Sunday, January 19, 2014

Life and the Gross Domestic Product


Via www.rowdykittens.com
I just began Tammy Strobel’s book, You Can Buy Happiness (and it’s cheap), yesterday after giving up on the soft mush of Memories from Acorn Hill. I finished the first short story in which everything turned out peachy but couldn’t get more than a chapter into the other one before realizing that reading it would be more of the same and I would gain nothing from the exercise. Life is too short to eat milk-toast.
So I moved on to a non-fiction book for a change of pace. Tammy, who has a blog I check in on frequently called Rowdy Kittens, has pulled all her research and her lifestyle changes into a new book. I am only on page 40, but she has already given me lots to think about.

In her personal life, she has simplified to the nth degree. She and her husband live in a 128 sq. foot home on wheels that they built. Minimal space means minimal clothes, minimal furniture and minimal tablespoons. She loves her lifestyle and I presume her husband embraces it, too, although I am not sure of his thoughts.

Since I have been simplifying for the past two years (but not to this extent, obviously, as one peruses our home), I understand the benefit of removing clutter in both the physical environment as well as within my mind. As things become fuzzier as I grow older, I think this will be all the more important to me. There is also the time lost on maintenance and cleaning to consider. I do not like to devote more time than absolutely necessary to the chores. I want to open up my time to experiences. Hence my dilemma and subsequent epiphany.
An economics major, Tammy has the stats to back up her words. She also quotes other writers and statesmen. This statement from Robert Kennedy gave legs to my thoughts and backbone to my decision to minimize, not only my things, but my exposure to the excessive materialism and the mind-warping violence and ridicule on TV that has become so prevalent.

The first comment is Tammy’s and the second part is quoted in her book. I included the first paragraph of Kennedy’s words because it is also relevant to my point of view.
Below is a quote from Bobby Kennedy on what the Gross National Product means and more importantly what it does not mean.  He would have a made a fine economist...

 "Too much and too long, we seem to have surrendered community excellence and community values in the mere accumulation of material things. Our gross national product ... if we should judge America by that - counts air pollution and cigarette advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage. It counts special locks for our doors and the jails for those who break them. It counts the destruction of our redwoods and the loss of our natural wonder in chaotic sprawl. It counts napalm and the cost of a nuclear warhead, and armored cars for police who fight riots in our streets. It counts Whitman's rifle and Speck's knife, and the television programs which glorify violence in order to sell toys to our children. 
"Yet the gross national product does not allow for the health of our children, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages; the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit nor our courage; neither our wisdom nor our learning; neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country; it measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile. And it tells us everything about America except why we are proud that we are Americans." 

Robert F. Kennedy Address, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kansas, March 18, 1968


As Tammy drills down to her own place of happiness and hones her point of view, I benefit from her observations. Her words resonate with me. Food for thought and they take up minimal physical room.
So, as she delves further into the issue, she questions the wisdom of excessive growth, not only with the GDP, but also on a personal level. The more we make and the more we buy does not increase our core happiness.

Money is not the measure of our contentment and happiness, our experiences are. Things are, well, just things. A bobble-head may remind us of an excellent sport’s event but does it make us happy? Going to the event would. Buying an artificial flower arrangement to match our living room might look nice for a while but then it would just be part of the scene. Bringing in a handful of flowers from the patch we grew by the back door would enchant us every time we walked by it. Once past its prime, a new and different bundle could appear, appreciated for its own uniqueness and brevity of appearance.

It occurs to me that it is unfortunate that we raise our children during the time period of our peak acquisition. We are buying homes, furnishing them, decorating them. We buy toys, swing sets and different sized bikes in rapid succession. We renovate. We move, prompting more acquisitions. They see us buy out of boredom, replace perfectly good cars and fill closets, theirs as well as ours, with clothes. They embrace all this buying and expect something in every store they are dragged to, often becoming frustrated to tantrum level when the random object of their desire is not forthcoming. Then they see their parents buying what they want and the seed is planted. ‘When I grow up…,” becomes an internal mantra and a habit is born. Buying things will make me happy. When I don’t get them, I am angry/sad.
Now, I have no basis in fact to substantiate this next thought and I will learn more with research, but in cultures with extended families close by and where grandparents, aunts and uncles are part of day-to-day living, is the acquisitive influence diluted? For instance, I think we can assume that grandparents are in a stage of life where they pretty much have all they need. They are comfortable with their furniture, have knitted a few afghans to keep warm on chilly nights and they are down to four coffee mugs in the cabinet. Lamps may have seen better days but they see no point in replacing them. The books that line their shelves are fewer than were there in earlier years but are old friends. Pictures lining the wall are of family. Friendships, not things, give them the most pleasure. Family antics make them laugh. Crayoned drawings are taped to their refrigerator.

