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Archive for the ‘tidbits’ Category

To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and not quite enough time.
Leonard Bernstein

So it’s been, what, a bit more than a year since the last post? Okay, let’s bring you up to speed. We bought a new home, we sold our old home, we renovated the new place while living at my parents’ house. Just as we were packing our stuff to move them into storage from the old place, we found out to our delight that we were expecting a second baby. I finished my MA thesis and graduated before Christmas, just in time to take a breather for a few months before the new guy arrived in late February. Oh, and our daughter turned two, so there is a lot of drama going on around, as she tries to figure out what are things she can and cannot control.

So it feels kind of silly to call it a Tidbit Insightings post, since the past year has brought more than just tidbit changes. On the other hand, as a mom to a two-year-old and a three-month-old, most of my thoughts come in tidbit complexity, so it’s sort of appropriate.

Here goes. 🙂

Writer’s Block Galore

The most obvious thing from the Insightings perspective is that the blog didn’t get any love. But it wasn’t just the blog. I was really struggling with all writing, except with my thesis (fortunately enough). My journal has maybe four entries from the second half of 2011. My online journal on my favorite message board was equally deserted. I couldn’t finish a song lyric I had started in the spring, despite the fact that we had band practice nearly every week.

I’m guessing part of it was due to the pregnancy. I had the same kind of phenomenon happen when I was expecting our first child, but this time it was more pronounced. During the first few months I was so wiped out from needing to sleep all the time, and to top it off there was the whole hiding-the-news-until-the-biggest-risk-of-miscarriage-is-over thing. Doesn’t really foster an atmosphere of sharing.

There was something about the whole time frame, though, that blocked me off from any kind of self reflection, written or otherwise. I didn’t really talk about my feelings or thoughts with anyone except my husband. And since he was struggling with a burnout himself, it was not like he was the best person to figure out if something was wrong.

I don’t know if it’s a symptom of some form of prenatal depression or the cause, but both my pregnancies have been marked by withdrawing from social contact and keeping to myself. The good thing is that the second time around, I was aware of the possibility and could be on the lookout for any symptoms. I did get the phone number for the health center psychologist, in case I wanted to go and chat, but I never went. You know, since I didn’t want to talk to anyone about my personal stuff.

I’ve been rediscovering my writing voice these past few weeks, after the newborn haze has started to lift. And I’m liking it. It’s also a relief to notice that yes, it was a passing thing, and I haven’t completely lost my inclination to write.

Details and distance

Another thing I noticed was that little things in life took on huge meanings. The toddler could drive me nuts in a heartbeat, the hubby would say something wrong and I’d be miserable.

Again, this could be due to pregnancy hormones, fatigue or not reflecting on my life through writing, but somehow things got too close. And things that are closer seem bigger. There was no distance between me and whatever felt like a Huge Deal at the time.

As time has passed, it’s provided me with some of the distance. Writing offers a degree of distance, too, since I have to step back and explain what it was that really happened. Meeting friends and talking to them about stuff might have helped in the moment, but that wasn’t really happening, either (see not-wanting-to-talk-about-my-stuff above).

Finishing things feels great – if there’s something on the other side

Finishing the renovation (almost, since we still don’t have baseboards…) and moving in felt awesome. A beginning of our life in the new home. Finishing the toddler’s room in time for Christmas felt great. A chance for her to transition into her own room.

Finishing the pregnancy and giving birth was great, even though there was the inevitable newborn stage ahead, complete with nights spent soothing a screaming baby and the endless diaper changes. So much easier this time, though, since we already sort of knew what to expect. And babywearing a sleeping newborn might just be the best part of being a new mom.

Graduating, on the other hand, didn’t really feel like anything. It was great to press “PRINT” on the final version of the thesis and take it down to the university, and it felt awesome that my mom and dad got to see me pick up my Master of Arts diploma. But the day-to-day didn’t really change. I was still at home with a toddler, still expecting baby number 2, still not working outside the home.

