meaningless minutiae

I believe it is often in the smallest details about a person that we best glimpse the whole.  I think Amy Palko, too, believes this.  She wrote about it before (and inspired me to do the same) and she recently shared this gorgeous quote by Hugh McDiarmid on her blog:

So I have gathered unto myself
All the loose ends of Scotland,
And by naming them and accepting them,
Loving them and identifying myself with them,
Attempt to express the whole.

The loose ends.  Oh, I am familiar with loose ends.  The loose ends are my life: my son’s ever-blonder summer hair, my daughter’s sleepy goodnight hugs, the stack of books on my bedside table, the outrageous explosion of hydrangeas by the front door, the broken air conditioning, the lines of poetry that run through my head daily, the way light from an indiscernible source illuminates a sunset sky.  The loose ends are the endless grains of sand that both imperceptibly and irrevocably add up to the contours of our lives.

We are drawn to these specifics, to the naming and identifying and accepting of what we can, as we search for the grand truths.  I for one am always looking, in the small moments of my life, for that whole – for that design so vast.  But why is this where we look? In some ways it is counter-intuitive, right?  To look down, as it were, to see the universe, all the power and glory that spreads above us, in the cracked shell at our feet on the beach.

These small things – these details, these loose ends – are like portals into the enormity of this life.  They are keyholes through which we glimpse that greater reality in which we all exist.   This is not a new idea, of course: the poets have been talking about this for centuries and longer, as Blake did with his world in a grain of sand.

But why do we seek the infinite in the defiantly finite?  I suspect it is because the whole is so extravagantly huge, so inexpressible, so far beyond the realm of our intellect.  It is impossible to draw the logical arms of our minds around the unwieldy, expansive whole.  We have no choice but to seek its reflection in the tiniest things, a bit like Plato watching the shadows on the back wall of the cave.

Isn’t that what this blog is about, in many ways?  More than anything, I think what I do here is polish the small, jagged stones of my life, startled every now and then when I look again and see the gleam of a gemstone.  This is the task of my life: the gathering of loose ends, the loving of them, and the endless, stumbling and imperfect attempt to express the whole.

I found this meme/questionnaire on Somemother through Meagan Francis’ wonderful blog The Happiest Mom (I highly recommend it and read it religiously).  I just liked it and hope you will join in and participate – just link in the comments!!

ESTABLISHING YOURSELF (a few details that help somemothers know what they have in common with you).

I am 37 years old.

I am married.

I have an 8 year old daughter and a 6 year old son.

I work part time outside of the home.

I am upper-middle class.

I live urban.

I own my house

I completed high school, college, and graduate school.

I am straight.

Of note about my ethnicity and/or cultural background: I am Caucasian

NOW, TWENTY QUESTIONS ABOUT YOU

1. The most significant aspect of my upbringing: I moved around a lot: born in Cambridge, to Paris at age 3, back to Cambridge at 7, to London at 12, back to the US to boarding school at 16.

2. My best advice to mothers about to enter the stage of child rearing that I just went through: Forgive yourself if you don’t love every minute.  But try to pay attention to it all regardless.

3. Something that concerns me about my child(ren): My daughter: her relentless desire (need?) to please others.  My son: his absolute disregard for authority.

4. My absolute worst mothering moment: Hard to say.  Watching my daughter fall out of a shopping cart onto her head at the age of 18 months.  Hearing my daughter tell me at age 8.5 that she was hurt I was spending so much time with my own mother, who was badly injured (hello, middle place!).

5. What annoys me most about other mothers: The unwillingness to admit that they haven’t figured it out, that their kids aren’t perfect, that they often doubt themselves, their choices, everything.

6. I am happiest: By the ocean, when my children look at me with untrammeled joy in their eyes, when I read a line of poetry or prose that sinks deep into me, with those few people I hold dearest.

7. I am saddest: When I feel alone in the world, misunderstood or un-known, like I’m failing at everything I do.

8. My biggest fear: Being abandoned by those I love most.  Not being safe.

9. I am ashamed of: Of being too sensitive, too emotional, just plain too much.

10. Something I need to forgive: Myself.  For all the ways I’ve let myself and others down.

11. Something I wish I could say to someone: To Mr Valhouli: thank you.  For making me realize I had something to say and something to offer.  For showing me the brilliance of the life of the mind.

12. Something I have never told anyone: Sure not going to start here!

13. Something I am trying to change about myself: Trying to accept the essential wound that underlies my daily sense of wonder at the world.

14. My biggest accomplishment: That my children seem – so far! – happy, well-adjusted, curious about the world, and to still want me around.

15. I wish: There was peace on earth, and enough prosperity that nobody was homeless.  The homeless people begging in Harvard Square make me cry every single day.

16. Something my relationship with my mother has taught me about parenting: That it’s valuable to have a life outside of your children – not only for yourself, but for them.

17. Something my relationship with my father has taught me about parenting How powerful a true passion can be.  His, for European history and culture, propelled our family across the ocean not only once but twice.

18. How I would describe my faith life. Continuing to evolve, increasingly important to me.  I was brought up Episcopalian, though casually.  I was confirmed in the Church of England.  I never knew faith mattered to me until the last few years.  Now I know it does immensely.

19. Something I hope will be different for me by this time next year: I hope I will be closer to my dream of being a writer.

20. Something important about my story that hasn’t been captured by the questions above ???

BONUS: A question you would like to see added to this list that readers can respond to in the comments What is your favorite book, and why?