Starfish

This is a post in two parts.

From 3/21/11:

I find myself unspeakably angry about nuclear proliferation and radiation these days. Earthquakes and tsunamis are horrific and sad, but there is something so much more devastating to me about the nuclear meltdown.

An earthquake is out of our hands. Nothing you can do to stop those plates from banging together.

A tsunami is out of our hands. Nothing you can do to stop sea water from displacing after an earthquake.

But nuclear power plants? Built on the Ring of Fire? Built on these faults where we know earthquakes will happen? Built anywhere? I feel like shaking my fist at all of the heads of state and screaming "You did this! You!"

We did this. I did this. I certainly haven't done my part.

I may be something of a masochist because as my anger builds over the radiation leaking into the water and spinach and the cows, I can't stop myself from reading again about the A-bomb and the Chernobyl disaster. I remember reading this stuff in high school and I felt the injustice so profoundly back then. Turns out I still do.

But I also feel inept. I feel like there is nothing I can possibly do that would actually contribute to disarmament or to making sure no more nuclear energy plants are built? It seems totally insurmountable. I mean, how do you get rid of these chemicals? What does disarmament even mean? It's not like you can just put them in the trash or recycling. What have we done?

I was going to link up to some slide shows and pictures of nuclear aftermath. The burns and the keloids; the birth defects and the blood; the crumbled buildings and dead trees. But you know what it looks like. And you can find those images easily. I don't need to put them here.

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Then I stopped writing and wanted to think some more about how to finish my thoughts.

From 3/23/11:

Then I had dinner with Addie last night.

We were talking about something deep, but not Japan, or even Libya. And she told a story that someone had shared with her.

There was a man standing on the seashore and a large wave came in and washed thousands of starfish onto the beach. They were everywhere. The man started throwing the starfish one by one back into the sea. Another man approached and said, "Why are you bothering? There are thousands of starfish and it will never make a difference." The man picked up another starfish and and threw it into the sea and said "It makes a difference to that one."

I guess that's the point, isn't it? If I think about the tragedy in the world on a grand scale, it's inevitable that I'll find the problems insurmountable. I can't fix the meltdown or undo atomic energy.

So I could sit around and feel badly about that or I could throw a starfish in the ocean.

I can treat my clients with dignity and respect, understanding that they might walk in to my office feeling angry and helpless and disenfranchised. And that just maybe I can make things better for that person.

I can be patient and loving to Johan. I can give him hugs and model kindness. I can make him feel safe in our home and at his school and in the world. I can teach him values of peace (and disarmament!)

And while those things won't save the world from natural disaster or nuclear meltdowns, they certainly will matter to the starfish I can get back into the sea.

Johan-style Party

I know I promised stories of swimming and pink towers, but this just made my afternoon. The director of Johan's preschool just sent me this e-mail.

"Hi Kristina,
He doing well and not one with a fever;) I will be sure to keep you posted if I notice any changes in him though.
I'm glad you sent an email though because it reminded me that I wanted to share a cute story with you about Bronwyn and Johan from Friday. They were the only "young" preschoolers on Friday and were soooo cute playing together. Bronwyn announced they were going to a party and that there would be cake and ice cream at the party. Johan then chimed in and said there would also be wine and coffee -I thought I heard him correctly when he said "wine", but double checked and want to assure you he did not hear that here;) They continued to play for some time when Johan invited Cinderella (aka, Bronwyn) to go to the Ball with him. What a classy little guy -wine, cinderella and the Ball!"

Wine and coffee, eh? Yep, that's my son. No doubt about it.

Hope: You Know What it Does

Or, just in case you don't know, it springs eternal.

I'd mentioned how much I am looking forward to Twins season because it means a new season is starting.

My divorce was finally final (signed off by Judge and entered as a judgment) on March 15. It already felt final to me, in a lot of ways, but the documents arrived to my office just this week. Without a lot of fanfare. There they were, mixed in with the rest of the mail at work: settlement offers, explanations of benefits on insurance claims, requests from USCIS for more information, visa approvals, and the Judgment and Decree.

The Judgment was not the only thing that arrived this week. This also arrived, with just as little fanfare. One day the ground was covered in snow and the next, there was green.




Underneath wet leaves and grass clippings (snow came early last fall, before I had the chance to finish cleaning up my yard) emerged the first plants of 2011. New growth. When I see perennial flowers sprout up from the ground in the Spring, I believe in renewal. Today I cleared some of those dead leaves out of the gardens and my yard, and the crocuses and I are starting anew.

I'm luckier than the crocuses though because I have sweet seats for the Twins and the crocuses will not be attending any baseball games.

I shall now return us to our regularly scheduled programming...awesome things that Johan does. Next up: swimming lessons and Montessori school!

Check this out

Alright, well, Spring is a little sluggish right now.

Check out the new blog on my right side bar, Hot Sour Salty Sweet. You can also find it here.

My yoga instructor and her husband are traveling through Southeast Asia for several months. I'm so jealous and having spent a short time in Thailand, it makes me want to go back.

The stories and pictures are enough to almost make me be able to feel the warm sun close to the equator. But not quite.

A New Season

It's been an arduous season. Minnesotans love to talk weather. I try not to since it's cliche, but this winter? Man, oh, man; it's been brutal.

I remember last fall in the throes of separation, pain, and cold, I thought to myself, just wait until baseball season. By the Home Opener, I will be in a different place. And I'm damn sure it's true.

There is something hopeful about March. It may be that there is more cold and snow ahead, but it's different than the cold of January. There's hope. There's an end in sight. Better said, there's a beginning in sight. As for me and mine, we decided that today begins the hopefulness of Spring.

Let there be cold and snow. We are looking toward warm sun and flowers erupting from the dirt in the front yard gardens. That was the intention sent out from my yoga mat this morning- hope for the new season. Bring it on.

To keep in the spirit of newness, in the past 5 days, I have received the most wonderful news that 2 (count them TWO) of my closest, dearest, oldest friends are moving home to Minneapolis (one is for sure; one is likely.) They have not lived here in a very long time and life's circumstances are bringing them back to me (and their families, but whatevs, this is my blog).

Another way to think of this is that 50% of my bridesmaids will be living within biking distance from me by the end of 2011. Of course, their importance to me and to Johan is much more than their sea foam green dresses and calla lilies, but if you had to ask me to pick 4 friends to live close by, those bridesmaids would be it. And suddenly, 50% of them may well be in Minneapolis by Labor Day? Now, that is a new season to celebrate.