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By Mama Paloma, 08/04/2012 09:42

I posted last night’s essay, rather impulsively, without waiting, at 12:30am. The first thought I had on waking this morning was this:

Redemption isn’t about receiving love, it’s about giving love.

What? The other half of my brain responded. But that’s backwards.

As I pondered it more, this idea began to make more sense to me. I reflected again on the piece I read last night about the “penal-substitution theory of atonement.” The author proposes that Jesus didn’t die to balance some kind of cosmic account. He didn’t “pay our price” because that would mean God didn’t really forgive but just transferred our balance to someone else who paid. He died because he lived out his practice. Gently, relentlessly, he spoke over and over of God’s unbelievable love and forgiveness. This was so threatening to the powers that be that he was killed. He lived his practice of love even though it killed him.

Whether you believe that accounts of Jesus are literally true or not (for the record, I don’t really know and this doesn’t bother me), the Jesus of  Biblical stories was indeed the perfect role model of love. He redeemed through his love. I consider myself a Christian (though others won’t because of that last parenthetical comment) because I endeavor to follow that example of living from love. (And am supported in this by Buddhist and Taoist teaching and meditation, especially, as they give practical direction on reigning in the ‘ego’ that so often gets in the way of that radical kind of love.)

Still, somewhere in my rational, Western mind, redemption has been sort of separate from love. Love is great and all but people need to be accountable.

This has been a major barrier in sorting things out with the-one-I-am-having-such-a-hard-time-loving. I realized that have demanded in a number of ways that he be accountable for his actions as a precondition for my continuing to show loving-kindess towards him. I can pray for his happiness and well being but I still, somewhere deep down, want him to pay.

I have been looking at the other person as being the one in need of redemption and forgiveness. He’s the one who did wrong, right?

Right?

I get heaps of support for this. Righteous anger and disappointment are reflected by all who care for my son and I. And, indeed, I want justice, I want consequences, I want him to know that he has wronged us and suffer for it.

Of course that’s right.

Except for this. As I realized this morning, all evidence to the contrary, I am actually not in a position to judge him–his motivations, intentions, or worthiness. My practice is acting and living out of love and equanimity. It’s what I aim for, continually move toward and back to.

The situation, as it stands, where I stand, is that I am the one in need of redemption. I have stepped off of my path of love and into the murky, dangerous realm of the cosmic balance sheet. I am mired in the muck, tangled up in the twining roots of trees that choke out the sun and hide all manner of creepy crawly things that bite.

I have felt stuck here for a long time.

What struck me this morning is that release from this stuckness – a practical and spiritual redemption – is readily available.

All I am required to do is to return to the path of kindness, gentleness, compassion, equanimity, and love regardless of the other’s actions.

Because, truly, that’s what Jesus did. He showed the way, loving even those who couldn’t see their worth and worthiness. Holding to the truth of the-Love-greater-than-we-can-imagine-or-understand even when it meant his execution and still not being held down by this – which is why we have Easter, right? – somehow rising up from destruction to live on eternally as The Inspiration to love.

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By Mama Paloma, 16/01/2012 06:00

…but not for the same reasons of those who fought against this day being established and, later, recognized (the usual suspects–Helms, Reagan, the state of Arizona) or those who complain loudly each year–usually by attacking something about the day’s honoree.

I hardly resent recognizing the accomplishments and contributions of a smart Baptist preacher named Martin Luther King, Jr. who became the ‘face’ of the non-militant U.S. black civil rights movement of the mid-1900s.

I am just sorry that we have to.

I am sorry that Dr. King and so many others have had to spend their talents and energy and, too often, give their lives to push back racist laws, one small town at a time.

I wonder what Dr. King’s life would have been like if he hadn’t been pulled into fighting for the recognition of black people as full human beings. With a mind like his, he might have accomplished amazing things. Or perhaps he would have lived out his days as Joe Pastor and liked it. Who knows? Who knows what millions of others might have been able to do or see, or experience, had their day-to-day lives not been restricted and constricted by segregation or consumed by its elimination.

I am sorry that those who sought to advocate for the right of citizens of color to sit in a cafe and order a coffee had to endure taunts and shoves and smoke being blown in their faces–and that was just in training.

I am also a bit peeved that it has to be ‘justified’ with calls for a day of service. Don’t get me wrong, I believe Dr. King, who touted service above all, would approve of people doing work to better our community on any day. I just think, Wow, Lord forbid we just have a sacred day to honor a black man…better make people work for that day off!

I am sorry that there is a day to honor one who fought for equal rights and, bizarrely, one to honor Columbus, and not a single national holiday to honor the losses and acknowledge the legacies of slavery and genocide in this country.

