So far, in this blog, whenever I talk about what I've been doing, it's been mostly about what I've been making. Somehow, that's seemed a good measure of my existence. I have another long-dormant blog about music that I guess is about experiencing, so this one has been about making.
But sometimes I'm too busy for making stuff. Dinner is just sausage and salad, or leftovers, or going out. There is no jewelry, no homemade bread, the garden is asleep for the winter. What the heck am I doing with the rest of my time?
I've got to learn to value the things I do, even when there is no concrete product as an outcome. I mean, first of all, I'm a child and family therapist for a living. I spent ten years in school, and another couple of years writing that damn paper, and in many ways, my career is hugely important to my identity. I love what I do. And in that career, I don't make a damn thing, at least not anything tangible. What I create is clearly not the only measure of who I am, and I think I understood that better six or eight years ago. Before I really became a Portlander, where making is such a huge part of the culture. So let's file my job, my career, under doing. And working, I suppose. I probably put in 45 hours most weeks, or more (almost never less), with some really rewarding time with kids and with families (okay, and some really crappy time with a few families), and some not-so-rewarding time with documentation and meetings and wrangling people who haven't done what they said they would do, or what their job descriptions say they'll do. I'm good at these things. Oh, except the documentation part, I'm always behind on that. But I work intensely with a small caseload of young, severely mentally ill children and their families, and even with some that don't have families. I currently work with three of the twelve most mentally ill children between the ages of 5 and 14 in the state of Oregon, by at least one measure. I do feel some significant satisfaction from doing my job well. And really, a big part of my job is about being even more than about doing. I am most effective in my job when I can be the person who makes a child feel safe, and when I can be the person who helps a family feel confident they can try things differently.
The really big thing I did since I last posted oh-so-long ago should be filed under experiencing. The Lovely Boyfriend and I decided to avoid the increasingly irrelevant holidays-apart-with-our-respective-parents-in-places-that-were-never-our-homes and went to Greece for two weeks around Christmas and New Year's. Why Greece? Because it was interesting and cheap. It is always financially a great idea to go somewhere where the economy is worse than it is here, whether our economy is booming or sucking. I remember going to Canada a few years ago and spending nine (US) dollars every time I wanted a beer. No thanks. Greece has six thousand years of history to explore, and hotels and food are cheap right now. It was amazing. We ate well, stayed in beautiful places, and took advantage of both the off-season and the Greek collapse to do it all for less than I even thought possible. Tons of people have asked me whether the protests were a big deal. No, not at all. In Athens, we saw some armed folks looking bored, guarding parliament. Crete, where we spent most of our time, was marvelously removed and truly amazing. The towns there are smallish, and some things were closed for the winter or had limited hours, but we had more than enough to do, see, experience, explore, eat, and drink. My favorite tradition there was that they would automatically charge us a euro for bread, but then would sometimes bring us amuses bouches (there's probably a Greek word for 'tiny appetizers' that I don't know) that they wouldn't charge us for, and nearly every restaurant on Crete and a couple in Athens brought us a little vial of after-dinner drink and a small dessert for free. One place brought us two desserts, one small and one full-sized. Cretan after-dinner drinks were always 'raki' (not the kind Wikipedia describes, a Turkish or Eastern European anise-flavored liquor, but rather something much like grappa), also known as tsikoudia. Very nice. One place in Athens brought us a mastic-flavored liqueur that was one of my favorite things of the trip. We saw ruins, and archaeological finds, and 15th-century Venetian-built marvels (and stayed in them! Our hotels for six days in two cities on Crete were close to six hundred years old), and olive and orange groves, and beaches, and monasteries and churches and mosques, and all sorts of history, and ate lamb and sausage and cheese and yogurt and vegetables. And lots of olive oil.
When we got back, we got four baby chicks that are going to grow up to be egg-laying backyard chickens. The Lovely Boyfriend is busy designing a coop, and we're both feeding and cooing over and trying to make friends with the chicks. We made (okay, that's making, I suppose) a brooder box for the chicks out of a salvaged kitchen cupboard.
So from now on, I plan to give some credit to everything I do. Making is important, but so is working, and doing, and experiencing. Learning, and trying, and tasting, and exploring. Pushing myself, growing things, involving myself with people, enjoying, embracing, and even relaxing and letting go. As long as I can do these things while minimizing buying, using, and consuming, I'm moving in the right direction. It's not about the product, it's about the process. And I love process!