Maybe the realization will come, at some point, that I’m actually done now. Should I choose to, I can continue with my PhD, but that will have to wait until the kids are old enough for me to work outside the home. Right now, though, it feels like my graduation was the smallest of the endings during the past year, because it was just that. An ending – not a new beginning. And those are rare.

Thank you for reading! I’ll try to reactivate myself here as well, but feel free to browse the archives for some past insightings. And as always, have fun catching your own insightings!

Love,

Sari

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For the past few years, I’ve been giving up some habit or another for the duration of Lent. On occasion, I’ve gone without red meat, without chocolates, without coffee – though not all at the same time. This year, I decided to give up online chat forums and message boards up until Easter. It’ll be an interesting experiment, not least because I’ve rediscovered my love for the Sedona Method during the past few weeks.

Lent, Day 1: Habitual thinking revealed

A lot of my social life these days has been revolving around a few message boards. A natural consequence of being at home with our daughter who, incidentally, only naps longer stretches in her own crib. On the go, she might take a 45-minute nap, but that’s not enough to sustain her through the day, so if we’re going somewhere, it’s only after her nap and lunch. And even when I do work during her nap, I need breaks. Ergo, there’s been plenty of “oh, I’ll just check the boards while I have my coffee / before she wakes up / now that hubby’s home and playing with her.”

I noticed today that I’ve been thinking in terms of message board thread topics. As in, I notice something and think “ooh, next time I log on I might post this thought in thread X” rather than “ooh, next time I see [name] I’ll tell them all about this!” First reason to cut back on the boards.

During the last few days before Lent, I knew I’d be taking a break from reading the boards and compensated by rummaging through every single half-interesting thread. That in itself was an interesting thing to notice. It wasn’t as much the content of the conversation as it was the act of reading the conversation that I seemed to be needing. Or rather, the illusion of partaking in a conversation. There really wasn’t a need to contribute as much as just experience the social action. The fact that I did that online and, furthermore, on a message board instead of calling, texting or Skype-chatting up an actual live acquaintance? Second reason to cut back on the boards.

At the moment, I’m not restricting any area of food or drink due to Lent. Yet. I might go with a gentle “only eat sweets and such as a dessert or with coffee” approach, as I’ve done some years. Or I might give up, say, chocolate at some point. I’ll find out what I need to give up by trying to think what would leave me feeling most deprived. 🙂 That’s what I’ll need to let go.

Letting go

About a month or two back, I rediscovered the Sedona Method. I was going through my iPod, and noticed I’d set up a keyword search iTunes subscription from BlogTalkRadio for “sedona”. There were a few interviews of Hale Dwoskin in different programs, and I listened to most of them. And then I bought the book, browsed the forums, and bought the film. Suffice to say I resonate with the method. 🙂

The thing that clicks most for me in the method is the fact that every positive gain is a side effect. The main aim of the method is to become so released and “hootless” about the world around you that your happiness doesn’t depend on anything that happens or doesn’t happen. In other words, I might well end up attracting a phenomenal fortune and incredible success as a consequence of being fully released on my life, and I might not, but either way, I won’t care too much.

Releasing and letting go are, of course, processes that happen naturally and there are probably countless different ways and methods to release – EFT, AER, yoga, meditation, the Sedona Method, to name but a few. Regardless of how you release, I heartily recommend at least exploring some ways of releasing. The fundamentals are the same, but people have preferences when it comes to ice cream, so why not self-help. 🙂

As far as Lent is concerned, I’ve made good use of letting go whenever I’ve noticed a thought pattern that relates to the message boards. The great thing about releasing is that you can release on seemingly positive emotions as well, and they’ll only get deeper and better. That way, I don’t have to wonder whether or not this or that emotion is a good candidate for releasing – if I’m feeling it, and especially if it’s not flowing through me for some reason, I can release on it and see what happens.

