About a month or two before midsummer, when each morning brought the sun earlier and earlier to my bedroom window, I started getting up and going running. As a new resident of the area, I was warned about how early the sun would rise and that black-out shades were a must. The black-out shades went up, but the sun still found ways to slip through the cracks and land squarely on my eyelids. One morning I decided to just get up, put on my running shoes and head out the door. I’m up anyway, I thought; I might as well use the time wisely.
To be fair, this isn’t a new habit I just picked up. I was a rower in college in New England and got up well before the sun most days. Probably because of my time on the Connecticut River, or perhaps in spite of it, I find exercising with the dawn to be immensely satisfying. More often than not, you have the streets, or the river, or even the gym to yourself. The workout seems somehow easier, the body still asleep, the mind not fully awake.
As my feet hit the pavement on my first early morning run in Grand Coulee, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had been living here for months, but that morning everything looked different. The cliffs were sharper, the lake stiller. The soft early sunlight brushed the tops of the trees, somehow making them look taller. It wasn’t exactly quiet. I had a number of dogs that greeted me as I passed their yards, but the town seemed so peaceful as to be almost magical. I think I was surprised because I find this area to be so peaceful anyway. What was really the difference?
A handful of early morning runs went by. Soon, I had a good idea of why I loved seeing our town at this time of day. I believe it comes down to perception. Everything looked different because I saw it in a different situation. I wasn’t driving, I wasn’t on the way to somewhere else; I wasn’t talking to someone or listening to music. It was an entirely different way of experiencing the physical environment in which we live. And because I experience it differently, the perception of that physical environment is totally different. Walking the streets of a busy city at night can have the same effect. It might as well be a different city altogether.
I notice that children have a similar reaction to perception. Moving toys to a different location when they are not around is almost like buying them a brand new toy. In a different spot, it looks totally different and freshly exciting, providing volumes of new exploration.
After my revelation about perception, it made me wonder what else would change if simply viewed at a different time of day or in a different location. Would an angry person in the checkout line look happier if met in the parking lot? Would an argument change dimensions? Would a joke told in one scenario be funnier than if it had been told in another?
How much of what we see and experience is simply the luck of perception? Is it possible that things we either love or hate could have had different outcomes if we’d first experienced them in a different environment? It makes me stop and wonder. After all, what is love or hate besides perception?
Recognizing that it may be just a change in perception that makes me appreciate my early morning runs doesn’t actually lessen the joy one bit. I still love to get outside with the dawn, and as long as the sun is up early, I will be too.
Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. July 27, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Are parents everywhere just winging it?
Watching my daughter draw the other day, I stumbled upon one of the timeless parenting questions that have neither a right nor wrong answer. When your child is doing something the wrong way, do you correct them or let them figure it out for themselves?
She was happy, entertained, undertaking a creative activity … but she was coloring all wrong! She just turned 2 in March, so why I expect her to be able to hold a marker correctly is beyond me, but I felt I had to show her how to hold it so the side of the marker presses into the page instead of the tip. Coloring with just the tip seemed hardly gratifying to me as it just put little scratches on the page. The second I tried to help her, a tantrum arose and that was it for the fun.
I felt perplexed. Was it wrong of me to try and show her how to color? She seemed happy, so why did I feel the need to direct her differently? As a parent, it’s hard to know when you should let your kid figure it out on their own and when to offer guidance. There are some days when I feel all I do is bark orders of one kind or another. If she’s happy, but carrying out some craft incorrectly, shouldn’t I just leave her alone?
A couple days later, I tried a different route. We were drawing again, but this time out in the driveway with the sidewalk chalk tracing each other. We took turns. First she lay down and I traced her outline, a small 2-D child in pink chalk. Then it was my turn. I gamely lay down on the rough concrete. She went to each limb and was very serious and focused. I stood up and looked down and all I could see were some faint scratch marks. There was no shape at all. Nevertheless, I clapped my hands and exclaimed in excitement over such a fine job.
This time it was her turn to look perplexed. Looking down at her outline and then at mine, she clearly could see something was amiss and looked to me for guidance. But did I give it to her? Oh, no. She’s having fun, playing outdoors in the gorgeous sunshine and somewhere in there, she’s learning something all on her own, right?
After two years, I am still unsure of my role as a parent in some regards. Am I there for guidance, or just support? I can envision women with older children wisely telling me we are there for both, some combination of encouragement and direction, but that invisible line is not always clear. It’s times like these that make me wonder if parents anywhere really know what they are doing. Just when you figure out how to do one thing, a child will move onto the next and everyone has to learn a new skill. I imagine this to be true even as your children become adults. Growing up you think your parents have all the answers, but now that I’m a parent myself, I have to wonder, are parents everywhere just winging it?
I know eventually I will figure out when to give gentle instruction and when to just clap my hands enthusiastically. Clearly, there is a balance there somewhere. Simply doing one or the other would almost certainly raise an ill-adjusted adult. In the meantime I’ll align myself with parents everywhere and just wing it.
Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. July 13, 2011
She was happy, entertained, undertaking a creative activity … but she was coloring all wrong! She just turned 2 in March, so why I expect her to be able to hold a marker correctly is beyond me, but I felt I had to show her how to hold it so the side of the marker presses into the page instead of the tip. Coloring with just the tip seemed hardly gratifying to me as it just put little scratches on the page. The second I tried to help her, a tantrum arose and that was it for the fun.
I felt perplexed. Was it wrong of me to try and show her how to color? She seemed happy, so why did I feel the need to direct her differently? As a parent, it’s hard to know when you should let your kid figure it out on their own and when to offer guidance. There are some days when I feel all I do is bark orders of one kind or another. If she’s happy, but carrying out some craft incorrectly, shouldn’t I just leave her alone?
A couple days later, I tried a different route. We were drawing again, but this time out in the driveway with the sidewalk chalk tracing each other. We took turns. First she lay down and I traced her outline, a small 2-D child in pink chalk. Then it was my turn. I gamely lay down on the rough concrete. She went to each limb and was very serious and focused. I stood up and looked down and all I could see were some faint scratch marks. There was no shape at all. Nevertheless, I clapped my hands and exclaimed in excitement over such a fine job.
This time it was her turn to look perplexed. Looking down at her outline and then at mine, she clearly could see something was amiss and looked to me for guidance. But did I give it to her? Oh, no. She’s having fun, playing outdoors in the gorgeous sunshine and somewhere in there, she’s learning something all on her own, right?
After two years, I am still unsure of my role as a parent in some regards. Am I there for guidance, or just support? I can envision women with older children wisely telling me we are there for both, some combination of encouragement and direction, but that invisible line is not always clear. It’s times like these that make me wonder if parents anywhere really know what they are doing. Just when you figure out how to do one thing, a child will move onto the next and everyone has to learn a new skill. I imagine this to be true even as your children become adults. Growing up you think your parents have all the answers, but now that I’m a parent myself, I have to wonder, are parents everywhere just winging it?
I know eventually I will figure out when to give gentle instruction and when to just clap my hands enthusiastically. Clearly, there is a balance there somewhere. Simply doing one or the other would almost certainly raise an ill-adjusted adult. In the meantime I’ll align myself with parents everywhere and just wing it.
Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. July 13, 2011
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