Why We Work

I'm in the process of looking for a new job.

For the past nine years I have taught Sociology for a small community college in central Washington State. It has been my passion. For MOST of that time I have also held down various full time positions. These have changed from time to time:

Caregiver Training Coordinator
Information & Referral Manager
Executive Director of non profit
Marketing Director for a retirement community
Learning Specialist at a different college, designing & evaluating pilot programs to enhance student retention and success
Interim Director of College Prep - being in charge of all the GED/ESL/ABE classes across five counties.
And now...back to being an Executive Director again of a different non-profit.

But through it all, I defined my IDENTITY as being a teacher who happened to take on other jobs to help pay the bills.

However, in these economic hard times the school where I worked is having to cut back in some significant ways. They cancelled 90 classes. They laid off 18 full time employees (classified and exempt technical) and did away with nearly all their adjunct instructors. Their IT department is operating at 40%. It's not looking good. I was one of the ones that got cut. So that job that meant so very much to me is now gone.

I will miss it in a lot of ways. In a few ways, it is a relief. But one of the realities is that I was counting on that job to provide insurance benefits for my family after my husband retires, which is not all that far away. That is no longer an option for me. My current full time job as Director of a small non profit does not provide any sort of benefits. So I am looking for a new position that will give me the insurance that we most definitely need.

I've applied for half a dozen jobs so far and have several more I plan to apply for this weekend. As I go through this process I've been giving a lot of thought to why we work and what it is I need to get from a job.

Yesterday as I went about town doing my errands I asked several people I encountered at the bank, the library and the grocery store the following questions:

1. What is the best and worst part of your job?
2. If you could be instantly qualified to do any job in the universe, what would you most like to do?
3. Do you know what steps it would take to make that sort of job a reality for you now?
4. Are you willing to do things to get closer to doing the work of your dreams?

I'm not sure which baffles me more - the fact that there are a lot of people who have utterly NO CLUE about what they really want, or people who know exactly what they want, understand what it would take to get there, yet are completely unwilling to take the necessary steps to get there.

So right now I'm putting a lot of energy into getting as clear as I can on what sort of work I would most want to do and then identifying the steps I need to take to make it come true.

I'm apprehensive about it a bit, caught in the trap of uncertainty about the future. But mostly I am practicing trusts in the universe to help me find whatever path that is meant for me.

It should be an interesting journey.

Croning and other passages

(Disclaimer: to the men who occasionally read my blogs - um, ya might want to skip this one. Or if you choose to proceed, consider yourself warned. This one is about women's bodies, women's spirits. It's not that you of the XY chromosome crew are unwelcome, it's just that most guys I know tend to squirm when the talk turns to moon seasons and blood.)

Tonight I was at a social gathering where I spent some time visiting with an 82 yr old woman talking about perceptions of age. I asked her "when you close your eyes and think of yourself, what age do you see yourself as?" She smiled coyly and admitted that her self image was considerably younger than the face that looks back at her each day in the mirror.

As I watched the various women in the group interact with one another it dawned on me that I was the youngest in the room, probably by at least a dozen years. I marvelled at the collected life experiences they all had. As I watched their various examples of different stages of living, I couldn't help but wonder what sort of "old lady" I would become.

Many years ago I was invited to attend a "croning ceremony". The dictionary may identify a "crone" as an ugly, withered old woman, a hag. But the group who offered up this rite of passage ritual deliberately turned the term "Crone" inside out and upside down, naming it instead as a season of life honoring wisdom, a time deserving of respect. The ceremony was carried out to honor a woman who had just turned 60 yrs old. Her friends marked the occasion with a drumming circle, smudging her with the smoke of burning sage, offering up specially designed chants & dance. It was an opportunity for each one in the group to tell this woman what gifts they recognized in her and to express how she had blessed their lives. It was powerful stuff.

There's a pretty good description of that sort of crone consciousness HERE.

As I approach the Crone season of my own life I think of various women I have known over the years. I ponder which roles I might emulate and which I will eschew.

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I am reminded of my days as a girl when, at age twelve, about half my friends had begun the mystery of menses and half, like me, had not. Those of us who were uninitiated in the ways of the moon season whispered together and speculated what it might be like. We were nervous, curious, unsettled by the thought of the changes that would soon beset our bodies. Some girls spoke disparagingly about starting their periods, calling it "the curse". There were tales of horrible cramps, savage mood swings, and zits from hell. But I was one of the lucky ones. I never suffered with my cycles. My body marched through its changes with little discomfort. I was so regular you could just about set your watch on my body's timekeeping. (very convenient for planning camping trips or any long journey.) Rather than be disgusted by the inconvenience and the mess, somehow I learned to honor my body's sacred ability to create life within it, even though I opted out of fertility early with tubal ligation at a young age. I still appreciated the mark of womanhood that menses gave me.

