My “Day After Amendment One” Poster is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

One thing I miss about being in the school system is the opportunity it afforded me to create a safe haven for kids who were outsiders. In the wake of all the bullying stories (far, far too many this year alone) I have begun to feel a keen loss for my shop and, moreover, what it represented to my kids.

I let them eat in there instead of the cafeteria, I let them sleep on the couch if they felt poorly, and most importantly (I think), I let them talk about anything they wanted without fear of retribution by other students or faculty.

As I have read about all the suicides that have been the result of bullying this year, I can’t help but think I could have helped some of those kids. That’s not meant to be an egotistical statement. This ability is not unique to me. Anyone can do it…they just need to DO it. If there was a place for gay kids, weird kids, artistic kids, and socially awkward kids to go in every school and feel like they were valued by their peers and the adults in the room, we’d see a shift.

Kids are funny, you know? By and large, most of them are carrying around (what they think) is a giant secret of one kind or another. To them, it’s absolutely earth-shatteringly scary to even think about because these “secrets” are generally feelings that don’t fit in with what society’s idea of “normal” is. Some of them are genuinely terrible. Some are only as terrible as the fear that comes along with admission.

I had several teary eyed kids come up to me in the three years I spent teaching high school and tell me that they were gay. I was, for the most part, the first person they had ever told. Touching, you know? I was honored that they trusted me that much. More important to them than coming out though, some have said since then, was my reaction to the news.

The fact that I didn’t “freak out” (their words, not mine) seems to be what mattered most to them about the experience. I wasn’t blasé about it, but I also didn’t make the hugest deal on the planet out of the whole thing. We would usually just talk, after the “secret” was out, about the value of learning more about who you are and how that can serve and direct you in the choices you make for the rest of your life.I also let them know that they could always come to me if this new found knowledge turned out to be confusing and/or had repercussions that they were unequipped to deal with. This was our pact.

This conversation reached far beyond just the kids who were coming out to me. I also had kids that wanted something really simple, like to go to trade school and become an auto mechanic instead of following the path of the four-year university that they were being pressured into. While they probably weren’t in danger from bullying by their peers for such a choice, they certainly were susceptible to the frustration and anger that came along with the feeling of being misunderstood by the adults around them. And that’s a big deal too. It’s awfully hard to hear how disappointing you are, no matter what the reason…and sometimes it’s even a life-ending proposition.

The thing that breaks my heart every single day about this is the fact that, in most cases, it’s avoidable. Given an ear to listen and at least one (non-parental) advocate in their lives, I believe that most of these kids I’ve read about would still be alive today. The storm was raging…they just couldn’t find a port.

It’s hard to be that for anyone, and I’ll be the first to admit that I would rather sit in a chaise lounge and sip iced tea than get my hands dirty in the emotional muck that accompanies most of these situations…but that doesn’t really get it done, does it? Posting on facebook or writing a blog post is fine, but that kind of social media hand wringing doesn’t bring down the suicide rate, or produce more well adjusted kids. It’s not bad, just kind of…inert.

I have realized lately, that I have ceased to look for “boats” who may be in distress (if that’s not taking the analogy too far), and have turned my attention inward. That’s not a bad thing. I think our energies for dealing with these kinds of things are cyclical and that sometimes we have less to give other people. But, after reading the story of yet another teen suicide, it occurs to me that it doesn’t matter how low my energy is if there’s another person’s life at stake. And…there is. Every day.

Time to build a new port.

Being the Port is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

I posted the above picture of “plus-sized” model, Lizzie Miller on facebook the other day because I thought it was a step in the right direction for a glamour magazine to feature the body of a normal woman in a real life pose. The reactions I got were nothing short of fascinating. By a large margin (in the comments and by email), the people who thought that Lizzie Miller looked too fat in this photograph were 100% women. The people who sided with “gorgeous” were evenly split between men and women. Not one man (granted this is a small sampling) commented about this woman being fat.

By far, the most interesting question came from a good friend of mine. She wanted to know if I thought that Lizzie Miller was beautiful despite her shape, or just beautiful? I didn’t have to think at all…”just beautiful” was the clear answer. Not because of or despite her shape. Not because of or despite her face. Not because of or despite her hair. Not because of or despite her color, skin, underwear choice, or stance on the free market. I think she’s beautiful because it’s obvious that she is comfortable. Her smile, her body language, her radiance all convey that she is a warm, open and confident person. You know…sexy.

To the fashion world, though (and, apparently many women) Miller is “plus-sized”, beyond the ideal, a specialized market niche. If she wasn’t unusual, this wouldn’t be news… and it’s unbelievably sad that it is.

It is, however, important to note, I think, that it is hardly the fault of thin, slight, or “minus-sized” (my term) women that she is viewed this way. In the midst of the outrage that we sometimes feel about the kind of models that are portrayed as “perfect” by the fashion industry,we may end up demonizing the women, themselves. Instead of viewing the problem as systemic or societal, it’s easy to hate the people instead of the perception. Although I do not have a six-pack anymore (more like a case now), I don’t blame Daniel Craig for his. I mean, good for him, man. That shows some commitment to fitness, but look, his abs don’t mean his life is a bed of roses or that he’s even happy. He’s just a dude with a different body than mine.