It wouldn’t take much to do so. We don’t even have to figure out when. For example:

March 25 is the International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of Slavery and the Transatlantic Slave Trade. How about we declare that a national holiday and hold memorial services and days of dialogue?

And what about August 9– International Day of the World’s Indigenous People. Am I the only one who finds it a bit embarrassing that the only visible (that I know of) recognition of this day in the US happens at the UN building? Seriously, people, can’t we take one freaking day to celebrate Native American culture and heritage and the remarkable way they have survived every effort to annihilate them? Can’t we have even a minute of national silence, perhaps with candles or a bundle of symbolic sage for the millions slaughtered or strategically exterminated in the name of manifest destiny and because they, too, were not seen as fully human?

The obstinate denial in this country galls me. Even bloody Australia has a national “Sorry Day” acknowledging the effects of colonization on the Aboriginal peoples. Geez. I know, I know, a holiday is a token and no token will adequately address or redress the enormity of these past wrongs and their effects. But even the cheesiest of holidays are touchstones…Valentine’s Day doesn’t make love real but does force us to acknowledge it’s reality.

Indeed, I am sad and angry that there has to be a Martin Luther King Jr. Day and, at the same time, grateful.

Because, much as I wish were were living the legacy of fairness and compassion and respect for human rights, we are not. We are living the legacy of slavery and are barely removed from the reality of the inhumanity of those practices. Without Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Dr. King, the Freedom Riders, Malcom X, and the countless ordinary and remarkable and anonymous people who stood up over and over again to the laws of inequality, where would we all be today?

So, today, I honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and, at the same time,  I challenge you to look our legacy straight in the eye, without blinking.

However you can. As often as you can.

See the living, breathing reality of racism and inequality that is still part our our institutions and lives every day, whether we acknowledge them or not.

Let’s own our legacy. Because, until we do, it still owns us.

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By Mama Paloma, 15/02/2011 09:00

…too few of us are ready to acknowledge that we can learn (as much or more) from an evil character as from a good one. We know that the do-gooders wreak a lot of havoc, but we do not seem to know that the evil-doers can work a lot of good in this fucked-up world. If they accomplish nothing more than shatter our idealistic dreams, they have done enough.

Henry Miller on Fear of Flying by Erica Jong

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By Mama Paloma, 09/02/2011 23:25

Watching the protests in Tunisia, other places, now Egypt unfold…and hold has me thinking about the twin virtues of patience and protest. Sort of a ‘yin-yang’ pairing, really–the Universe held in balance by opposing forces. In my tiny universe, I am currently involved in a bit of a showdown. The implications are at once clearly less weighty than the struggles of a country to find its way out of an oppressive regime and profoundly significant and complicated.

Generally, my practice has been to back away from conflict. To state my position and let it stand. I have done this recently when I elected not to continue communication with a relative who is profoundly disrespectful and self-absorbed. I tried to sort it out with her but realized that it’s not personal, it’s just how she goes about in the world. I couldn’t be respecting her and be comfortable myself so, for now, I let it go. Equanimity, kindness, gentleness trump being ‘right,’ having the last word, or coercing someone to change.

But, sometimes, when basic principles are being swept aside by another’s agenda–the need to control or their fear of being judged for what they have done (in this case, both) or some other motive–voicing the brutal truth is a virtue. There is safety in the truth, community in stepping out of the shadows, hope in enlightening the dark places and secrets and lies. The question is how to do it well, with integrity, clarity, and strength without being caught up in the other’s lack of principles or in our own egos. I look at those in Cairo, in the streets for over two weeks now, and am inspired.

So, I pray for safety for those who won’t stand down in the face of official unfairness and brutality. And I pray for the little angel sleeping in the next room, that I will be able to shepherd him through this tough time unharmed and provide him an example of the kind of compassion and strength it takes to navigate the big bad world of relationships and family.

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By Mama Paloma, 23/01/2011 23:26

Today, I had to do it. Take a break. Get some rest. Chill. We have been fighting colds and I am still recovering from the holidays/our recent visit with AJ’s dad.

Now it’s time to go to bed and, looking back on the day, I wonder what has become of me. Lazy Sunday used to mean staying in bed until I couldn’t stand it any more, getting up, going for a movie or bite to eat or both. That’s it. Today, in addition to some chill time with a book and snuggles with AJ, I somehow took a ‘break’ that included the following (not an exhaustive list, I am exhausted so my memory may be crap):

• 3 loads of laundry
• Cleaning out the car
• Grocery shopping
• Errand running–2 more stores
• Catching up on emails (well, some of them)
• Phone consult with client in crisis
• Organizing and putting away the remaining Christmas stuff
• Tidying up the house
• Moving the potty learning forward (AJ did #2 on the toilet twice today. Yay! But, man, is that work.)
• Ordering mundane things (cordless phone battery, etc.) online
• Finding right wall unit for dining area on Ikea website–resisted urge to go pick it up.