Now as I prepare for the inevitable letting go of that season that is bound to come soon, I am curious about how I will define myself in my senior years. I again find myself at a crossroads, wondering what it will be like. Some of the women I know speak of menopause in distraught tones over hot flashes, coarser hair, drying, wrinkled skin, drooping bodies with bones newly brittle. Others celebrate their season of liberation from monthly time of blood. Menopause is just one slice of what it means to be growing older for women. But, like adolescence, it is a significant piece, I think.

My mother died young - at 53. But my grandmother lived into her eighties and her mother before her lived to be 103. I knew my great-grandmother fairly well. Since I was a grandmother before I hit 40, chances are likely I will know my great-grandchildren, and possibly even great-great grandchildren as well. How will they view the old woman with the mischievous smile they know as their gran?

To me, growing old means letting go of a lot. It also means embracing life in some new ways. Or at least it can, and should, to my way of thinking.

Although I've known heartache and loss, I hope I will never be a bitter or spiteful old woman.
Although I've had disappointments and setbacks plenty, I hope I never allow those shadow times to take precedence in my heart over the love and the laughter and the magic that have also woven their way through my life.

To me, becoming a Crone is about accepting the full balance that life brings, good and bad braided together, and celebrating the rich meat of life even if I occasionally bite into gristle.
It's about being there to help mentor and guide younger women, at least those who are willing to listen. It means accepting my weaknesses and failings with grace instead of the humiliation of my youth. It means counting my lucky stars for all of life's lesson, even the ones that came cloaked as sorrow, betrayal, and hardship. As I approach my Crone years, I want to be the kind of old lady whose eyes dance with humor, who laughs often and deep, and who loves with ferocity. I want to work as long as I am able. But I also want to carve out time for rest. No more frantic rushing to prove myself...no more caring so much about acquiring or achieving. I want to finally GET IT that like is more about being than doing. I do have a few grand ambitions of things I might yet pursue...but if none of them come to pass I think I can be satisfied so long as I can dance some and walk on beaches and chase polliwogs in a pond.

That pretty much sums up my image of what I hope for my next chapter of living. Now, what reality will actually bring may be another story. It remains to be seen what changes may come to my mind or to my body. I have no doubt that over the next 20 years (if I get that many) I will know plenty of pain and loss. How I rise to each challenge only time will tell.

But it's nice to have the picture of what I hope for set out before me. So as I continue to spend time in the company of fine women, these Crones that I am privileged to know, it feels good to have some grand examples of what might be possible for me, if I have the courage to take it on.

New Beginning

One of my favorite legends is that of the Phoenix , the mythical bird that dies in flames and then rises again from the ashes.

I've been giving some thought recently to issues related to renewal, rebirth, new beginnings.

I've got a whole lot of changes going on in my world right now. Changing houses. Changing jobs. Changing the congregation where I worship. And those are just the EXTERNAL transitions. Lots of work going on inside as well.

I'm about to take on some new challenges that are all about being a catalyst for positive change. So I've been doing some exploring to come to terms with areas of my own life where I have made some major transitions.

I thought that was reason enough to resurrect this old blog I gave up a while ago. Time to rise up out of the ashes and redefine LyndaB.

I found this poem about new beginnings... it seemed a worthy way to begin again.

CLOSING DOWN SHOP

Well, I've come to the conclusion that it doesn't make much sense to maintain BOTH this blog and my other one over at Mind-Muffins. I write in the other one much more consistently.

For a while I tended to use the other blog for annonymous world conversations about big ideas and kept this one primarily for friends and family ... a place to post the comings and goings of my regular life and my spiritual ponderings.

Lately though, I've been more inclined to just integrate it all together at the other site...

So I'm probably not going to be posting much here anymore. From time to time I may show up, but then again maybe not.

I've appreciated all those who chose to read my ramblings and make comments. If you care to catch up with any more of what I have to say, I'll meet you over on Mind-Muffins.

Cheers,

LJB

Growing up Fast

On Thanksgiving day my beautiful young grand-daughter, Kaylie Sierra, turned 12 years old. I am amazed by what a lovely young woman she is growing up to be.

Because I live many hundreds of miles away from Kaylie, I do not get to visit her near as often as I would like to. But I have pictures of her and her siblings all over my house and in my office at work to help me remember them each and every day. They are never far from my thoughts.

Kaylie has had some big challenges in her 12 years. Her parents split up when she was just a baby and it has been difficult going back and forth between mom's house and dad's house, trying to figure out what was truly "home". Also, she has had to move more times than I can count, between Michigan, Oregon, North Carolina...too often having to say goodbye to special friends. Looks like there may still be more moves yet to come. I know that is hard for her.

