The Reality of the Birthday Card

Every year, my high school has an amazing retreat program that is meant to relax, open up, and place smiles on the faces of every child there. In my freshman year, I was 'recommended' to go from my social worker. Let's just say, I loved it so much I kept going back every year. Finally progressing to the position of staff, I am placed in charge of teenagers my own age after months of weekly training sessions. During the week, we participated in quite a few activities, but the only activity we did that wasn't focused on creating better relationships between each other and with ourselves, was the community service. One of the adult staff was the army, so we were given the opportunity to write to service members that protect our country. During this community service time we were given the opportunity to right birthday cards to those who happen to be in the hospital on their birthdays and to write letters to Santa at Macy's because each letter sent is one more unprivileged families receive holiday gifts. Each participant has the opportunity to send sufficient time at each table. I spent a majority of my time at the table to writes to people who spend their birthday in the hospital. I have personally never had the misfortune of being in the hospital especially not on my birthday, besides when I was born, so I can only imagine how upsetting it is to spend a day that is meant to be surrounded by friends not the white walls and dingy curtains of a hospital. Whether it is just for some blood work or for a broken bone, those who are in the hospital on their birthday days deserve something nice. I make my cards as creative as possible. One of the cards I made had three googly eyes with cartoonish mouths and large sticker umbrellas singing different parts of "Happy Birthday!" In the middle I drew a large detailed cake. I put so much effort and detail into the card because if I was in the hospital on my birthday I would want the card that was given to me to be one made with heart and effort not one that was thrown together because someone made the creator do it. Even though I was only able to make a handful of cards, I believe those few will help to put a smile on the faces of those who have had the misfortune of hospitalization on the one day of the year that should be their own. In most countries those who are injured aren't able to visit a hospital due to a lack of health insurance or even any medical opportunities. Those people become sick and die because of the lack of social equality in the health system. Those people don't receive get well birthday cards. Those people may not even make it to their next birthday. When I put it into perspective, a birthday card to those in the hospital may not fix health care around the world but it sure puts a smile on the face of those being helped here.

Colors versus The Black Canvas

Ever since 1989, when Denmark became the first country to legalize gay marriage, the world is becoming revolutionized. There has been a larger and larger acceptance of equal marriage rights within every community, but not everybody is as ready to change their preconceived views to the LGBT community. I am an executive board member of my high school's GSA (gay-straight alliance) and each year we hold multiple educational opportunities that are opened up to the whole school. Our club sets up tables in the lunch room areas and pass out pledges to stop bullying, pins, and of course, the big take away, chocolate. Our purpose is to educate the adolescent public on what it means to be an ally to the LGBT community and what it means to be in the LGBT community. People have the ability to come up to us and ask questions that have anything to do with GSA and LGBT communities. The preparation for this day is both internal and external. On the outside, we spend two hours planning, printing and creating pledges, pins and a massive poster. Internally, I always make sure that I am fully prepared to answer questions and that, although I stand by my beliefs with the force of the iceberg that stopped the Titanic, I am able to answer all questions with a mature mind and not be forceful towards questioning teenagers. One of the main purposes is to get signatures of those who support the LGBT community, they receive a rainbow bow pin and sign pledge to stand up for those who are being bullied or harassed due to sexual or gender orientation. Sitting at the plastic table that separated me from the room of socially stimulated children, I searched the crowd for a friendly face of someone who would come up to the table but all that would happen is group of kids would walk past the table, glance at what it was for, then hurry off. Maybe it was because there is this unspoken idea that those who associate themselves strongly with the LGBT community must be gender or sexual not within the 'norm' and they didn't want to fight the current of assumptions of teenagers. But I quickly realized that in order to give people the opportunity to show support I had to bring the table to them, so to speak. I turned to the boy sitting at the table with me and asked him if it was okay that I got up. After I gave me the green light, I grabbed one of the clipboards full of signature sheets and tucking it under my arm, grabbed a handful of rainbow ribbon pins and a handful of chocolate and stalked off towards the masses of high schoolers. My tactic of approach and attack worked out quite well actually. Never forcing, never pressuring, I handed out 15 pins, all the chocolate (no surprise there), and received around 25 signatures over about a 15 minute span. It felt amazing to not be caged in behind the table with the stigma of having people feel like they were on display when they walked up to the table. I was given the chance to help others do some good, even if they weren't strong enough to walk up to the table themselves, putting their pen to paper in solitude was more than enough.

