Monday, April 25, 2011

Dolce fa' niente

     In my meeting with Dr. McKenna today, she talked with me about what depression might do for me—does it actually fulfill any needs?  She asked if I felt like Sam would only listen to me when I was “sick”, or if somehow being “sick” gave me permission to take a much, much needed break, (I don’t know that I have felt like depression “gives me permission” because I feel terrible about the down time, but I do really  need down time, and don’t seem to take it unless I am forced to by a weak mind/mental illness.)  She asked if it would be possible to give myself down time—time to rejuvenate, to write, to think and see and appreciate and live in the moment—without being depressed.  She is a master of questions like that—questions that have a fairly obvious answer, but which I have never considered before.  I brought up having watched “Eat, Pray, Love”, and the Italian culture where “dolce fa’niente” is an acceptable, normal part of life.  In American society, the sweetness of doing nothing is considered laziness.  Productivity is a must, all the time.  It is hard for me to get away from that understanding.  Dr. McKenna brought up again that from my writing, before we even met, she was aware that I have very good, healthy understandings and ideas.  What she has seen is that there is a disconnect, somewhere, so that I have a hard time implementing and really believing or doing what I know cognitively.  I think it goes against years of culturally ingrained ideas to appreciate “dulce fa’ niente.” 
     I would certainly rather work that down time, the rejuvenation, into my everyday life than have it sort of forced upon me by the depression that comes when I get overwhelmed and stuck.  In the former case, I can really enjoy and appreciate the down time.  In the latter, it comes with a lot of pain and misery.  Anyway, I don’t know at this point if I can really, fully escape having depression again.  Catching it early is important.  Last time, I couldn’t come up with early warning signs—all the symptoms I could list were full blown depression.  However, since then, I’ve figured some out: feeling overwhelmed and anxious, feeling stuck or in a “funk,” not wanting to do things I usually enjoy.  When those surface I need to immediately boost myself up with social time, get help quickly to lighten my load, make sure I am enjoying “dolce fa’ niente” time, and carefully check my thoughts for negative patterns, etc.  Being in the hospital with Isaac for a few days quickly brought those feelings on.  Having Sam take over for a night and day made sooo much difference.  Being able to get away, get a clearer perspective, etc, calmed my anxiety and cleared my mind. 
     Dr. McKenna also talked about how gratitude is absolutely essential to happiness, and encouraged me to write down several things a day that I am grateful for—particularly things from that day—moments of beauty, joy, or whatever.  She said recording and keeping those fleeting moments of beauty can be like picking up pennies and putting them in a piggy bank.  We adults tend not to care about a penny, and let it lie, unappreciated.  Same with a brief moment of beauty or fun or happiness.  But simply making the mental decision to appreciate and collect them can soon give you a bank full of joy to draw on and savor.  I told her that my mind tends towards the negative, and if I let my mind wander I soon discover I am pondering one of the many horrible ways my children might die.  It almost never wanders toward beauty, joy, or positive things.  Yet, there is so much beauty around me.  Especially now in the spring, I see and appreciate it every time I go outside.  Now I just need to actually “collect” it by writing it down.
     As I was feeling more up than before, I mentioned that with those happier, more energetic feelings I was considering how I could be a better steward of all that I have been given.  I told her I want to do better about dressing the kids nicely, washing the car and keeping it cleaner inside, working on the yard and stuff like that.  "Why?" she said, urging me to examine my priorities and make decisions about how I spend my time and energy  based on what is most important to me (not what my neighbors might think, or whatever.)  If having a cleaner car is most important to me, and makes me happy, then by all means act on it.  However, if it is just one more thing to add to a to-do list that I feel like I "should" do now that I have more energy, it might be wise to reconsider.  She reminded me that we often feel like others notice us more than they actually do.  People tend to be more focused on themselves and their own issues than on others'.  I believe that, and seldom make decisions based on what someone else might think (hence my car seldom getting washed, my children sometimes going to school without their hair brushed, and me not being the height of fashion).  Still, I would like to be a good steward of myself and what I have been given as much as I am able.  I would feel more confident if I attended to my appearance more.  
     Anyway, it was a great opportunity to talk!  

Sunday, April 10, 2011

A Seed of Corn Falling

When I was in Mexico for the summer, back in 1999, I enjoyed the daily life there, and getting to learn and participate in some of the tasks.  I got to learn how to make masa (corn dough) and tortillas, how to desgranar (de-grain) the corn cobs, and finally how to plant the corn.  As I was working with a family in one of their small lots, sowing corn, the mother of the family laughed at my interest in the task and prodded me "Andas chillando." (You're miserable doing this.)  "No," I replied. "Estoy contenta."  Then, voicing my thoughts, I suppose, I added, "Es el maiz que llora.  Cae como lagrimas de oro.  Pero, son lagrimas de gozo, porque sabe que solo por caer, pueda alzarse."  (I'm sure my grammar was that bad, and worse.)  The woman looked at me (perhaps trying to figure out what I was trying to say), and puzzled a bit.  I don't think many rancheras come up with poetry off the top of their head as they are sowing.  At least, I never heard any.  It makes me laugh to think what she must have thought of me.

Today as I was reading the scriptures, in John, I discovered that Christ made a similar metaphor as he was pondering the atonement.  He said "except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die it bringeth forth much fruit."  This weekend I have been pondering about my lot in life.  I read a book "Washington's Lady" (by a Christian author, and it was painfully poor writing) about Martha Washington, and thought about how much she had to do without her husband.  I wondered if I will often have to do without Sam. If that is what is required, I'm sure I can do it, but I'd like to know, so I'm prepared.  And if Sam will be off being a hero and making amazing things happen, what will my lot be at home?  I have dreams yet, and hopes and goals, and sitting at home and dutifully waiting for him to appear, whenever he will, does not settle with me.  What does it mean "whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his life, for my sake, shall find it."

I once thought that meant losing myself in motherhood--in being more concerned with the care of my family than myself as an individual.  I created a dialectic of individuality and community and felt community was "right" and should win.  Now I don't feel that way.  I understand better that individuality does not oppose community, or vice versa, and both are essential for the well-being of the other.  As I read and pondered in John, and then in Mosiah 6, I thought about how losing one's life means seeking the will of the Lord rather than one's own will--taking his name upon us and such.  I thought about the story in the April 2011 conference, about the bush that got trimmed down to size by the farmer, and how much it resented having its  tall growth removed.  But it was the farmer's goal magnify the bush's being--to make it what it really was.  I felt cut down upon being a mother.  My beautiful tall growth of scholar, contributer, productive, intelligent person were all trimmed away, and it hurt my pride!  But my heart was still there, the essence of what I was, and after a time, I started growing again, and taking the essential me-ness that had grown into those things and putting that energy and those qualities into other things.  I flowered (with children and knowledge and experience) as an overgrown bush doesn't.  My energy went into things closer to home.  I filled out instead of shooting upwards.

A seed doesn't really "die" when it is dropped into the earth, if planted in good ground.  But it does have to give up being what it is--a self-contained packet of possibility, "abid[ing] alone"--in order to "bring forth much fruit."   God doesn't want us to give up who we truly are--our innate being and potential--he just wants us to magnify it.  He doesn't ask the corn seed to grow into a rose bush, just from a corn kernel to a corn stalk.  He will lead us in that change, because he knows how to make the change, if we will follow him.

So, I am willing to follow Him.  I don't know fully what I am yet, I realize, or what he wants me to become.  And he does give me choices about which way I'd like to grow, and he leads me, too.  It has been hard, this last year, to feel buried.  I would like to grow.  I would like to weep tears of joy and be fruitful.