Logic and Real Life

Hi all. I know I've been a slacker when it comes to keeping up here lately. I started college classes recently in attempt to finish the degree I started before getting swept up in married life and mommy-hood. It's been good, but incredibly challenging to get back in to the swing of college life, especially with adult responsibilities on top. So I'm working on balance, and realizing that I need some down time to relax and to write or I'm going to burn out quickly. So here I am.

Balance has never been easy for me, even before my days of four children and a husband. I tend to jump from one exciting idea to another, easily entranced by anything I find inspiring. School has had my most enchanted attention for the past 3 weeks, while my children have, admittedly, been relegated to "distraction." Sad, I know. Not that I've totally ignored them, only that I'm really struggling with figuring out how to balance this whole thing. My house gets super loud in the Summer anyway: four kids, free to play pretty much all day, not always getting meals on time because of my inability to structure my new adventure, not to mention my own lack of rest and the sibling arguments that are just an indelible part of having everybody home all day every day. Yes, my children are as imperfect as me, only cuter--if that's a word.

So I've been studying logic this week. Oy...talk about brain-stretch. All day long, statements like "If p is true, then q is true.", stream through my consciousness. It seems to not matter what I'm doing. Even before I opened my eyes this morning, "If this is true, then this is true." Then, in those waking moments, it dawned on me, "If my children are behaving in a negative way (n), then they are most likey emulating my example (e)." What has been simmering beneath the surface for days, what I have seen reflected in my children lately and been frustrated to know how to deal with, surfaced in the Conditional Statement: n-->e or If n is true, then e is true.

This whole realization is bittersweet. (It makes me feel like crying; and I do...it's just my way. Like writing, the way I make sense of the world, crying is how I feel it. I laugh too, but that just doesn't seem fitting for this instance.) It's bittersweet--bitter in it's scathing review of my behavior lately, sweet in it's discovery and application.

Humility is freeing, because it's truth. It brings us back to square one. For me, that means no matter how many other things I have going in my life, this is more important.

Last week I was studying Set Theory, another math concept that crept up on me and pounced. I had no idea math would impact my spirit so severely. Set theory is all about clearly defined items grouped together. If My Family is the universal set (u), then my husband and I--as parents {p} --are a subset of the universal set, My Family. My children {c} are another subset of My Family. u={p, c} I could come up with many more combinations of well-defined subsets of the universal set, My Family, but these are all I need. Where the truth lies is in how these subsets intersect in My Family. {p ∩ c} = {p,c}. I know, mathematically it doesn't make sense. Mathematically, {p ∩ c} should = Ø. But the truth is, in the real world, it works differently than that. This set isn't so rigidly defined. Sometimes, I feel very much like a child, and I cannot begin to count the times my children have parented me, been my teachers. Sometimes it just comes down to p<-->c. And the set definitions start to melt together; we are no longer bound by narrow definitions. The universal set becomes All That Is.

That's how humility works. It brings us all back to square one, makes us realize that we're all here together, to grow, to learn, to love and to be loved. And that's the most important thing.

And that's my Logic/Set Theory lesson for today.

love,
R

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I've always liked the time before dawn
because there's no one around to remind
me who I'm supposed to be,
so it's easier to remember who I am
~Brian Andreas

Don't we label ourselves, dear ones, with small labels? At any given moment, I am just as much Girl Washing Dishes as I am Girl Dancing With Baby. My ego revels in and clings to labels...labels like writer, artist, mother, wife. Deep down I know there is no difference...doing the dishes is just as sweet, just as good as writing poetry.

Moment by moment, life's transient nature is unveiled in the revelation of my “selfs.” This is where I begin to move, unattached to any one particular story of “me.” Here it is, the most beautiful, joyful place I have ever been, and then I realize that every moment is the play, every experience is exactly what I need to grow through. I melt into the action of washing a spoon, feeling the slipperiness of the suds and dish cloth over the surface, shiny, clean. I look into the utensil and am aware suddenly of the wonder in this moment, the ecstatic joy of holding such beauty in my very hand...and my hand so gracefully holding the spoon, plunging it beneath the water, rinsing the soap away...only silvery reflection. I am the Washer Of Spoons, I am the spoon.

My 2-year-old runs into the kitchen calling for me, tugging on my pant leg. I swing her up, knowing that her smile and laughter will break through. The spoon moment is gone and I am transformed into Mother....Mother with Child. Shimmering spoon no longer exists, I am in a new moment...the next now.

Small labels are sweet, dear ones, embrace them, love them, but do not cling to them. At this moment, I am Girl Sitting At Table With Coffee. My ego says, Writer....I am Writer...desperately clinging. This is a label I am stubborn with. This is a label that keeps me from loving “Girl Doing Dishes.” At times, it even keeps me from loving “Mother Playing With Children” and “Mother Singing Lullabies.” It is the label that keeps me identifying with this personality everyone calls “Ruthie.” I love it, but just like the spoon, it must sink below the surface and surrender to the waves of the moment by moment transience of life.

(This is an excerpt from a book project I'm working on, the one that's writing me.)