Social Class of The Masses

No matter how much each of us believe that social class shouldn't dictate how our lives progress... it does. Beginning in preschool, children will receive basically the same education up until high school. In this stage in the young adolescent's life, the pathways of each social class: lower class, middle class, and upper class. Up until this point the only differences may be the prestige of their public and private school, no as high school may near its end, many students within the lower class will struggle to reach graduation while middle class and upper class teenagers will find it unacceptable to even fathom dropping out of high school. While the lower class may go off to community college but will most likely enter into a manual labor job that does require much schooling. Middle class residents will move on to college and enter into either a "white-collar" field where they will become a skilled laborer or if they are upper middle class, will enter into a field of highly skilled jobs. Upper class will attend college and graduate school which will allow them to become some of the most influential and well educated people on the planet. While the American dream does place the idea in the world's head that no matter what class you are you can always work your way to the top. But in reality there is a very small percentage of American society that has the ability to move up in the social scheme of things, but it requires a lot of finesse and ingenious. On the other hand, moving down in the American social takes nothing more than a dip in the economy to cause a loss in job and eventually a loss in house. In other countries such as India, people don't have the luxury of even attempting to work up their social ladder, but at the same time, they are secure in the class they are in knowing they can't possibly fall down. In India, the caste dictates not only the type of education you receive but the friends and people you associate yourself with. In the US, social class truly only starts to matter on an interactive basis between people, after high school when the educational train takes off for some but leaves other behind. People are completely restricted by their social class in India from birth until death, while in the US, we are a tad more free to do as we please up until a certain age. In high school, kids are just beginning to notice truly disparaging differences in social class but it hasn't yet affected them as badly as it does with adults, who seem to be the 'judgiest' of people when it comes of the deciding factor of social classes. They constantly strive to be associated with a higher social class of people while simultaneously shunning those even a step below them. There is no possibility that anyone can say that they don't take social class into account no matter where they live. The lower class always wanting to be higher and the upper class looking down at the little people below. Is this really how our world should be working? Or should we be elevating ourselves above the stereotype that social class dictates all?

The Budget of Idiots

I never really understood the full weight of budgeting until I was forced to do it myself. To my unexperienced mind, a budget is a balancing of rent money and transportation money for spending money. But of course, that would mean I was a nudist who survived off of looking at the blank walls of my empty apartment. There is so much more that is added and compressed into a budget than I initially realized. Everything that we touch, feel, and see is paid for using a budget. Clothing, food, electricity, heating and cooling, utensils, cooking ware, appliances, entertainment, transport to and from work, gas money if you have a car, and of course housing. And these are only the basic things that almost every person in America has, not including a gym membership, going to the movies, getting a manicure, haircut, going shopping, eating out, library card, things that every middle class and upper class resident takes for granted are factored into the elusive 'budget'. In a class organized simulation, my 'family' and I were given a yearly salary, a number that equated to the cash in our savings account and the free reins on where we placed our hard earned money. We were an upper middle class family of four with a yearly salary of $200,000, around $17,500 a month and about $210,000 in our savings account. We started out slow, not exactly knowing how to attack a budget, did you come from the front? Go around the side? Deciding to start at the beginning of the list with housing we initially wished to live in the city, close to the workplace, but quickly realized it was cheaper to live in the suburbs and commute. We spent our entire first day discussing the pros and cons of buying a house that was a little more expensive and skimping in other areas or buying a middle class house and being able to spend more money else where. We settled on a middle class suburban house and moved on to cares which took just as long. I could only image being in a situation where my life and well being depended on making the right decisions that would inadvertently affect my entire life. As a group we had trouble deciding merely on what car we wanted, in reality, its a lot more than what a car looks like that factors into the purchase of a car like its practicality for the number of children you have, the trunk space, the gas mileage. I was continually astounded by the unthought of question that arose in my mind upon merely mimicking that of a family. Later, I discovered costs that had not originally entered into my mind such as putting money away for college and allowances for the children, twice as much because there was two of them. Averaging all costs out and adding them up, we were left with over $12,000 per month. Then came our first "Life Happens" card. It stated that we had been audited for $15,000. That was when I got my first shock of really life. We not only ended up finishing off all the rest of our monthly reserves but our savings account to pay for the last $3,000. I realized that this actually happen to lots of people, that life does happen and we are given unexpected gifts and curses, whether that be winning the lottery or needing to call a plumber for a busted pipe. Life happens and sometimes, it sucks!

