Gravity

On Friday afternoon all my girls–all four of them (as we have picked up an extra for a couple of months)–were off doing their own thing. My husband had left his carpentry project to watch the Apple Cup, and I decided that I would go see Gravity, a movie whose premise has intrigued me since I first encountered it. I told Bruce where I was off to and, to my surprise, he leapt up and said, “I’ll go with you.” So off we went.

The movie was visually beautiful. As a reviewer had recommended, I insisted on seeing it in Imax and 3D, and I found myself feeling completely aspin and dodging satellite debris, along with Sandra Bullock’s character. I was astounded with the filmmakers’ choice to not visually represent Dr. Ryan Stone’s backstory, and then–a significant shift–this choice felt brilliant. That her father wanted a boy, that she had lost a child, that she had to claim her own power and her own life in order to keep it–all of this compelled me viscerally. I don’t want to give the movie away if you haven’t seen it, but I will say that it–as I had hoped–was a metaphor for every individual’s life, including mine. I don’t think you have to have lost a child to find yourself weeping when George Clooney’s character says, in his understated way, “You lost a kid. It doesn’t get rougher than that.” We’ve all lost something. We’ve lost ourselves. In order to go on, we have to make a choice to go on. 

When I went looking for an image for this post, I found this discussion by astronauts as to whether or not the effects in GRAVITY were realistic.

Gratitude

image (jasmine) borrowed from http://perfumeshrine.blogspot.com/2011/02/perfumery-material-hedione.html

What Was Told, That
  by Jalal al-Din Rumi
translated by Coleman Barks
What was said to the rose that made it open was said to me here in my chest.
What was told the cypress that made it strong and straight, what was
whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made sugarcane sweet, whatever
was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in Turkestan that makes them
so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush like a human face, that is
being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in language, that’s happening here.
The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude, chewing a piece of sugarcane,
in love with the one to whom every that belongs!
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16372#sthash.OqWolKGp.dpuf

What I’m Thankful For

“Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what people fear most.” Fyodor Dostoyevsky

image borrowed from http://historicjamestowne.org/

Tears and Tantrums

Aletha Solter’s book, Tears and Tantrums, saved my life when I was a mother of preschoolers; well, it was one of the books that saved my life. I’ve been thinking about it, and wanted to share with you. If you Google her name you’ll find a website with a summary.

Books such as this one (also Kids Are Worth It by Barbara Coloroso, and Your Competent Child by Jesper Juul) I’m sure were helpful as I read them, but the concepts expressed in the titles were very nearly enough. They helped me parent my daughters, and they helped me to be a better teacher. I learned from reading parenting books that when a student is extremely upset, it’s best to nod your head and say, “You are really upset.” Reasoning with the student, asking them why they’re upset, none of that is immediately helpful. Listening to an upset student, really listening, is the best thing to do. When you argue with a student, it’s a lot like throwing a tantrum because your child is throwing a tantrum. 

So these concepts have been immensely useful to me as a parent and (even more, as it’s difficult to be objective with one’s own children) with my students. (And not that I haven’t had bad moments with both.) I am now wondering what these insights could do to help me finish the revision of my novel.

I’m trying to let my characters wail. I’m trying to really listen.