Shiva Nata Finland brewing on the back burner

Thanks to some work and my MA thesis, the Shiva Nata in Finland project has been simmering at the back burner of my subconscious for a few months now. I’ve been slowly reawakening my practice – recent accomplishments include getting totally lost within seconds of doing Level 3 to Faith No More’s Evidence. Several times.

What I’m currently considering is doing a series of how-to videos in Finnish and posting them here and what will eventually be the Shiva Nata Finland website. I’m also dreaming of a workspace that will be a combination of an office and a teaching facility, but for that to happen I’ll first have to have a steady flow of Skype teaching or appointments to teach locally at different facilities. Childcare poses somewhat of a question with the on-site teaching, but I’m positive that if such requests arise, an elegant solution will present itself.

If you’re a Shivanaut wanting to get Skype consultation in Finnish or English, you can contact me at insightings at gmail and we can work out a time and price for some one-on-one. 🙂 I will start tackling the videos once the penultimate version of my thesis is ready, so probably not before June, but phenomenal things have been known to happen when you’re released on something and put it out there for the universe to cuddle. 😉

Thank you for reading this far – keep catching your own insightings, Lent-inspired or otherwise!

Love,

Sari

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You can learn many things from children.  How much patience you have, for instance.
Franklin P. Jones

Encouraged by a friend who said she likes to read my writing, I’m taking a shot at dusting off my blog. For the past few weeks, I’ve been on a huge learning rollercoaster with our daughter, born seven weeks ago. At the moment, she’s sleeping in her crib, so I have a few moments to reflect upon some things I’ve learned already.

“Sleeps like a baby” – right!

One of the first things we had to learn as parents is not to jump off our seats and run to the baby whenever she makes a sound. Especially when she’s sleeping. There’s grunting, whining, snorting, moaning, and a range of other graceful and not-so-graceful sounds that reflect the different stages of sleep but do not imply anything’s wrong.

This is adorable during the day, when she’s napping. At night, when I’m trying to sleep, it’s not so adorable. Call it a mother’s instinct or whatever, but I tend to wake up to even the smallest whines and grunts. From an evolutionary standpoint, it’s very useful – if there’s a sudden change in the baby’s breathing pattern, I am alert enough to check if something’s wrong. However, when there’s nothing wrong, the baby is breathing and sound asleep (pun intended), it can get just a tad frustrating. A work in progress, this one.

Motivation and obligation

A friend and I talked about the way new parents often seem like they were ‘born to take care of a baby’, in the sense that they look so natural when handling their baby. I suggested that it’s not necessarily about natural aptitude but rather about very intense practice. From the day she was born, we’ve been the ones taking care of her whatever the situation. By the time we left the hospital, we’d both probably picked her up dozens of times and changed what seemed like a mountain of diapers. She was four days old. You get pretty fluent pretty fast.

Another reason most parents become the best parents for their baby pretty quick is the fact that babies cry. It’s one of the only things they actually have control over, so they signal any discomfort by crying. And for many parents (ourselves included) there are few things in this world that spur you into action faster than your own offspring screaming inconsolably. You kinda want to find out what’s wrong and fix it. When you manage to soothe the child, the rewarding sight of a calm baby strengthens the learning experience.

It kind of reminds me of what’s been called the best way to learn a new language: get yourself in a situation where everyone speaks the foreign language, and where you have to find some food and a safe place to spend the night. Even if you think you’re really bad at languages, chances are you’d pick up a handful of key expressions in a matter of days. Again, successes are likely to cause huge surges of positive feelings such as relief, gratitude, feeling safe and connected.

Maybe the rapid learning in these cases is caused by the combination of the two: a strong initiating force and the huge emotional payoff at the end. Plus, of course, repetition upon repetition. If you want to survive a week in a foreign country (or with a newborn, for that matter), one problem-solving situation is just the start.

