I’m a fan of Zoe Weil, author and creator of Humane Education.  Today she hit the nail on the head with her critique of cause marketing (you know, when you buy a product where some of the proceeds go to a charity).  I am definitely a partaker in the cause marketing machine.  I often chose the product — the organic t-shirt at my favorite eco-store or the salad dressing at the natural food store — that has a give-back.  But what Zoe wrote is so obvious — and actually so much truer to what I am trying to do with Having Enough — that it has given me a major a-ha moment.

I have been feeling lately that I need to cut down on consumption, and assuaging this nagging feeling by buying green or “charitable” products is fooling myself.  It’s still stuff that I likely can live without.  I’m still buying, still adding stuff to an overstuffed cabinet.  Just because the stuff seems “worthy” doesn’t mean that I should get the stuff.  If I’m honest, I wouldn’t necessarily need all the stuff anyway, so cause marketing gives an excuse to buy stuff I may not have bought.

Zoe uses the term “greenwashing” in her post.  Forgive me if I’ve been under the rock of pregnancy/childbirth this past year, but it was a new term to me.  The concept, though, is familiar.  The idea that green is hip — great, except it is often being taken advantage of to fuel the consumer machine.

Last year, I was offered a shot at a lucrative writing assignment for a disposable diaper company who wanted a “lite green mom” to blog regularly about eco issues for the diaper company’s web site.  Did they have a new disposable diaper that was biodegradable or at least made without chlorine bleach, or some new alternative diaper? What was green about their disposable diapers? I inquired.  No response, and no job for me.  I deduced that “lite green” meant someone who was willing to promote the worst kind of landfill-clogging disposable diapers without asking these (obvious!) questions. But, if they have a “green mom” blog, people could somehow feel better about buying their un-green product??  Greenwashing, yes.

Once again, I see the need to look beyond the obvious.  I saw clearly the hypocrisy on the writing assignment, but I had not before stopped to think deeply about the “other side” of cause marketing and my own role in it.  Living and learning.  And next time I’ll think twice…

I have been peripheral to a fair amount of death lately.  Two of my very closest friends lost their fathers in the past few months, one after an excruciating illness and another in a shockingly sudden way. A college friend called last week and told me she lost her stepmother.  A dear new friend lost her grandfather last week, and I see my own grandparents are moving farther from their former selves each day.  Meanwhile, I follow the blog of another friend, who is dealing with the loss of her husband; and today my family acknowledges the birthday of our beloved Aunt Phyllis, who succombed to ALS just weeks after my daughter was born.

I was also surprised and touched to receive a comment this week from Jen Ballantyne of “The Comfy Place,” a blog I follow with a lump in my throat each time I read.  I’ve never met Jen, who lives in Australia, but I have mentioned her here before, as her documenting of her daily battle with terminal cancer, and her emotional agony at the thought of leaving her young son, is one of the most poignant stories I’ve ever read.  Blogging puts her day-to-day struggle in real-time in such a way that she has gained a ton of supporters from around the globe, all of us whom are so invested in her survival against the odds that humanity and community are highlighted in ways we rarely see these days.

Then, of course, there is the constancy of death surrounding us all — the wars, violence, and disease we see on the news each night.  And, yet, we have trouble talking about death in our culture. Unlike the parades of calaveras on Dia De Los Muertos to our south, we tend to whisper furtively about death, perhaps to avoid its grasp, or to put on a strong face and “move on” here in the United States.

In my own home, we have yet to describe death to our three-year-old.  We are somehow protecting her from it until it gets close enough that we must engage with it, and until then we tell her the dog next door went to live somewhere else where she is well and not sick anymore.  Do I think this is a great idea?  I don’t know.  Ironically, this is a child with a life-threatening medical condition (who has a father with a similar condition), and yet she is so far from understanding what that means.  Perhaps ignorance is bliss at three, and especially with her particular situation.  We do not want to instill fear in her.  But perhaps she is closer to the circle of life than we give her credit for, given that she is so new to this Earth.  Perhaps she would be less afraid than we are, if death was a more normal part of our culture and daily life.

