The Pencil and other little bits of philosophy

My kids love this tale of the little pencil who created people, animals, and places, and a little paintbrush who added color to their black, white, and grey world. When minor complaints arose about how things were, the pencil, after much pondering, drew an eraser. At first the addition of the little eraser made the world a better place. Change could happen. Change is good, right? Well...until this crazy little eraser became a bit too obsessed with its power. Our hero the pencil must think fast before it also is erased since this eraser is erasing all in its path, much like a tornado wipes out whatever gets in its way. Obviously not much of a thinker, since hey what would happen once there was no pencil to draw things to erase, the eraser just keeps charging ahead. What a kook! Well I don't want to spoil the surprise, but given that it's a children's story, you probably would expect that all is well in the end. After all without the pencil how could The Runaway Dinner be created?

What I loved about this book was that later in the day after reading it, the M asked where did the Pencil come from? I like it when one of my kids, especially in the 6 year old set, asks the questions that show they are thinking about more than where skittles come from and can I have some now?

Where did the Pencil come from? Well that would be an easy question were I especially religious, which while I believe in God, I don't think of myself as religious. My answer to him was that a lot of people would think that God made the pencil, at first ignoring the possibility that the pencil was a metaphor for God which actually makes more sense. I don't think fast during pop quizzes either. I did also suggest that some people would think the pencil just came to be, that it just was there, but it seemed hard to believe that it didn't come from somewhere. He was pretty much done with the conversation at that point, though I continued it in my head for days. (Several days later he did ask where the Universe came from, lest you think my incompetence at answering made it so he'd never ask a thoughtful question again.)

What haunted me were my own questions about religion. Years ago I came to the conclusion that I did believe in God; that it was too miraculous for all of this wonder to have come from molecules in chaos coming together just right. It's religion itself that gets me. Its humanness seems almost separate from God. It's attempt to explain the unexplainable is ... well ... so human. Frankly it's quite beautiful to me that we try so hard to find our place, to figure out the whys, and what is right. I just cannot believe that a single religion explains it all. I always wonder about the changes in human thinking over the ages. The Greeks truly believed in their Gods. The Romans believed in them, too. American Indians also use(d?) deities to reflect the beauty we see in our world, some of the fears, too. Even modern day religions have evolved along with human thought. My own attempt at explaining it all was to conclude that maybe God speaks to us each in the way we can understand. And this I truly believe.

But I would like to think that people do good because it's right, just plain right, to behave that way rather than because God mandated it. Even though I do believe in God, I do feel rankled when I perceive that people who follow a religion seem to feel morally superior to those who don't, for whatever reason they don't. I believe that you can do good without being told to.

I love that religions talk to our human frailties. I love Christianity's forgiveness and acceptance that we aren't perfect, can't be perfect (though we should try), and when we fail to be perfect we're still okay in this world. I'm also intrigued by representations of evil, because it is part of the awareness that we aren't perfect, that we become tempted, and that we should try with all of our might be rise above those temptations and see that the right path doesn't go there.

It is wondrous to me that we've created our societies in all of their complexity, that we've got many religions also very complex. I can't help but think that all of this has been put into place by God. But I bristle when someone talks about praying to God for something more concrete than strength, acceptance, tolerance, and knowledge. I don't get why God might chose one person over another because of prayer. After all I thought God had a plan, a plan beyond our capability to understand.

I wonder sometimes, though, if he would like to have an eraser. But then I guess you can't really go back in time to change things, can you?

Soaring on the Ground

As I was running the other day, outside in the 25-degree-with-moderate-humidity morning I thought about how much more I enjoy having my feet hit the pavement rather than the treadmill. Even though my left toe was frozen. While part of the enjoyment must have something to do with the actually going somewhere, rather than running in one place staring at the same walls, it is mostly the fact then when I'm running outside, I'm what is moving, not the ground. And I'm pretty sure I won't go flying off of the sidewalk. I've never actually fallen off of a treadmill, but I'm all too aware that it could happen. It stresses me out. I have lost my footing on the elliptical trainer causing me to swear out loud at the gym. Not good. I prefer to swear out loud to myself in the privacy of my car at someone who is not me.

I do enjoy listening to music in the gym. Even music that isn't to my taste. Though it is too much Simpson girls, not enough Avril or Sheryl for me. In spite of this, it helps my mind pass time while my body sweats. And distracts me from my concerns about missteps on the machines. Outside I enjoy the sounds of being outside. It's pretty quiet. I don't really notice the cars; there isn't a lot of traffic when I'm running. I stir up a few dogs in the neighborhood, though. Mainly when I run I hear my shoes on the pavement; I hear my breath.

I recently got myself an mp3 player and arm band to have when I run. I can run about a half an hour before calling it quits. Like changing routes has helped get me out the door, I am hopeful that having some music might distract me from my watch and keep me going longer and farther. If I'm going to run 6 miles in May I need to get going more than 3 miles now. I envision myself fumbling with the thing, though. Hopefully I won't get tangled in any wires. That might be worse than flying off the back of the treadmill.

After I had been running for a few months I told the R that I thought the runner's high was a hoax. I don't feel euphoric while running. That. Is. For. Sure. I have to convince myself to take every single step. I use objects and places in the distance to propel myself forward. A mile into a run, I worry that I could easily talk myself out of running any more, at any moment.

