Astounded:
Astounded - oh yes, I'm astounded
by how life is often perceived.
Entitlement leaves me dumbfounded -
such selfishness leaves me agrieved.
Societal greed is inflating -
it seems that few wants go unmet,
and yet gratitude is abating -
good fortune we often forget.
Ungrounded - I tell you, ungrounded -
philosophies prevalent now.
Astounded - I'm truly astounded
by how the horse follows the plow!
Priorities don't seem to matter -
we teach neither life skills nor truth
to children who keep getting fatter -
indulgently sated in youth.
Surrounded - it seems I'm surrounded
by those who think I'm over-wrought.
Unfounded - my gripes aren't unfounded -
I've given this plenty of thought.
The great expectations implanted
in children's naive little hearts
are sooner or later recanted
when their disillusionment starts.
Confounded - I'm often confounded -
befuddled by much I have seen.
No matter how much I've expounded,
but few seem to grasp what I mean.
In failing to learn moderation,
we'll fatten but we'll never grow -
until at last in aggravation
we learn that we'll reap what we sow.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg (December 2012)
Everything is not awesome.
Recently I went to see the Lego Movie with my husband, and as I heard the song those Lego Land dwellers were constantly exposed to on their radios I thought of how so many of us are telling ourselves, and everyone else in cyberspace, "Everything is awesome!"
But everything isn't. It can't be, because if everything really was awesome, nothing would be awesome.
Life requires contrasts - none of us would know what
happiness was if we never experienced a bit of misery. We shouldn't pressure ourselves to feel continually happy.
Mood-wise, we spend much of our time in the neutral
zone. We aim to live on an even keel - our days filled with fluctuating feelings tipped on waves of experience and observation that elate or sadden us.
The world we live in is complicated. All of the gadgets we posses to "simplify" our lives have yet to make us happier or alleviate loneliness and suffering. I would argue that our technologically-dependent and media driven culture has seriously reduced the basic level of civility in our society. Proverbs 6:16-19 outlines "seven deadly sins" - negative behaviors that we see far too much of these days. Modern technology has brought the prevalence of these "sins" to the forefront of our lives. The fishbowl of social media that so many of us swim in has encouraged us toward negative behaviors that stem from "the deadly seven" - a state of affairs that is decidedly less than awesome.
1) Lust has always been a part of life, but never before has it been so overt and unapologetic. Dating sites send spam to our in boxes and advertise on Facebook. Some offer "discreet" services aimed toward those who want more adventure than their committed relationships seem to offer. I have to wonder how many people (who would otherwise reconsider any impulse to cheat) are lured in by these opportunities that seem so risk free. How many more have indulged in a little "harmless" online flirtation that soon got out of control? We are constantly invited to behave badly, to ogle others and to be provocative ourselves. The message that sex sells is evidenced everywhere in the way advertisers exploit humans as nothing more than fleshpots to sell everything from convenience foods to motor oil. It seems to me that most of humanity is desperately craving intimacy, but settling for sex, and not in small doses either...
2) Gluttony is commonplace in our society. Entertainment isn't very entertaining without food, and eating often stands alone as entertainment. Nearly one third of the Canadian population is categorized as obese. We eat badly, we eat too much and we eat too often. But food is only one of the many ways that we over-indulge. I've already mentioned sex, but there's also smoking, alcohol and recreational drug use to consider. When it comes to the things that we want, we're insatiable.We can't deny our children either - they're not as little as they used to be. Statistics show that childhood obesity is rapidly reaching epidemic proportions and our children's generation is less healthy than we are. Our first world mentality leaves us perpetually hungry, no matter how much we indulge ourselves.
3) Our Greed often appears limitless. Like the creature in the Dr. Seuss tale The Lorax, most go through life "figgering on biggering" - always aspiring for more and better stuff. Media discourages contentment with what we have by constantly asking us, "Why settle for less?" Your winnings from Lotto 6-49 can finance your retirement and assuage your conscience for wasting your money on pie in the sky get rich quick dreams - after all, lotto funds go to charities. So you can feel good about giving while you dream about the big pay-out. Children are trained to be greedy too - parents offer them every opportunity available, lessons of every sort and membership in any club that takes their fancy. (They need to be well rounded, right?) They also need to "wear the right clothes" and have everything their peers do. Thus entitlement is bred into our young. (Newsflash - Kids don't need the best stuff. They need to be taught the best habits, and to be guided by the best principles.)
