Emptiness

Throughout the day, I have great ideas for blog posts: a story from NPR might inspire a mental rant that would be provocative to share, a personal reflection could bring dynamic comment conversation, an article might spark new insights for all of us (and possibly more articles…).

But then I do all the things (care for Abraham, care for everyone else, care for the house, care for any work on my plate) and then…my brain is empty. I can’t remember what I wanted to write about. It’s gone.

Isn’t this why I practice yoga? Yogascittavritti nirodhah. Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind. Yoga is when the thoughts stop. And here I am, thoughts stopped.

But I don’t think that is what they really meant.

How is it that I could once wake up early, practice yoga, work all day teaching and creating theatre, go home for big conversations with roommates or yoga classes or craft projects, read a novel for fun, and then sleep peacefully? Now, I don’t do half of that in a day, but I struggle to remember to make a phone call to get my oil changed or to pick up a book at the end of the day.

I know, I know…I have an infant, don’t be so hard on myself. I’m not being hard on myself. I want to read, craft, create art, and practice yoga. And that is just solo projects. I want to spend time with my husband, talk to my far away friends (and close by friends!) and family.

But at the end of the day, I plop down at the kitchen table and mull over…facebook. Over pinterest. Over things don’t deepen my days. No offense to facebook.

But my brain is empty.  I don’t have the motivation to close Whitey (yes, my computer is named Whitey. He’s white. What would you name him?) and pick up my book/craft project/script. By 9 or 10pm, I’m not able to start a meaningful yoga practice.

So…what do you do? How do you, friends and readers, motivate yourself to do the things you love? That just sounds ridiculous – if I love them, why is it effort?

And please don’t tell me not to worry about it right now. I am not worrying, but I want to be a great mom for Abraham, a great wife for David, a great step-mom for Zoe and Nathan and I can’t if I’m not feeling like myself. You know?

Am I just writing in circles?

Up All Night

Oh man.

I love Will Arnett, who I will always think of as GOB from Arrested Development (the funniest show no longer on television).  And I love Maya Rudolph, especially in that movie, Away We Go. And The Blonde Lady is funny too.

They made a TV show about being a parent and working to much. And liking both parenting and working. And being a stay at home parent. And really wanting to go out with your partner and do fun things like drink to much and sing terrible karaoke (ok, David and I wouldn’t do that – we’d eat too many tacos and sing Sacred Harp Music, but you know).

Is it ok that I teared up at the end? I’ll blame it on breastfeeding hormones. This show is not super great, but really hits a nerve.

It reminded me of something a friend from my old congregation told me when I quit my job there. A previous employee, who had recently become a new mother, told him, “Women can have it all, just not at the same time.”

Have you seen the show? What do you think? Can women have it all? What does that even mean “it all”?

Woman

My good friend, the Incredible Exploding Head, just wrote a great piece about being a Woman. Mostly having to do with being a Mother vs. Not. She got me thinking about my own mother-ness.

I had a rough day. I’ve had a rough series of days. I shouldn’t: I have a sweet, funny baby who is very easy going, a devoted and kind husband, a comfortable home, some interesting work. Even friends. In town. Nearby!

But I have very little time that is my own. Which I expected when I decided to have a baby. But I didn’t realize how intense it would be to be needed all the time.

I think of myself as an introvert and an extrovert. I usually feel shy, not quite knowing what to say, but at the same time, wanting to be with people. I used to (wait, I still do) work/write at a cafe, not in my home office (what home office – ha!). I like taking classes. I like sitting in audiences. I don’t really like talking in front of people (acting is different…).

The introvert part of me needs alone time to reboot. A 7 minute shower every morning isn’t enough.

Most people don’t talk about this part of being a mother. The part where you stop being you.

I keep thinking to myself, when Abraham goes to school, I will practice yoga for real. I will start a theatre company. I will read books quickly. I will be me again.

