When I was a little girl, I went Christmas shopping with my mom and dad. I don't remember what store it was, but I do recall that it was huge. When we entered there was this over-flowing display of stuffed animals. It was amazing. Definitely a way to a little girls heart. Certainly a way to mine. Of course like moth to a flame I found myself at the display attracted by one very specific teddybear. It was incredibly plush, so furry it came with its own brush. A combination of deep brown and beige patched fur with liquid brownn button eyes and a red tongue that looked ready to lick a lollipop. I was in teddybear love. I am certain that my Da told me to put it down. And I probably even did, the first time I picked it up. But somehow over the course of the time we were at the store I managed to circle back and pick up the bear again and drag it around with me all over that store.
Eventually I was told to go put it away again. Crushed, I did as I was told. Then moments later on our way to the check out line, my mother pulled it off the display and put into the basket with a remark I could not help overhearing. My cousin would love it. My heart fell to my feet. Well, I guess if the teddybear wasn't going to come home with me, at least he wasn't going to stay in the store. He was destined to have a home. That was better than an alternative fate. It was better than not knowing what happened to him.
Later the presents were wrapped and of course a teddybear shaped wedge lay under the tree with my cousin's name on the tag. I gritted my teeth and moved on with it. I loved that silly old bear, but if he couldn't be with me, well at least I could believe he would be happy.
Of course by now you have probably figured out that my parents did the bait and switch. They did get a teddybear for my cousin, but it wasn't My Teddybear. Mine was under the tree on Christmas morning, all fluffy and combed with his brush attached and a bright ribbon. I did not need a tag to know he was for me. I am certain I received other gifts that Christmas. Probably ones that were on my Santa list, but the only one I remember is that teddybear.
You might wonder why this blog is titled Peanut Butter? Because that was the bear's name. Why? I don't know, I was 6 years old. That's why. But Peanut Butter has been through all the stages of my life with me. He has been through surgeries, births, trips to Europe, he has been the protector for those I love when I could not be there myself, he has been a rock in a small soft stuffed shell.
And now when I use the phrase that my peanut butter is stretched too thin, I mean the side of me that he represents. The part that is warm and fuzzy and needs combing from a friend. It is easy to get hard and brittle when you add to much work to your plate and not enough of everything else. Somehow it always seems possible to get the extra work done too.
But it always costs a little bit more Peanut Butter to do it. The question is - is it worth it?
I know the answer that 6 year old girl would have given. Do you?
Its Cold Out Here....but Beautiful....
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Fractures in the Looking Glass
From time to time we find ourselves looking at the reflections of our lives. They may be fractures in the looking glass, phrases caught on pages or actually the people stepping out of the frame in living color. How do we interact with these relections? Do we see them as glimpses of ourselves? Are they whispers of wantings for what might have been, if only we had been different then? Or are they images we want to run from because they show us a reflection of ourselves that we don't want to admit ever existed? I suspect in many ways they twist and turn and become a bit of both of the latter.
The past is a strange thing. It can be a sweet treat that turns rancid in the mouth just as easily as it can be the scarry darkness at the bottom of the stairs that suddenly illuminates revealing the bright component that completes the puzzle you have been working on for years. The important thing to keep in mind, is that it is indeed the past. No effort on your part can make it breathe into the present. You cannot pick up the fragment of the mirror and force the image to walk in this time and space any more than you can give the words on the page any depth or meaning that isn't anchored to the exact moment when they were truly vocalized. Certainly you can imbue your life with overtones from the past. You can let it sway your decision making, give it precedence in such a way that the past has more power than the present to move you forward. But then, when you think of it that way - how do you ever move forward? If everything you do is driven by the past? If there is truly no present because you do not exist in that time frame based on your own capacity to frame the time?
I have found that a good does of nostalgia can be warming. In fact I think it is healthy. I believe it keeps us atttached to our roots. But I know quite a few people who actually live day to day hoping that tomorrow will bring back yesterday. And let's face it, that is just not going to happen. If you are lucky, the very best you can hope is that the address you lost will turn up again sometime in the future and you will be able to reconnect with the person you are missing. But don't expect to find them unchanged - and don't ask them to see you as if time has not passed.
In a way it seems that is part of the tragedy of being human. We spend such a large part of our youth rushing to grow up. Discarding parts of our identity as we seek to become our "adult" selves, only to reach a certain point where looking over our shoulders is more satisfying then looking ahead. Perhaps we tire of the race? Or perhaps we tire of the mounting reqrets - for what we leave behind as we press ahead. Whatever the reason it is best to learn that the past lies there in its glory, not to be raised again for the re-living of it. But to be cherished for the memories it provides, the lessons we might take from it and the inspiration that hides beneath the surface. Yes, inspiration, for even if the road has been long, harsh and winding, we have at least gotten far enough to look back upon it. We have climbed this far, and that is worth the view.
There may indeed be fractures in the looking glass, but if I tilt them this way and that, when the light comes in I get a fine set or prisms. How much more do I need?
The past is a strange thing. It can be a sweet treat that turns rancid in the mouth just as easily as it can be the scarry darkness at the bottom of the stairs that suddenly illuminates revealing the bright component that completes the puzzle you have been working on for years. The important thing to keep in mind, is that it is indeed the past. No effort on your part can make it breathe into the present. You cannot pick up the fragment of the mirror and force the image to walk in this time and space any more than you can give the words on the page any depth or meaning that isn't anchored to the exact moment when they were truly vocalized. Certainly you can imbue your life with overtones from the past. You can let it sway your decision making, give it precedence in such a way that the past has more power than the present to move you forward. But then, when you think of it that way - how do you ever move forward? If everything you do is driven by the past? If there is truly no present because you do not exist in that time frame based on your own capacity to frame the time?
