Hello 2019

You know that one stock photo image of the beautiful, fit, young woman sitting on a couch cradling a steaming mug in her hands as she smiles contentedly into the middle distance? She's wearing impossibly flattering athleisure wear and a chunky sweater, and her hair is in that perfect "I don't care" messy bun that still looks great. The couch is overstuffed, but roomy, and her long legs are folded up under her in a way that looks comfortable, but never actually is when you try it in real life. The lighting is usually warm and soft, and the house is spotlessly neat and decorated with understated sophistication. The whole thing exudes coziness and contentment.

I recently finished listening to Brené Brown's I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn't) audiobook. At one point she talks about a particular advertising image that she has internalized and set up as a standard for herself and her life which she now struggles to let go of. It doesn't matter what it was exactly; the point is that as she was describing it I thought "that's kind of weird. I've definitely never done that."

Cut to this morning. I was sitting on my couch at 10am, holding my mug of steaming tea, and having a moment of intense gratitude as I luxuriated in the bright morning sunlight filling my living room. And suddenly I had the thought "this is it, Emily. This is that moment that you're always seeing in pictures and wondering why you never experience it in real life. You don't have the perfectly clean and decorated house, you don't look fresh-faced and effortlessly put together, and you don't have that beautiful lithe body, but this is exactly what you're always pining for. Those details don't negate what you're experiencing right now"

But no, Brené. I've definitely never internalized an advertising image and set it up as an unattainable ideal for my life...

I decided I wanted to post a status about what a great moment I was experiencing, but my brother called me and I had to block out the scarf I just knitted, and then my dog reminded me that I promised her we'd go on a walk an hour ago, so I didn't get to the facebook status.

I did, however, take Tess on her walk. We walked down around the cemetery, which is normal, and then crossed 9th and State streets to visit the little park behind the school, which is not. We crossed paths with a few humans and a couple dogs. We spent some time playing on the school's playground equipment (Tess adores playground equipment). We walked past the house I used to live in and looked at the other beautiful old homes on the same street. Crossing back over State street to finish circling the cemetery there was a woman stopped at the light who was watching us cross in front of her and smiling. It was sunny and breezy and there was snow on the lawns, but the sidewalks were almost all dry. It was a perfect walk in every way. When we were nearly home, I suddenly became aware of how much easier a walk like this was compared to when I first got Tess two years ago. I’ve long since given up on the idea that walking Tess was ever going to really improve my fitness, so this was an immensely gratifying realization.

As I walked I thought about my morning, what I really wanted to say about it, and what a beautiful day it was. I didn't even make the Brené Brown connection till I was halfway through. When I finally got home a little while ago and started writing, however, I realized I had more to say than would fit in a facebook update...though as it turns out, a lot of it is just context and narration.

I think that what most caught my attention was realizing that, at least for today, I’m ok with the places where I fell short of the ideal. I love my big, strong, soft body that is stubborn and slow to change, just like me...because it is me. I love my messy, eclectic home with dog hair in the corners. I am satisfied with my priorities, which don’t often include doing my hair and putting on makeup.

I guess what I really wanted to say is that today is a good day, and I am happy.

The Road Untaken and the Talk Not Given - musings on spousal selection

A couple weeks ago I was asked to speak in church.  I went through this process of writing out my whole talk, and then at 9 pm Saturday night I decided I wanted to talk about something else.  I mentioned this whilst I was speaking and a couple of my friends told me they wanted me to post my un-given talk on my blog.  So, here it is, more or less, adapted to secular blog instead of theological oration.

I want to talk to you guys about one of my favorite books.  I've written about it before on this blog, in my list of the five books everyone should read, but specifically every girl should read before she turns 20.  I'm rather proud of the fact that that is in my list of top 10 most popular posts, btw.  Anyway, I'm talking of Little Women.  I would like to assume that, as readers of my blog, you have of course, already read Little Women after I recommended it before, or you have already read it on your own because you have superlative taste.  But if neither of those things are true, I shall give a brief and incredibly inadequate summary for you.  Little Women, published in 1868 by Louisa May Alcott, tells the story of Jo March and her 3 sisters as they transition from young girls to women.  Jo, the penultimate child, is the classic tomboy bucking against the restrictions of gentility and societal expectations.  Early into the story she befriends Teddy Lawrence, the boy next door, and he is quickly adopted into the family as a brother.

Ah, wee baby Christian Bale...you did a pretty good job I guess

At this point I supposed I should warn of upcoming spoilers, but guys....the book has been out for 150+ years, not to mention made into at least one major film.  So I feel like you should probably get over it.

So anyway, Jo and Teddy grow up as best friends, sharing the same sense of humor, the same interests, and enjoying the same activities. And as they get older, Teddy starts trying to lay the ground work to take his relationship with Jo to the next level.

Here's the thing guys.  I just finished this book for the first time in many many years, only this time I listened to it as an audiobook.  I don't know if it was the woman reading the book or just my frame of mind this particular go through but for the first time I found I kind of had a thing for Teddy.  I never appreciated how funny and sassy he is before.  But I realized something else, too.  I've conducted 20-odd years of thorough study on this via film and TV and I can tell you definitively....Jo and Teddy are legit made for each other.  They are the text book definition of chemistry.  At least by modern romantic standards.  Think about it.  Isn't that what ever rom com tells you to look for?