I think back on the years when my children were growing up. We bought a home, painted, put up wallpaper and decorated while my son was little and my daughter approaching birth. Finances were tight so we made do and did for ourselves. Visits to parks were more the norm than forays to stores. Playing outside was fun and the swing set was in the grammar school playground. We traveled to see family, hooking side trips to the seashore onto the journeys. After a number of years, we built a house in another town and moved. Things were better, our jobs providing more money to spend. Saving wasn’t on the horizon yet. We bought new furniture. While my son was in school and my daughter on half-day kindergarten, I shopped after school let out. She went along on my forays to buy fabric and placemats. I made curtains and pillows. I bought things to decorate our home –a lot of things – it was a country haven, befitting the time, complete with Shaker pegs to hold stuff on the wall when the other surfaces were full.
My son shuns excess stuff in favor of his passions. My daughter fills her home with things. I am getting the picture.

Facing up to responsibility is uncomfortable. I can see how my actions may have subconsciously influenced them. Don't get me wrong, it wasn’t all materialistic. I am glad we filled their childhood with experiences, too. They each have varied interests and a love of the seashore and appreciation for bed and breakfast inns. Visits to parks, boating on lakes and exploration in different areas has had an impact on their lives – I see it now in their choices. I am glad that I never felt the need to buy trinkets emblazoned with logos to remember every trip. I am glad I never felt the compulsion to collect figurines (oh, whoops, there is the Christmas village I put up every year during the holidays). I have had way too many books over the years (all but my favorites have now been sent out into the world for other readers to enjoy). I still need to attack my closets so I am thankful for doors that close tightly. My art supplies will never be reduced except by use.

There is balance in every life, mine and theirs included. Some tip one way or another as we each work through our stages. The groundwork is laid earlier than I thought. Was my mother’s habitual Saturday shopping day part of my foundation? Perhaps. But so was the frugality of those early years when money was tight and we made do. I count myself lucky to have had those days when my best Christmas present of all time was the Barbie clothes my mother painstakingly made for months on end and getting a bike was a really big deal. I have carried the necessity of that philosophy in my pocket my whole life. It colored many of my decisions. I also had the benefit of two grandmotherly points of view when I grew up. One was frugal and loving, the other more critical and cheap. Although at a distance and not visited more than a few times a year, they both had an impact on my development.
Perhaps if there was a Tammy earlier in my life, I would have understood my impact on others more fully and trimmed my sails. Would have saved me from going through this exercise of purging now and, I am sure, enhanced my life’s experiences in the process. Live and learn...again.

It is now obvious that it would have influenced my children’s values as well.

Now that I look back with open eyes, I see that my experiences and growth were probably like that
From www.notesfromtherock.net
of many others of that time. I don’t know if it is my time of life that is dictating my shift in course or the times which are changing because of the accessibility of different points of view via the internet. All in all, there are few things I would alter because, ultimately, they made me who I am. I would have assessed my materialism differently, though. My personal search for happiness was impeded by it and I never knew. As I watch my children make their own choices, I both applaud and lament.

I wouldn't be a mother if I didn't.

 




Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Through the Looking Glass


Montmartre Reflection
Ah, a new year arrives. It is a crisp, cold day and the sun shines down on the shiny coat of thick ice on the lake. A massive storm is brewing to the west, churning and drifting our way. Tomorrow, the scene may be very different but inside, warmth will fill the rooms and there is always tea to heat the body from the inside out.

These past five days have been restorative. I have picked up my clutter, rearranged my sitting room so I can fit in my paints and supplies for the winter. Curtains, a project long overdue and neglected, have been sewn for the guest room sliding door – lush thick folds of fabric to keep the chill outside where it belongs.

Mending has been done, Marlena de Blasi’s new book, Antonia and Her Daughters, a gift from a friend, is slowly savored so as not to rush through the pages and reach the end before I am ready for it. I am traveling soon so I brought the rolling suitcase down to ready it for the trip. I will leave the Christmas tree up until Saturday – a few more days of enjoyment before memorable ornaments are once again stored away.

Their brief appearance makes them special. Released from their slumber, they evoke memories of holidays filled with laughter and good food, traditions long enjoyed. These accumulated treasures represent a lifetime of Decembers. Like old friends, they are a small part of the solace of the season. The rest is spiritual comfort and reflection.

Now I am ready to embrace my passions and grow. There are only a few pledges I will make to set the character of my new year. Now, more than ever, action requires the parameters of a plan.


I surrender to the notion that I will always be a person with myriad interests. I intend to fully give each its moment of attention without gazing lustfully at the ones not chosen.
 
