Yesterday's front page story in my local paper was about Nataline Sarkesian, a 17-year-old girl who died last week after a long bout with cancer and her insurance company's refusal to cover a liver transplant. I read on line that the hospital had found a donor in mid-December but needed $75,000 in cash from the family to proceed. The insurance company reversed itself only after bloggers prompted hundreds of outraged calls and the family staged a rally late last week outside the company headquarters. Hours after the insurance company's decision she was dead.
Here is one of those times where I struggle with the Buddhist admonition to feel compassion even for those you don't like. Here is one of those times I feel that anger is the only appropriate response. I get limited satisfaction from saying to the Democratic presidential candidates, when they call asking for money: Talk to me when you support single-payer universal health care. I get limited satisfaction from talking to people individually as much as I can about the structural defects of our health care system.
Are these slow and small actions enough?
The bottom line is that our health care is driven by the profit motive. Individual and even collective care will always suffer in comparison, and it will be justified by corporate statements such as "people just don't want to pay for experimental care," as if they were to be faulted for that -- as if the could of course afford it if they wanted to and instead were off at the blackjack tables.
When I mentally plot the lines of each of these factors - the profit motive and entrenched corporate power on one axis, the growing outrage and ill health of the voting public on the other- it seems the intersection that will prompt change is just impossibly far away.
I'm not advocating pipe bombs or personal violence against anyone. But I'm afraid simply showing compassion and waiting for people to come around to your example simply doesn't work in the face of systemic greed and power. Of course mindfulness is always needed, to determine compassionate and effective action. But action is also needed.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Working Parent's Dilemma
Mornings for working parents are a tightrope walk at best. I have to say that this year is about the best it's ever been: both kids are in middle school, I am no longer scrambling to assemble healthy lunches and snacks before 8 am, and am even in the nice habit of making a hot breakfast and sitting down for a minute before the bus comes. On the perfect morning, we all sit together and look at the paper to see what's happening in the world.
But I was reminded this week how quickly family life can slide, any time, into stress that wants to break out of the nice little walls we try to build. Waking my oldest at 6:30 or so, she looked up at me sleepily, and with real and not manufactured pain, uttered the dreaded words: Mommy, I'm sick.
I am always vaguely ashamed of the first thought in my mind at this moment. Even as my hand reaches to feel the forehead, and one part of my mind inventories the kitchen to see what I have on hand for comfort foods, the rest of me is immediately thinking, What meetings do I have today? And when? And who with? Can they be cancelled? Postponed? Can she come with me? In the space of a minute my mental space goes from calm to
Within 5 minutes or so the parameters of the day had been established. Little response to the declaration that anyone staying home sick gets no tv or internet for the day. Slight fever. No meetings. A day of rest.
Fortunately, I was able to work from home the whole day. Actually I got to enjoy making her Ramen noodles and spending time together.
And I realize how lucky I am. I've got a good job that lets me be a mom. Parents who drive a bus or punch a clock face the same demands as parents and lose a day's pay or even their jobs. The way the US economy is going, more and more jobs are service jobs, and don't offer vacation or sick time.
But I was reminded this week how quickly family life can slide, any time, into stress that wants to break out of the nice little walls we try to build. Waking my oldest at 6:30 or so, she looked up at me sleepily, and with real and not manufactured pain, uttered the dreaded words: Mommy, I'm sick.
I am always vaguely ashamed of the first thought in my mind at this moment. Even as my hand reaches to feel the forehead, and one part of my mind inventories the kitchen to see what I have on hand for comfort foods, the rest of me is immediately thinking, What meetings do I have today? And when? And who with? Can they be cancelled? Postponed? Can she come with me? In the space of a minute my mental space goes from calm to
Within 5 minutes or so the parameters of the day had been established. Little response to the declaration that anyone staying home sick gets no tv or internet for the day. Slight fever. No meetings. A day of rest.
Fortunately, I was able to work from home the whole day. Actually I got to enjoy making her Ramen noodles and spending time together.
And I realize how lucky I am. I've got a good job that lets me be a mom. Parents who drive a bus or punch a clock face the same demands as parents and lose a day's pay or even their jobs. The way the US economy is going, more and more jobs are service jobs, and don't offer vacation or sick time.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
A Modest Proposal
I've always has a love-hate relationship with work and parenting. I can put a knot in my stomach any time by just thinking about the inherent conflicts -- the expanding hours Americans are expected to put in, the need to balance professional and personal creativity and productivity with the time and work involved in the feeding and care and enjoyment of offspring.