The whole carpe diem thing

With a newborn, the concept of “I’ll just do this, and then…” flies pretty much out the window. When the baby is awake, it often requires your undivided attention by demanding food, a clean diaper, or other basic comforts. When the baby sleeps, you need to have a slice of your attention directed towards the crib in case the baby voices a demand.

Furthermore, there’s often no telling as to how long the baby will stay asleep. In other words, if there’s something you need to get done while the baby’s asleep, you’d be wise to jump to it as soon as the baby falls asleep. This group of activities includes things like eating, taking a shower, emptying the dishwasher, and going to the restroom. Things that, pre-baby, were blissfully easy to schedule: first, I’ll do X, then I’ll do Y, and then I’ll do Z… but first let me Facebook for a moment. 🙂

Now, there’s a clear hierarchy of priorities: as soon as the baby falls asleep/calms down, I’ll get a glass of water. If I get stuck Facebooking for too long, she might wake up and demand a clean diaper, then food, then burping, and two hours later I notice I didn’t get that glass of water. This whole Do-It-Now thing is no joke.

There’s another side to the carpe diem approach, too. The moments when the baby is awake and alert are a precious few during one day. They are the moments to connect with the baby, sing, read, cuddle, find eye contact and encourage interaction. It feels like such a waste to ignore the baby when she most yearns for connection. And if I try to “get this one thing finished and then” connect with the baby, she might already be too tired or hungry, and the moment is gone.

Of course you can’t catch all of these moments. But you can try.

And you can try to catch those kinds of moments with grow-ups as well. If you feel like saying something beautiful to a friend, say it. Don’t hold back just because “she knows how I feel about her” or “I can’t just say it out loud”.

Thank you so much for reading, once again! *Blowing a sprinkling of insightings your way*

Love,

Sari

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Never ruin an apology with an excuse.
Kimberly Johnson

Apologies and excuses

A few days back, I and my fiancé had a conversation where I said something abrupt. He was offended, but I felt I had not been out of line, because, you know, something and something else. I forget the exact phrasing, but the bottom line was that I was making excuses. The situation started to escalate, in other words we started to dig deeper into what I said and what he said and what happened and why.

The thing that defused the situation? He asked me why I didn’t say “that sounds like…” instead of the “I thought you…”, and I answered that  I didn’t realize it was that specific thing that bothered me. I managed to dig out an “I’m sorry that I was so abrupt.” His response? “You’re forgiven.” And that was that.

When I think of a similar situation with the roles reversed – i.e. I’m the one who’s offended by my fiancé’s abrupt words – it makes perfect sense that the apology would do the trick. If I’m offended, I don’t want to hear how I’m in the wrong getting offended in the first place.

Instead, I want to hear that the other person did not want to hurt me, that they know what ticked me off, and that they feel bad about making me feel bad. A good way to accomplish that is a sincere apology.

Why was it so difficult, then, to apologise?

One, I didn’t want to admit that I had communicated in a non-constructive way. I was tired and hungry, and we were talking about something very personal where a lot was at stake. I didn’t have it in me to admit that I was wrong.

Two,  from my point of view my argumentation was logical. However, while I was concentrating on my logical argumentation, I failed to listen to my fiancé’s emotions. He was offended, and he had every right to be offended. He had to say it very explicitly before I noticed it. I was focusing on myself, not on the other person.

In other words, I was on my “me me me” -horse and forgot the central rule of impro (that also goes brilliantly with any other communication): help the other person as much as possible. Listen to her, focus on what she’s saying and how, and the rest of the communication takes care of itself. 🙂

Shiva Nata workshop!

Last week, I taught my very first ever Shiva Nata workshop. The crowd was massive – two people and myself. However, we managed to look at spirals, both horizontal and vertical, and go through the logic of level 1 sequences.

We also did a few mirror images and transquarters, so the participants would have an idea of how Shiva Nata eventually links every hand position with every other hand position.

