This roundup is a bit truncated because (1) my trip has been on my mind all week and I'm not ready to talk about part two or three. I am writing and erasing and downloading pictures and writing and erasing. (2) I have been living out of a suitcase and feel discombobulated. Even when I get online, it isn't quality online time. It's sort of the difference between restless sleep and quality sleep. I have been having restless online time. (3) It is Pesach and we have been attending seders. (4) I want to talk and I don't know how to say what I want to say.
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The Weekly What If: what if you had the power to read people's thoughts for one day--would you use it? On one hand, you'd know exactly what they were thinking as they spoke to you, but on the other...you'd know exactly what they were thinking as they spoke to you. For instance, someone who you thought was your friend you could learn actually finds you completely annoying. Would you want to know that or is ignorance truly bliss? If you are going to use the power, would you choose specific people to make sure you interacted with that day or would you just enjoy the experience and take whatever thoughts crossed your path?
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And now, the blogs...
Henry Street had a post about Pesach and how it connects to adoption. She points out about how the open adoption aspect of the story is never discussed at the seder table, especially how Moses felt navigating both families. As an adoptive-mother-to-be, she approaches the Pesach story from a different angle, and writes, "I couldn't get through the beginning. I couldn't get past the adoption aspect, the birth mother, the mix between two peoples. Moses is truly of two peoples -- the Egyptian royal family that raised him and the Hebrew family that gave birth to him and saved him by giving him away." It is a really fascinating post.
Sticky Feet writes about swinging between denial and preparation now pregnant with twins after infertility. She writes, "I shift back and forth from needing to prepare for the arrival of twins to denial that we are pregnant and that there is a real possibility we might bring two babies home." I think what is so interesting in this post is how much it differs from the average pregnancy post you see on a non-infertility blog where the happy ending is the given rather than the hopeful possibility. And my heart just went out to her as I read about that state of not know how to prepare for a life you can't begin to imagine.
In a similar vein, Life in the White House also has a post about being pregnant after infertility. She explains her reason for not wanting to talk: "I don't want to share this with anyone...it's US and OURS, telling feels like cheapening it and making it available to the general public. I'm sure people are probably wondering if we're not happy about it. Every once in a while, depending on who it is, I validate that it took us three years, that last year with the doctor, to get pregnant and we're still not believing it." Again, it is so interesting to read about how the emotional side of infertility doesn't end even with the hard-won positive.
All You Who Hope has a post about being down. She tries to pinpoint her bad mood, throwing out ideas and then finally coming back to the crux of it all: continuously seeing the one thing you can't have yet. She writes of the difficulty of attending Mass: "I can't concentrate on Mass, and it makes the entire experience depressing. I don't want Mass to be a negative thing for me, but it often is...I know there is probably something redemptive about suffering in Mass of all places, but that just isn't doing it for me right now." As someone Jewish, it was so interesting to hear this take on religion and the experience, what can be gained by the struggle as well as how outward experiences can taint completely unrelated facets of life.
Lastly, I thought The Real Bean's post, "The Rabbits in the Wall" was amazing. She likens her three missing sons to the imaginary friends of her youth and while it is obviously a sad post, there is also a joy in it; the special nature of a hidden relationship. She writes: "They will always be the embodiment of perfect potential and innocence and grace. They will never cause frustration or make anyone angry. They will never hurt someone or disappoint someone or cause pain. They may, or may not, wear a poufy chef’s hat and a checkered apron, and they may, or may not, occasionally be visited by a family of rabbits who once lived in a wall. Their possibilities are as endless as our ideas of what comes next after this life. And I love that." While this post didn't technically occur this week, I missed it during my partial unplug and didn't want anyone else to miss it too.
The roundup to the Roundup: um...I guess this really isn't necessary at all since it is such a short roundup, but weigh in with the Weekly What If and I will see you back here Saturday night for Show and Tell.
Update:
On the way to our first seder, we were trying to bother the twins (as all responsible parents are wont to do) and we asked them if we were going to a wolf seder. This stems from a joke that we have about a certain intersection in New Jersey where it once had a sign advertising that people should celebrate their "wolf birthday" (what this is, we don't know). The ChickieNob said, "you aren't funny." We repeated it several more times, finally changing it to werewolf seder. We begged her to ask our uncle when we entered the house if it was a werewolf seder and she declined, insisting each time that we weren't funny, the question wasn't funny, and we should stop bothering her.