First there's the anti-parent faction at work - you know, the ones who look at you sideways or make snide remarks when you leave at 4:30 or 5 on a regular basis, to beat, as I used to call them, the Day Care Police.
On one hand, I believe that all workers should have, simply, a life - something other than the job that drives them and gives them joy. To that end, everyone ought to have a reason, and the ability, to spend reasonable amounts of time at home and at pursuits other than work.
On the other, I have personally suffered financially through the babyhood and elementary-school-hood of two American citizens-in-training, who will someday (God willing) be productive and engaged workers and taxpayers. Although their father and I cobbled together weekend and off-hour work that required no more than part-time day care, the resulting bill still approached and sometimes topped our mortgage payment. After-school and summer care continued to drain thousands of dollars each year from our family budget - money not spent on home repair, savings, new car, vacations - all the way through middle school.
The tax credit for day care seems like an afterthought and an insult when you consider the enormity of the expense - an expense the state does not see fit to help with at all.
Given the complete lack of interest and support my government has shown in helping with the care and well-being of my children in these extremely formative years, I've sometimes wanted to run for office on the Modest Proposal that MY two little future wage earners should therefore have their future Social Security taxes earmarked entirely to ..... ME. (Much the same way that Al Franken talked about running for office on the platform of eliminating ATM fees.)
Sure, there would be a little bookkeeping and earmarking involved at the IRS. But surely it'd be possible to track my little wage earners' income and make sure I got my slice! Imagine some of the eventual consequences... Childless people would have to put aside extra money in their early-earning years to compensate for the later lack of income! Exactly the inverse of now, where the child-bearing are sucked dry.
I'm just kidding, of course....Mostly. After all, I'd think the goal should be a society where the young and old are cared for by a community of people with ample resources. We've stripped so many supports from families now that parent's weekly schedules and bank accounts are both worn down to the nub. I think I know why there is no universal child care in the US: the parents of very young children, the ones who would have to lobby and advocate to make it happen, are simply too freaking tired.
First there's the anti-parent faction at work - you know, the ones who look at you sideways or make snide remarks when you leave at 4:30 or 5 on a regular basis, to beat, as I used to call them, the Day Care Police.
On one hand, I believe that all workers should have, simply, a life - something other than the job that drives them and gives them joy. To that end, everyone ought to have a reason, and the ability, to spend reasonable amounts of time at home and at pursuits other than work.
On the other, I have personally suffered financially through the babyhood and elementary-school-hood of two American citizens-in-training, who will someday (God willing) be productive and engaged workers and taxpayers. Although their father and I cobbled together weekend and off-hour work that required no more than part-time day care, the resulting bill still approached and sometimes topped our mortgage payment. After-school and summer care continued to drain thousands of dollars each year from our family budget - money not spent on home repair, savings, new car, vacations - all the way through middle school.
The tax credit for day care seems like an afterthought and an insult when you consider the enormity of the expense - an expense the state does not see fit to help with at all.
Given the complete lack of interest and support my government has shown in helping with the care and well-being of my children in these extremely formative years, I've sometimes wanted to run for office on the Modest Proposal that MY two little future wage earners should therefore have their future Social Security taxes earmarked entirely to ..... ME. (Much the same way that Al Franken talked about running for office on the platform of eliminating ATM fees.)
Sure, there would be a little bookkeeping and earmarking involved at the IRS. But surely it'd be possible to track my little wage earners' income and make sure I got my slice! Imagine some of the eventual consequences... Childless people would have to put aside extra money in their early-earning years to compensate for the later lack of income! Exactly the inverse of now, where the child-bearing are sucked dry.
I'm just kidding, of course....Mostly. After all, I'd think the goal should be a society where the young and old are cared for by a community of people with ample resources. We've stripped so many supports from families now that parent's weekly schedules and bank accounts are both worn down to the nub. I think I know why there is no universal child care in the US: the parents of very young children, the ones who would have to lobby and advocate to make it happen, are simply too freaking tired.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Sangha...or, Another Wonderful Google
One more wonderful use for Google - you can use it to find like-minded people and groups in your own back yard. Driving, trying to tell a friend on the phone about my meditation group, I couldn't recall the exact address and instead told him to just Google it
Been going to my sangha more regularly for the past couple of months. Last night I was pleasantly surprised to see an old professional acquaintance, and to learn during the dharma talk that another person there was also a new mom. I loved this, as I often worked for years in non-profits, have struggled with how to reconcile my desire for social change with the buddhist admonition to look deeply and not judge. And I've written a bit here about the natural tension between the daily demands of parenting conflicting with the ideal practice.