My Mother the Socializer

In the womb my mother expected me to be nothing less than what every mother expects from their child. She envisioned me as an adorable angel that was the greatest gift life could ever give her. As for the values and lessons she expected to teach me to shape me into who she wanted me to be, that was a much longer list. My mother wished me to be kind, compassionate, and considerate. Over the years she has taught me to be open minded, authentic and respectful. She has tried for years to drill into my head the mediocrity is not a goal it is stepping stone as a push the envelope and work for all my goals. Most of the these have been entered into my life from such a young age I feel as if they are a part of me. But, there are many lessons she continues to teach that still haven't quite caught on yet such as being thorough (a word a have come to abhor due to her application of it in every situation possible), being a better planner, and biggest of all not procrastinating. I haven't mastered any of these to say the least, but I continue to be reminded of them. My family is not as tight as other families may be. We don't have a lot of large traditions but rather small ones that are so integrated into our lives we barely even notice them anymore. My parents and I always have to hold hands on take off and landing. And at landing, my mom and I always try and look out the window of the plane, gauge the time, and count down to see how close we are to when the plane actually touches down. Other traditions like going to temple during the high holidays and breaking the fast of Yom Kippur are less traditions, at least in my mind, and are more of obligations, yet my mother sees continuing judaism as a tradition, probably the most important. As for my personality, I was reminded that as a child I used to say, "I have my dad's body and my mom's attitude" meaning, though my metabolism wasn't as quick as it should have been, I made up for it with my exuberant personality. My mother passed on her need to be in control and impulsiveness to me, though if I had to pick, I would have wanted her ability to never be embarrassed. And from my dad, I got my AWFUL sense of humor, a small puns sets me laughing for a good while, and his uncanny ability to reign in emotions and become calm in a matter of seconds. What my mom describes as an unhealthy suppression of emotion, I would describe as a strength in the way that I don't tend to be extremely angry about things. Throughout this interview, I didn't seem to learn anything I didn't already know about my mother and my socialization. For every situation my mother has a lesson and for every event my mother can tie it back to judaism, so forgetting about what socialized me is like asking a child to think about nothing, difficult and next to impossible.

Found: Lost Boy of Sudan

Though I had seen this documentary once previously, I still found myself seeing new things and taking the same stance on it. Seeing the boys having the world the knew ripped out from under them and placed into the meat grinder we call America was gut wrenching for me. I saw the culture shock they went through and the extent they went to, to preserve their culture that was quickly being replaced by american customs. The food they eat, the clothes they wear, their daily schedules were all americanized. The older members of the Lost Boys were more adamant in preserving the culture of Sudan while the younger member completely conformed to their new society, almost entirely leaving behind their home. I found myself feeling a sense of loss for the younger boys as they rejected one of the things that made them who they are. Through out the movie, I placed myself in their shoes. Through the culture shock, the hard work, the confrontation with the police. I was realized how strong these men are that they could handle and even thrive in a culture so completely different from there own. I believe I wouldn't have been able to survive the severe alteration in societies; I think I would have crumbled under the pressure of so many new things and new rules. I admire these boys for going to America for more opportunities and the good of the community. Though passing them on the street most would consider them, 'low class', they possess something that most americans don't have, a selflessness to do what needs to be done no matter the cost.