But then I did recently notice a trend in my mood. On my running days, after I've done my yoga, my shower, my hair and makeup, and espresso'ed my latte I feel pretty doggone good. Now I don't know if it is because I have a quiet morning so I have time to run, if it's the yoga I do after I run, or if it is indeed the actual running that leads to this. It's not just satisfaction. It's not just feeling pride that I did something good for myself and I can feel it in my bones. I do feel it in my bones and my muscles resonate with that slight feel-good pain. But it's more than that. It's actually a lifting of my spirits. After years of feeling somewhat dull I actually feel ... dare I say it? Happy.

That's enough to get me back out there tomorrow.

Turn that Badge Right Side Up!

This past Sunday my 3 boys each received the patch for their current Cub Scout rank. As per tradition the patches went on their shirt upside down to be turned over right side up after performing a good deed. During the long, two-and-a-half hour, 150 minute (did I say long?) ceremony my kids sat relatively entertained. There was actually no hat pulling, finger poking, eye-rolling, loud talking, giggling amongst them. That in and of itself was almost a good deed. It was kind of surprising actually.

The N did his first good deed by automatically getting into clean up mode once the drums stopped banging, and oldest Cubs turned into the youngest Boy Scouts. The J and the M had to leave with dad who was very, very ready to get outta there. So one out of 3 patches right side up on day 0.

To celebrate the new Scouts planning to ascend on that Eagle Trail, Mother Nature, Gaia, decided it would be a great day for Typhon to have his fun by blowing gusts of wind over 50mph. Have you ever noticed the windiest day is trash day? It was extra fun since it was also recycle day. We were able to pull our recycleables back in since we were home, but many, many, many others were not so lucky. Remember when your mom used to ask if a cyclone had hit your room? Our neighborhood resembled that room. When the kids came home from school they were completely awestruck at the level of debris flying around. I bet a few birds were concerned about the plastic grocery bags flying in their lanes. Mother Nature's game was truly impressive.

But what impressed me was the kids. Instead of "Mom, may I have a snack and watch Cyberchase" I heard, "Mom, can I go out and pick up the trash?" A pack of elementary school aged kids (about 8) took to the bushes, the streets, the yards, the ditches and filled 18 trash bags full of recycleables that didn't make it to the recycle center. One of them was lucky and found $20. Not one of mine, though.

All in all, there were many good deeds done. The best part? They asked to do it. They thought of it themselves. No adult intervention required.

Take A Deep Breath...or Maybe Not!

There are so many people in the news that I'm not sure why I even know who they are. The octuplets mom for example. This really shouldn't be news. And what is so ironic is that people are so horrified by her story, so angry that she's trying to get book deals and tv shows and whatever...and yet if those people would just ignore her and people like her maybe we wouldn't have to hear about it.

Another celebrity news feature which has actually affected my household, resulting in the ban of Mini-Wheats and Special-K cereal products is the Michael Phelps bong toking incident. Now we wouldn't have banned these products if Kelloggs hadn't gone all indignant declaring that he isn't morally fit to represent their products. Too bad they're not that concerned about marketing Frosted Flakes and Rice Krispies, both of which are pretty devoid of nutrition, to our kids.

Now I certainly don't condone his behavior and part of me thinks that someone who knowingly behaves so stupidly in public deserves to suffer some harsh consequences. I mean really, certainly he would know that would not be viewed favorably by his endorsers and if you are riding the gravy train you better watch what you do. But it's pretty ridiculous that we feel like we know someone because he won 8 gold metals swimming or because we see a picture of him partying down. Because really. We don't. Respect his athletic talent, but don't make him something he's not. Like a hero.

So how do we know he sees his shadow anyway?

If he sees his shadow, thus predicting 6 more weeks of winter, pretty much like the calendar says, we should have snow in our forecast. Instead we're in the 50's and 60's this week. That just isn't winter!

Has there been research done on the vision of a groundhog? Do they have rods and cones? Are we sure that their little eyes see things the way we do, especially after being awakened in the middle of hibernation? I know I might not be able to see very clearly after being asleep for almost 2 months! Maybe his eyes don't process shadows. How would we know?

One thing I know I'm grateful for...I can't even imagine not seeing my shadow during the day. Even when it's cloudy there is enough light peeking out to cast a soft shadow. If I couldn't see the shadows, maybe I'd start dragging groundhogs or ground squirrels out of their holes and see what they think! At that point I guess anything for a little excitement!

A Month Gone By

Already a month into 2009. My age is showing because it really does feel like it's been about a week since Christmas. In fact I confess to having a few Christmas decorations here and there even though it's February! My little pewter reindeer may end up spending the summer up there!

These guys will eventually be put away, but hey...it's supposed to be winter. We should have a few snowmen around here.

But don't tell that to this little guy:

This sign on our front door may be a little out of date:

It's supposed to be replaced by this, but I haven't gotten very far with it!

In just 2 short weeks I'll have a son who is a decade, that's 2 digits, old. Sometimes it seems like he's already a teen, but then at others ... well sometimes we have to remind him of what good bathroom habits are!

And in just a few short months I'll be one year closer to half of a century. Not quite a half century, but I won't be able to get any closer.

It's amazing how time has been sifting through my fingers. In some ways I find that each grain, like each snowflake, is amazingly complex and infinitely analyzable, but when I look at the whole I just have a pile of sand. I'm still finding the best ways to mold it, to have just the right amount of water that as I dump my pail it comes out lumped in one piece stable enough to build onto, but still moldable so I can cut windows, doors, and moats into it. I hope that once I reach that half century mark I'll have something that I can stick a little flag into. Not something finished. Not something ready to be pulled into the ocean. I'm not nearly ready for that! Just enough of something of my own to show for my time here so far.