I realized that in a thirty minute session, we would barely manage to scrape the surface, so I prepared a handout. 🙂 True teacher style there. As far as I know, that handout is currently the only existing Finnish material on Shiva Nata. If you want me to email the .jpeg to you, pop me a comment! (You probably don’t want me to publish your email, so I’ll edit it out before I approve your comment…)

The fun part about drawing up the handout was that I really had to think about what’s fundamental. What do I want to convey in the thirty minutes we have? What do I want to include so the participants don’t run screaming at the sight of Frankenstein’s Handout? What do I have to include so the participants can continue on their own after the session?

Teaching the workshop was fun! I had slight difficulties in reading the numbers from right to left. What helped, though, was that I had originally slacked off with reading the numbers out loud, so I wasn’t really used to reading them one way or the other anyway. Neil’s advice about reading the numbers helped, too.

I had to think of a beam of light going from right to left to really visualize the position of my hands and to be able to read them out, but I didn’t screw up as many times as I expected to. In the context of Shiva Nata, I should probably be disappointed with this. 🙂

I’m fairly enthusiastic about teaching another workshop. Even more so since there were several people who told me they really wanted to come to the workshop but had to attend meetings and lectures and such instead.

It’s spring in Helsinki. I wore my spring coat and summer heels today. Life could be worse, all things considered. 🙂

Thank you so much for stopping by, feel free to hang out in the comments and share your own tidbits!

Love,

Sari

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A good teacher must be able to put himself in the place of those who find learning hard.
Eliphas Levi

I started my final practical teacher training period today.

The teacher training system in Finland is exceptional (as far as I understand) in that we have several supervised practical training periods in our teacher studies. Supervised in that for each lesson a teacher trainee conducts, he or she returns a lesson plan to a supervisor for approval, then conducts the lesson, and gets feedback from the supervisor and any other trainees that have observed the lesson.

In addition to the teaching, the practical training includes compulsory lesson observation as well as miniature lectures on different topics. All this is fascinating, yet really time-consuming.

The fun part is that we get to reflect, reflect, reflect on everything we experience. Some reflections are relevant to the teacher profession, others are more relevant to the Insightings context. It’s a win-win either way. 🙂

Attitudes and solidarity

I had an interesting encounter today. I found myself in a conversation where someone tried to engage my solidarity by finding a common enemy and complaining about this enemy. The problem was that I didn’t really agree with this person about the enemy, and didn’t want to complain. Yet I didn’t want to invalidate their feelings of frustration, either, by saying something like “well, no, I don’t think it’s that bad”.

I’ve written about the complaining thing from the point of view of criticism and intelligence. Complaining also seems to have another function in many contexts – that of creating solidarity.

The very first summer I went on a confirmation camp as a counselor, one of the older counselors said something about group dynamics that has stayed with me ever since. To have strong group spirit, she said, the group needs two things: a private joke and a common enemy. Find both, and you’re on your way to a group that sticks together.

It was interesting, then, to find myself in the situation mentioned above. This person was obviously trying to create some kind of a bond by finding a common enemy. They mentioned having shared a bonding moment on the topic with a few other people I know and often agree with, so the assumption that I’d follow suit here wasn’t preposterous.

Still, I felt weird and awkward.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve been faced with solidarity-forging complaints. Then, like today, I felt awkward. There is a tension between authenticity – saying what you think – on the one hand, and relatedness – not wanting to reject the intention to connect behind the complaint – on the other hand.

Venturing a guess at someone’s attitudes, especially negative ones, is a risky strategy. Instead of feeling connected to this person, I felt distanced. Even if I had shared the reasoning behind the complaint, I didn’t immediately agree with the end result that they opened with. Had they been open about their own frustration without trying to attribute it to me as well, we might have had a fruitful conversation. Now, all that happened was awkward nodding and a few ‘uhhuh‘s.

Interesting. 🙂

I taught a bit of Shiva Nata!

A friend of mine had been reading my blog, and asked a few questions about Shiva Nata. Since we had a few spare minutes before our meeting was due to start, I taught her a bit of level 1 horizontals.

