Mind, Body, and Soul

I have been thinking for a couple of years now that I want to get a tattoo.  I want nothing grandiose or conspicuous, just something elegant and private and meaningful and mine. 

I even know what I want it to say…

…Challenge the Mind, Strengthen the Body, Nourish the Soul.

Keeping such verbosity relatively conspicuous could present difficulty, I am sure. But, I feel pretty passionate about these phrases.  I steadfastly believe that the happiest people in the world are the people who keep each of these pieces fully quenched with life. True happiness is soul deep.  How can the deepest, most private pieces of our souls be satisfied if our minds and bodies are dying of thirst?

For last two weeks, life has shouted emphatic reminders at me regarding just how monumental it is to give attention to each of these facets of me; when even one is dehydrated, my perspectives teeter out of balance and I begin to become someone I do not care for very much.

For the last twelve days, I have not been watering my body; I have only worked out THREE times!  Three?  Are you kidding me? For someone who usually manages to play with Jillian Michaels 5 times a week, this is pathetic.  When times like these happen (and believe me…this is NOT a first time occurrence), it affects every other aspect of who I am.  My mood is less alacritous and jovial. My eating habits take a turn for the dark side.  I feel sleepy and sluggish and worthless many minutes of the day and even more minutes of the evening. Clearly this self-sabotage is a dreadful, tiresome, ugly thing.

But you know what?  I also cherish these dreadful, tiresome, and ugly moments.  Could I ask for any more TANGIBLE PROOF that my physical well being decidedly impacts my mental health, my somatic energy, and my soul-deep happiness?  It frustrates me when I have these brief periods of neglect, but on days like today, when that emphatic screaming that I have been plugging my ears to for days finally wakes me up, when I finally take a long drink, it is amazing.  Miraculous. Empowering. Fulfilling.

It is on days like today that I REALLY want to get that tattoo!  Make that corporal mark. Perhaps if I do, these periods of drought will have even more brevity. Perhaps if I do, I will more quickly respond to the emphatic reminders my soul gives to my body and mind. 

And the bottom line is...tattoos are just darn cool.

My answers...

I have a group of seniors reading a delightful little book titled Sophie's World.  (Whether or not my students would use the adjective "delightful" in their descriptions is questionable, I suppose.) Within its opening pages, the young protagonist is presented with four questions that deluge her curious, spongy mind :

"Who are you?"

"What makes us human?"

"Where does the world come from?"

"Do you believe in fate?"

And then Sophie's journey into the history of philosophy begins.  Naturally, I ask my students to consider their responses to these questions.  Naturally, I share with them my own.  Today seemed like as good of a day as any (even though it is not Tuesday anymore) to share my answers here.  

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I am Rebecca Marie Mashino and I like to consider myself a multifaceted person who is a reader, a writer, a thinker, and an athlete. I strive to be optimistic in all endeavors and do my best to encourage others to join me in this celebration of what makes life miraculous. More importantly and more to the fabric of my being, I am also a mother, a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend, a teacher, and a friend. These threads define me in deep and indelible ways and each is inextricably woven through the other. I am in a continuous battle of sorts in establishing an effective, healthy, and harmonious balance among each. I seek comfort in the quilt of my life and seek to provide comfort to others. It can be exhausting and frustrating, but ultimately rewarding when the balance is as it should be. As I progress through life – um, age, I guess I really mean - I think I am becoming a more proficient seamstress.

A human being, if he chooses to, has the ability to think outside of himself. He can ask questions without answers; he can consider an endless and fascinating list of possibilities. He can understand that actions have "equal and opposite reactions" that may be beyond his control, but that his place in the chaos has purpose. He can see that the universe is infinitively larger, more intricate, and much more significant than he will ever be. But, he can also find infectious joy and placid satisfaction in his place in the vastness of the unknown while continuously seeking grander and more profound understandings to share with others.

Because I am a human being, I do - quite often if I'm being honest - contemplate where it all began. The answer to such a question is more of a quest than an absolute destination. I will say that I am a woman of science and history and that I am fascinated by the plethora of the world's mythological explanations for what we cannot fully embrace with our minds. I think that ultimately, all of humanity arrives at nearly the same conclusions. The absolute destination seems of minor consequence when compared with what we discover about ourselves and each other as we experience the quest.

Fate. What an enigmatic concept, huh? The definition of Fate does not allow for any semblance of control or alterability. I cannot believe that humans - with all our astounding capacities for reason - are not in control of our own destinies. I do believe that we all are born with innate traits and talents, unique to each of us. Life becomes what we choose to make of those traits and talents. And then there are multiple other "factors" about life over which we may lack control…when we are born, where are born, to whom we are born. I used to muse that I was born in the wrong era... but that's another tale. My conclusion - for now - is that fate is a part of life, but we ultimately choose how we handle what is fated to us. Who is to say those choices do not slightly alter the path?