I think I need to re-learn how to relax. Geez. But I don’t think I am alone in this. So often we (and the world) expect us mamas to be more than the human beings we are.

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By Mama Paloma, 06/01/2011 20:25

So, this video is hilarious, in that “that’s ridiculous and yet so realistic” kind of way. There are many people who are thinking and writing about how to be effective in helping others. My opinion, in a nutshell, is that those of us who want to help should ask people what they are already trying to do and how we can be supportive of that.

But much of our helping ends up being about us and our needs. We need to be able to see/touch/quantify our contribution. We want to be able to give in ways that are convenient and even beneficial to us. (Wow, I get to make room in my closet AND help others!) Right now, I am trying to get funding to contribute to local peace building efforts in Liberia. It’s an intangible project, mostly, the media to be produced will likely not speak to average Americans. It lacks that desirable sense of “I put that shirt on that person’s back.” It’s the kind of work that, to be really effective, requires us to step back into the shadows and let local capacity shine. It’s the kind of work that, at its best, will not produce results that are appealing to westerners with closets (let alone a surplus of t-shirts) because it shouldn’t appeal to us. It’s not, after all, for us.

But, too often, that’s beside the point, isn’t it? Because, really, what is cuter than an African kid in an over-sized t-shirt that got too faded/stretched out/un-trendy for some American to wear to a gym? And what is more compelling than rushing in with technology and star power when conflict is imminent or in full swing?

What we are trying to do is what the people of Liberia have asked for, what they see as realistically saving lives by shoring up communities and making a return to war incrementally less likely.

It’s an urgent need. Liberia’s elections are this October. Next door, Ivory Coast is reeling in the chaotic aftermath of its presidential election. Our Liberian friends there are asking us to support their efforts to prevent similar violence they have told us how we can help. We just have to listen and respond.

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By Mama Paloma, 10/12/2010 23:18

…and a bit about why it matters to me.

In my other life…the one where I am not worrying about babysitting swaps, getting crayon off of various surfaces, or the effects of our “unconventional family” (as AJ’s dad calls us) on my son’s developing identity…I am a therapist with a particular interest in the effects of the stories we tell and how we tell them. Survivors’ Truths, the non-profit I started and continue to build voluntarily, is all about this…how the choices we make about what we remember shape our experiences of our lives. More on that next week, in a video summary of my recent trip to Liberia. In the meantime, I found this clip from the Daily Show funny and poignant.

Liberia’s history is intricately tied to the history of slavery in the U.S.–a bit of U.S. History that most Americans are profoundly uncomfortable acknowledging. We, as a country, don’t know how to be honest about the less glorious parts of our past. We tend toward blatant denial, as skewered in this clip, or self-flagellation. Both leave those most affected by the legacy of slavery out of the conversation.

It will be interesting to see how little AJ’s perceptions of history are shaped by his experiences of power, how he experiences himself as a white-as-they-come man. Will he have the capacity to be aware and accountable for his privilege or will he embrace it as his right? Will he be able to sit with the discomfort of others’ pain, and know he cannot possibly know it, or try to push it aside as irrelevant?

As a professional, I seek to open up space for a more rich, complicated description of people’s individual and collective histories and identities to emerge. As a mom, I just want my kid to grow up to be a decent person. Which, at times, seems like a much more daunting task.

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By Mama Paloma, 30/10/2010 18:08

And a funny Saturday AM comic…unless it makes you a bit defensive. If so, tweet about it, rather than posting reactive rants on my blog.

“…people can be weird, man. People — straight, male people, in particular — sure can have some strange misconceptions about how the world spins. Also, they are usually loud.”

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By Mama Paloma, 21/10/2010 06:13

…and so much sadder to be cynical. No one says it like D. Mode. Really, is this asking so much?

I tried to preview this post and got the following message from WordPress:

Sorry, what you are looking for is not here.

Thanks, Universe…really effing funny!

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By Mama Paloma, 25/08/2010 22:31

Long ago, I embraced the identity of the horrible mom. I consciously chose not to obsess about sippy cups or apply for preschool before my child was born. I have lugged my kid to story slams and New Years Eve at the Dresden. Most of the time, I think this makes me a pretty cool mom–even if horrible by current LA-obsessed-parent standards.

Recently, though, I have been feeling like I should do more with AJ. There are so many things for kids around. I have started to feel (dare I admit it?) guilty for not showing up for story time or mid-day kids concerts at the mall.