When we entered the house, we asked her again and a cousin overheard and promised that he would ask the question. The ChickieNob finally asked what happened at a werewolf seder and we sang her the song below, adding that having a hidden werewolf family member would certainly spice things up at a ceremony that is held year after the year. The ChickieNob still didn't think we were funny. We did. We thought we were veeeeeeeeeeeery funny and the ensuing Facebook discussion with its plethora of possibilities was as well.
Henry Street had a post about Pesach and how it connects to adoption. She points out about how the open adoption aspect of the story is never discussed at the seder table, especially how Moses felt navigating both families. As an adoptive-mother-to-be, she approaches the Pesach story from a different angle, and writes, "I couldn't get through the beginning. I couldn't get past the adoption aspect, the birth mother, the mix between two peoples. Moses is truly of two peoples -- the Egyptian royal family that raised him and the Hebrew family that gave birth to him and saved him by giving him away." It is a really fascinating post.
Sticky Feet writes about swinging between denial and preparation now pregnant with twins after infertility. She writes, "I shift back and forth from needing to prepare for the arrival of twins to denial that we are pregnant and that there is a real possibility we might bring two babies home." I think what is so interesting in this post is how much it differs from the average pregnancy post you see on a non-infertility blog where the happy ending is the given rather than the hopeful possibility. And my heart just went out to her as I read about that state of not know how to prepare for a life you can't begin to imagine.
In a similar vein, Life in the White House also has a post about being pregnant after infertility. She explains her reason for not wanting to talk: "I don't want to share this with anyone...it's US and OURS, telling feels like cheapening it and making it available to the general public. I'm sure people are probably wondering if we're not happy about it. Every once in a while, depending on who it is, I validate that it took us three years, that last year with the doctor, to get pregnant and we're still not believing it." Again, it is so interesting to read about how the emotional side of infertility doesn't end even with the hard-won positive.
All You Who Hope has a post about being down. She tries to pinpoint her bad mood, throwing out ideas and then finally coming back to the crux of it all: continuously seeing the one thing you can't have yet. She writes of the difficulty of attending Mass: "I can't concentrate on Mass, and it makes the entire experience depressing. I don't want Mass to be a negative thing for me, but it often is...I know there is probably something redemptive about suffering in Mass of all places, but that just isn't doing it for me right now." As someone Jewish, it was so interesting to hear this take on religion and the experience, what can be gained by the struggle as well as how outward experiences can taint completely unrelated facets of life.
Lastly, I thought The Real Bean's post, "The Rabbits in the Wall" was amazing. She likens her three missing sons to the imaginary friends of her youth and while it is obviously a sad post, there is also a joy in it; the special nature of a hidden relationship. She writes: "They will always be the embodiment of perfect potential and innocence and grace. They will never cause frustration or make anyone angry. They will never hurt someone or disappoint someone or cause pain. They may, or may not, wear a poufy chef’s hat and a checkered apron, and they may, or may not, occasionally be visited by a family of rabbits who once lived in a wall. Their possibilities are as endless as our ideas of what comes next after this life. And I love that." While this post didn't technically occur this week, I missed it during my partial unplug and didn't want anyone else to miss it too.
The roundup to the Roundup: um...I guess this really isn't necessary at all since it is such a short roundup, but weigh in with the Weekly What If and I will see you back here Saturday night for Show and Tell.
Update:
On the way to our first seder, we were trying to bother the twins (as all responsible parents are wont to do) and we asked them if we were going to a wolf seder. This stems from a joke that we have about a certain intersection in New Jersey where it once had a sign advertising that people should celebrate their "wolf birthday" (what this is, we don't know). The ChickieNob said, "you aren't funny." We repeated it several more times, finally changing it to werewolf seder. We begged her to ask our uncle when we entered the house if it was a werewolf seder and she declined, insisting each time that we weren't funny, the question wasn't funny, and we should stop bothering her.