Keeping ourselves removed from death somehow also removes us from life, doesn’t it?  If we allowed ourselves to be closer to it, to engage with it more fully and openly, would we perhaps live more consciously, enjoy each moment more, walk our talk more truly, speak our truths more loudly?  Would we be more connected with our souls or spirits, even our bodies?  Are hospice workers or doctors or soldiers more connected in these ways?  I’m sure it depends on the person, but I can only imagine that seeing death daily allows more opportunity to ponder the meaning of life.  Isn’t that part of why people love Grey’s Anatomy and all those hospital shows?  These shows’ stories let us engage with death and life — passively, of course — and have some catharsis.  Easier to cry about Izzie’s cancer than our uncle’s, perhaps?

This is all just musing, as usual, but there is something to the jolt of life I feel each time I engage with death.  There is something about death that we can use as a gift to the living.  It is the ultimate perspective.  The critical lesson. The great equalizer.  It is common to every one of us, eventually, from ladybugs to presidents.

None of this is new thinking, just my thinking today.  And, tomorrow, having written this, I will pay more attention and feel more gratitude.  That is becoming, and for today that is enough.

I know, it’s a lot of book posts lately, and this will be the last one for a while.  I just had to share a tidbit of a group email I received from Miriam Peskowitz (embarrasingly long ago, in April, but hey, new baby here!) about her latest book, The Double-Daring Book for Girls, which she co-authored with Andrea Buchanan.  I can attest to the fab-ness of this book, as I had the privilege of being Miriam’s story editor on her chapters last year, and I loved every word of it.  The book inspires me, and I can’t wait until my daughter is old enough to use it (cuz you “use” this book more than read it).

Reading over what Miriam wrote, I realized I had to share the Daring vision with more people, as it truly speaks to the Having Enough mentality, and I do believe will make our kids’ childhoods, and our world when they’re adults, better.  She wrote:

The Double-Daring Book for Girls continues the Daring vision. In its pages, girls don’t have to grow up so fast. Girlhood can be both smarter and more fun. There’s room for all girls to be who they are, and to resist some of the well-known social pressures they may feel.  A chapter on Friendship offers an alternative to the “mean girls” mentality. The Double-Daring world is a big place, with lots of room for girls, and all of us, to move and run and explore, and then, curl up with a good book when day is done.

It’s not often in history that girls and women have been encouraged to be daring. I’m proud that Double-Daring is part of that encouragement.

On a similar note, I urge you to check out this post — “Dear Pixar, From All The Girls With Band-Aids On Their Knees” – on NPR’s blog.  Part of creating a Having Enough world is having enough of stereotypes of our daughters (and sons!), and creating new visions of gender for a new tomorrow.

Enjoy!

Recently, when a friend mentioned she was going on a trip, our three-year-old replied nonchalantly, “Oh, are you going to meet The President?”  In her toddler world, it is normal for people to travel to meet The President.  As in, THE President.  Of the United States.  ”I’m going to meet Barack Obama someday,” she says casually.

Well, why not?  Her own daddy had the great honor of meeting President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama on the President’s 99th day in office a few weeks ago.   And, for my first-ever photo on this wordy blog, here is the proof, Alex (left),with Michelle and Barack Obama, and Tony Mullen, the 2009 National Teacher of the Year (Alex made the top 4 finalist round and still serves as 2009 California Teacher of the Year).

So, when MotherTalk called for bloggers to review Obama: The Historic Journey, a New York Times book for young readers, it seemed only fitting that I review it, given my new two degrees of separation and all.  Before I share my thoughts on the book, though, I’ll tell you Alex’s thoughts on the Obamas: genuine, down-to-earth, friendly, affectionate, like regular folks that we might be friends with.  Nice to hear.  (And my brother, who got my ticket to the Rose Garden, as I was back West with the newborn and toddler, said the same.)

And now for the book.  Here are my second, third and fourth photos ever posted on this wordy blog (yes, I am a bit technologically challenged!) because, truly, what is best about this book is the stunning collection of photographs of Obama’s journey.