But sometimes I'm too busy for making stuff. Dinner is just sausage and salad, or leftovers, or going out. There is no jewelry, no homemade bread, the garden is asleep for the winter. What the heck am I doing with the rest of my time?
I've got to learn to value the things I do, even when there is no concrete product as an outcome. I mean, first of all, I'm a child and family therapist for a living. I spent ten years in school, and another couple of years writing that damn paper, and in many ways, my career is hugely important to my identity. I love what I do. And in that career, I don't make a damn thing, at least not anything tangible. What I create is clearly not the only measure of who I am, and I think I understood that better six or eight years ago. Before I really became a Portlander, where making is such a huge part of the culture. So let's file my job, my career, under doing. And working, I suppose. I probably put in 45 hours most weeks, or more (almost never less), with some really rewarding time with kids and with families (okay, and some really crappy time with a few families), and some not-so-rewarding time with documentation and meetings and wrangling people who haven't done what they said they would do, or what their job descriptions say they'll do. I'm good at these things. Oh, except the documentation part, I'm always behind on that. But I work intensely with a small caseload of young, severely mentally ill children and their families, and even with some that don't have families. I currently work with three of the twelve most mentally ill children between the ages of 5 and 14 in the state of Oregon, by at least one measure. I do feel some significant satisfaction from doing my job well. And really, a big part of my job is about being even more than about doing. I am most effective in my job when I can be the person who makes a child feel safe, and when I can be the person who helps a family feel confident they can try things differently.
The really big thing I did since I last posted oh-so-long ago should be filed under experiencing. The Lovely Boyfriend and I decided to avoid the increasingly irrelevant holidays-apart-with-our-respective-parents-in-places-that-were-never-our-homes and went to Greece for two weeks around Christmas and New Year's. Why Greece? Because it was interesting and cheap. It is always financially a great idea to go somewhere where the economy is worse than it is here, whether our economy is booming or sucking. I remember going to Canada a few years ago and spending nine (US) dollars every time I wanted a beer. No thanks. Greece has six thousand years of history to explore, and hotels and food are cheap right now. It was amazing. We ate well, stayed in beautiful places, and took advantage of both the off-season and the Greek collapse to do it all for less than I even thought possible. Tons of people have asked me whether the protests were a big deal. No, not at all. In Athens, we saw some armed folks looking bored, guarding parliament. Crete, where we spent most of our time, was marvelously removed and truly amazing. The towns there are smallish, and some things were closed for the winter or had limited hours, but we had more than enough to do, see, experience, explore, eat, and drink. My favorite tradition there was that they would automatically charge us a euro for bread, but then would sometimes bring us amuses bouches (there's probably a Greek word for 'tiny appetizers' that I don't know) that they wouldn't charge us for, and nearly every restaurant on Crete and a couple in Athens brought us a little vial of after-dinner drink and a small dessert for free. One place brought us two desserts, one small and one full-sized. Cretan after-dinner drinks were always 'raki' (not the kind Wikipedia describes, a Turkish or Eastern European anise-flavored liquor, but rather something much like grappa), also known as tsikoudia. Very nice. One place in Athens brought us a mastic-flavored liqueur that was one of my favorite things of the trip. We saw ruins, and archaeological finds, and 15th-century Venetian-built marvels (and stayed in them! Our hotels for six days in two cities on Crete were close to six hundred years old), and olive and orange groves, and beaches, and monasteries and churches and mosques, and all sorts of history, and ate lamb and sausage and cheese and yogurt and vegetables. And lots of olive oil.
When we got back, we got four baby chicks that are going to grow up to be egg-laying backyard chickens. The Lovely Boyfriend is busy designing a coop, and we're both feeding and cooing over and trying to make friends with the chicks. We made (okay, that's making, I suppose) a brooder box for the chicks out of a salvaged kitchen cupboard.
So from now on, I plan to give some credit to everything I do. Making is important, but so is working, and doing, and experiencing. Learning, and trying, and tasting, and exploring. Pushing myself, growing things, involving myself with people, enjoying, embracing, and even relaxing and letting go. As long as I can do these things while minimizing buying, using, and consuming, I'm moving in the right direction. It's not about the product, it's about the process. And I love process!
