tamarjacobson

I have been blogging for fourteen years. It is a long time to be sharing my thoughts and feelings with the Cyber-Universe. The title of this blog is "Mining Nuggets: Contemplations and reflections of a 69 year old Zimraelican." The idea for the name of this blog came years ago from a blogger friend, who commented that she enjoyed reading my writing because she felt as if I was mining for nuggets of wisdom. The purpose was for my contemplations and reflections about my inner life – my psychological make-up, and for making connections between my emotional development and the importance of of relationships with children. 

As I go forward into the fifteenth year of blogging and during the year I turn 70, I am thinking about changing the purpose of my writing. More and more we are learning about the value of quality relationships with children as they learn and grow emotionally. More specifically, how developing empathy is critical in becoming compassionate and accepting human beings. I become ever more intrigued and curious about why some people seem to have compassion and empathy built into their emotional make-up, and others seem to be unaware of their lacking those qualities completely. Some have developed compassion and empathy even after an abusive childhood. 

What makes us more compassionate or empathic? Do we develop these qualities through life experience? Could it be learned by modeling the kindness of strangers? Can we learn it, or is it innate, inherent, genetic? These are just a few of many questions I find myself asking lately.

I want this to become one of the purposes of this blog, for I believe that I can make this world a better place, if I can help even one person become kinder and more compassionate with young children – to give them another option from the harsh worldview or cruel mind-set they will inevitably encounter as they make their way through life.

So: dear readers. I am thinking of a new name for my blog, as I set out on this new path with my writing. I wonder … do you have any ideas for me about what to call it?

Let me know through comments to this post, or through Twitter or Facebook.

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Blogging-an-anniversary

Quote of the day:

"The point about retirement is not to clutter it up with too many activities." [Said a friend to me a few months ago]

Transitions. Ten minutes – GO!

Work was about developing an identity. Is retirement a transition to developing a different identity? What is a transition anyway? It is defined as moving from one stage to another. As change. Change takes time. Do I have the time? Time feels so fleeting to me now. I hear about people close to my age dying, and I wonder if that will be me suddenly. Will people notice? Will they miss me? Will I have been of some worth to them when I was alive? I sense the redundancy of me during this coming period. I once was – but now I am no more. So is my work the only part about me that makes me worthwhile? Transition from one stage to another. From hard work to time on my hands. What do I want to do? What will make me happy – bring me joy? Travel to a beautiful garden perhaps, or seeing old friends. Am wary of nostalgia because that's not reality either. Reality is living in the moment. Holding still with difficult or uncomfortable feelings and not rushing to the iPhone or TV, or eating so as not to feel them, for distraction. Reading is distraction too. Is distraction such a bad thing? After all, could we survive if we always and only held still with uncomfortable emotions? Perhaps we could survive better? Who knows? Have I ever really tried it? I mean – really? Being in the now of it instead of running for my life from it? This is going to be the challenge this transition. Having the time to be with me, and not be distracted by a million different things. Getting to know me: what I like, what I want, and how I feel. 

This is probably what I fear most about retirement. 

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Accompanying me into the New Year

Today is my last day of teaching classes. It feels strange. While I am sad to be leaving this place where I have loved working these past thirteen years, I am excited and anxious to begin the next phase of life's journey. During an advisement session with our accountant last week, the director of the organization stopped by to meet us. As he was leaving he said to me, "Congratulations! This is a great achievement." I teared up. I hadn't quite thought of retirement as an achievement. I realized he meant the achievement was arriving at this moment after a full life time of working outside the home. It moved me. I simply had not been expecting this transition period to be so emotional. I must have been in denial up until now.

Or, perhaps, I had just become really good at living in the moment. And now the moment is in the leaving and reimagining of the rest of my life!

I had settled into my office to grade papers before my last class was to begin when suddenly a couple of colleagues called out to me to hurry to their office. I dropped everything and ran to them worried something was wrong. There, on a light post directly outside the window, perched a large hawk. He sat straight up looking around as if he owned the place, confident and unafraid of humans in the area. We all gasped out loud about him and wondered at his magnificence. We stood around watching and observing, chatting excitedly. One of my colleagues took a photograph and as we explored how to upload it to Twitter, just like that, the hawk took off and flew away swooping low to the ground and then up into the sky. It was then that I noticed his brilliant red-tail. "It is a red-tail!" I exclaimed.