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Have you got it in you to pen an answer to these questions? My students will.  And by the way, thank you so very much to the student who left me the pretty, only initialed, sweet little reminder on my door yesterday to write.  You have no idea how deeply that touched me. I am carrying it with me now and will continue to do so.

Obligation

As treasured colleagues and I were waiting for a staff meeting to begin, we engaged in our usual banter, delightfully seasoned with jocular sagacity.  One suggested,  “Maybe you should blog about that since you haven’t yet this week.”  Ouch.  Maybe it is just a bad day of the week for me to write.  My brain began to process two reactions.  I felt flattered that he noticed; someone is reading what I have to say and cares enough to offer encouragement since I am having trouble with Tuesdays.  On the other, I felt defeated.  Someone else – other than my mother - noticed that I have been having trouble with Tuesdays.

How does that sense of obligation make me feel?  When this writing began, I thought it made me feel, well, obligated.  Obligated to something else that it seems I cannot maintain.  Something else. All of these “something elses” can create pressure-filled days and restless nights when the obligatory people and events collide.  Or run each other over.  Or blow each other up. Or crush me. So why do I continue to add the weight?  Do I think I’m Giles Corey or something? 

So I take the deep breath that Giles Corey couldn’t take and I begin to wonder. What kind of “weight” am I adding? What does “more weight” really mean? What does this “weight” represent?

To be obligated  - to people and things - is really a fortuitous treasure.  It means other people depend upon me.  It means that the things I do matter to someone other than me. At the end of the day, those feelings are phenomenal. Isn’t that the point of living life?  We should want to make as many connections with people and things as we can.  These relationships are what give our lives that elusive sense of purpose. I made a promise to myself and posed a challenge to many others who were listening to me struggle to get through a few words on October 6th, 2005.  The promise:  To forever-forward live my life, deliberately, with purpose and joy. 

So, does anyone need anything from me today?  I will winsomely oblige.

It's Wednesday...

“I’ll be home for Christmas; you can plan on me. Please have snow, and mistletoe and presents under the tree…eeee.” Because yes, I sing Christmas carols year round when I am in the shower.  There. I admit it. I LOVE Christmas carols and I LOVE the way my voice sounds in the shower. 

Then guess what happened?  I excitedly realized that it is already Wednesday!  Smile! Happy dance! This smile is followed immediately by a frustrated eye roll and a reprobative, out-loud exclamation; “You idiot!  You forgot to write!”  (So I guess there is another admission…I sometimes talk to myself.)  Not that I have not been reading and writing…furiously.  The focus of said reading and writing so far this week has been my students, which, I figure, is perfectly acceptable. 

It does continue to astound me how quickly things – time I guess I really mean - can get away from me. I really thought that this school year I would have more “time”.  My son is away at college.  Our puppy is a year older.  I have another year of teaching experience under my belt and brand new technology that everyone says will make things “easier” and “better”. Why aren’t these factors translating into more feelings of being “caught up” with things?  It should, right?  RIGHT?!? My predictions about that, it turns out, have been resoundingly wrong.

As far as the teaching thing goes, I never do everything the same.  I have this inherent need to change things up all the time.  I must be crazy! In reality, I do it for me, partly, because who wants to get bored?  But mostly I do it for the kids because NO GROUP of people is EVER the SAME.  Ever. 

And the technology?  Um…there is a bit of a learning curve there.  I am getting better and more proficient, and I am learning things from my savvy students daily, but this year, so far at least, it has been dreadfully time-consuming.  (I remain optimistic, however.)

Our puppy?  Who am I kidding?  He is STILL a PUPPY.  I love him to pieces and he deserves my attention, too.

My son being gone?  Let’s be honest.  He has been pretty self sufficient for 2 years now, so it is not that influential on my daily routine that his geography has changed. While I am not attending his athletic events anymore, I still attend the events of my students.  I like it.  It is an important use of my time.

So there it is I guess.  Why did I ever really think I would be somehow less busy this school year?  Again…self chastisement: “You idiot!”

I am still smiling because I guess I have decided today that it’s ok.  I am content with feeling constantly under pressure.  I am satisfied with the list that sits beside me of things I must accomplish tonight after school. I am looking forward to the minutes of the evening that I will claim for myself  - a few minutes with Jillian Michaels and a fantasy football draft - because I KNOW how important it is to do those things for me. 

I must admit it; I would be miserable if my life weren’t brimming with all of these wonderful things every single day.  Time really is moving at the same pace that it always has.  My life, thankfully, is just too darn full to always keep up with everything the way I would like to.  Too marvelously full. So, sometimes I write on Wednesdays.

And by the way, there are only 112 days until Christmas so get off my case for the shower caroling, alright?

Some Sibling Reflection...

I remember being able to talk my little sister, Jennifer, into just about anything when were were young.  Unzip bean bags for the purpose of ensconcing ourselves with those delightful little Styrofoam balls? Sure!  Write on walls with Crayola-Crayon-shaped, flavored lip-gloss? Ok! I was, without question, the ornery one. She suffered many punishments  because of her trust in me. Once, with the help of a cousin, I even had her convinced I was dead.  DEAD!  How awful was I? (I did get in trouble all by myself for that doozy.)