Embrace the path – I will take one step at a time on paths which intrigue me and trust that they will not lead me astray. This will keep me upright in more ways than one.
 
Cherish relationships – in the moment and always.

Like the eagle, I will ride the wind with grace and strength, and return to a nurturing nest of inspiration and respite.

I will continue to balance activity with quiet contemplation and appreciate the growth from both. Simplicity will hone my focus.

Let's see how that goes....

Friday, August 9, 2013

Martha's Vineyard and A Fine Romance

I am heading for the Vineyard next week for Illumination Night in Oak Bluffs.  If you have never been - you'd be in for a real treat if you can go. The charming gingerbread cottages are decked out with colorful (and in many cases vintage) Chinese lanterns for one night every year.

Susan Branch is releasing her newest book as we speak and I just found out that she will be signing at the Bunch of Grapes Bookstore in Vineyard Haven on Thursday, August 15th (4 - 5:30). It is my favorite bookstore ever and I have a lot of wonderful books on my shelves that I bought there. Each has a purple-inked Bunch of Grapes bookmark inside.

I plan to be there with bells on! When I met her years ago, I was enchanted by her thoughtfulness and bright outlook on life. I followed her trip to England on her blog and enjoyed every minute of it as she took all her 'girlfriends' in her luggage with her. Having been to some of the same places and loving walking back into history, her stories were that much more interesting.

Go to her website for more info on A Fine Romance and go back through her blog to join her on her travels by boat (Queen Mary II, no less) to England.  Or join me at the book-signing and get your own copy to read and reread to your heart's content!

Monday, May 6, 2013

Creative Evolution

(C) Gina Sekelsky
I have reached a point in my life when I know who I am and what is important to me. I am not saying the trip was a smooth one but I have tried many things and have grown as a person and an artist from each experience. I relish the thought of expanding my exposure for all my days to come.

I read articles and postings where people are trying to find themselves or direct others onto a path. The premise is that you can't do everything so you better find your focus and be happy with just that. The world is your oyster but, wait - you can't have the whole plate.

To be creative is a blessing to be explored without restrictions. You don't have to put a name to it.  I am an artist or I am a welder or I am a story-spinner. I don't feel it is important to distill an abundance of creative interests into a narrow channel. Spending time attempting to do this denies the expansiveness of what makes you YOU. It is frustrating and limits your exposure to creativity's bounty. Just as our minds expand and can hold the words to countless songs, our creativity mellows and morfs but can remain complete because each foray into wonder expands our focus in ways that strengthen our talent. The more we 'see' the more we grow.

Time spent worrying about who you are and what defines you keeps you away from discovering that very thing. Deny nothing, avoid nothing and fine-tune your music by drawing from all the creative interests and awesome sights you have (and will) experience. Appreciate your mind for its plethora of interests. You will find you have been yourself all along.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

I have been writing...just not here

As a female of the species, I excel at multitasking. Well, I did in my earlier life. Now I single-task in a multiple fashion. Moving from one thing to another, my mind plans the next foray with aplomb except for the occasional brain fade when I get to the next room and forget why I went there.

Single mindedness comes with age - at least I assume it does. It has for me. I savor more, do things completely so I don't have to come back to them and I ignore an overburdened closet simply by closing the door. Hey, it is important to pick your battles.

Art and writing are more important to me than dust. Lately, though, construction has planted plenty of the stuff on every surface of the house so I am back to multitasking. I write a bit and swipe a cloth over the desk. I sweep out the studio in prep for the summer, taking paints from their winter storage out to their regular home, while simultaneously swiping a counter top with a cloth as I pass by. I clean plaster dust and wood splinters from the inside of the washing machine (I mean, really guys?) and then do the wash.

The new bathroom is coming along nicely. I will be happy when we can stop going down two flights of stairs to use the other bathroom. It will be a twofold luxury when it is done in a few weeks.

I've kept up with my journal, adding watercolors to the pages when a light touch is needed and pictures of trips and construction progress to illustrate the dialog of my days. I spent four nights at an inn in Gloucester a few weeks ago, painting at a beach I found in Manchester-by-the-Sea on the first day. The air was cool - mid to high 50's - but the sun made it feel warmer. I sketched the scene, adding notes to my drawing so I'd remember the color of the water and the sweep of the clouds. The next day I set up my easel, digging the legs into the soft sand and, stretching a bungee cord over the tray, anchoring it with two big milk bottles filled with water. I accepted its quirky tilt - uneven ground being what it is.

Life is uneven. The axis tilts this way and that and I find my footing either by digging in and firmly planting my thoughts or flowing with it. Both work to different degrees. It would be plenty boring if there was a sameness to every day. I know people with lives like that. I guess they must like it that way because they continue to do it year in and year out.