Flipping through this glossy hardcover the day it arrived in the mail, both Alex and I were moved to near tears — the photography is simply world-class, capturing behind-the-scenes moments with emotion and a gut-punch clarity.  For the photos alone, this book is a keeper that will remain on my shelf through many a declutter purge, for sure.

The book editor in me has some quibbles with the text, which I think is fine, but misses its potential to be great.  It reads like a typical middle-grade textbook (I used to work for an educational publisher as an associate editor of middle grade textbooks and workbooks) — although I also found some of the terms used, yet left undefined, a bit off for the target age range (8-12).  However, it is not a textbook but a 95-page coffee table book, so it also reads as incomplete and a bit rough (rushed, perhaps?) at times.

I must say that, coming from the New York Times, there was a missed opportunity to make the text more thematically interesting than it is.  One chapter focuses on the behind-the-scenes decision-making on headlines and front-page stories at the NYT for the day after the historic election — I loved this (I’m also a former print journalist) and it’s something nobody else could write (as opposed to a basic summary of Obama’s parents, for example).  Couldn’t they have framed the whole book around how the newspaper got and presented all of these stories on Obama’s past and present?  Or used and showed different NYT headlines from the campaign? Might have made it a bit more unique and compelling for young readers.  When reading Amazon reviews of the adult version of this book, it seems more centered on the journalism as a theme — why don’t the kids get this, too?

The book does a good job of touching on many aspects of Obama’s background (much taken directly from his first book, Dreams From My Father, a great must-read, BTW!) and issues in the election, which I’m not sure all of the other Obama books do. But it also leaves some big questions hanging that a teacher or homeschooling parent must be prepared to answer (or help a student research) if actually using this book as a teaching tool.  (That can be good — I can imagine using it in homeschooling one day to spark further explanations and conversations about politics and Obama himself.)  It has some good reference visuals, too, such as the electoral votes map and McCain/Obama issues stances in columns.

In sum: Obama: The Historic Journey is a nice summary of the Obama 101 basics for young readers, though I wish there was more of a NYT stamp on it thematically, and the book’s photographs get an A+.  I could look at them over and over (and have).  Worth having on the shelf.

In closing: It’s particularly worth having these Obama images in our house, where we have this book placed next to Alex’s photo with the Obamas to remind us of this moment when our paths crossed the President’s. We still pinch ourselves when we think about Alex’s day in the Rose Garden with Obama, who makes us pinch ourselves constantly that our country has made this call for much-needed change.  Amen.

It’s been a blur of “once in a lifetime” moments around here these days, specifically for my husband, Alex, in the context of being named California Teacher of the Year. But he has been most generous in sharing these moments with as many people as possible.

Last night, Alex gave my dad a once-in-a-lifetime moment when he brought Dad out on the field at the San Diego Padres game to catch the ceremonial first pitch Alex threw. My dad was a catcher in his younger days, recruited by the then-Milwaukee Braves, but he chose instead to pursue the surer path of getting a higher education and having a family. What beautiful full circle it was last night for him to catch his first major league pitch, from his teacher son-in-law, on “education night” at the ballpark.

Last week, Alex met the Obamas at the White House (more on this soon!) and hung out at the Bidens’ house on Mass Ave (my old undergrad address) in Washington, D.C.  He gave my brother and his cousin a great memory, too, when he brought them along to meet the Prez (I stayed back West with the little ones) — also giving my brother a great story to share with my nephews for years to come.

But, my favorite “once in a lifetime” gesture of Alex these days may just be that he made the choice to pass up a 10-day educational trip to Japan this summer so he could be home with me and the kids.  He said, “I’ve had a crazy year of once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, and this trip could be another one. But I believe that it is also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to spend my time with my three-month-old, my three-year-old, and my wife, so I will not be taking the trip.”

And, with that, I believe we are back to the heart of Having Enough.

When I started this blog in the summer of 2007, one of my main goals was to have a continuing conversation about success, and redefining it as something internal rather than external.  For me, success was about defining values, then consciously creating a life where those values play a central role.

