Strong female characters

While I've been sick the past week, I've been watching a lot of Wonder Woman.  I have season 3 of the TV series on DVD.  I had not watched it before.  I like it for the same reasons I like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  I like the strong female main character, and I like the acrobatics.  (Buffy is better though, because it also has deeper meanings and story arcs.)

I like the way Wonder Woman flies through the air and so forth, but otherwise, as a character, the one I like more is her alter ego, Diana Prince.  What I like about Diana and Buffy is that while being strong and smart, they are also nice people.

I think sometimes when people try to write strong female characters, they overdo the strong.  It's like they think that to show that a woman is strong, they have to make her icy like Kathryn Janeway and Seven of Nine, fiery like B'Elanna Torres and Kira Nerys, or haughty like Princess Leia and Hermione.  They don't see how a woman can be just a nice person and still be strong.  But Diana Prince and Buffy Summers show that you can be nice and still be strong.

The Chumbawamba Principle

Robert Krulwich gave a commencement address at the College of the Atlantic called The Chumbawamba Principle.  The title comes from the song "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba.  (I like the song, and I like the band.)  The song says, "I get knocked down, but I get up again.  You're never gonna keep me down."  Krulwich is saying that you just have to keep trying, that the way we grow and find the life we want is to just keep fumbling onward.

Some of the parts I liked best: 

Designing yourself isn't like being a conqueror. It's not Genghis Khan screaming "Charge!" thundering across the steppes, seizing his prize — no. It's more like you are nearsighted. You like salty snacks, and one day, fumbling along, you knock over a pretzel dish and think, "What's this?" You take a bite and think, "Hmmm! Do I like pretzels?"

It's more like that.

Accidents happen. The trick is to know when you've gotten lucky. To say, "I do," to the pretzel. This works for jobs. Works for girls. Works for most things....

the designing never ends.

The job you choose at first, the man or woman you choose at first, the friends you choose at first, they can change....

You don't become yourself by yourself. You become you, boosted on others' shoulders, buoyed by others' smiles.

Painting our lives

For so long, I've felt weighed down by my responsibilities.  Then I read Nimue Brown's post "Druidic Arts: Responsibility."  Responsibility is not what weighs you down.  Responsibility is what you choose to do about the demands upon you.

Many years ago, I read The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars by Stephen Brust. The book tells of an artist with a blank canvas.  I read the book at a time when I faced a big decision in my life.  To me, the book said that the future is a blank canvas, and you can do with it whatever you  choose.

As I sit here now, I feel illness and fatigue.  I want to be healthy and energetic.  Normally, I try to proceed as if I am healthy and energetic.  But responsibility means seeing the situation for what it is, and deciding what to do about it.

Today, I am not going to do what I was supposed to do.  It's not because of my own initiative.  It's because a friend told me, "You are sick.  I have asked someone if he will cover for you, and he said yes."  I accepted, because I knew it was what I needed.

It's good for me to accept the help of others, to let go of this independent streak that tells me that I have to do everything myself.

The sickness I have today is one that will get better.  But however better I get, my energy will always be finite.  I keep thinking of more things I want to do.  The artist does not make a great painting by throwing all the paint onto the painting.  The artist makes a great painting by making choices.  I need to stop aspiring to do it all.  I need to choose.

There's a hole in the middle of a pretty good life

At the hospital the other day, the people were so nice.

 A week before, the people at the hotel were so nice.

 It's so striking to me when people are kind. It shouldn't be such an unusual experience.

I am not kind. I want to be like the people at the hospital, the people at the hotel. Instead, I am curled up in a ball, shutting out the world, because I am trying to shut out the unkindness, the pushiness, the illness, the fatigue. I shut out the bad, and with it I shut out the good.

I'm grateful for a comfortable place to live, for the support of family and friends. I am grateful that all my loved ones are safe. But sometimes I feel an ache. Despite all that I have, parts are still missing. The people I care about are far away -- far in miles, or busy with more important things to do.

Maybe that's the way life is. "For Real" by Bob Franke says "there's a hole in the middle of a pretty good life."

Sometimes, I don't ache. Sometimes I feel whole. I've had some joyful times with friends and family. I've had joyful times alone, dancing, just me and the music.

Once, as a kid on a family vacation, I made up some labels for family members. I called myself, and others who, like me, most enjoyed hiking, "Energetic Wilderness Explorers." Those who focused on getting chores done I labelled "Dishy Washy." Those who sat around the house reading I called "Lazy Loafy."