Sooo much fun.

I had to really think about how to instruct the transition from horizontal 3 to horizontal 4 – the one that was difficult to myself and, incidentally, the one that has caused most trouble to everyone I’ve sort-of taught.

Sooo much fun.

If I ever learn enough (whatever that is), I might really consider teaching a little bitty workshop one day. First, I’ll have to take lessons myself, to see if I’m even doing it right. It’s fascinating, though, how teaching others really deepens the understanding here, too. As if that’s a surprise. 🙂

– –

Interestingly, as I read through the previous paragraphs, I notice myself hedging and downplaying my Shivanaut abilities. It’s more obvious in writing than it is in my head, I suppose. Whether or not the hedging has any real justification, I’m not sure. Another pattern emerging here. Shiva Nata is revealing my patterns in so many ways, it seems.

Thank you for stopping by again! I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and as always – keep catching your own insightings!

Love,

Sari

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If you treat a sick child like an adult and a sick adult like a child, everything usually works out pretty well.
Ruth Carlisle

After being incapacitated by my annual 3-day flu this past weekend, I’m glad to be posting again.

Communicating with self

I’m really liking this whole journaling thing. Paired with Shiva Nata and meditation, it really brings out things that I’d otherwise never be conscious of. The fact that I shred the day’s writing as the final part of my morning “practice” gives me a get-out-of-spelling-free card that I never knew existed.

The thing I’m most curious about today, though, is the handwriting thing. I don’t know if anyone else has a similar experience, but as soon as I start journaling (in the stream-of-consciousness vein), my handwriting becomes atrocious.

Partly it’s due to the writing speed, and that I understand. Partly, though, it seems as if I’m relaxing an unconscious muscle, either physical or mental, that I normally keep very much active whenever I write. I never would’ve noticed this if I’d started journaling on screen.

It’s also interesting to notice the difference between writing a journal each night and journaling every morning. Two completely different things, different tones, different genres altogether.

My diary is private and I’m not writing it for anyone else’s eyes but mine. However, I write it to make a record of my life as it happens, so there’s a bigger context, with background information, narration, and heavy contemplation.

My journaling texts, on the other hand, are characteristically non-audience texts. When I write, I know nobody will ever read them, not even me. This means the texts are fragmented, incoherent, grammatically incorrect (!!!) and have very little explanation or narration.

The brilliant thing is that I sometimes get frustrated with my evening journal writing, because I can’t possibly follow every single path of insight that pops in my head. After I’ve explained the background to what he said or why I think it was ridiculous, the magical insighting is gone forever.

Journaling totally solves this problem by removing the reader element. True, I won’t be able to remind myself of the idea, but I’m confident that if it was such a wonderful idea, I’ll want to write it down somewhere safe. If I happen to forget, the context of journaling will hopefully bring it back to me the next time I sit down to write.

Blast from the past

I just finished writing a reflective essay on a course on practical teacher studies. The interesting part? I did the course in 2005. I was one credit short (something about transfering to a different syllabus and a different grading point system), so I had no choice but to get cracking. Fortunately, I had saved the reflective reports I wrote in 2005, during and after taking the course.

It was really interesting to read my own words about the topic. The course included visits to three different kinds of educational facilities: a normal Finnish comprehensive school, a foreign language school, and a vocational school.

The reports brought the whole experience back to me, even the things I had already forgotten. That specific course was the first time I was observing the school environment from a non-student perspective. Oh, the sense of upcoming responsibility on the shoulders of a frail freshman! 🙂

Since then, I’ve done my fair share of teacher studies as well as some actual teaching. It was fascinating, though, to notice I’m now pondering the same exact questions – discipline vs. creativity, the distance between a teacher and students, the teachers’ lounge as a workplace with all of the normal office drama and then some – as I did back then.

I wonder if this going-in-circles phenomenon comes up in the rest of my life as well?