4) Envy is almost inevitable when everyone shows photos demonstrating how awesome their lives are. "Friends" post pictures of exotic vacations, new vehicles, glamorous attire, and gosh - we want that.
What never gets posted though, are the precarious bank account balances
and the overdue notices from creditors of those who are living beyond
their means. Likewise we don't usually hear about how much the more
prudent scrimped and saved to make these purchases. Nothing ever comes as easily as we think it does, and every purchase has hidden costs.
5) Vanity can be summed up in one word - selfies. We all like to look good and present our best face to the world, but there's something beyond narcissistic in the behavior of those who decide to post fifteen shots online just because they look "soooo cute today!" About fifty percent of teenaged girls and thirty percent of teenaged boys resort to unhealthy methods in their attempts to be slim. Surgical procedures that used to be reserved for the rich and famous are now sought by the masses - all in pursuit of beauty and eternal youth. Models are gaunt, and any female celebrity who dares to be bigger than a size six is photoshopped to appear more svelte. Can there be any doubt that our society cares far too much about faces and bodies, and too little about hearts and minds?
6) Sloth is a word we seldom hear, in spite of the fact that ease is what most aspire to. Work has become the nastiest four letter word - especially if manual labour is involved. Most do the bare minimum during work hours, counting every minute until they can go home and "relax" (which usually involves hours in front of one screen or another). Again, we pass on our negative attitudes to the next generation, many of whom would rather not have jobs than accept "demeaning" employment as food servers or sales clerks. In our relentless pursuit of fun, we are depriving ourselves of the satisfaction that comes from seeing the results of hard work.
7) Wrath just might be the most justifiable of the seven sins. (I'm feeling a certain amount of it as I type this post.) Too many are impatient, anti-social and ill-mannered, and it really irritates the rest of us! Kidding aside, those who spend much time pondering the state of the first world can't help but feel a bit angry about the way society is evolving - or perhaps devolving. There is so much free flowing frustration around us all of the time - road rage, impatience over the length of the check out line, bad manners. We sleep too little, indulge too much, covet those things we feel entitled to and obsess over our looks - which leaves us with a lot of inner emptiness that is far too easily filled with anger.
How can we reverse the incivility in a world where the "deadly seven" are so prominently featured on big and small screens everywhere, and spill over into real life? Everything is not awesome, but in spite of all of the allegations I've made, I believe that more and more individuals are beginning to see how much is awry and care enough to begin making things better.
Alliterate Allegations
With ignorant indulgence
we churlishly converse -
we're morally malignant,
but manner-wise we're worse.
Civilities are ceasing -
pleasantries not prolonged;
ignorance is increasing -
so righteously we're wronged.
Society is shallow -
repugnantly replete;
such credence in the callow
and shunning of the sweet.
With spirits seldom sated -
(they do not dare to dine)
and conscience constipated,
we decency decline.
We fixate on our faces.
Perfection is preferred.
As wrinkling erases,
what dates us is deferred.
Our blemishes are banished -
we're not allowed to age -
'til vanity has vanished
we'll rant, resist and rage.
Elation is elusive,
and reasoning is rare.
We're aberrant, abusive
and too confused to care.
Information inundates,
but wisdom seems to wane.
Intellect intoxicates,
but from sense we abstain.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, April 23, 2010
Society is slipping, but we can change the world. If we remember how to find satisfaction in hard work and dwell less on chasing the fleeting feelings of happiness and fun, we might rediscover contentment and maybe even wonder. If we can be honest with ourselves about our flaws, feelings and frustrations we might begin transforming society into something better. If we can learn to look past appearances, to covet less and take action more often, we will begin the process of re-seeding - sowing healthier seeds so that we can all enjoy the fruits of a more abundant harvest.
Dr. Seuss ends his cautionary tale The Lorax with these words:
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better. It's not."
