#10 Muscles

Tonight, I received a call from my four-but-soon-to-be-five-year-old nephew, and he said something like, "Aunt Jenn, I'm a muscle man." Now, who knows where that came from... This same nephew was coached to respond to the question "Where's the beach?" by putting his arm in a 90 degree angle and changing the direction of his flexing muscle (see my imitation at the beach in Cape Cod last summer, below).


Yes, a muscle man. Yes, muscles are important not just for this child but for all of us. I've been taking a muscle sculpting class through the local parks and recreation program here in Arlington, and it really stretches me. The first week of class, I could barely walk, sit, or stand -- let alone something as arduous as climbing stairs -- without the groans of my muscles, unused to doing so many squats or lifting so many weights. The class is challenging, and I do things there that I would never push myself to do in the gym alone. I routinely feel stiff or sore for the day after class, but I like it. It lets me know that my body works and that it is becoming stronger.

Our world supports mental acumen and comfort over physical strength all of the time. There is not much in my daily life that is strenuous. I've heard many stories of soreness and physical fatigue here in the DC area following the snowstorms -- yes, it takes muscles to shovel the walk and just to trudge through snow and over ice. Sometimes when I realize how easy my life is and how unprepared I am (this muscle toning class is a constant reminder) for physical challenges, I am a bit sad but also grateful. Our bodies are so amazing and powerful--take a look at the Olympics for extreme examples of how practice and dedication can transform ordinary people into superhuman athletes.

It seems wonderful that I still have a chance to be a muscle man, or woman, as the case may be. I may never be a speed skater or slalom skier, but I can use my muscles and maintain a level of fitness that leaves me prepared for the next snow storm, sprint on the beach during vacation, or chasing my little nephew and niece around when I have a chance. So, in the morning and again next week, I will push myself out from behind my computer and the comforts of my home to my class so that I can be reminded of the strength, power, and health that I am fortunate to have!

#9: Fridays

I just returned from a wonderful Friday night -- pizza and a beer in one of my favorite Georgetown pizzerias -- with two good friends who will soon be leaving for New York. I am so thankful for these good friends, fellowship, and yummy food to fill our tummies. Is there anything better? Is there any better cure for getting over the week and slowly preparing for the week ahead? Surrounded by such warm friendship, I can only say Thank God It's Friday!

#8 Buds

No, I don't mean this kind... or even this kind... but rather this last kind about to be this kind and sighted behind my apartment complex this morning on the way to catch the bus.

As a winter storm howls upon us with another set of wind and storminess (I lost enough power to interrupt my Olympics viewing this evening for a couple of minutes), I want to remember a more hopeful sighting that I have begun to notice in my neighborhood. Despite the dirty snowpiles left from Snowmaggedon and Snowverkill earlier this month, I have noted buds looking full and pliable, brief hints of color laying tucked underneath. It's the hopeful part of this season -- the part that promises renewal, spring, and color after the drab months of winter.

Every year, I find it a surprising reminder of the lush season to come. In the same way that I prefer to grow houseplants from cuttings because of the satisfaction of marking the plant's progress and celebrating its new growth with graduations to new pots and places in the home, I also like to observe and mark spring and Easter as it descends up on me. I cannot stop the stealth of Mother Nature, at times secretly moving forward beneath blankets of snow and at other times regressing backwards when thwarted by a storm or cold spell. But I can stand by and watch, fascinated by the process (true wondering) and audibly applauding nature's succession of the seasons.

#7 Kind Words

This is a brief post as my eyes are drooping already with exhaustion. Today, I want to take a moment to wonder at the simplicity of those gentle hearts and kind words that are bestowed on me, almost without any appreciation, every day. In recasting some recent events to a friend this evenign, I received what was intended as an empathetic, rapport-building response that sounded something like "most of the world is jerks anyway." It struck a nerve, as I had been pondering the opposite all day. Although it is easy to obsess on a sour incident or singular ugly relationship, I find there is a lot more that is remarkably good in my environment than I often recognize. The positive, nurturing encounters actually outweigh those unhealthy ones if I choose to do the math. Simple smiles, supportive hugs, enthusiastic and passionate responses to learning/teaching, and a few kind words are blessings that fall upon me every day. And I am infinitely grateful.

(sending a heartfelt hug and a few kind words to all of you out there everywhere... because I know that you need them too!)

#6 The Power of Music

I had a really crummy day today. An episode with a really cantankerous students sort of took the wind out of my sails. It wasn't his fault that my day turned sour exactly. Rather, it was probably my fault in that I let the interaction get the better of me. Teaching is such a humbling profession.