Now I'm older. Now I bear the responsibility of chores. I have become Dishy Washy. Now I bear the weight of fatigue. I have become Lazy Loafy.

When I was a kid, I was only an Energetic Wilderness Explorer. Now I am all three. Energetic Wilderness Explorer, Dishy Washy, and Lazy Loafy are three threads twining within me. Together, they form a rope, stronger twined together than any one would be alone. I am richer, deeper, broader than when I was a kid. I have the power to take on a challenge.

A good druid faces difficulty. A good druid does not turn away, does not refuse to see.

I do not have within me the capacity to do all the things I'm trying to do. That is the thing I refuse to see. I am not willing to give anything up, so I refuse to see that I must. Instead, I am always thinking of more things I want to undertake.

There's a hole in the middle of a pretty good life. There's a hole in my life because I don't have the capacity to do all the things I'm trying to do. There's a hole because illness and injury keep me from hiking, rollerblading, and dancing. There's a hole because I feel disconnected from the people I want to be close to. There's a hole because kindness is rare in my life. There's a hole because fun is rare in my life.

There's a hole, but I am whole. I am whole because I know both sorrow and joy. I am whole because I gaze at the sky. I am whole because I run in the rain. I am whole because people were there for me, helping me when I needed it. I am whole because I take care of myself, whether others are there to help or not.

I miss health and energy.  I miss the people I want to be with.  I miss fun.  I miss them, but I will be whole.

Why I hate my job

Last night I went to a dinner at a hotel. They do lots of events there, like conferences, weddings, graduations, etc. They are really good at it. Anything we wanted, they were there to accommodate. We arrived carrying boxes of supplies for our event. They hastened to take the boxes, to carry them for us. As we sat there at the registration table, checking in our guests, they brought us water to drink. When we told them that more people had asked at the last minute to attend, they said, "Would they like beef, fish or pasta?" Where I work, it would not have been like that. It would have been like, "The final count was due two weeks ago. We can't add more people now." "If you want to drink water, that's $5 extra." "We don't carry boxes, that's not our job." And it's, "Your form was signed in blue ink, so we rejected it, because we require black ink." "You can't do that unless you fill out three forms." And to do anything, you have to submit a spreadsheet to one office, wait two weeks for them to process it, then submit a form to another office, wait two weeks for them to process it, then submit another form, wait another two weeks for it to be processed, then if approved it goes to another office. And that's why I hate my job. I want to be where people actually try to be helpful.

Pattern by Angie Smith

The May 14 blog post "Pattern" by Angie Smith is a masterpiece.

What makes good writing is the ability to convey a very particular moment vividly and concretely, while at the same time, connecting that moment to something universal.

She writes of sewing, of trying to return to a dress she had started to make in the past, and sewing becomes a metaphor for a relationship.  She says:

"It would have been beautiful if I had just paid attention when it was new, and now I’m left with the pieces."

and

"But it wasn’t the fabric I loved. It wasn’t even the finished product. It was watching the needle and knowing that it was working all the time to mend, even as it pierced. It looks like it’s dangerous, and as if it’s wounding. It tears through layers and even through skin. I’m convinced it will come away flawed and torn, and then I see the beauty of it all. And the hum of the sewing machine reminds me again what it looks like to allow yourself to be wounded because you believe in what will one day come of it all."

Is it heroic to sacrifice yourself for a cause?

People tend to glorify those who give their life for a cause.  I don't see it that way.  When a man dies for his cause, he deprives his parents of a son, his wife of a husband, his children of a father, and his siblings of a brother.  He deprives the world of all the things he might have done in his life -- the writing, the art, the scientific discoveries.

I once started reading Siddhartha, but I did not get far.  It glorified a man for leaving his wife and baby.  To me, that is all wrong.

We live in this world as individual threads in a tapestry.  Everything we do affects other people, and affects the earth.  We cannot possibly foresee all consequences of our actions.  We cannot possibly avoid causing harm to others.  We must act in the this world, despite the fact that there are no perfect actions.  We must act in this world, despite the fact that every action will in some way cause some harm to someone.

But at the same time, we have a responsibility.  When we choose to let someone become close to us, we have a responsibility to care for that person.  We have a responsibility to think of how our actions might hurt that person.  To go off and die for a cause without thought to one's family, or to leave one's wife and baby in search of enlightenment -- to me, such actions are not heroic deeds.  They are abominations, violations of one's obligation to care for others.