I’ll stop short of meaningless platitudes like “beauty comes from within” (so does poop). I do think, however, that it would be useful to grease the hinges to the rusty door of our minds and crack that sucker open when it comes to defining what is beautiful. While it is true that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, we have been force fed the perspective of one “beholder” for so long that it has warped our perception of ourselves and those around us. We have never been very good at searching for beauty in things or people that society deems undesirable (that’s the artist’s job), but at least we can begin to look with our own eyes instead of those of the fashion industry, movies, and television.

Personally, I’d like to see everybody represented in the media. It’s good for us to see that beautiful doesn’t just happen in the genes or in the gym…but everywhere, if we’re willing to look for it.

Miller and The Feminine Ideal is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

We have a very old dog named Pete. He has an incredible will to live and still loves his walks and his food and his naps. He’s a determined old man and we love him, but in the last few months there have been some changes happening. Every day brings a new behavior and we are highly conscious of any small difference in his well being. Some of these things come and go, some hang on. We call those that are here to stay, “the new normal”.

As we slide into middle age, we also have things that have become “the new normal”. None of us can read without glasses, we have begun to complain about not having enough light to perform certain tasks, I wear earplugs at rock band rehearsal, etc. And, you know, it’s all sort of a drag if I allow it to be, but viewing things as “the new normal” somehow short circuits the self-pity that one usually indulges in when these changes begin to appear. Not much any one of us can do to stop these things, so acceptance and forward momentum are our only allies unless we want to fall into depression about the whole thing.

In this, though, I am strictly speaking about the inevitable. The things over which we have little control. Where the “new normal” loses its positive benefits is when it is used as an excuse for inaction when faced with something over which we do have some control. I know why we do it…the alternative is freaking exhausting. But exhausting though it may be, there are things that the “new normal” is not supposed to cover.

It should not be the new normal that we live in a time where our civil liberties are being systematically dismantled. It should not be the new normal that we allow hate speech (I’m looking at you, Rick Perry) into political television commercials. It should not be the new normal that we stand idly by while the people we love are denied the basic civil liberties we enjoy because of their sexual orientation. It should not be the new normal that the people we send to Washington should put the interests of their constituents behind their craven fealty to corporations. It should not be the new normal that the ashes of our sons and daughters, who have fought bravely in an arguably pointless war, should be dumped in a landfill because the government is cheap and lazy.

If I lose my eyesight, become infirm, get arthritis or, god help me, something worse…THAT is what the new normal is about…rolling with the changes over which I have no power. It does not excuse me from my civic and moral duty to speak against those things which I believe to be unjust, cruel, inhumane, or unfair.

Can I do that with compassion and love for those who seemingly sit on the other side of each of these issues? I can but try. And in trying, there is growth. I’m certain the process and my participation in it will be imperfect, but if the alternative is to live in a world where “the new normal” is fear, greed, and the abandonment of love for one another, I’m in.

The New Normal is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

“I always take more pleasure in liking something than in disliking something. That’s not to say there aren’t some things that deserve to be liked and some things that deserved to be disliked, but I’m never fond of disliking something.

The lesson I’ve learned is to be wary of those who are. The ones who seem to think that being critical is the same as having good taste. Those people almost never have good taste, so their opinions don’t matter. There’s no particular sophistication required to be a critic. We know this, because children often dislike foods they learn to love as adults.

So, even if what you’ve done isn’t so great, just remember that those who can’t say so with grace, those who seem to take pride in criticizing you, their opinions don’t matter. It may very well be that you’ve created a masterpiece, and they’re just children. If you can learn to be a fair judge of yourself, you won’t feel the need to rely on other people’s opinions.”

-Chris Shifflet via Swiss Miss

Like and Dislike is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

One of the problems associated with the disappearance of physical media is the fact that you have to remember what songs you own. And, if your library is of a considerable size, it’s inevitable that some tunes will go missing. Sometimes even a favorite gets lost in the sea of singles that we now call our “collection” because you can’t just look up on the record shelf and pluck a neglected chestnut out for reconsideration.

The upside is, I often find myself surprised and delighted when I am reunited with an old friend that has been languishing in some forgotten playlist. The excitement of discovery is almost as fresh as the first time I acquired it, and the memories associated with this bit of my life’s soundtrack are suddenly available to me again.

Recently, this happened with a Duke Ellington tune called Reflections in D from 1953. I remembered that it was a solo piano piece from a small group record. I remembered that this was the same session from which his last hit, “Satin Doll” emerged. I remembered that some years later, Bill Evans recorded it. I remembered nearly everything but the melody…so I hit the play button and waited.