It's Anyone's Game

There is simple card game that can alter anyone's perspective of culture within five minutes.  What I thought was going to be tournament to assess each person's personal patience and inner pride, turned out to be a frustrating test of each person's ethnocentricity. Placed in groups, each student was required to learn a card game, the rules, the restrictions, the trumps. After running through the game quite thoroughly and attempting a few practice rounds, we were ready to move on to the competition portion of the game. The only rule, no talking. I didn't have a problem at first, I got a lucky hand (all hearts, the trump card). After playing a few rounds, I gathered up my winning hands and counted them out in comparison to the other players at my table. Seeing as I won, I was instructed to shift over one table clockwise. As I sat at the next table, I exchanged silent smiles with my new opponents and took a seat. The cards were dealt out and the game commenced. At the first hand, I noticed something... different, about this game. I was the first to place my card down, I placed down a heart, the other three players placed down cards of other suits. Since hearts trump all, no matter what, I moved my hand towards the cards to claiming my winnings. I was beat to it. As one of the other players swiped the hand off the table I stopped her. Trying to motion as descriptively as possible, I tried to explain that hearts trumped everything and therefore I won the cards. The more agitated all of us got the more we began to try and silently communicate. Finally, we were put to rest as the teacher called our attention back to the front. Apparently, each table was given a different trump and when we switched tables our trumps clashed. Just like when you go to a new place, your customs/trumps may not coincide with other's customs/trumps. When barriers such as language stand in the way of explaining why you did what you did, things can get messy. I was frustrated by the difficulty for my opponents and I to communicate. In reality, people react one of three ways to this sort of situation. One can either take the path of ethnocentrism and think the person you are with is wrong and must follow how you do things because that is the only right way. One can go into culture shock and be unsure of how to react.  Or one can understand the other person's culture, their different customs and accept the way they are. Although I understood where the stigmatize was coming from, what I was most frustrated about was the lack of ability to communicate. But that's how it is in the real world. Two people with clashing customs most likely don't speak the same language, making it difficult to explain their differences. I wasn't angry with my other opponents differences in their game rules, I was frustrated by the incapacity to communicate. We are always told to talk it out, but how can you do that without a common language.

Just Harvest

Walking into the cafeteria styled space, I felt intimidated. Though the Stevenson students made up for a majority of the volunteers, the idea of talking with people whom I didn't know and whom were homeless made me nervous. What if I said the wrong thing? What if I ran out of things to talk about? What if I offend them? These questions floated around in my head as I adorned an apron and manned my station.

As people filed through the doors, I began to dish out menus and conversation, my nerves eased. I was surprised that time progressed the table a had picked to personally converse with was full of generally well read mean and women who were able to recommend books of a wide array to me. We discussed environmental issues, books, movies other topics that were not as difficult as I thought they would be. Coming in, I had made assumptions that being homeless equated being uneducated, but that was absolutely untrue.

As the room got more full, we began to serve meals. Though I didn't necessarily have time to have heart to hearts with the people eating,I still felt that I could tell people how much I appreciated being here by giving them a smile and, "Enjoy!" as I handed them their meal. 

By the time the room cleared out my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I had this light feeling in my chest, a natural high, you could call it. I felt as if I could do anything, climb a mountain, saving a cat from a burning building, or even take over Atlas's job! I had an unbelievable sense of accomplishment that showed from my inability to stop smiling to my continual mentioning of the people I met because To me it really 'just' a harvest, it was so much more!

Lorax v.s. The Once-ler (A Tale of Sociological Mindfulness)

Once upon a time there was a man who disregarded all paths of mindfulness in order to pursue his goal of the thneed. The thneed we speak of is made from the tufts of a Trufula tree. These trees support a lively habitat for various bears, odd birds, and singing fish. Their fruits give nutrients and their treetops give homes to the nests of the birds. When the Once-ler enters this forest he doesn't take the time to understand the life these creatures have there, or how their form of society works. The Once-ler barges in, picks up an axe and just starts swinging. If he had been sociologically mindful he would have seen the havoc he was wreaking on the habitat of these animals. The Lorax is then summoned to prevent any further damage to come to the forest. Without the forest there would be no homes, no shelter, no food and the whole area would die. The Once-ler only sees great big Trufula trees of cash. By being sociologically mindful he could have weighed the cost of decimating the land around him versus make a piece of clothing no one really even needed. By being sociological mindful he would have made the right choice and just walked away.