Recently she faced the challenge of new family dynamics as she gained a step-mom and four new siblings with her dad's recent marriage. That can't have been easy.

But through it all, Kaylie has developed a wonderful personality, has lots of talents and is genuinely one of the nicest people I know. (of course, proud grandma that I am, I'm not one bit biased!) Honestly, even if she were not my grand daughter, I would be proud to know her just because of the fine person she is. She's smart as a whip, has a wonderfully curious mind about the world, and is just plain fun to be with.

So happy birthday to you my dear Kaylie. Know that even though I'm far away, not a day goes by that I don't think of you and that I love you very, very much!

Giving Thanks

As we approach the Thanksgiving holiday, I am feeling very grateful for so many things. Blessings that come to mind in no particular order include:

Clean running water that is safe to drink.

A husband who is kind, gentle and generous, and supremely patient with my unconventional ways that sometimes go beyond his comfort zone.

High speed internet .

A refrigerator with the freezer on the bottom - I honestly don't know why they are made any other way!

Rich relationships with siblings, cousins, friends, children, grandchildren.

The gift of literacy.

Fresh tomatoes from our garden, picked green before the frost that were wrapped carefully in newspaper and stowed away in the basement. LOVELY to have such yummies just now getting ripe in chilly November!

The new PalmPilot I got for my birthday from my brother. Thanks Wayne!

But most of all, of course, is the knowledge that I am a child of God and that He has a plan for me. I'm still trying to figure out what that plan is, but I've learned to trust that ALL things will ultlimately work out for good as I trust in Him.

The Miracle of Manna

Ever since I was a little kid I’ve heard the stories of Moses leading the children of Israel through the wilderness and how they lived on something called Manna. More recently, I’ve studied the life of St. Mary of Egypt and pondered long and hard the lessons she had to teach me. But all of that was done with the mindset of the word “desert” or “wilderness” being interpreted from my own cultural experience. I grew up in Arizona where we have desert that is lush with cactus, wildflowers and other plants. A variety of birds, reptiles and mammals roam the land. I could well imagine someone surviving there. Granted, it would be difficult and painful at times. But it seemed possible to me.

Now that I’ve seen the Sinai, the whole concept of wandering in the wilderness takes on a whole new meaning for me. I am in awe that anyone could stay alive in that land. The miracle of manna holds a whole new sense of the miraculous. For miles and miles there is nothing but sand and rock. On first impression it seems like utter wasteland not even a lizard would claim. But after being there a while, I truly could sense why it would be the perfect place to let the soul grow quiet and learn to put absolute trust on the Lord.

Choosing the Sacred

One of the places we visited in Egypt was St. Katherine's Monastery on Mt. Sinai. It was an amazing experience that touched my soul in ways difficult to express.

One of the things that was reaffirmed to me there was the importance of choosing to acknowledge the sacred in all of life, and to give special reverence to those places I know to be holy.

Bus loads of tourists come to see this place. In a few areas it was quite crowded with people from all over the world pointing, gawking, aiming video cameras and the like.

As I approached the chapel of the Burning Bush, I had to very willfully put out of my mind the crush of people all around talking and taking pictures so that I could go quiet inside to pray in this sacred place. I closed my eyes and opened up my heart as I repeated the Jesus Prayer for each of my Orthodox friends back home and then turned my spirit to more open communion with my Heavenly Father to seek repentance, to seek council of the Holy Spirit, to lift my face to the sky as a daughter of God.

In that moment it really didn't matter how many tourists were there. All that mattered was that I knew some powerful truths were being revealed to my mind if I were willing to accept them.

So it is each day - even here in my small town in Oregon. I can allow myself to get caught up in the busy events of daily life and focus on the problems of the world. Or I can choose to keep an eternal perspective, allowing myself to be open to the teachings of the Spirit day by day. The choice is mine. I don't have to go half way around the world to seek inspiration. While it was indeed a significant privilege to visit this holy site, I know that God can come to me in all times, in all places, if I will but go quiet inside and seek him.

Foods of Egypt

One of the standard foods in Egypt is Pita bread. Every few blocks we would see street vendors like this one selling bread from their carts. Sometimes we'd see veiled women walking with huge platters stacked high with bread carried on their heads.

There were also lots of fruits and vegetables. We passed by fields where they grew the most giant cabbages I've ever seen. The land around the Nile delta is very fertile, and much valued for the agriculture possible there, which is important since so much of the country is harsh desert where nothing grows at all.

In the suburbs of "New Cairo" there are shopping malls with supermarkets very much like what you would find in the United States, but in the old city most everything is sold by street vendors or small shops specializing in one thing - meat or fruit or bread or what have you.

Most of the meat we ate was beef, chicken or lamb. I was told that camel is quite tasty and would have been willing to try it, but alas I never had the opportunity.