I have a wonderful sangha, in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hahn, in which we meditate for a half hour and then have a structured dharma discussion. I have been going for about five years, off and on, and always enjoy the dharma talks. (Since I've been back lately I've remembered what I think of as the "performance anxiety" of meditating with other people. I never have to swallow this much at home...) It is very structured, with each person taking a turn to speak about their practice or their life, in turn. It is not a conversation - one person talks; everyone else listens. Everyone has their different pace, and style, and content. Sometimes I feel I am off stride, sometimes it is easy and fluid. I've often been deeply impressed by the things other people are going through, things you would never guess.
In a way it's like dating was, for me, after my divorce: something you had to go through in order to experience it; to experience yourself in relation to other people. You gain an insight from being there that's not possible by simply reading or studying, however deeply.
Sometimes I circle back to thinking about how important the sangha is in many traditions - the need for the support of community of like-minded people. It makes sense, completely, to recognize the need for eyes and minds other than your own.
Been going to my sangha more regularly for the past couple of months. Last night I was pleasantly surprised to see an old professional acquaintance, and to learn during the dharma talk that another person there was also a new mom. I loved this, as I often worked for years in non-profits, have struggled with how to reconcile my desire for social change with the buddhist admonition to look deeply and not judge. And I've written a bit here about the natural tension between the daily demands of parenting conflicting with the ideal practice.
I have a wonderful sangha, in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hahn, in which we meditate for a half hour and then have a structured dharma discussion. I have been going for about five years, off and on, and always enjoy the dharma talks. (Since I've been back lately I've remembered what I think of as the "performance anxiety" of meditating with other people. I never have to swallow this much at home...) It is very structured, with each person taking a turn to speak about their practice or their life, in turn. It is not a conversation - one person talks; everyone else listens. Everyone has their different pace, and style, and content. Sometimes I feel I am off stride, sometimes it is easy and fluid. I've often been deeply impressed by the things other people are going through, things you would never guess.
In a way it's like dating was, for me, after my divorce: something you had to go through in order to experience it; to experience yourself in relation to other people. You gain an insight from being there that's not possible by simply reading or studying, however deeply.
Sometimes I circle back to thinking about how important the sangha is in many traditions - the need for the support of community of like-minded people. It makes sense, completely, to recognize the need for eyes and minds other than your own.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
What Counts for Progress
I've got a closer relationship with my credit card companies than I'd like. While trying for years to impose fiscal discipline and live within my means, I somehow manage to periodically amass a scary and impressive credit card balance. Usually it metastasizes onto more than one card.
Recently I sat down to take stock of the big picture, and it was like stepping on a rake. A balance of $11,000 lurked on a Chase card with an interest rate of some 7% and monthly finance charges of $67. A second card with a rate of 13% stood at $4,000. I'd run it up recently in anticipation of redeeming some points for airline tickets - neglecting to check closely the labyrinthine card rules that allowed me to trade some 20,000 "points" for ...nothing. Finance charges there are $61 per month.
But I considered myself prepared! I'd saved all the offers for balance transfers that came in the mail and was ready make the transfer to a lower interest rate and buckle down. My first call was to Chase, which had sent a very nice letter, referencing my exact card number and saying I could transfer my balance for a 1.99 percent interest rate. Trying to feel some brand loyalty, trying to be mindful of my credit rating and not jump wildly from card to card, I called them first. And they balked at transferring their own balance. I could make the transfer but would wind up in the exact same spot when they applied any payment to the highest interest rate first.
Now, of course this is all my own doing. It's hard to defend five-digit credit card balances when you own the stuff (presumably) they bought. But I experienced an hour or so of real bitterness towards this company for their misleading rates and generally outrageous rates that are squeezing little people like me into bankruptcy.
A few days later, I got another offer in the mail, and within 45 minutes had made the transfer to a 0% loan and was mentally wiping my hands of that damn Chase card.
What a sad thing to feel at all victorious about! As my husband points out, any late payment send this 0% to 17%. I am still buckling under the weight of this huge balance. The card has been cut up for months and I'm still struggling to get by. Something always comes up: the furnace needs big repairs. A dental or medical procedure isn't covered by insurance and leaves me with a huge bill. My monthly payments for things like these is approaching $500.