Slippery Slope of Sociological Mindfulness

Schwalbe describes sociological mindfulness as appreciation of other's unique qualities that were formed by the way they were raised, the struggles they endured, and the ideas and beliefs of those that surrounded them. It is the understanding of this uniqueness and the courtesy to alter behavior based on others because our actions inadvertently effect a large number of people. Reading about sociological mindfulness helped me to see a parallel in my parent's own teachings. Both my mother and father drilled into my head that every action you make effects people every where no matter how small you think a decision is or how minor a comment may be. Although I try, I have a lot of difficulty implicating this into my own life. I am completely aware of how my actions effect others but sometimes I choose to ignore. Maybe because it's too painful. Maybe because my own emotion are getting in the way. But for whatever reason, I ignore it.

Maybe that's why when it comes down to it, people ignore what's right in order to get what they want. The middle aged man refuses to give up his last seat on the life raft for the young mother. The son yells at his hard working mother. The rushing car cuts off the student driver on his way to work. All these things people do knowing that there are better, more mindful ways to act. People choose to ignore them. This style of action took the stage when the class partook in the "Life Boat" simulation. After our fictitious boat crash, each student was given a different part, and we were meant to vote off 7 of our 16 passengers because the life boat was only designed to hold 9. As the debate began, the first person to come under fire, was the overweight passenger. With no mindfulness for how the conversation made the person feel, we attacked the issue of weight on a small vessel or the issue of rations for a person with a larger diet. We spoke of the benefits of keeping this passenger on and of kicking him off. After choosing to kick him off seeing as the risks out weighed the benefits, we moved onto our next passenger. This is where whatever sociological mindfulness we were still clinging onto was thrown out the window.

As the witch hunt progressed, the next to fall under fire was a Navy Quarter Master. The others on the small life raft went right for the most obvious reason that this person was "expendable" enough to no longer deserve life, the immobility of her hands. The mob pushed on the points that as she couldn't use her hands, what use would she be? This was where mindfulness completely disappeared. Although she was a part of the Navy and therefore could help in any navigational attempts, the inability to use her hands made her less useful than an able bodied person. The others lack of mindfulness made kicking a married mother or four off the boat that much easier. Though, after put myself in their shoes I would have made the same decision. In order to survive, able bodies people were of higher importance.

Given the situation, I realized in life and death some people will take the chance to hold on to their mindfulness and some will let go.

The Art of Doing Nothing

If Sun Tzu had written the Art of Doing Nothing I wonder how differently the world would have evolved. 

I left my house Saturday morning at 9:00 and ventured out into the world of overpriced coffee and two tailed mermaids. Sitting at Starbucks, It took me a sold ten minutes to clear my mind. Every time I tried to reach a point of zen, my thoughts would run back to something that I did earlier on in the day, how people would react to my silence, and even what I was going to eat for dinner. When I came to understand what it really meant to clear one's mind, it was shocking that I as hard as I tried, I couldn't do it. There was always a song playing on a loop in my brain or a round of images circling through my head. Sitting at a table close to the door, I was cast a mixture of glances from onlookers, ranging from confused to annoyed. While people milled in and out, I just sat there looking around with no phone, no drink, no headphones, nothing out on the table. The people sitting in the cafe looked over their shoulders at me, waiting for a sign of whether I was waiting for someone, playing on my phone under the table, just doing something. People were perplexed and put off at the sight of someone who wasn't being constantly stimulated by some form of technology. I felt as though I stuck out like a sore thumb.

When a "normal" person sits by themselves somewhere in silence, they are usually fidgeting with something. I believe that society sees people who don't feel the need to always be staring at a screen to be out of place and weird. What about people makes them feel so uncomfortable by themselves that they feel the need to always look absorbed in something tangible? Why can't we just be absorbed in thought? I think if zen was promoted more in society, the world would come to see that being in your own bubble of thoughtlessness is restorative and not to be considered odd just because society has deemed it so. 

People quote the Art of War all the time. So if Sun Tzu had changed his topic, would the world today be so disturbed and uncomfortable at the sight for doing nothing? Or would it be considered a norm?