I was (and still am) concerned that our  popular culture generally offers much more destructive versions of success — our mass media touting consumer goods, physical appearances, and “important” titles as the ways to define our achievements in this life.   Over and over in my life, I was seeing that conceiving of success as internal and values-driven led to more fulfillment and inner peace than any of the messages we continually receive about external measures of success and “having it all.”

As Gandhi famously said, “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.”  In my own words, when we feel we have enough — in the deepest and simplest sense — we can claim success.  Which is not as easy as it sounds.

Suzy Welch’s new book, 10-10-10, is actually based on a very similar revelation and concept — that of creating a values-driven life, one decision at a time.  Perhaps that’s why MotherTalk gave me the privilege of reviewing Welch’s latest book here at Having Enough.  Welch’s premise is that by using a decision-making paradigm, 10-10-10, to guide us, we can “create a life of our own making” and live our life with meaning and peace of mind, rather than “letting our life live us.”

She came to the 10-10-10 idea when she was a working mother with young children, trying desperately to “have it all.”  As she explains in her skilled and candid story-telling, it wasn’t working for her.  She was stretched too thin, trying to hard, working too much, and still not fulfilling herself or the needs of her children.  Something had to give.

And then, one day in Hawaii after a botched business trip (on which she tried to take three kids as “quiet companions” — ha!), she came up with 10-10-10.  The concept is simple: for each decision you make, ask yourself, what are the consequences in 10 minutes, 10 months, and 10 years? But, just like Having Enough, an idea that seems simple is actually more complex and profound than at first glance.

I admit, when I first received 10-10-10, I wondered if the concept was better suited for one of her columns than an entire book.  How could she talk about this one decision-making procedure for 220 pages?  But, then, I started to read, and what began to unfold was that 10-10-10 is actually much more than a pithy idea, but a values-driven system for creating our own success.

Welch illustrates, through myriad stories from her own life and others’, that not only can this system apply to various situations (from work to relationships to parenting) but it also, if used consistently, can keep you in check with your own life mission statement.  In other words, if you apply the 10-10-10 principle (which really just means conjuring the short-, medium-, and long-term consequences of your actions) regularly in your life, you are basically forced to continually re-examine your deepest values and whether you are living by them.  10-10-10 seems to work in holding people accountable for their authenticity — which adds to happiness.

I haven’t had a major decsion to make in the week since I received and read 10-10-10, but I’m eager to try it.  Welch’s many examples — the string of examples from her own life and the turning-point stories of other people’s use of the principle — have convinced me it is worth using.

As a career coach, I often urged clients to reflect on their values, and I often asked them to imagine how “their 80-year-old self” would look back on a decision (in the case of my clients, it was usually whether to stay in a PhD program or change careers!) — and this worked well for some people who could imagine that way.  But I see how 10-10-10 gives a more specific and concrete method to examine values and decisions that even the skeptics can often get on board with.

It doesn’t take any certain value system to use — in fact, from her stories I gather that Welch and I actually have pretty different values on some fronts — and that is the beauty of her system.  It only asks you to consider your own values, and how they play into each and every choice we make. I like it.

In short, 10-10-10 is worth checking out for Having Enough fans, for anyone who likes a good storyteller and a good idea, and for anyone who wants to live more authentically, in tune with their deepest values.  Please let me know if you use it and how it works for you!

I keep thinking of this story I read about on Bullseye, Baby! a while back, so I just have to share it with you here.  Please check out Jena Strong’s amazing telling of it, and her link to the full news story above, but here’s the short of it:

It’s about how a world-famous violinist (whom people pay hundreds of dollars a ticket to see on stage) played in a subway station, and the only people who stopped to really listen to his music were children — whose parents were trying to hurry them along.

I think about this often, and I try to remember to stop and pay attention when my three-year-old wants to show me a flower, or notices a reflection in a puddle — to remember the genius a child sees that we adults often miss (or think we must pay hundreds of dollars for).