And when the little brother came along years later? Let's just say that the two of us were quite a formidable, antagonistic force against which my poor brother had to struggle. Often.  Just ask him today.  He'll be glad to tell you just how diabolical we were.

Since those care-free, rough-and-tumble days of youth, my brother joined the Army. He has had a fascinating career as a medic, filled with deployments to hostile places (from which he has always returned unscathed, thankfully) and hospital assignments at which he has healed countless veterans and civilians.  He has become a strong man, a supportive husband, and a fun-loving yet disciplined father, despite all of my relentless, youthful torture. My sister served her country abroad, became a mother and a wife, and blessed all of those around her with her desire to love and support every single person she met.  Ever.  She became a kind-hearted yet tenacious soul who I greatly admired.  Then she died. Far too early. Her death impacted me in ways that were immediate, and in much more profound ways that I still continue to discover.

My siblings have been on my mind more often than usual lately, so I thought writing about them would be healthy. Because without reflection, life slips by us too quickly, memories fade, and we stop growing.  And if we stop growing, then what is the point?

On Only my 7th entry...

...I have failed.  Yes.  It is Friday.  It is not Tuesday.  I have already failed at writing and posting on Tuesdays.  I am frustrated by my early slip up.  I cannot, however, let it deter me from remaining vigilant in my pursuit of sharing my personal writing. So here I am, writing and posting on a Friday.

It’s no wonder I did not get this done on Tuesday!  Whew…it has been a whirlwind!

• The school year is now in full swing and I am inundated with planning, presenting, and grading.
• I am focused upon what I deliver to my kids and how I deliver it.
• I am already worried about the kids I see “checking out” and whether or not they will achieve the standards-based goals I am charged with ensuring they reach and, in some instances, whether or not they will successfully reach graduation.
• I am immersed fully into learning as much as I can about these new devices we all possess and in becoming a more digital, in-the-now sort of teacher.
• I took my son to Terre Haute and left him there.
• I am feeling guilty about the poor, sweet puppy I have to leave at home alone every day as he had gotten used to all of my attention this summer.
• I am remembering how much harder it is to keep my home clean and neat when I go to school every day.
• Since it has rained and gotten hot, finally, the tomatoes in the garden are exploding.  I am washing I don't know how many every day.  Really.  Lots of them.

See?  I can barely keep track of the days of the week already!  It is a wonderful feeling. To be so connected to and passionate for the things in my life is a blessing.   The days of the week squish and huddle so tightly together that they sneak right by me.   I mean really?  It is Friday already?  My gracious! Of course, the older I get I do begin to wish time would slow down a little.  Well, just a little. 

On a positive not, I do already know about what I will write next time....ON TUESDAY!!! 

On Conversation can change it all...

One conversation - from the right place - can build a bridge over a ravine into which people almost fall. One conversation – with the right tone - can show people that they are, in fact, on the same side of a fence and nearly always have been. One conversation – with the right purpose – can stop divisive hills before they become mountainous blockades. One conversation – at just the right time – can mend the hearts of people who were unaware they were even breaking.

I am coming to realize that the foundation upon which most conflicts in life are founded is feeling. The scope of human emotion is wide and deep; fear, anger, physical pain, loss, jealously, insecurity, apathy, frustration, melancholy. These things drive us despite our best efforts to keep them from getting behind the wheel.  We attempt to ignore these things, blindly thinking we are the ones driving with these “passengers” tightly buckled down in the back seat.  I know how to buckle mine down very, very well.  They are rarely able to wiggle loose. And you know what?  I have spent a great deal of my life being very proud of that.  Yep.  You stay in the back seat you pesky emotions.  I am driving!

Then, while I think I am cruising right along, they are quietly unbuckling the restraints.  They move - clandestine and ninja-like - to the passenger seat and snuggle up close to me.  And before I can even gather myself to press the brake, my vehicle is barreling down the road, the passengers now in complete and reckless control. I have had many of these accidents.  Sometimes the damage is minor, easily fixed with a little paint.  Others have been more consequential and it has cost me a great deal to repair the damage. One or two have been irrevocable.  Total losses.

It seems to me that the best way to avoid these accidents is to ensure that my passengers never have the need to get behind the wheel.  How do I do that?  I acknowledge they are always riding along with me.  I accept them for being a part of what it means to be human, to be me. 

Of course, that being human thing means that I do occasionally let them sit on my lap and momentarily swerve me off course, headlong into that barrier I call conflict. I CAN, however, apply the brake before I crash.  I can initiate a conversation that acknowledges their influence on my course.  I can initiate a conversation from the right place, with the right tone, and with the right purpose.  When that conversation happens, my passengers gladly return to their back seat positions and fasten the seatbelt themselves.