Everything is not awesome. Everything is not apt to become awesome either, but there are a lot of people beginning to care enough to improve their own corner of the world. A little more self control and increased effort to be considerate and mannerly would be a great place to start. With every random act of kindness and compassion a little more sand is laid down. Every generous word and deed matters. If we can learn to appreciate simple pleasures and worry less about appearances and "biggering", and teach the next generation to do the same, we will up our world's awesome quotient:
Thus it appears I can assume
that for improvement all have room
and I could boost civility
through small improvements made in me.
With this thought I can comprehend
the small behaviors I must mend
to be less guilty of the crimes
that typify these ruder times.
More often I will think to thank -
I'll fight the urge to be a crank.
When needs of others I respect
then changes I'll perhaps detect
as all that is improved in me
sends ripples through humanity.
(Excerpt from "Civility" - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg, 2013)
Everything isn't awesome - yet.
Wednesday, 16 April 2014
Friday, 4 April 2014
The Magazine Years - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Magazine Years
I still recollect them - the magazine years -
I wiped dirty bottoms, I wiped away tears
(sometimes tears were theirs and sometimes they were mine -
sometimes in a salty pool all would combine!)
I longed to read novels - escape for a bit,
but kids kept me busy - I couldn't just quit.
No time for a sit down to read and relax -
this is no bid for sympathy, merely the facts.
For toddler and infant desires went on hold
as kisses were doled out and stories were told.
I read about oceans, sea creatures and whales,
morality tales where good always prevails;
I read about rockets and planets and stars
and alien creatures and visits to Mars.
I read Dr. Seuss and I read Robert Munsch.
Our story time, daily, was right after lunch.
I'd read 'til their eyelids grew heavy with sleep
and once they were dozing reward I could reap.
To read just one chapter - too much of a tease!
But in time allotted I knew I could squeeze
perusal of Chatelaine or Woman's Day -
whatever back issue just happened my way.
I read bits and pieces while both were asleep -
it helped me unwind and my sanity keep.
I read lots of books, but I read none for me!
(The self sacrifice didn't come easily.)
And yet books saved us all - as we'd snuggle and read
a day's worth of stresses would somehow recede.
I'd see small wiggling bodies relax and grow still
while eyes scanned the pictures and minds drank their fill.
I'll never regret any books that I missed
in those long ago days when each booboo was kissed.
My patience was thin then; peace always my quest -
but hours spent reading left all of us blessed.
Magazines? Merely candy! Those books were the feast!
Of this fact I never had notion the least.
My children grew up to read books on their own -
now in peaceful bedroom I read all alone.
My hours to read, all I'll ever require
and access to any book I could desire -
but I can admit that as older age nears,
there are times I yearn for those magazine years.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg (March 23, 2014)
When I was a young mother nobody owned hand-held devices. Our telephones (our lifelines to maternal support!) were all firmly attached to the wall. Sometimes we acquired an extra ten or fifteen feet of leeway via a longer jack cord, but without a doubt our ability to keep an eye on the children and talk to friends simultaneously was curtailed. (Somewhere in Sudbury, under more than two decades of paint, lies evidence that my sons didn't take kindly to being left to draw by themselves while I gabbed with a friend.) I might have bought myself a few extra minutes of adult conversation if I'd chosen to turn on the television for them, but I didn't.
In those days there was a lot of debate about how much television kids should watch. I aligned myself firmly with those who refused to resort to using the television as a babysitter. As a mother of sons less than thirteen months apart, I can't say I never turned on the television for fifteen minutes when I needed to make a phone call or get supper on the table, but those short spurts were infrequent. Luckily, because I felt the way I did my sons had little interest in watching TV until they were beyond their toddler years. As preschoolers, if they wanted to watch television they asked for permission. They watched that one show and the set got turned off, usually without much complaining from them. I distracted them because I didn't want them to develop too much affinity for television watching.
Instead, I wanted them to love books, and taking walks - to see beauty in nature and love learning, which required a lot more effort on my part than plunking them down in front of a screen. More than twenty years later I can say that taking some extra trouble to keep them well entertained was worthwhile.