When we entered the house, we asked her again and a cousin overheard and promised that he would ask the question. The ChickieNob finally asked what happened at a werewolf seder and we sang her the song below, adding that having a hidden werewolf family member would certainly spice things up at a ceremony that is held year after the year. The ChickieNob still didn't think we were funny. We did. We thought we were veeeeeeeeeeeery funny and the ensuing Facebook discussion with its plethora of possibilities was as well.
13 comments:
I would definitely NOT read other people's thoughts. I have been guilty in the past of reading someone's personal journal and learned that the occasional offhand negative comment about me ended up being something I carried around a LOT longer than I should have, and probably way out of proportion to the degree of feeling that the writer held (they said I was "moody"). The same thing happened when a friend told me what another friend had said to her about me... it was THIRTEEN YEARS AGO and I'm still bitter... and all she said was "[redacted] kind of has her head in the clouds." I'm way too insecure to be able to deal with that kind of knowledge! I'd rather maintain the white-lie buffer, and rely on my intuition to get a sense of what people are thinking - about me, or about anything else.
The only reason I'm posting this anonymously is b/c I'm still ashamed of reading my friend's journal...
No thanks on the thoughts. Reading emails accidentally left open or inadvertently forwarded is more than enough. I've also gotten unwanted insights when someone doesn't realize that the person on the other side of the phone is on speakerphone, or when someone says things and doesn't realize the target is right next to the listener and can overhear/overread.
I do enjoy the foolish "Reply All" emails when they're not about me, though.
No...I Don't want to read thoughts. I think that would be horrible. I mean, we all have fleeting thoughts we don't really mean and I can't imagine having to hear all those.
But, I can't get past your status message at the top of the blog...Can you imagine the terror and excitement of surviving a werewolf seder?...and I'd really love to know the thoughts or happenings that led up to this status message.
I'll pass on the thought-reading, thanks. I don't know why I'm so stuck on CS Lewis lately (I need a trip to the library!), but I'm reminded of the scene in "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" where Lucy opens a book and sees a dear friend saying hurtful things about her. The friend didn't really mean what she said, but the damage was done. For my part, especially in light of my own nutty thoughts, I'd rather not know what flits through someone else's mind.
I *do* want to know, however, what sparked the werewolf seder status remark. I sense a story...
I so do not want to know what people are thinking. Mainly because I know what things I think sometimes when I'm in a conversation with someone and I have to assume that I'm not alone in those sort of thoughts, so yeah, no thanks!
I have such a sense that my thoughts are so scattered, I would be so embarrassed to have someone see them.
they flit around, and what I think this moment might not be what I think next moment.
Thoughts seem to be such private, intimate things.
If I had unlimited thought-reading abilities, I'd want it. But for one day, I'd always wonder if what I learned was a passing thought or the full truth. It would drive me crazy so no thanks.
I do not want to know what other people are thinking unless I can apply a filter. On the other hand I might find that my own thoughts are actually normal and common. I think we all have thoughts that we think are unique to us and we'd never confess them. It might be nice to see we are not alone. But ultimately, I prefer not to know exactly what someone is thinking.
I would like to know what people's thoughts are. I have a very pessimistic view already, so I wouldn't be surprised by unpleasant or unflattering thoughts. They would just confirm my opinion. Of course, I might just avoid those people whose admiration/love I want on that particular day...
Also, I can see why the Chickienob doesn't think you're too funny, but you are! She'll probably think you're even less funny when she's a teenager.
I have to admit that I likely would choose to read peoples thoughts about me although I also acknowledge that I would probably be unnerved or bothered by what I "heard". I think especially from the people I work with. As far as strangers, it might be interesting to see if people really notice me as much as I worry they are noticing me (and my weight) and maybe lighten up a bit about worrying what others are thinking.
Oooh, I really love Battynurse's answer and that idea of knowing what strangers are noticing as they pass and is it what we THINK they are noticing?
Thanks for the posting the werewolf seder update!! I love your stories.
I would have to read the thoughts. I may or may not regret it, but I wouldn't be able to say no. Like you, I would wonder if I'd got the whole truth. Like battynurse, I would probably be disappointed and at the same time relieved to know that other people don't really think about me that much at all.
I do like people to come out and say what they think about me in life, though, and I tend to get on well with "blunt" types, so I don't think I would regret it after all. I would finally be getting people to interact with me in the way I prefer.
I would, yes, probably seek out certain people on that day.
Bea
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