance'. It was also to describe my personal values, beliefs and cultural practices and how these influence my attitude.

The first thought I had was... what's the difference between 'child rearing' and 'child guidance'? They seem to be so closely related, they are pretty much the same thing. And then was supposed to state my attitude towards it. Well, my attitude towards the idea is fairly simple. I believe that it is incredibly important for children to have an upbringing, a child rearing if you will, wherein the child is given ample opportunity to explore, create, learn right from wrong and develop at their own rate. This is something that the teacher or child care professional (or parent) should be able to provide for the child through their environment.

The childcare professional (or parent) should base all decisions from as correct a set of principles as they are privy to, and never let their emotions or background issues get in the way of communicating or teaching a child. Any communication should be with the intent to teach and care for the child. But this doesn't happen all the time. A lot of people slip up. We aren't perfect. So it's kinda hard to expect this of everyone. All the time anyway.

These are my beliefs, and these beliefs come from my cultural and family background, and they have a firm grasp on how I deal with kids and adults as well. So culture is definitely a factor for me when it comes to looking after children.

I have to admit a weakness now with this concept of cultural diversity. I am of the belief that certain cultural practices are superior to other cultural practices, and quite a few of these practices are ones that come from my own cultural background. One might say I am biased.

One example would be that I believe that it is never OK for one child to hit another, and yet in some cultures it is considered a natural consequence, and would better help the children to understand that they don’t like being hit so they shouldn’t hit others. There are many different examples where morals become involved and I have to choose between my own cultural beliefs and the child's parent’s cultural preferences.

For instance, religion is very well ingrained in some cultures of the world. At our day care, we say a prayer to Jesus before lunch with the kids. What happens if a child tells me that their parent doesn’t want them to say the prayer? Do I enforce it anyway? Ignore them? Talk to the parent? Obviously the latter is the answer, but it still becomes a sticky situation. Other situations may arise and be even more sticky. So where is the line? Where does cultural diversity and morality cross?

I don’t have the answer. I know there must be a procedure to deal with this kind of thing, but I don’t know it. And I may disagree with it, but either way, I will consent to abide by the procedure, because I want to keep my job, even if it crosses my personal beliefs. But I’m forced to question, is that right? Is it better that I abide the procedure than fight for my beliefs? Once again I don't have the answer.

Am I supposed to teach evolution? Or am I supposed to teach creationist ideas? Am I supposed to support gay/lesbian inclinations? Or am I supposed to refuse the ideas from being spread? Obviously I have my own beliefs, but am I going to be stepping over lines of cultural diversity if I suggest or imply my own beliefs?

I can tell you

'Hello', says I,
To the world at large.
And then in a whisper
I say
'did you see me?'
And then I hide my eyes.

'Oh yes,' say I again,
To the audience I see before me,
'Oh, yes,' I whisper,
'I have come to tell you a story.'
And then quieter I say,
'But it's a secret so don't tell.'

And I look at the dead flowers
From last year,
And I look at the yellow grass,
And the naked tree,
And I say
'Can you hear me?'

'Because I'm about to tell you a story.'
And the tree sways,
And the grass stills,
And the flowers are dead;
So they don't move.
But it's been that way.
Since last year.

So I begin:
'This story is about me.'
I say to the nature,
'And it's about yesterday.'

My dog is inside,
And no one is listening.
Except for the trees,
And the grass,
And the dead flowers.
They can't really hear me,
Which is why I tell them the story.

'Yesterday,' I continue
To no one in particular,
'I cried really hard.
Yesterday I screamed.
Silently,
So no one would hear me.

'And I locked my door
So no one would see
The red around my eyes,
Like what happens when I cry.'
The tree sways,
And the grass stills,
And the flowers are dead,
So they don't move.

'And I screamed at the injustice,
Of everything I hate.
I screamed at the world
That I needed someone
To just hold me.
To ask no questions,
Just hold me.

'And I saw the picture of my father,
And I looked at his face
In the desk top picture,
And I screamed at him.
In pain.
Wishing he were there.
But the screams were silent.
So no one heard me.

'I want to keep it that way.'
I say to the audience.
'No one heard me,
And that's how I want it to stay.'
The tree sways,
And the grass stills,
And the flowers are dead
So they don't move.

And I tell them.
I tell the world at large.
The secret.
The secret pain,
That I screamed out.

And the tree
And the grass
And the flowers
Kept my secret silent.
Because they can't talk.
But I can.

And maybe now that I've told you,
The trees and the grass and the flowers
Can breath again,
Let off their loads,
And turn green again.
They've kinda been waiting a long time.