A delicate little single note run greeted me at the outset, like a stream of snow melt that then trickles into the ice blue lake of the minor chords that follow it…the modern-sounding voicings washing over one another, mixed with trembling bass notes that made me feel as if I was standing in the middle of winter with slightly too few garments on. Then, almost unexpectedly, there was a small resolution, promising shelter and warmth, however fleeting. A sentimental turn of phrase that appears like a dim but fond memory, disappearing just as quickly…leaving me with a tinge of melancholy as the cold and beautiful chords from the beginning of the tune were presented again, with just as little adornment as they were the first time. Again the resolution came, followed by interludes that were framed as similar but distinct recollections painted with pitch and rhythm, always returning to the original melody until finally, Ellington shows us out the same way we came in…with a series of single notes, slightly more hopeful than those contained in the introduction.

Ellington was fifty-four when he recorded this tune, and I can hear it. While “Satin Doll” will always be the more remembered song of this session, “Reflections in D” is far more representative of the man at the piano…and all men in mid-life, I think. This is the sound of remembering. It is the sound of savoring, with slight regret, the passing of time and, finally, it is the sound of acceptance and wisdom.

I am reminded, after rediscovering this composition, that the most honest work we do is not always, or even usually, the most popular. Authenticity doesn’t have anything to do with popular acceptance and the important thing is to keep creating our lives, regardless of the reaction (or lack thereof) that we may get from the general public. It is our responsibility to come to the studio, or the keyboard, or our jobs with that in mind. The things that we end up creating that most closely resemble who we are will be appreciated by the people who are supposed to appreciate them and, in our way, we will have made a difference…just by being ourselves.

Reflections in D is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

” You can jump up and down and sing and dance and launch fireworks, but if the person’s story of pain is vivid enough, you will be ignored. When the house is on fire, all your audience wants is a hose.”

-Seth Godin

QOTD is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

Despite what I have named this blog and how much I believe in the title, some days do not feel awesome. Sometimes you wake up with a pain in your heart, a remnant from a dream, an unguarded moment where doubt takes hold, or such a wide variety of stressors or regrets that you’re really not sure what is making your eyes well up. All you know is that it hurts.

You loathe the idea of speaking with anyone about it because a.) you’re not even sure what’s wrong with you and b.) because you are fairly certain that whomever you spill the beans to will want to “cheer you up” and expect you to snap out of it. This falls squarely in the arena of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” because, inevitably, people will want to know what’s bothering you and might be hurt that you don’t want to talk about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for talking. I do it all the time and it helps me to work through things a great deal. An empathetic ear is often the thing that makes the difference between wallowing in unfounded sorrow and getting back on track.

There’s another kind of pain, though. The kind that comes from your core and that, I think, only you can fully understand. It’s a very old and persistent ache that’s been with you since before you can probably remember. It’s dark and difficult and hell to go through, but it has also been instrumental in shaping who you are. It has informed your decisions and has been the unruly and sometimes cruel tour guide through your adult life. It is, as much as anything else, what has made you different from everyone else.

Not everyone chooses to acknowledge its presence in the background of their lives though, and those who don’t are quick to argue that no such pain exists. Of course, if you put them in a movie theater and show them anything by Pixar, you will probably find them weeping and uttering something like: “It’s so sad…*sniff*…that robot is all alone. ”

Even those of us who know of its existence are not always sure how to cope with it. Yes, going for a run, taking a yoga class, or cranking your guitar amplifier up to eleven will definitely help, but more often than not, we will find that the demands of our sorrow are still there after we’ve finished toweling off from our work out. So, what’s to be done?

The answer, as usual, is love. Because we spend a good deal of time avoiding pain and seeking pleasure, we will often miss out on the benefits of sitting with ourselves, loving our whole beings (including the pain that is a part of us), and forgiving ourselves for how bad we feel. When I feel the ancient and directionless heartbreak take hold, I know it’s time to close my eyes and concentrate on the worth of the experience I’m going through, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. I give thanks to the pain for teaching me, while I simultaneously send myself as much lovingkindness as I can muster. This acknowledgement and willingness to go through the pain instead of around it, with time, will cause it to dissipate until, finally, I will reach equilibrium again.

There’s nothing easy about this, let’s be very clear about that. It’s scary to invite pain into your house and even more uncomfortable to deal with it but, like physical pain, it’s there for a reason. It’s here to teach us about ourselves. We just have to overcome the incredibly powerful urge to cut class.

Good Morning Heartache is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

“Emerging is when you use a platform to come into your own. Merging is when you sacrifice who you are to become part of something else.

Merging is what the system wants from you. To give up your dreams and your identity to further the goals of the system. Managers push for employees to merge into the organization.

Emerging is what a platform and support and leadership allow you to do. Emerging is what we need from you.”

check out Seth’s blog here.

QOTD – Seth Godin is a post from: everydayisawesome.com

Just had to cross post this here and on DudeCraft. After the solemnity of Sunday, this video was like a breath of fresh air. Huge smiles all around. Thanks, Daniel!

Koren Ensemble – Tribute to New York is a post from: everydayisawesome.com