Children give us a gift by noticing beauty that we pass by in all of our busyness.  I’m trying to remember to accept that gift more often.

OK, if you have six minutes to spare and would like a little inspiration, check out this video of a British “spinster” showing some shallow-minded folks that it’s what’s inside that counts.

This woman is a true example of following your dreams, and not letting others’ judgements stop you (and she happens to sing one of my all-time favorite songs to boot!).  She gave me chills.

I’ve started thinking a bit too much about the end of the world.  I know, it’s morbid.  And, yes, perhaps the postpartum hormones and sleep deprivation have something to do with it.

But, in our house, with Dad traveling more, a newborn, a needy toddler and a tired Mom, we’ve been slacking lately on our eco and Having Enough commitments. Letting the cloth napkins pile up and using paper ones, eating quesadillas more often than fresh vegetables, wanting things and buying things to fill holes that could be filled without spending money, standing in the shower way too long when I get one, letting the plastic (wraps, bags, toys) in, bit by bit, because we’re too tired to fight it.

It’s so easy to slip when we are overwhelmed and busy, to buy or eat or accept (or think) junk. Our consumer society actually counts on this.  Alex and I re-viewed the enlightening The Story of Stuff recently to remind us of this fact, and help us get back on track.

In the big scheme, I know we are doing a decent job in our lifestlye.  And I always applaud the eco activists who remind us that even they are not perfectly eco, and that we all must do what we can right now and be OK with that, and then improve one step at a time. I also always agree with the psychologists who tell people to be gentle with themselves when they are in transition, and to not “should” on and torture themselves when they aren’t doing everything as they want to be.

But, we have taken some steps back lately and I can feel the difference.  It feels cluttery, kind of dirty, it smells like chemicals and tastes like processed food.  It’s connected to my emotional state, which is not at its shiny finest as I struggle with the newness of trying to mother two children and the mixed blessing of my husband’s career moving up a notch. I am beating myself up more than usual, and I “shoulded” myself aloud today about our lack of composting, in front of some eco mom friends who promptly pounced on my “shoulding” and I felt even worse.  Because I know better.  On all fronts.

Things are a bit muddy right now — good, still, just muddy — for me.  I have my foundational perspective of all that I have, of course — I look at my family and am only thankful — but I want to have more perspective, to feel clearer again, to feel that I have more to give, and that is a sign to me that I’m a bit off my center.

So, as I sit in the dark of night nursing my child, imagining which generation will finally pay the ultimate price for our heaps of trash and energy squandering and consumer culture — will they know the end of the Earth is near, or will it just up and implode one day? will it look like the movies where things get grey and dark and desperate? will they be humans like us or some other form of humans? — I realize I’m getting a little extreme, and maybe could use some more sleep.

Still, I will know I’m feeling back to my center when my cloth napkins are back on the table and the plastic bags out of my kitchen drawer, when I have a Netflix night with my husband,  when I’m not obsessively envisioning the end of the world, and when I’m gentle with myself again.  In other words, when I’m back to enough.

Three and a half weeks ago, I had a baby boy.  He came in the middle of the night, in our bedroom, in the blow-up pool we had ready to welcome him, midwives’ hands catching him, his big sister sleeping down the hall, then greeting him moments later in her polka-dotted footie pajamas, her grandparents coming in the front door just after that . Our son’s name means “flowing water” and that he did — surfed out of me and into the pool, so smoothly I thought it was a dream (quite different than his sister three years earlier!!).  Surrounded by family and familiarity, I am so very grateful we had such a birth.

And, since then, it is all a blur. And will continue to be so, I’m sure. Big sis adjusting to her world changed (um, is there an opposite to “adjusting”?). Little brother adjusting to the world, period. Mom and Dad adjusting to juggling two all-consuming children. Lack of sleep, lots of crying (yes, parents included some days). But laughing, too. At least once a day.  In fact, our ability to laugh amidst the chaos is how I know how lucky I am.  Even in exhaustion, I know how important that is.  And I know that is enough.

More later, hope all are well…