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a diet of good intentions

I have been struggling lately — well, for a while now — with so many of my good intentions being overlooked, or worse. Though I know I shouldn’t be doing things in hopes of “thank yous” or reciprocation, it is trying and tiring to carry on a one-side relationship. A couple months ago, I addressed three of these people with the following letter:

I am writing you because you mean a great deal to me, and I would really like to get back in touch with you/keep in touch with you. However, after dropping the proverbial ball in your court multiple times without a return volley, I owe it myself to leave it there. Through trial and error, (and a sort of paranoia), I have come to realize that I look at relationships differently than many people. Where some are content to let past friendships go, happy for what they were, I have an innate desire to hold on to those relationships for the sake of what they were, yes, but for the way I have been forever changed by them. What I mean to say is that each of you have touched my life in such an emphatically good way that I am reluctant to let go (move on, yes, definitely, but let go, no) — and I wish you felt the same. But know that is not the case. We are different in that. One sure sign of that is the fact that none of you will speak with me on the phone…

I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done. (And, in some of your cases, I can’t help but wonder if your other relationships are so weak that jealousy or whatever runs rampant over something so simple as a phone conversation.)

That said, miss you all dearly, but I harbor no ill feelings toward you. I love each of you too much for that. I will take it as a gift if/when you decide to reestablish contact with me. I’ll probably continue to include you in any mass email updates in the future, but I’m done with one-sided “friendships.”

I thought sending that letter would free me from the frustration of trying to keep these relationships alive on my own. Instead, I guess I internalized it as a posed ultimatum. And since none of those people acted on it, I have felt angry.

Anger has no place in a healthy relationship. It is acidic and eats away at the core of it. We all experience temporary frustrations and get angry occasionally, but unless we move beyond and let go of the anger, the relationship will suffer.

Despite knowing this, I haven’t been able to shake my anger towards these “friends” who’ve dropped me. After all, where’s the harm in ill feelings here? They aren’t involved, and the relationship is essentially dissolved…

…


I subscribe to Jan Phillips‘ Museletter, and in her email today she included a link to the video below. “Intentional Chocolate” is chocolate that has been “infused” with good intentions. The gist, in case you can’t watch the video, is that in a double blind study, people who ate chocolates that had been prayed over with good intentions felt an uplift in mood that the other people did not experience. This is amazing.


With that in mind, I have decided to make a conscious effort to let go of the anger. After all, I’m angry because I love these people. But if I do love them, why would I want anything but good for them? So if good intentions are real enough to make chocolates into antidepressants, surely they’re strong enough to strengthen even a one-sided relationship.

Peace (& chocolate) be with you.

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a previously censored portion of my "I like bacon" post

I considered opening this with a disclaimer, but then I remembered: this is my blog, and I’m not forcing anyone to read it, let alone agree with it. So here goes.

I am Catholic, an actual Catholic who believes & agrees with the Pope. (Ok, at least most of the time. There are, admittedly, some doctrines I struggle with.) With that in mind, Pope Benedict summed up so much of my Catholic-worldview beliefs in his message delivered on the World Day of Peace this year (January 1, 2008):

Respecting the environment does not mean considering material or animal nature more important than man. Rather, it means not selfishly considering nature to be at the complete disposal of our own interests…

With that context, we should respect and be good stewards of our environment, but not at the expense of human life; we should respect and have compassion for all God’s creatures, but, again, not at the expense of human beings.

One question this raises for me is whether we should eat meat, since we can survive without it. I’m still not going to expound on that issue yet.

The bigger issue for me, though, is the hypocrisy that I have encountered regarding the value of animal life versus that of human life. I know there will be some out there who’ll take offense to my separation of the two, but human beings are not just “other animals,” and animals are not human and should not be afforded the same rights as human beings. They deserve humane treatment, yes, absolutely, but not human rights.

However, human life deserves human rights.

