Important Stuff

Twenty minutes. I'll be bold and say that you can't afford not to spend this twenty minutes. Maybe that sounds melodramatic, but this is one of those things that feels Important.

Maybe you don't want to watch it. Maybe you say to yourself, "But I like not knowing. If I don't know, I'm absolved of my participation." Or you say, "Look, I know, but I have a XYZ factors in my life that require me to live the way that I do." Or maybe you say, "I already know. And I live frugally and consciously and watching this is unnecessary."

But this is Important Stuff. Seriously seriously important stuff. And even the most examined life can use a boost, a reminder, a tool to share with others, perhaps. I'll embed a teaser below, but more importantly, go spend twenty minutes watching or listening to the film The Story of Stuff. Let a kid watch it. In fact, please, encourage your kid to watch it. Important Stuff.

Blogs & Family

Two more conversations with the 5-year-old who lives upstairs:

#1
me, giving her a hug hello: I wrote about you in my blog yesterday.

B: What's a blog?

me: It's a complete and utter waste of my time.
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#2
B: I don't know for sure about this, and I might be wrong, but you know what I think?

me: What do you think?

B: I think that if someone moves into your house, that means they are your family.

me: Like me?

B: Yes! My family has grown! It used to be 3 people: my mom, my brother and me, after my dad died. Then it was 4 when mommy met N. Living with you makes it 5! And when T gets here, it will be 6! Our growing family!

me: I love being in your family, B.

Yo

B, the 5-year-old who lives upstairs, announced with a little hop and a big grin: This DVD is off the chain, yo.

me: What does that mean?

B: I think it means this DVD is all scratched up, yo.

me: What does "yo" mean, B?

B, exasperated: Mossssseeeeee! I think it means YO! . . . yo . . . YO . . . yo-yo-yo . . . It's like a word that you can call people. You can call people Yo, like YoMomma.

me: Hmmm. I'm not sure about that. You might not want to say "yo momma" without knowing for sure what it means.

B: I know just one more thing! The first letter is y, yuh. I'm not sure of the second letter, yo.

Empty Mind

The five-year-old who lives upstairs likes to come down and eat fruit with me. We're buddies, she and me. I'll be posting some of our conversations because this child knows what's up.

M: Hey, B, I saw you meditating while I was cutting up the pineapple.

B: I wasn't meditating. I was doing yoga.

M: What do you think about when you do yoga?

B: I don't think about anything. I have an empty mind.

M: Will you teach me how to have an empty mind?

B: No, Mossy. You have to do it yourself. I don't know how to teach you.

Diff'rent Strokes

I'm a pluralistic kind of person, in case that isn't obvious. As a pluralistic sort, I have no problem with people who want to have kids. I do have a problem when people with kids think that everyone else should have them too. Yeah, I hear you when you say that having kids is the best thing in your life. I get that. Or at least I see that it brings you meaning.

But I see this image I think, "Mmm hmmm. Deciding not to have kids is the right decision for me." Not for you, but for me. It's all about me. Me me me me me.

Which might have something to do with my lack of desire to dedicate my life to a child . . . ? Sure. But at least I'm honest about that fact. What fact? That it's all about me.

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