I have found that a good does of nostalgia can be warming. In fact I think it is healthy. I believe it keeps us atttached to our roots. But I know quite a few people who actually live day to day hoping that tomorrow will bring back yesterday. And let's face it, that is just not going to happen. If you are lucky, the very best you can hope is that the address you lost will turn up again sometime in the future and you will be able to reconnect with the person you are missing. But don't expect to find them unchanged - and don't ask them to see you as if time has not passed.
In a way it seems that is part of the tragedy of being human. We spend such a large part of our youth rushing to grow up. Discarding parts of our identity as we seek to become our "adult" selves, only to reach a certain point where looking over our shoulders is more satisfying then looking ahead. Perhaps we tire of the race? Or perhaps we tire of the mounting reqrets - for what we leave behind as we press ahead. Whatever the reason it is best to learn that the past lies there in its glory, not to be raised again for the re-living of it. But to be cherished for the memories it provides, the lessons we might take from it and the inspiration that hides beneath the surface. Yes, inspiration, for even if the road has been long, harsh and winding, we have at least gotten far enough to look back upon it. We have climbed this far, and that is worth the view.
There may indeed be fractures in the looking glass, but if I tilt them this way and that, when the light comes in I get a fine set or prisms. How much more do I need?
Monday, April 16, 2012
Are You Talking to Me?
Have you ever wondered what it is about a seminar, conference or class that makes people seem to naturally pool outside the doors rather than in the classroom? What is so compelling about being in the hallway rather then in the lecture space? Is it because we already know the material? Or is it because we want to know more about the other people that were interested in the topic that drew us to the same place at the same time?
Luckily for those that host these sessions, and for those that speak at them, people do eventually sit down (or at least enough for the room to look occupied). Information gets transfered from the speakers to the audience and break comes - then the lag to enter the room starts over again. Typically at some point though the system does break down and the end of the day speakers are mostly speaking to each other - while the audience is busy getting to know each other in the hallway.
Why?
I have become increasingly convinced that it is not so much that we already know the material. Why bother to go if there is nothing new to learn? I believe, however, that the learning occurs in the hallways. We learn from the experiences of the people who have come seeking answers. We learn from the questions that they bounce off of each other and from the responses they receive. This instant exchange is proving more powerful a learning tool than that provided by the speakers limited frame. They cannot anticipate the needs of the audience and are often boxed in by the trajectory of the presentations they have prepared, which do not leave openings for the questions people have or if they do, the time is spent on the slides rather then on the interaction with the audience.
And this is why the hallways are so important. In just 30 minutes of hallway banter I may pick up 3 or more highly effective bits of data that will help solve my business needs. Or if the session is of a more personal nature, may direct themselves at helping me work out a particularly difficult element in something I am writing but have been blocked on. Sometimes this happens at business events, which I suppose I should find schocking as the topics are never really that close together - but inspiration comes from the wildest of places.
The point is - we have entered an age where learning is no longer something we do at the conclusion of a chapter. It is something we do as we run to complete the task. In a global age, where the pace of media consumption earmarks our capacity to achieve, our learning curve is now based not on the test at the end of the session, but by the growth achieved during the session. We can no longer measure the value of our knowledge growth on these antiquated measures, rather the value is on how we can apply what we are learning now to the now of what we are doing.
So that being said, are you talking to me? If you are and I haven't responded, I apologize, apparently I am not paying enough attention to what you might be able to teach me. Can you repeat the message?
Luckily for those that host these sessions, and for those that speak at them, people do eventually sit down (or at least enough for the room to look occupied). Information gets transfered from the speakers to the audience and break comes - then the lag to enter the room starts over again. Typically at some point though the system does break down and the end of the day speakers are mostly speaking to each other - while the audience is busy getting to know each other in the hallway.
Why?
I have become increasingly convinced that it is not so much that we already know the material. Why bother to go if there is nothing new to learn? I believe, however, that the learning occurs in the hallways. We learn from the experiences of the people who have come seeking answers. We learn from the questions that they bounce off of each other and from the responses they receive. This instant exchange is proving more powerful a learning tool than that provided by the speakers limited frame. They cannot anticipate the needs of the audience and are often boxed in by the trajectory of the presentations they have prepared, which do not leave openings for the questions people have or if they do, the time is spent on the slides rather then on the interaction with the audience.
And this is why the hallways are so important. In just 30 minutes of hallway banter I may pick up 3 or more highly effective bits of data that will help solve my business needs. Or if the session is of a more personal nature, may direct themselves at helping me work out a particularly difficult element in something I am writing but have been blocked on. Sometimes this happens at business events, which I suppose I should find schocking as the topics are never really that close together - but inspiration comes from the wildest of places.
The point is - we have entered an age where learning is no longer something we do at the conclusion of a chapter. It is something we do as we run to complete the task. In a global age, where the pace of media consumption earmarks our capacity to achieve, our learning curve is now based not on the test at the end of the session, but by the growth achieved during the session. We can no longer measure the value of our knowledge growth on these antiquated measures, rather the value is on how we can apply what we are learning now to the now of what we are doing.
So that being said, are you talking to me? If you are and I haven't responded, I apologize, apparently I am not paying enough attention to what you might be able to teach me. Can you repeat the message?
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