After taking the bus home this evening, I called my mom, went for a run, and took a long, hot shower. All of those things helped, but what really put my day back on kilter was my band. I spent to long wallowing in my own self-reflection, and, ashamedly, did not get out of my house on time to get to practice. I forced myself to go even though I wasn't in the mood for socializing. I almost bailed on the way, noticing that not only my self esteem but also my car was running on the thinnest of fumes. But I went. Sometimes showing up is half the battle, isn't it?

Like almost every Tuesday evening, Arlington Community Band raised my spirits. I was the only member of my section that came to rehearsal, and the entire band voiced their appreciation when I arrived. A good feeling to realize you are part of something bigger than yourself. Despite the fact that I am a washed up college player, I don't practice, and I have some pitiful exposed solos that make even myself cringe, I feel good in that space. Our director is cooky and encouraging; I don't feel like the same kind of apprehensive, timid musician I was in college. I am somehow more willing to take risks, play in the wrong spots, and get the wrong notes (probably this is much to the chagrin of our very optimistic director!). I have more fun with it than I did in college when I was scared to lose face in front of my section/those sitting near me/the band by making mistakes or asking questions. I suppose my relationship with music has never been an easy one.

Community band is not the most sophisticated. Much of the music I played in high school or college. Many players are rusty like me. I make a ton of mistakes and know I am not playing as well as I could or should, but they still let me be section head. Every time I go, I feel better. The concentration of music and the kind of musical intelligence activated is different than what I do during the day. The social structure doesn't require me to be an instructor, a leader, or even a nice person. The identity I get to take there is probably the me most stripped of anything else. I am "horn 1," and I like to be this person. It's good for me.

The opportunity to step outside of myself and do something where I get to be part of the collective is energizing. I lose track of time and am often surprised when the entire two hours has whizzed by. Yes, music is a good remedy for even the cruddiest of days.

For a short look at our winter 2009 concert closer, "Stars and Stripes Forever," watch the YouTube video, below.

#5 Cardboard, snow, and video

The recent snow blizzard here in DC pushed some friends and I out onto the hills on the only sleds we could get our hands on -- cardboard boxes! The day was a hoot with downhill adventure. Today, the video documentation was passed along and I cannot help but make this the wonder of the day. Simple pleasures won in the great outdoors on cardboard have to be one of the very most joyous (and hilarious) episodes of the spring. I hope they also make you smile. Enjoy!

#4 Olympics

I am in love with the Olympics. It's not the winning that matters so much. In fact, I am not even swooned by some intense sort of national pride of American athletes. It's the amazing thresholds crossed by bold athletes who do things that I cannot even fathom doing. Dashing across hills at breakneck speeds, flipping over the lip of a halfpipe, jumping into the air on skates (heck, I can't even skate backwards)... I'm mesmerized by the talents, the dedication, the willpower. I root for athletes from the country I am from, but I also root for underdog athletes from countries I've lived in or visited. I root for my students' home countries and chat with them about it in class the next day. In fact, I am losing sleep over the Olympics -- who can go to bed when there is just one more skiier or skater or curler? Impossible. I figure that if these talented sportspeople can train for years, the very least I can do is stay up to catch their moments of struggle and glory. After all, they only come around every four years.

I am very grateful and very inspired by the exceptional role models and entertainment provided by these Olympic Games. And now, I must run back to my tele to catch the Super G!

#3: Potluck Delights

Today was a feast of feasts at work! Every semester we hold an international potluck, and it is undoubtedly always a highlight for students and faculty alike. Not only are there delectable foods from every corner of the earth with names that are hardly pronounceable... kimchi, kapsa, arepas ... and ingredients that are exotic, but there is also the mixing and mingling that happens wherever bread is broken.

I like this event because it allows me to fill my tummy and also see my students outside of the classroom, taking on another identity with their peers and as proud ambassadors of their home countries. As I walk down the food tables, I am greeted with interjections of "hey, teacher, I made this!" "Professor, you have to try this traditional food from my country" and "this is so good--try it!" I marvel at some of the their prowess in the kitchen (or international food market, for those with less culinary flare), and their growing confidence as English speakers and students.

The event is a cacophony of languages and a conglomeration of exotic smells. Today, our potluck also featured Arabic music and dancing, complete with a colleague who, apparently, knows how to shuffle his feet to ebbing Middle-Eastern melodies. All of this chaos builds to a sense of community that I don't always feel as one teacher at one level of the program. Yes, on days like today, I really like the perspective my work and my job gives me... and I feel lucky to have dipped my hand into many pots today, yesterday, and, with good fortune, also tomorrow.