I’ve come across the idea of seven-year cycles in life several times, but have never really used it to reflect on my own life in depth. During difficult times in my life I’ve not really felt like digging out my old diaries and reading if I’ve had the same exact problems back then already.

Now, though, I have a hunch that my 13 years of writing a diary more or less regularly (usually less) might come in handy here. After all, my 2009 resolution was getting to know and like the person I’ve become.

My pessimistic side keeps telling me I’ll find coincidences and blur, nothing else. Still, it’ll be interesting to look into the past and find out if the diaries are keeping secrets from me. 🙂

Thanks for stopping by – keep catching your own insightings!

Love,

Sari

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Words, like eyeglasses, blur everything that they do not make clear
Joseph Joubert

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Today is my Mom’s 60th birthday. Congratulations, mom! Since she isn’t a real spotlight stealer, she and my Dad traveled away for a few days to celebrate the occasion. Tomorrow, when they come back, I’m planning on baking her a birthday cake and having them over for coffee after I pick them up from the airport.

In addition, my fiancé’s mom (who is a friend of my mom’s as well) had an idea of a birthday present for her from the both of us, and it will be waiting on the kitchen table when they get home. I like setting up surprises. 🙂 I know she won’t be reading this, since she doesn’t really read English, but I’m paranoid enough not to spill the beans about the present itself in case she finds out about it before she should.

The Jargonator is running on empty

I finally finished writing the assignment on Language and Identity. Deadline today, before midnight. Despite the fact that I actually had something to say about the articles and my research plan, most of the text ended up being rehashed jargon. On the other hand, I sort of had to rehash the material so the teacher knows I read it.

I do realise it’s my own fault that I didn’t start reading for the portfolio early enough. It’s too bad, though, that I left it until the last minute, since I could’ve really had something unique to say had I not been deathly tired with caffeine jitters. I’m pretty sure I’ll get a pass, though, since I finished each required task and hunted out the technicalities I was supposed to. It’s the discussion and conclusions that were more on the weak side in the portfolio.

This is sad. Having the luxury of great teaching and resources to learn and help create new scientific knowledge, and then… resorting to rehashing technicalities because, well, it’s enough. True, it’s not my Master’s Thesis field and I probably won’t pursue that kind of research further, but somehow I still feel that there’s more to me than what I created.

This is obviously an issue between my perfectionistic and passionate persona on the one hand, the one that wants me to become a researcher in everything, and my realistic persona on the other, the one that knows I can’t spread myself too thin or I’ll break.

The passionate perfectionist is fantastically interested in pretty much everything, but doesn’t have the stamina to read through hundreds and hundreds of pages to actually know about it all. The realist tries to remind me that I can become world class anything as long as I give up everything else, and that I really don’t want to give up everything else.

Breakups between grownups

Our band’s bassist quit. No drama, and he had good justifications to make his choice. This was two days ago. And as is customary when social units break up, the rest of us had a crisis meeting – complete with coffee and chocolate.

It seems that somehow the solemnity of the situation helped us all talk about the band in a much more direct tone than before. We had to decide if the rest of us wanted to keep going. We had to talk about the reasons our bassist had given for leaving, and the ways we could minimise those circumstances. It was one of those Cleansing Conversations.

It’s funny that you’d have to tiptoe around some topics with people you see almost every week. Then again, during my sister’s last few weeks, all of us tiptoed around the fact that she would not get better, ever. The day she passed was the first time we were able to talk about her death directly.

It seems crisis mode opens up communication for two reasons. One, in most cases the worst that can happen has already happened, or is so imminent that it has to be considered. It’s impossible to undo by not talking about it. Two, crisis mode creates a new kind of dynamic where something new has to be done since the old way either didn’t work or is no  longer available.

So if you happen to be or know a good bassist looking for a band in the Helsinki, Finland region, pop me a comment and we’ll see what happens. And until next time – keep catching your own insightings!

Love,

Sari

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