I prefer edges that shift and change like the waves on the shore. When I was in Gloucester, the beach was different each morning. The clear, rocky beach of that first afternoon became riddled with seaweed on the second day. The sea pulled some of it out with the next tide so the arrangement was different - undulating strips of seaweed hiding sea glass treasures in with the pebbles underneath their mounds. I accepted the changes with a sense of excitement and discovery looking forward to rounding the corner to find out what I would see.

When things are serene, I find untold pleasure in my own discoveries. A good book, rhythmic stitches woven into the shawl I am working on and the plunge and pull of silk thread through a needlepoint canvas. Good conversation with friends culminating in laughter and hugs. I am grounded by my pleasures. They help me meet my challenges with a bit more grace.


Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Continuance

Westminster Tower
The sun is going down and it highlights the iconic monuments with burnished light. As dusk approaches, one of the most dramatic part of the day begins.

Over the years, business has taken me to London numerous times. Little bouts of exploration leave me enchanted with the different lifestyles in this world city. I have seen much, even with the time constraints of work and energy. I push through and enjoy a selection of different things on each trip. One time, it might be museums and art so vibrant it takes my breath away. On another, a walk through alleys and thoroughfares brings architectural discoveries. Mamma Mia at the Prince Albert Theatre and Evensong at St. Paul's, a tradition since 604. Sunday service at Westminster Cathedral just months before William and Kate's wedding had me studying the carvings and nave knowing that they would be doing the same thing gave me a sense of belonging to a stream of history. At least a little bit.


Continuance. There is what came before and there is what will come, but now is the real present. A gift of experiences and wonder. Challenge and acceptance. Wonder and love.

Close-up of Art
Brussels Alleyway



















Appreciation. I cannot walk without admiring what went before me. Art so intrinsically molded into the facades of countless buildings which are left to weather the elements, sometimes for hundreds of years, and still they survive. Did he know - the builder - the carver - the mason? Did he ever think that I would be walking in front of his work eons after he died reveling in his vision? Did he realize that thousands more just like me would stand where I am standing and soak in his beauty?

Wow.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Blizzards and Patience

As the media got hyped up for the impending New England storm last week, I listened with increasing excitement and delicious pleasure. While I knew it was probable that we'd lose electricity if the winds were intense, it didn't overly worry me. We had a fireplace, lots of wood and a freshly tuned-up generator.

Shawl from Nature's Wrapture by Sheryl Thies
I did what most New Englanders do, I did all the electricity-necessary chores, put fresh batteries in the flashlights, cooked soup and a chicken pot pie, got out my knitting and made a fresh batch of cookies loaded with chocolate chips. Nothing says comfort during a storm than chocolate chip cookies.

It is odd to watch a storm gather on a TV map and take a walk outside under a field of puffy clouds in a clear sky. They did fill in, though, towards the middle of the week and we knew the 'Euro model' would likely prove correct and we were in for a pissah of a storm.

My only disappointment was that the bulk of the storm was overnight on Friday and I missed it. The high winds rattled the rafters and I could hear the gritty sound of snowblast on the siding as I fell asleep. It was soothing. This one didn't feel like a threat.

While it was still coming down Saturday morning, things started dissipating before noon and then the skies cleared and the sun dazzled as it reflected off the pristine snow.

The snowplow didn't get to us until mid-afternoon (actually my choice when I answered his phone call). Take your time...in no hurry...won't be going anywhere. Smile, smile. I like the feeling of being snowbound. It is cozy, safe and there is something about it that prompts me to take it easy and do things I might not make time for - easy things, pleasurable things. I knit, packed for my trip coming up on Friday and, of course, cooked.

This time, there was no electricity loss in Lunenburg although southern Massachusetts got a triple whammy on that score. No one was allowed on the road after 4PM Friday which was taken seriously so accidents were few and emergency people and plows could do their jobs with fewer impediments. Oh, I imagine there may have been a few foolish people but I wasn't out there so I didn't see them and I prefer to think they were all sensible and did what they were told. After all, it was only a 24 hour storm.  What could be so important that you just had to get to a store during the storm?  I mean, surely you knew about it beforehand?

I am so glad we settled here. There is so much to enjoy - good friends and family and maple syrup and blueberries to pick by hand. Oh, floating in the water - lake or sea, take your pick, both are awesome. Mountains and vistas, seagulls and an occasional bear tramping through the backyard. Okay, I can do without the last one. But warm beach sand you can sink your toes into until you reach the cool layers below, that is a scrumptious pleasure. The smell of the ocean, the feel of the breeze off the water as it cools your heated skin.

The hushed silence of the world during a snowfall and your sense of peace rediscovered when you experience it.