I can’t afford full-time childcare so Wednesdays have been our day together for some time. Recently, I have been working more and my mom has been helping out. But, it’s nice to have a re-connect midweek, so I am trying to resurrect Wednesday mornings as AJ and Mommy time.

Today, I had planned to take him to the mommy-n-me movies which, honestly, are for mommy. We haven’t done this in a while, as he has become so much more aware much more easily frightened by violence or noise and curious about, err, certain things. So, today, Inception was out but The Kids Are All Right and Eat Pray Love (the other two films playing at our neighborhood theatre) were possible, with strategic distraction/eye covering.

Then, this morning, he was playing and enjoying himself and I realized that either of those films would be so dialogue heavy he would be miserable and miserable to deal with. I remembered hearing other moms talk about and then seeing a poster for this great kids’ museum in Pasadena. We had never been. In a moment of now-uncharacteristic spontaneity, I decided to go. We had a great time, AJ and I, right up to the end. The end, however, required a letter to the Director of Operations and Chief of Staff. I’ll let you read about that below.

In spite of this fiasco, we left in high spirits, and I am determined to be a less horrible mom at least once a week from now on.

———

Dear Ms. Earp and Ms. Maclean,

I am not sure who to address this concern to but, after looking at the staff listings, it seems most closely related to operations and overall museum planning.

Today, I brought my two and a half year old son to KidSpace for the first time. It was great! He loved exploring and interacting with the exhibits and activities. I was considering an annual membership.

As we approached the end of our visit, we needed to use the bathrooms. He had gotten very wet in the water features and needed a diaper/clothes change and I, well, I needed a loo. We used the ones by the cafe. First, we had to wait quite a while as there was only one stall with a diaper changing table. Then, when I got inside, it was filthy (likely, because it is the only one and gets overused.) Have you ever tried to change a feminine product with one hand while balancing on a toilet and holding on to your toddler because the floor is SO disgusting you don’t want them to sit down? It’s not fun. I avoid many places to avoid this experience. After a morning of encouraging my son’s curiosity, I found myself barking “Just stand up. Don’t touch anything. It’s dirty.”

Then, the pieces de resistance. After juggling our personal hygiene needs, we emerged to wash our hands. The sink area is tiny, and we had to squeeze by a woman who had tired of waiting for the changing table and was doing a ‘stand-up’ switch on her toddler. I stepped past her, up to the sink and almost fell, catching myself and twisting my right ankle as I narrowly avoided sprawling on the floor. I looked down to see what my left foot had slipped on and it was, well, poo-poo. I admit, I used a more adult term in that moment, then realized that I was surrounded by children and corrected myself.

Someone, (I think the woman who was doing the stand-up change right then, but she denied it) had seemingly dropped a nice-sized, quite green and viscous blob of feces on the floor.

Now that’s pretty disgusting. Whoever did it shouldn’t have. But, being a mom, I have some empathy for the challenges of negotiating public toilets. I couldn’t be upset with the person who gave up on waiting on the one changing table and went ahead with the stand-up change. If they were in one of the tiny stalls without a changing table, struggling to juggle such an operation, a ball of poo could easily have escaped and rolled under the stall divider, into the path of the next unsuspecting hand washer.

The problem, really is the set-up. I had a particularly unpleasant experience with the toilet facilities but overall, and unlike the rest of the museum, the toilet facilities are not at all set up for parents and young children. Also, there are very limited facilities for women, though all together in our time there I spotted exactly four men there with children…and only one who was there alone with a child. Most of the children were attended by women.

So, here’s where I get positive. While having more and more spacious facilities would be ideal, I have some concrete, possibly not-that-costly suggestions to make the bathroom situation more like the rest of the museum experience:

1. Allocate more toileting facilities to women or to be not gender specific. Do an attendee census and have bathroom facilities reflect typical usage.
2. More frequent cleaning of facilities, especially on busy days like today. Sanitation and regular stocking of diaper changing tables.
3. Install child containment seats in all stalls. This one retails for about $120 but I found it for only $72!

http://www.sustainablesupply.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=B-KB102-00

4. Clear signage in each bathroom indicating the location of other toilet/changing facilities and the procedures for reporting unsanitary conditions.

In our case, I cleaned my shoe the best I could, went to the ticketing window and told the young man there what had happened. He called the cleaning crew and said they would help me with my shoe. I waited a few minutes but, honestly, my son was verging on a meltdown and I wasn’t far behind him. We made our way to our car, I stuck a napkin to the bottom of my shoe to keep any residual crap from getting on my car floor, and we came home.

Again, though this was a horrible way to end our time there, I really loved the museum. I hope that this message is helpful to you in improving the mommy friendliness of your facilities.

Sincerely,

Dove Pressnall