Let me state for the record that I didn't find the daily tasks involved in mothering incredibly gratifying. I had lived on my own for several years before marrying and was used to doing what I wanted when I wanted. In my single days I loved to read and take long solitary walks - but I knew that would have to change when I had children.
As a teenager I had a lot of exposure to children. I worked with them at church and babysat to earn money. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't a "kid person". (Children, in my opinion, are merely small people - I like or dislike them on an individual basis.) Luckily I'd had enough positive experiences to know I wanted to have children someday. I'd also had sufficient child related difficulties to know that kids were a whole lot of work. Perhaps my mixed feelings about children in general kept me from having unrealistic expectations about how glamorous motherhood would be. Likewise my lack of patience kept me from raising horrific brats. I still think that I did the world a favor by having a low threshold for screeching and temper tantrums.
I mothered based on own childhood experiences, trying to give them more of the things I enjoyed and felt I'd wanted more of and trying to avoid making the "mistakes" my parents made. (A wise choice, since I discovered along the way that there are always fresh mistakes one can - and will - make entirely under one's own steam.)
And steam I did. I often felt frustrated by the fact that I had to put their needs before my own. I craved adult company, I yearned to read books all afternoon, to take walks alone, to talk on the phone uninterrupted and do a bit of cross-stitch in daylight from time to time. None of those things happened very often, and I can't say I accepted that fact graciously. On one memorable day when my oldest was a toddler and my youngest still a babe in arms, I decided that I'd work on my latest stitching project while the baby napped and the tot toddled. HA! Naturally that didn't go so well, and in an angry snit I put all my stitching stuff into a large tupperware box, snapped the lid on tight and hurled it down the basement stairs. (The noise woke the baby - of course.) When my husband came home from work he noticed my stitchery box at the bottom of the stairs and helpfully brought it up to me.
I ranted at him about how I could never enjoy pursuing my hobbies with the boys underfoot. I felt like I was being selfish even as the words left my mouth. My husband pragmatically reminded me that my self denial was temporary - in a year or two they'd be less needy and I'd have more time to myself. I knew he was right, but that "year or two" felt like an eternity at the time.
For the next few years I tried to be stoic as I showed them how to build with blocks and play with each other - and read to them for hours on end. I read (yes, mostly magazines) and stitched when I could - in short bursts while they napped and when they fell asleep at night. I took long walks when my husband worked from home on the odd day or took pity on me and sent me out the door for an hour by myself - which frankly felt like heaven at the time.
It wasn't an easy time in my life. It wasn't always fun and I often felt very shortchanged on immediate gratification. However, the time I invested in my sons in those first few years paid off in the next few. By the time they were three and four they could play together happily for long stretches of time with a lot less input from me. We could go on outings together easily - and we did. It was a common sight in my neighbourhood - me pulling one or both boys in their red wagon. We frequented playgrounds in the Minnow Lake area. We hosted and went on play dates. And of course, every couple of weeks we caught the bus to the Library in the New Sudbury Shopping Center and all got fresh books to read.
There was a brief rough patch when my older son went off to junior kindergarten without his brother. The first few days were teary, and I was not thrilled about having to acknowledge that I'd need to spend more time with the younger son to compensate for the loss of his playmate. However, we soon established a new routine - which included more walks and outings than ever before since traveling with one son was so much easier than with two.
Memory:
A memory, dear to me
I held you on my knee -
silently I watched you sleep,
snuggled close; breathing deep.
You, a sleeping child of three
in tender memory.
Seldom had I seen you so -
teary eyed, full of woe -
so consumed by need of me -
my fretful child of three.
A young mother, could I know
the speed at which you'd grow,
when I held you near to me
a sleeping child of three?
Now, and in memory -
my child, so dear to me.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg (April 2006)
I wish I could tell you that I loved every minute of my sons' young lives, but I didn't. All I can say with complete honesty is that I have never regretted the sacrifices I made - the books I didn't get to read or the gabfests with friends that I seldom got to indulge in. I don't look back and wish I'd done a million things differently - only that I'd done those same things more gracefully. I wish I had tried harder to find joy in doing the mundane things that took up so many hours of the average day then. I wish I could have really grasped how little time I was sacrificing to my children in the grand scheme of things. I wish I would have immersed myself more in wonder - spent more time saying "Oh wow!" than "Oh no!" or "Woe is me!"