This is a terrible approach. I am me. I am the same person who wanted to have a baby in the first place. If I put myself on the shelf (sorry for that rhyme), how can I be a good mother, dare I say my ideal mother, for Abraham? How can I be a good wife, step mother, friend, anything? Much less artist, teacher, leader…

I feel terrible every time I leave Abraham with a babysitter or even David, because I love leaving. I love going to the coffee shop with my laptop and writing. I love going to the yoga studio and teaching. I love meeting my friend for lunch and brainstorming theatre ideas for the company we want to get off the ground.

Which is not to say that I don’t love being with him. I do. I do so much. I love watching him discover the world. I love that when he cries a little, it shocks me because I think of him as a person not really a baby. I love watching him eat, sleep, poop, laugh, read…everything. But I love it most when I feel most like myself. Which is when I spend some time taking care of my, not him, not David, not anyone else.

I wish I could do both and not feel bad about either.

So, like the Head, who got my brain going in the first place (Head, you are so good at that. I miss you!),  I want to make the next part of my like pretty fucking cool. In Reading, PA.

I’ve got to figure out how to start.

Local

I’m trying to get my friend Kirsten to move to Detroit because I can’t move there. She lives in Ann Arbor and could get a job in Detroit. She is an artist, a yoga teacher, and a compassionate, creative soul. She could do great things in Detroit.

Then I remembered that I live in Reading, a city that could use some compassion and creativity.

Then this morning, I read this article. And I remembered that I could do great things here.

As much as I actually don’t like growing up, I do like discovering the beliefs that matter most to me. If I observe where my own actions lead (because I believe in the cliche that actions speak louder), commitment to local is high on the list (close to importance of family, open time, thrift, and other things). When I worked at Touchstone Theatre, my favorite projects were always the very local pieces we created ourselves. The very personal/local transcends and becomes relevant to everyone, everywhere.

That is what I want to do in Reading.

Do

Sometimes I want to create a big to do list. It would have my personal life goals (sing onstage with the Indigo Girls, become an Iyengar yoga teacher), my current goals (write this play, find time to practice yoga well, make things), my immediate goals (prep all the cloth diapers, get or make curtains for the boys’ room, figure out how to get Abraham to sleep…).

I get overwhelmed by the repetition of what must be done each day: laundry, dishes, pick up toys. If I skip a day the next day is unpleasant.

I am working on becoming ore disciplined with the MUSTS so I can have more time for the WANTS. Waiting until the end of the night to clean up the kitchen rather than doing it all day. Waiting until the end of the night to deal with email and the internet rather than doing it all day (this is tough…).

I think a giant to do list would also overwhelm more than it would help. The upkeep…Sheesh, what am I thinking.

 

Things

I am overwhelmed.

Why did I think it would be a good idea to teach theatre, teach yoga, run a small religious school, and work on writing a play in the months after having a baby? Not to forget my family, the house, and myself. Oh dear.

Up until January 6, 2011 (when Abraham was born), I always kept myself very busy and did well. The busier the better, most of the time. I carefully packed my days with all the things I enjoyed.

I have not only added “Bio-mom” to my list of labels (because I was already a step-mom), but moved it way, way to the top of the list. I love it and wouldn’t trade it, but it is overwhelming. Abraham wants to be held when he is awake, and he wants to be nursing while he is asleep. So much touching. Which is what I wanted, but I didn’t realize how intense it would be.

In the short times that Abraham is not touching me, I am desperately doing things I can’t do with him: showering, laundry, dishes, working, yoga. Yoga comes last.

I am about to turn 30 (which I was thinking was making me an adult for real, but in fact, I think it is really young). I was feeling like I needed to do things I’ve been wanting to do: have a real job again (instead of 4 small ones), join boards, make a big difference. But I think what I am realizing is that I want fewer commitments now. I have time. Hopefully lots of time. I can get a real job when I’m 40 and still get to do it for a long time. I can join boards when I’m 50 and still serve my community for a long time. I can make a big difference when I’m 60 and still be younger than my friend Lane was when she joined the Peace Corps.

What has been my hurry? Why are we all in such a hurry?

I don’t anticipate having more children (sorry, Mom) because 3 is enough. But it means Abraham will be my only baby. Which is ok, babies are hard. But I don’t want to fret about his sleep because I need to do things during his nap time. I want to cuddle up and sniff his little head.

you can come cuddle with him too

Value of Art

Americans for the Arts‘ ARTSblog had an interesting article about Art/Artists working in and with Communities.