#2: Dentistry

I visited the dentist today and received my first filling since a kid. My memories are of funny gas and some gross drilling (what is that stuff that splashes back at you?) and later a numbed mouth...

My experience today was so quick and painless. Apparently dentistry has come a long way since I was 12. Numb, drill, clean, fill, heat with cool laser, and finito. Completely amazing -- nothing like I remember. Kudos to my great dentist and the advances of medicine.

... and smile!

#1: Wonder of modern distances

This first mid-winter pondering focuses not on the great metric vs. imperial measurement debate (although through consistent exposure I begin to believe that metrics are a bit more worldly and modern). Instead, the focus is on the great miracle of our modern sense of distance. My ancestors no doubt spend ages over sea and land to settle in this country. I just finished reading Sena Jeter Naslund's book Ahab's Wife which is set in 19th century America. The book is fabulous for many reasons, but one thing that struck me was the amount of travel and communication the main character involved herself in and how arduous and uncertain it all was. She took months to travel from Nantucket to Kentucky. Letters were sometimes received annually. Her husband (the great Ahab from Melville's Moby Dick) was gone at sea for two years at a time! How impatient the modern world is in comparison with it's tweets and minute-to-minute expectations, deadlines, and updates. How intolerant am I of a marriage which at most has five or six week intervals of travel. How different distances are indeed.

Although I was shut in for a week of blizzarding here in DC last week, I was still able to call friends and family and even Skype overseas. After the snow passed, I had the great pleasure of visiting my folks down in Arizona for a weekend. Arizona! for a weekend. Uskumatu. I traversed an entire country in a day. I have an overseas marriage that I sometimes feel tests our limits of communication and makes intimacy difficult to maintain. Although we cannot overcome the distances of time (yet!), we can make video calls and yap for as long as we are able to stay awake.

Indeed the world has become so much smaller. And I am grateful of this modern-day wonder. Travel, discovery, and adventure can comfortably cohabit with the relationships and communities that remain most dear to my heart.

*As a postscript to this post (oh! a post postscript!), today was a red letter modern distance day. My husband plans to visit me again in March. Yes. We are thankful for Finnair in particular today.

Still amongst these rocks

I've always kind of liked this time of late February and March when the days are still short but lengthening and the winter temps have lulled us into a sort of semi-hibernating slumber in which we trudge around after the big winter holidays have passed. No matter your religious or philosophical orientation or your geographic residence, you can easily appreciate this stretching time between winter and spring. It's the perfect time for thinking, removing yourself from the fray and really siting down to mull things over. Somehow, I always picture Shakespeare's Hamlet set at this brooding time of year that hangs after the brilliance of winter has worn away and before spring has yet shown its reflection.



Today marks Ash Wednesday, the day that opens the Christian period of Lent. It's a day that reminds us that we came from dust and to dust we shall someday once again return. It's a day that marks the beginning of a period of meditation, fasting, generosity, and preparation. It's a day of reorientation in preparing for the new season ahead.

The very word Lent is Germanic (in German Lenz, meaning spring) and its roots are in a compound word of day-lengthening (see Etym Online if you are curious). How perfectly appropriate as we inch towards the promises and hopes -- be they natural splendors, religious celebrations, or longer days -- of spring.

T.S. Eliot wrote a poem that I stumbled onto today called Ash Wednesday. It's a remarkable poem, and following stanza followed me after reading:

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

The poem concludes with another sticking point from Eliot's journey: "Teach us to sit still/even among these rocks. These rocks have really gotten in my way lately, and I have found myself reacting to the most innocuous barb in a cynical, satirical fashion, often before processing the entire encounter. This nastiness is not warranted and demands some examination -- some sitting still.

After much thought, I've decided to undertake a Lenten challenge this year. I'm not going to pretend to give up something that is really a self-improvement project in disguise, and I'm not going to overwhelm my schedule with more commitments. Instead, I am going to accept the challenge to sit still ... even among these many rocks by which I am surrounded and sometimes engulfed. Instead, I am going to take the next 40 days (with the exception of Sundays) to brood productively through 40 postings that take time to look at some of the small but significant current miracles in my everyday life. 40 days for 40 wonders of this life, these moments, and these rocks.

This posting to all of you, my friends and family of many nations, educations, and religious followings, is not meant as a religious diatribe. Instead, please take it as an invitation to sit still with me on this wintertime journey.

Blizzard 2010

I ventured outside a couple of hours ago into the 20+ inches of snow that has crippled the entire capital area. Wintry delight -- and the white stuff is still falling.