Time goes by so quickly. Their school years pass in a blur, and suddenly they're as tall as you - then taller. Their childhood is nothing more than a series of memories for each of you. I chose to limit the memories I have of them sitting in front of the television or watching movies on the VCR. I chose to give them memories of time with me, time outdoors, and time spent reading together.
I think I chose well.
I still recollect them - the magazine years -
I wiped dirty bottoms, I wiped away tears
(sometimes tears were theirs and sometimes they were mine -
sometimes in a salty pool all would combine!)
I longed to read novels - escape for a bit,
but kids kept me busy - I couldn't just quit.
No time for a sit down to read and relax -
this is no bid for sympathy, merely the facts.
For toddler and infant desires went on hold
as kisses were doled out and stories were told.
I read about oceans, sea creatures and whales,
morality tales where good always prevails;
I read about rockets and planets and stars
and alien creatures and visits to Mars.
I read Dr. Seuss and I read Robert Munsch.
Our story time, daily, was right after lunch.
I'd read 'til their eyelids grew heavy with sleep
and once they were dozing reward I could reap.
To read just one chapter - too much of a tease!
But in time allotted I knew I could squeeze
perusal of Chatelaine or Woman's Day -
whatever back issue just happened my way.
I read bits and pieces while both were asleep -
it helped me unwind and my sanity keep.
I read lots of books, but I read none for me!
(The self sacrifice didn't come easily.)
And yet books saved us all - as we'd snuggle and read
a day's worth of stresses would somehow recede.
I'd see small wiggling bodies relax and grow still
while eyes scanned the pictures and minds drank their fill.
I'll never regret any books that I missed
in those long ago days when each booboo was kissed.
My patience was thin then; peace always my quest -
but hours spent reading left all of us blessed.
Magazines? Merely candy! Those books were the feast!
Of this fact I never had notion the least.
My children grew up to read books on their own -
now in peaceful bedroom I read all alone.
My hours to read, all I'll ever require
and access to any book I could desire -
but I can admit that as older age nears,
there are times I yearn for those magazine years.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg (March 23, 2014)
When I was a young mother nobody owned hand-held devices. Our telephones (our lifelines to maternal support!) were all firmly attached to the wall. Sometimes we acquired an extra ten or fifteen feet of leeway via a longer jack cord, but without a doubt our ability to keep an eye on the children and talk to friends simultaneously was curtailed. (Somewhere in Sudbury, under more than two decades of paint, lies evidence that my sons didn't take kindly to being left to draw by themselves while I gabbed with a friend.) I might have bought myself a few extra minutes of adult conversation if I'd chosen to turn on the television for them, but I didn't.
In those days there was a lot of debate about how much television kids should watch. I aligned myself firmly with those who refused to resort to using the television as a babysitter. As a mother of sons less than thirteen months apart, I can't say I never turned on the television for fifteen minutes when I needed to make a phone call or get supper on the table, but those short spurts were infrequent. Luckily, because I felt the way I did my sons had little interest in watching TV until they were beyond their toddler years. As preschoolers, if they wanted to watch television they asked for permission. They watched that one show and the set got turned off, usually without much complaining from them. I distracted them because I didn't want them to develop too much affinity for television watching.
Instead, I wanted them to love books, and taking walks - to see beauty in nature and love learning, which required a lot more effort on my part than plunking them down in front of a screen. More than twenty years later I can say that taking some extra trouble to keep them well entertained was worthwhile.
Let me state for the record that I didn't find the daily tasks involved in mothering incredibly gratifying. I had lived on my own for several years before marrying and was used to doing what I wanted when I wanted. In my single days I loved to read and take long solitary walks - but I knew that would have to change when I had children.
As a teenager I had a lot of exposure to children. I worked with them at church and babysat to earn money. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't a "kid person". (Children, in my opinion, are merely small people - I like or dislike them on an individual basis.) Luckily I'd had enough positive experiences to know I wanted to have children someday. I'd also had sufficient child related difficulties to know that kids were a whole lot of work. Perhaps my mixed feelings about children in general kept me from having unrealistic expectations about how glamorous motherhood would be. Likewise my lack of patience kept me from raising horrific brats. I still think that I did the world a favor by having a low threshold for screeching and temper tantrums.