Anyone who knows me knows I am adamantly pro-life, something that is reflective of my Catholic beliefs, but that is based in much more than religion for me. That’s not to say I can’t put myself in the place of the single woman facing an unplanned pregnancy, the impregnated rape victim, or the woman with health issues that could prevent her from carrying a baby full-term safely. However, as empathetic and codependent as I am, I know in my core that human life begins at conception.

A little over a month ago on December 31st, I had the opportunity to visit the Body Worlds exhibit while it was in Charlotte. The exhibit was one of the most amazing, grotesquely beautiful things I have ever seen. It was uncomfortable to view, yet incredibly magnetic. (This blog covers the exhibit well.) One part of the exhibit focused on fetal development. The curtained off area included human embryos from 4 through 8 weeks, fetuses from 16 weeks (I think) through 34 weeks, and a woman who was eight months pregnant, with her in utero baby exposed. As awesome (and hard to take) as the pregnant woman and babies were, the embryos probably amazed me most: I’d read it before and seen photographs, but to see the spine on a 4 week old* embryonic baby and to see the fingers on an 8 week old baby the size of a nickel, there is no doubt that these are children.

So, back to the beginning: where I see hypocrisy is in those people who are adamant animal rights advocates…and card-carrying pro-Roe supporters. I have a hard time understanding how someone can argue that hogs should have the right to move in their pens without being passionate that a child has a right to live.

My issue is really that simple.

* A baby’s gestational age is calculated from the mother’s last menses, typically about 2 weeks before her ovulation. Hence, a baby is 2 weeks old gestationally before s/he is even conceived! For me, that fits so perfectly with Jeremiah 1:5: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.”

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bubbly and vibrant, and multiple

So, this past week, I stumbled on a certain Bushwalla track featuring Jason Mraz… on the kaleidoscope. It has been stuck in my head all day. Particularly Bushwalla’s “If you ask who I am/ I be Bush W the white rap man/ the acoustic rhymer…” and Jason’s “do do do do do do do do do…” I can’t help but grin like an idiot when I listen to it. This is now filed under happy songs. If you know the song, you know what I mean. If you’re interested, look up “Titty Banging” by Bushwalla with Jason Mraz, specifically at Twiggs.

[LMS, if you’re reading this, don’t worry, I won’t subject your daughter (or any of your future children) to this. Trust me, I’m still a good candidate for Godmother.]

******

I went to the open mic tonight at The Perk. It had looked like it was going to be a small group, — no offense, but run-of-the mill — but it turned out to be one of the best readings I’d been to at that locale. There was not a featured reader, but I think it’s safe to say Develon and Paul stole the show. I look forward to running into them again. Meanwhile, I got to promote SMR a bit. I think I read more than my share, including a piece that I later realized was more of a piece for the page than presentation. It reads really well, but makes absolutely no sense unless you can see it on the page, punctuation and all. This was, as far as I can remember, the first time I’ve gone to an open mic and read but not any of my own work.

Before the reading I had the day to spend with my older son, and just him. We just ran errands, me and the 3½ year old, but it was really nice. He wanted to come with me, so I wasn’t dragging him, and we weren’t pressed for time, so we got to visit the toy aisle a bit too, so he was thrilled. Sometimes I feel I’m missing how #1 is growing up because #2 still demands so much attention. When I came home from the reading around 10:30, #2 was deep asleep (as expected) and #1 was awake in bed (as expected, though his bedtime is 9/9:30), waiting for me to hold him in the rocking chair. I did, longer than usual. He usually hugs me, and I hold him “like a monkey.” But tonight I asked him if I could hold him “like a baby,” cradled with his head against my chest. That was nice.

It’s so cliché, but the idea of loving your children equally but differently is really starting to take hold for me. I’m harder on #1 because he’s older of course, but I think too because he reminds me of me, being the oldest, doomed to be shorter than his younger brother. Meanwhile, #2 is still “the baby” and since his premature arrival, I’ve felt I do just that, baby him, maybe more than I should. That and I can clearly see he’ll look like his handsome daddy.

We’ll see how things change if/when a third child comes into play.