Your perfect match.

I love puns so much

Love, and consequently marriage, is about finding that perfect match.  In practical terms that looks like someone who will validate you.  It's like "You watch the Great British Baking Show? OMG, I, too, watch the Great British Baking Show!!   At last I can stop feeling weird and just watch and love the Great British Baking Show with someone....which is all I really ever wanted."

In contemporary society, where long-term monogamous relationships are approved of at all, they are marketed as the ultimate bff validating relationship.  Your spouse is that person who will always be on your side, who likes what you like, and who reassures you of your place in the world because they occupy it with you......But guys.  Jo doesn't marry Teddy.

Teddy goes off to college and when he comes home he asks Jo to marry him.  He, like me this time through, believes in the idea of a perfect match.  But Jo says no.  She breaks his heart.  She breaks his heart because she understands that there is another way of loving and another way to choose a spouse.

Instead of a perfect match Jo wants a perfect complement.

eheheheheheh

She knows this because it is the marriage she has watched her whole life--that of her parents.  Early on Jo's mother talks to her about her hasty temper, explaining that it will cause her so much grief if she doesn't learn to control it.  Young Jo bemoans how impossible it is to remember and her mother makes a confession.  She, too, struggles to control her temper.  But her greatest strength in her efforts is her husband.  He knows her struggle and when she needs help he gives her a small sign to remind her of what she wants.  .

This was another aspect of the book I'd never really appreciated before.  Essentially it was a portrait of a much less common type of relationship, even back then, but it gave a whole different idea of what a marriage could be.  One person loving the other enough to patiently help them when it was needed, and the other person loving enough to humble themselves and accept that help.  In this sort of marriage the goal is not to comfortably validate you, but gently and lovingly push you towards progression and improvement.  In this marriage two people join together to share the work of becoming the best people they can possibly be.

I don't think it is a coincidence that the modern idea of love is the philosophy of matching and validation.  It is easier.  It asks so much less of us.  A complementary relationship takes work.  It requires humility and love and dedication.  But if you put in that effort you will have a partner who is as invested in helping you attain perfection as they are in achieving it themselves.  Can you imagine any greater or more valuable asset in our progression as individuals?

I do not love these actors as these characters, but what can you do?

Jo does eventually find her compliment in a really lovely gentleman named Professor Baehr.  He possesses the strengths she lacks and she provides for his deficiencies.  They form a partnership that is stronger together than  either of them were on their own.  And almost it is enough to help me overlook the creepiness of a 40+ year old man courting a 22 year old girl.  Almost.

Driving home...

One of my favorite parts of my day is the drive to and from work.  Especially going home in the evenings.  From Payson up to Provo I get such a magnificent view of the valley and in the evenings the light shines across from one side to the other and lights the mountains up so they glow.  Add in some clouds and you have some legitimately breathtaking vistas.

This evening was one such.  I worked a bit late tonight so I was driving home about 8 o'clock.  We've had much more rain this summer than I remember getting any other summer I've lived here, and today was another cloudy day.  The western sky was clouded over, with a small clear strip just above the mountains.  Mostly the mountains were dark, but right in the middle was a break that created a bowl full of pristine, clear orange light that spilled out and lit up the undersides of the clouds.  It was raining over the foothills, so the all that glowing orange was softly streaked with grey, and there were very occasional white flashes of far distant lightning.  Across the valley the east mountains were also dark through Provo, but up north the point of the mountain was all alight.  Around Spanish Fork I could see it was lit with these soft diffused rays shining out from behind the Lake mountains, also streaked with falling rain.  It was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen and trying to describe it here is so incredibly inadequate.

As I tried to stare at that sunset as much as I possibly could whilst also managing not to wreck my car, I thought about the conversation I had with my friend Bryan last night.  We were discussing an experimental opera he'd worked on with some friends this summer and how much he'd enjoyed attending the single performance.  I pointed out that, while I understand that the ephemerality (which is apparently a real word?) of something only performed once is a part of the art, I am nevertheless struck by the melancholy of such things.  Once they're gone they're gone and if you didn't get to experience them you never will get another chance.  Sure there will be other things and other times, but that particular moment is gone.

This is much the same feeling I have every evening driving home.

When I see something like tonight's sunset I feel like I must look at it for as long as it is there.  Once it's gone it's gone and if I don't watch it while it's there it might as well never have happened at all.  Somehow my experiencing of it adds value.  When I think about it rationally I know that isn't true.  A beautiful moment is beautiful regardless of observation. And even if it wasn't, surely there is someone else out there who looked up for a moment and noticed those rays of sunlight spilling through those clouds.

But I don't know that.  And that places an obligation on me to observe it all if I possibly can.  This awesome, gorgeous world has been given to all of us and the least I can do is to appreciate the beauty it provides.  I can be the eyes and the memory that record that sunset so that even though it will never happen just the same way ever again, it isn't gone without a trace.  Even though I know that doesn't really make any sense.  And even though I know, and mourn just a little bit, all the billions of moments that happen every day that I can never observe.  I did see this one.  I felt that ache in my chest that comes from an exquisite experience.

I looked and I saw and that moment is mine.

lacking an actual picture of this evening, this is a picture of a different
place at a different time that is sort of similar.
got the pic here:
 http://www.errant-ronin.com/PrudhoeBayUshuaia/PBU-Part07-Mexico-Down.htm