I tried to leave a comment but was unable, so here are my thoughts:

I have seen, through my own work, that the arts are deeply connected to our communities, through art for art’s sake that is also art for humanity’s sake. I prefer when art is both – why can’t art be quality, creative, and meaningful to more than just us, those who make it.

The challenge I have faced, working independently or as part of a small ensemble, is that artists don’t often have the knowledge to “prove” their value to granters or community leaders, nor do they have the finances to pay someone else to do it.

It is exciting to hear that HUD and Kresge are thinking more broadly about change and encouraging relationships between communities and artists. I hope that it reaches all levels of artists, not just those who are big and known, but also all of us who are small but creating great work.

As I work toward revitalizing the Reading Theater Project, I have these conversations with myself a lot: what is the value of art (of theater)? what kind of art do I want to make? do I want the art to serve the artist or the community? What I keep returning to is YES – I believe that art can do all of these things and we don’t have to choose. We can produce a place, write a play, develop a performance as an ensemble; it can be high quality art and highly creative AND be meaningful to the community we live in.

This is my goal. Maybe I am naive. Maybe it is possible with the right people.

Perks

GOOD Magazine recently had an issue on work. Some interesting job perks I found perusing the online version of the article. Some of the perks support people who are working at the company for philosophical reasons and other honor family life in very admirable ways:

• At Google, new parents get more than maternity leave: up to $500 of reimbursements for take-out when their newborn’s needs mean no time for home cooking.
• Patagonia offers an employee internship program, allowing workers to take paid time off to intern at the environmental nonprofit of their choice.
• Trader Joe’s has a company-paid retirement plan that automatically pays an amount equal to 15.4 percent of a worker’s annual income into a retirement account—without the employee having to contribute a single cent.
• Target will connect employees to “wellness coaches,” who help them lose weight, quit smoking, eat healthily, and de-stress.
• Netflix full-timers not only get unlimited rentals, but also unlimited vacation days, as long as they get their work done. (brilliant!)

Note to self: If I am ever in a position to run a company of any size, take this list to heart.

Theatre

Last night, David and I went with my dear friend Joel to see a The Marriage of Bette and Boo, a play from the 80s by Christopher Durang, at the Ephrata Playhouse.

The play was about marriage, children, family, and all the absurdity and sadness that goes along. It was as funny as devastating. I like this about art – its ability to make you laugh and cry at the same time.

The theatre is an excellent community theatre, where I would be interested in volunteering to act (no actors get paid in community theatre), except that they rehearse at night. No way that is happening any time soon.

It keeps becoming more and more clear to me: If I want to make theatre in Berks County, I have to do it myself with the artists I respect and trust. Which is exciting and at times overwhelming. How will I meet more of these artists if I am not out in the community doing theatre? How will I connect with any amount of audience if I am not out in the community doing theatre?

And am I insane for committing to make new theatre when I’m 33 weeks pregnant?!

Just Ask

Important lesson learned: People loved to be asked to help, to volunteer, to contribute.

Kids loves to volunteer to pass out papers, to write on the board, to collect papers, to hold the door, to help another kid. Few that I’ve met have the initiative to offer help (maybe this is a developmental milestone hit later? must look into that), but any time I ask for volunteers, I usually have more than I need before I even announce what the volunteering is for!

Adults also love to help but need to be asked. People who are new to the organization, community, family, etc want to be involved and supportive but often don’t know what to do.  Small projects work well and then that volunteer starts to see how the systems work and they either continue to volunteer or begin taking initiative.

This revelation is not earth shattering. You may even be reading this thinking, Yes, Vicki, all you have to do is ask. I’ve been telling you that for years. (Yes, Mom, you are right again).

But for a small, shy woman, asking is the hardest part. It is easier to for me to do everything myself rather than ask for help. But I see that the community cannot continue on my shoulders (or the shoulders of the taking-initiative few) alone; I don’t want it to. That is the whole point of community.

Though it is a little early or late, my new year’s resolution is to ASK.