So we soldier on. My husband and I make a game of trying to stay within budget at the grocery store.
I think all of this rises from a structural disconnect between most American's earning power and what it takes to live. Several factors illustrate: Income inequality becomes ever more yawning, with the top 1% showing double-digit increases in wealth while the bottom 40% stagnates. Working families have maintained income over the past several decades only by having wives enter the workforce. What trick will we use now that women are already out there? Greg Palast (www.gregpalast.com) uses an alarming chart in his books that looks like the jaws of an alligator: the bottom line, heading to the right and dropping sharply, represents worker wages, and the top, rising line represents worker productivity.
We are producing more and earning less. The cost of necessities like housing and health care is increasing, leaving less for other necessities and leisure. (Not that vacation-impoverished Americans have much anyway.) We're still bombarded with messages telling us we need flat-screened TVs, constant Home Depot Upgrades, and a big enough grill.
Not sure how to end this post. We do not have a flat screen TV. We do not have a car made after 2000. I vote, volunteer, try to be as active as I can in changing the structural disconnect described, while holding down hearth and home. But often it seems that this soldiering on, being good to the other people in my life and not falling further into the pit, is all we can hope for - and far from being enough.
Postscript:
The above-mentioned husband and I have only been married for a couple of months. Look for other posting on reflections back on Buddhist parent dating....Buddhist thoughts on forming stepfamilies...Merging finances: smart? crazy? ...Helping your children build a home with their new stepfather...Asking your ex to pay for part of extracurriculars...Oh, so much to do! Thoughts, anyone?
Recently I sat down to take stock of the big picture, and it was like stepping on a rake. A balance of $11,000 lurked on a Chase card with an interest rate of some 7% and monthly finance charges of $67. A second card with a rate of 13% stood at $4,000. I'd run it up recently in anticipation of redeeming some points for airline tickets - neglecting to check closely the labyrinthine card rules that allowed me to trade some 20,000 "points" for ...nothing. Finance charges there are $61 per month.
But I considered myself prepared! I'd saved all the offers for balance transfers that came in the mail and was ready make the transfer to a lower interest rate and buckle down. My first call was to Chase, which had sent a very nice letter, referencing my exact card number and saying I could transfer my balance for a 1.99 percent interest rate. Trying to feel some brand loyalty, trying to be mindful of my credit rating and not jump wildly from card to card, I called them first. And they balked at transferring their own balance. I could make the transfer but would wind up in the exact same spot when they applied any payment to the highest interest rate first.
Now, of course this is all my own doing. It's hard to defend five-digit credit card balances when you own the stuff (presumably) they bought. But I experienced an hour or so of real bitterness towards this company for their misleading rates and generally outrageous rates that are squeezing little people like me into bankruptcy.
A few days later, I got another offer in the mail, and within 45 minutes had made the transfer to a 0% loan and was mentally wiping my hands of that damn Chase card.
What a sad thing to feel at all victorious about! As my husband points out, any late payment send this 0% to 17%. I am still buckling under the weight of this huge balance. The card has been cut up for months and I'm still struggling to get by. Something always comes up: the furnace needs big repairs. A dental or medical procedure isn't covered by insurance and leaves me with a huge bill. My monthly payments for things like these is approaching $500.
So we soldier on. My husband and I make a game of trying to stay within budget at the grocery store.
I think all of this rises from a structural disconnect between most American's earning power and what it takes to live. Several factors illustrate: Income inequality becomes ever more yawning, with the top 1% showing double-digit increases in wealth while the bottom 40% stagnates. Working families have maintained income over the past several decades only by having wives enter the workforce. What trick will we use now that women are already out there? Greg Palast (www.gregpalast.com) uses an alarming chart in his books that looks like the jaws of an alligator: the bottom line, heading to the right and dropping sharply, represents worker wages, and the top, rising line represents worker productivity.
We are producing more and earning less. The cost of necessities like housing and health care is increasing, leaving less for other necessities and leisure. (Not that vacation-impoverished Americans have much anyway.) We're still bombarded with messages telling us we need flat-screened TVs, constant Home Depot Upgrades, and a big enough grill.
Not sure how to end this post. We do not have a flat screen TV. We do not have a car made after 2000. I vote, volunteer, try to be as active as I can in changing the structural disconnect described, while holding down hearth and home. But often it seems that this soldiering on, being good to the other people in my life and not falling further into the pit, is all we can hope for - and far from being enough.
