Swirling ideas

Full disclosure – I love (most) change. I love hearing new ideas and changing up the way I do things, and if it involves a new software program I’m even happier. I might even admit to preferring change to maintaining day after day.

Lately I’ve been reading, listening and just generally soaking in some great stuff that hits on a variety of areas:

Chris Guillebeau, author, traveller and blog writer caught my attention near the end of 2011 and I’ve been “following” him ever since. He has a great list of activities that will lead you to the “One-Year, Self-Directed, Alternative Graduate School Experience” and a chapter on “Radical Exclusion and the Quest for Abundance” – I loved both of these. He has a pile of other thoughts, ideas and challenges that have really captured my imagination lately.

One word – Adele. I LOVE her. And I love this dvd that showed up under my Christmas tree in December. Singing – awesome. Authenticity - gut-wrenching. Potty mouth - undoubtedly. (Warning – if swear words and earthy chat in between songs offend you, then just skip over this one. Trust me.) I wanted to weep with her when she heard a capacity crowd sing her songs at The Royal Albert Hall. Really cool to experience that moment.

Jesus Culture and Kim Walker – especially Kim Walker’s rendition of How He Loves Us. That song, and the passion with which she sings it…well, words fail. And on a totally different level, I am fascinated by how low her voice sounds in keys that are not really all that low. And then, of course, how high she’s actually singing, when it doesn’t sound all that high. Human voices are remarkable. Sometimes. Well, a few of them are.

I’m also in the middle of reading a couple of other books:

    and    .

The problem is that Linchpin is due back at the library in 5 days and I don’t think I’m going to make the deadline . Time to figure out online renewing.

Anyway, those are a few of my favourite things at the moment. Have you been pondering some wisdom lately?

Happy 2012!

Like many people, I’ve been thinking about the past year and dreaming about the future year. I have plans for 2012 stirring in my brain, along with fears that this time next year will see me in just about the same place. Then I read Seth Godin’s post from yesterday with this killer last sentence:

“You don’t need a new plan for next year. You need a commitment.”

In some ways, whew. I don’t need a detailed plan to launch into 2012. 

But I do need some “stick-to-it-ness”. Hmm. Not so fabulous.

…

Do they know it’s Christmas time?

Yesterday I had to fast for 12 hours before a blood test to measure cholesterol, etc. Not, I might add, the best time of year to be tested for high cholesterol, but surprisingly, my doctor doesn’t care to hear my excuses and stalling tactics. So I resigned myself to doing without my morning coffee and breakfast even while I was finishing up some Christmas baking. Yes, I deserve a medal.

It wasn’t a great morning…I was grumpy, sluggish and feeling haunted by a large “to do” list, topped off with the opportunity to wait in the doctor’s office for what felt like hours. Then I came home to a chicken sandwich, with two cups of coffee and felt my outlook brightening with each bite and sip.  It occurred to me as I began whirling around the kitchen that I am very tied to the food I eat. When I don’t have food, I begin to sink, both physically and mentally. Nothing seems too possible, and everything is difficult. Half an hour after eating, I become this productive and relatively (let’s be realistic here) optimistic person.

To be honest, I rarely have to worry about this. Every day I have a choice of healthy foods to eat and my stomach hardly ever grumbles from hunger.

How, I asked myself, does someone living in poverty get the strength to not only provide for present needs, but plan for the future? If you don’t have enough to eat, or anything healthy to eat, can you muster up the energy to pull yourself and your family out of the poverty cycle?

At one point I was the Exec Director of a nonprofit that tried to feed, clothe and house hungry children in different parts of the world. We raised funds for the immediate needs, and brainstormed ways to make the future bright and sustainable. It was good work, and I miss having that direct connection to problem-solving, creative caring.

While I’m worrying this year about eating too many desserts and not finding time to exercise, others are wondering if they’ll have anything to eat

I don’t really have a great way to end this post. Maybe a question…how do we live our lives and integrate a heart for the welfare of others?tomorrow.  It’s just so…bizarre. And terribly wrong.

God bless us, every one.

Who is coming to town?

Does anyone know how to balance the truth of Jesus and the myth (albeit fun and magical myth) of Santa at Christmas when dealing with a 4-year-old?

A couple of friends were over for dinner the other night and we were talking through the ramifications of pretending Santa’s real, while asserting that the Nativity story is true. As a child, I didn’t have problems moving from one realm to the other. My dad worked hard at keeping the magic of Christmas alive and yet, at some inevitable point, I discovered that Santa was not real. I don’t even remember when I figured that out – it was that untraumatizing.

I know others though that feel unable to come to terms with the GIANT lie that was perpetrated by previously trustworthy parents. If that is untrue, what else is untrue? Is the world round? Do you get cramps if you eat before swimming? Will your face really freeze that way?

So far I’m walking cautiously. I talk about the joy of pretending and the story of Santa (emphasis on “story”) and the fact of Jesus being born in a manger, with shepherds coming to see him. And when I look into her beautiful eyes, I realize that she’s only half listening and is just waiting for me to stop talking so she can run off and play with the skating reindeer ornaments that used to hang on our tree but now follow her around the house. 

Maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe someday, if I repeat myself often enough, she’ll tell me that she heard me all along. Or maybe, like most parents, I’m living in a funny, little fairy tale of my own.