I mothered based on own childhood experiences, trying to give them more of the things I enjoyed and felt I'd wanted more of and trying to avoid making the "mistakes" my parents made. (A wise choice, since I discovered along the way that there are always fresh mistakes one can - and will - make entirely under one's own steam.)
And steam I did. I often felt frustrated by the fact that I had to put their needs before my own. I craved adult company, I yearned to read books all afternoon, to take walks alone, to talk on the phone uninterrupted and do a bit of cross-stitch in daylight from time to time. None of those things happened very often, and I can't say I accepted that fact graciously. On one memorable day when my oldest was a toddler and my youngest still a babe in arms, I decided that I'd work on my latest stitching project while the baby napped and the tot toddled. HA! Naturally that didn't go so well, and in an angry snit I put all my stitching stuff into a large tupperware box, snapped the lid on tight and hurled it down the basement stairs. (The noise woke the baby - of course.) When my husband came home from work he noticed my stitchery box at the bottom of the stairs and helpfully brought it up to me.
I ranted at him about how I could never enjoy pursuing my hobbies with the boys underfoot. I felt like I was being selfish even as the words left my mouth. My husband pragmatically reminded me that my self denial was temporary - in a year or two they'd be less needy and I'd have more time to myself. I knew he was right, but that "year or two" felt like an eternity at the time.
For the next few years I tried to be stoic as I showed them how to build with blocks and play with each other - and read to them for hours on end. I read (yes, mostly magazines) and stitched when I could - in short bursts while they napped and when they fell asleep at night. I took long walks when my husband worked from home on the odd day or took pity on me and sent me out the door for an hour by myself - which frankly felt like heaven at the time.
It wasn't an easy time in my life. It wasn't always fun and I often felt very shortchanged on immediate gratification. However, the time I invested in my sons in those first few years paid off in the next few. By the time they were three and four they could play together happily for long stretches of time with a lot less input from me. We could go on outings together easily - and we did. It was a common sight in my neighbourhood - me pulling one or both boys in their red wagon. We frequented playgrounds in the Minnow Lake area. We hosted and went on play dates. And of course, every couple of weeks we caught the bus to the Library in the New Sudbury Shopping Center and all got fresh books to read.
There was a brief rough patch when my older son went off to junior kindergarten without his brother. The first few days were teary, and I was not thrilled about having to acknowledge that I'd need to spend more time with the younger son to compensate for the loss of his playmate. However, we soon established a new routine - which included more walks and outings than ever before since traveling with one son was so much easier than with two.
Memory:
A memory, dear to me
I held you on my knee -
silently I watched you sleep,
snuggled close; breathing deep.
You, a sleeping child of three
in tender memory.
Seldom had I seen you so -
teary eyed, full of woe -
so consumed by need of me -
my fretful child of three.
A young mother, could I know
the speed at which you'd grow,
when I held you near to me
a sleeping child of three?
Now, and in memory -
my child, so dear to me.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg (April 2006)
I wish I could tell you that I loved every minute of my sons' young lives, but I didn't. All I can say with complete honesty is that I have never regretted the sacrifices I made - the books I didn't get to read or the gabfests with friends that I seldom got to indulge in. I don't look back and wish I'd done a million things differently - only that I'd done those same things more gracefully. I wish I had tried harder to find joy in doing the mundane things that took up so many hours of the average day then. I wish I could have really grasped how little time I was sacrificing to my children in the grand scheme of things. I wish I would have immersed myself more in wonder - spent more time saying "Oh wow!" than "Oh no!" or "Woe is me!"
Time goes by so quickly. Their school years pass in a blur, and suddenly they're as tall as you - then taller. Their childhood is nothing more than a series of memories for each of you. I chose to limit the memories I have of them sitting in front of the television or watching movies on the VCR. I chose to give them memories of time with me, time outdoors, and time spent reading together.
I think I chose well.
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