Postscript:
The above-mentioned husband and I have only been married for a couple of months. Look for other posting on reflections back on Buddhist parent dating....Buddhist thoughts on forming stepfamilies...Merging finances: smart? crazy? ...Helping your children build a home with their new stepfather...Asking your ex to pay for part of extracurriculars...Oh, so much to do! Thoughts, anyone?
Monday, September 3, 2007
Making Time to Blog...?!
Two-thirds into so many wonderful texts, the parent voice will pop up in my head.
Great spiritual leaders discuss concentration and mindfulness. Pay attention to the here and now. Focus solely on what you are doing; you will do it better and be rested and happy. When you are drinking your tea, do not be thinking ahead to the next day, or back to the past; be right there, drinking your tea.
Now, I am enormously grateful for the strength and wisdom I have gained from these leaders. But it is at point that I can't help but think: If I were entirely present in the here and now, all the time, my children would have no place to go after school. Their teeth would be rotten, they would have no lunch, etc.
Let's face it. It's just different for parents.
The other day I got up early and was meditating. Five minutes in, my daughter bounded down the stairs, ready for school. She saw me sitting quiet, and, knowing what I was doing, she crept into the kitchen and poured herself some cereal.
But even in this very best of situations, my meditating was done for the day. So imagine practicing when they have gotten up late, the bus is coming, they need to get to bed, we need to leave for a concert....any of the minutae that make up life. The thought just made me smile.
Recently my daughters and I went to a retreat with Thich Nhat Hahn. We returned home rested and restored, after a week of listening to dharma talks with Thay and enjoying the company of like-minded people and parents. Yet I felt there, yet again, the chasm between the main points of the teachings and the daily demands of life as a parent.
But I was also reminded of the power of others to support and sustain you.
I returned home to start going again to my own sangha, a small group that meets here in Connecticut every few weeks. But as I perused my local political blogs this morning, I was finally prompted to start one. If nothing else, we can share thoughts and strategies on work, family, and self.
The answer, it seems to me when I think about it, always begins with: look deeply. Think about it, don't let the strong emotion overwhelm you, be there for your kids when they need to express their anger and pain, and don't get caught into the cycle of argument and blame and right and wrong.
It's all there, really, in the teachings - it's just more challenging to apply as a parent.
(And at THIS point, my monkey mind interjects, usually with a smile, Maybe this is why the Buddha was a single, childless prince.)
Metta!
Great spiritual leaders discuss concentration and mindfulness. Pay attention to the here and now. Focus solely on what you are doing; you will do it better and be rested and happy. When you are drinking your tea, do not be thinking ahead to the next day, or back to the past; be right there, drinking your tea.
Now, I am enormously grateful for the strength and wisdom I have gained from these leaders. But it is at point that I can't help but think: If I were entirely present in the here and now, all the time, my children would have no place to go after school. Their teeth would be rotten, they would have no lunch, etc.
Let's face it. It's just different for parents.
The other day I got up early and was meditating. Five minutes in, my daughter bounded down the stairs, ready for school. She saw me sitting quiet, and, knowing what I was doing, she crept into the kitchen and poured herself some cereal.
But even in this very best of situations, my meditating was done for the day. So imagine practicing when they have gotten up late, the bus is coming, they need to get to bed, we need to leave for a concert....any of the minutae that make up life. The thought just made me smile.
Recently my daughters and I went to a retreat with Thich Nhat Hahn. We returned home rested and restored, after a week of listening to dharma talks with Thay and enjoying the company of like-minded people and parents. Yet I felt there, yet again, the chasm between the main points of the teachings and the daily demands of life as a parent.
But I was also reminded of the power of others to support and sustain you.
I returned home to start going again to my own sangha, a small group that meets here in Connecticut every few weeks. But as I perused my local political blogs this morning, I was finally prompted to start one. If nothing else, we can share thoughts and strategies on work, family, and self.
The answer, it seems to me when I think about it, always begins with: look deeply. Think about it, don't let the strong emotion overwhelm you, be there for your kids when they need to express their anger and pain, and don't get caught into the cycle of argument and blame and right and wrong.
It's all there, really, in the teachings - it's just more challenging to apply as a parent.
(And at THIS point, my monkey mind interjects, usually with a smile, Maybe this is why the Buddha was a single, childless prince.)
Metta!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
