• Daylight Saving Time

    When the clock’s sleight of hand

    tricks reality

    something stronger than habit

    resists

    relearning the day’s hours.

    This recalcitrant instinct

    like a knot in pine that will not sand smooth

    persists.

    I still struggle with Daylight Saving Time as much as I did when I wrote that poem years ago. Daylight Saving Time makes sense at a practical level—take advantage of daylight to work more, play more, and use energy resources more efficiently. But there is something inherently wrong about manipulating the clock every spring and fall.

    I’m not a back-to-nature zealot (e.g. if only humans hadn’t interfered with the natural world, life would be better). And I have no problem recording TV shows to watch later. But like it or not, humans are basically animals. Our bodies are attuned to nature and humans, as well as plants and even bacteria, are ruled by circadian rhythms. Circadian rhythms are the logic behind our sleeping and eating patterns. Daylight cues the nerve cells in our brain (a.k.a. the biological clock), which regulate our sleep-wake cycles, body temperature, hormone release, and more.

    So mammal that I am, as the days grow shorter, I’ve been craving more sleep, wanting hearty stews and soups, and feeling satisfied that my nest is prepared for winter. I’ve gotten used to getting up in the dark, so it’s unsettling to wake up when the sky is lightening up—I’m late! No, it’s OK, calm down. Plus my brain is full of complicated, emotional dreams (well, it probably always was full of busy dreams, but now I have to know about it). So I wake up disoriented and vaguely upset.

    The shift to early darkness is just as perturbing. Why is it dark when I walk to my car after work? I should be home by now. Something isn’t right. This confusion and unease goes on for weeks.

    We can, by an act of will declare that it’s Daylight Saving Time and disregard what our bodies need, but we’ll pay for it for days, and sometimes, weeks. Why? Because of a basic arrogance that says we can manipulate or conquer the natural world.

    But when I get up tomorrow in gray dawn and drive home from work in full dark, I’ll be still be jangled and wondering if Daylight Saving Time is worth it.

    Today, I have a second reason why my sleep was disturbed—I stayed up too late watching the election returns. Thank you to the people of Minnesota for helping re-elect Obama and for defeating the voter ID and gay marriage ban amendments! Thanks also to the Toledoans who renewed the library levy! It’s a good day in America.

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    One response to “Daylight Saving Time”

    1. Johanna Avatar
      Johanna

      It was great news about the election. Even Dakota County voted against the marriage amendment!

  • Jumping into the Unknown

    Ziplining to some would be the ultimate adrenaline rush, whooshing from point to point above the treeline attached to a cable.

    Zach, Crystel, and Antonio on the launch

    Zach was officially our guide on our zipline adventure at the Atitlan Nature Reserve. The 14-year-old and our two nine-year-olds had become comfortable with each other. They were bonded by the mutual experience of being adopted and meeting their birthmoms. During our launch from Santa Cruz la Laguna to the shore of Panajachel where we would start our trek through the jungle to the zipline, they talked about their visit.

    Zach showed the necklace he received from his birthmom, Crystel showed her earrings, and Antonio described the weavings he received. All these gifts were very important to the children – a connection to their Guatemalan family.

    The start of our trek

    Just as their life is complicated, a crooked tree marked where our path started. We walked upwards on an ancient trail, stepped lightly over hanging bridges, and kept our eyes and ears open for spider monkeys.

    The Ziptrek tour covers close to 35 acres of land. For 1 ½ hours we rode a total of eight ziplines ranging from 295 ft. to 1050 ft. along waterfalls, canyons, the valley and a coffee grove forest.

    Zach, Antonio, Jody Crystel, Beth – ready to zipline

    Ziplining took my breath away. Especially the first time that I let go and zipped above the valley, above the top of trees. If the cable breaks, it is a long ways down. A mother thinks of these things, even if she is just thinking of herself. True, after the first zipline it got less and less scary and I was more able to enjoy the view. Still, I was breathless.

    Jumping off the cliff at San Marcos had been a warm-up for this. You take a leap into space without being hooked to a cable. You couldn’t see the water below before sprinting off of the platform. You had to assume the water was there to catch you.

    Crystel on the zipline

    After our zipline adventure Antonio was brave enough to ask the staff in Spanish to order us a tuk tuk to take us into the town of Panajachel.

    Later, I asked Antonio and Crystel what was scariest, jumping off the cliff at San Marcos, ziplining, or meeting their birthmom? Without hesitation they both said meeting their birthmom. Ziplining came third.

    For Antonio and Crystel, meeting their birthmom was jumping into the unknown. Will she like me? Will I like her? What will it be like to look into the eyes of the woman who gave me life? The mom who hasn’t raised me? Who hasn’t grown up with me? Who opened her arms and gave me to someone else?

    Antonio loving the tuk tuk he ordered

    Jody and I were there to catch our children if meeting their birthmom went awry. Yet, we couldn’t take that first step for them. They had to take that leap into the unknown all by themselves and trust that they could weather what came.

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    One response to “Jumping into the Unknown”

    1. Jill Smith Avatar
      Jill Smith

      Absolutely beautiful, Elizabeth.

  • Boo!

    The coming darkness of winter, grief for my black cat Spook (who died of liver failure last week), and the barbarity of the Taliban shooting a 14-year-old Pakistani girl have been weighing me down. Halloween’s playful excess feels like a wonderful reprieve. So I’m consciously turning away from gloom and back toward the lightness of being silly. In that spirit, here are some highlights from Halloweens present and past:

    1. Helping a friend plan her Binder Full of Women costume this year

    2. Our neighbor’s yard full of ghouls

    3. Remembering when the nuns of my Catholic grade school required us to dress up as saints for the school party—I was St. Helen by day and a Fairy Princess by night

     

     

     

    4. A friend’s Halloween wedding reception with guest appearances by Queen Elizabeth I, a live wedding cakes and a three-legged man

      

     

    5. My youngest son as a New York lawyer (his idea of scary)

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    6. My oldest as a polar bear during the 1991 Halloween blizzard. At 2 ½ years old, he thought getting candy from three houses was great.

    7. And there’s always eating a Reese’s cup (the big kind), a Kit-Kat bar and some peanut M&Ms.

    Dressing up and eating candy—what could be better?

    3 responses to “Boo!”

    1. Johanna Avatar
      Johanna

      What happened with the binder full of women costume?

    2. Theresa Eisele Avatar
      Theresa Eisele

      Thanks for sharing your human range of Halloween emotions. In full agreement with Pat Exarhos, I can’t completely imagine the “binder” without a photo. Enjoy the tricks and treats!

    3. Pat Exarhos Avatar
      Pat Exarhos

      We do all need some levity right now so thanks for making me laugh. Please post the “binder full of women” costume – would love to see it.


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