My colleague looked at me with a smile. "I feel this is like a lucky moment," she said. I agreed. "Yes," I observed, "I think it is very auspicious. I looked up what a hawk might represent in Native American culture. It read: Hawks are often seen as a symbol of power in Native American cultures. Like eagles, they are symbols of courage and strength.  At another website they described the meaning and symbolism of the hawk as: Hawk is often a messenger from Angels, Devas and the Divine. He signals a time in your life when you need to focus on what's ahead and prepare for a leadership role. Your global vision is a potent helpmate in this. Just as the Hawk, you are ready to fly higher than ever before.

Very auspicious indeed, I thought. Time to write down my third "Lucky luck!"

How lucky I am to have the therapist I have. I realized this morning that I love going to therapy. It is almost always enlightening and revealing even though confronting my Self can be uncomfortable and painful at times. I have been going to therapy on and off for almost all my adult life, and have had a number of therapists – some quite good.

For the past many years, I have been going weekly to my current therapist and even dedicated my book to him. His is consistent, experienced, and professional, but more importantly he is smart and has a sense of humor. During this morning's session he responded to a couple of things I said in a way that literally caused me to gasp out loud because of how perfectly his comments hit the spot, and spoke directly to what I had never thought of before. Revelations! 

I stumbled out of his office literally gasping for breath – gob-smacked, and wept with gratitude as I drove toward the coffee shop to write this down. All I could think of as tears spilled down my cheeks was how lucky I am to have him in my life, and how lucky I am to keep on discovering new things about who I am and how I came to be me. I thought about how doing this self-work opens and frees me up to new ways of perceiving my interactions and relationships.

It makes me realize that I have choices, where I hadn't noticed them before. It is almost as if I am being freed from prison, from the shackles of my mind. I imagine that as the days pass, I will lose this feeling of gratitude and slip back into the old, brain-washed, emotional habits of my childhood. Discovering luck is in the moment. And, for now, I am writing this down so that I might hold onto it for awhile longer than a moment.

Okay … so I have decided to start keeping a "luck diary." The idea being that I must write daily about one or two small things that I consider positively lucky. I thought I might try it for just one week. After that I think it might become too much of a chore and could feel boring. This is a bit of a side track to my usual type of blog posts, and already I am feeling a little weird about it. It seems superficial and cutesy. But, why not seize the opportunity? as Professor Richard Wiseman, a psychologist at the University of Hertfordshire in the UK  suggests lucky people do. I mean, I must admit that I consider myself lucky most of my life, and it is true that I have seized all kinds of opportunities (and still do) even though some of them didn't/don't always have positive outcomes, although many did.              

For example, when people invite me to present, I usually say yes right away even if the travel to them is inconvenient and anxiety producing, or if they can't pay me very much money for my services. Invariably, the experiences are positive and worthwhile. I learn so much from everyone wherever I travel, and am able to impart my concerns and ideas about treating children with kindness and compassion. There are always one or two people who get what I am talking about, and I feel so grateful that even one child's emotional life may be improved by my having seized that opportunity.

However, I think the purpose of this type of luck diary is more about small things that happen day to day that might go by unnoticed if I don't allow myself to quietly focus through the blur of the busyness of hundreds of moments to notice them.

So, here goes: last night we went to a friend for dinner before setting out to see a show together. The dinner was delicious and the company warm and stimulating. Time passed by and we realized that we had very little time to get to the theater. We sped down the stairs to the car, climbed in and drove as fast as we could given the small side streets, traffic lights, and dark, rainy night. As we approached the theater we worried they would not allow us into the first act if we were late, and it looked as if it would take time to find parking. Suddenly we noticed a parking spot directly in front of the theater door – a sidewalk away. Tom deftly maneuvered the car into the tiny patch close to the sidewalk. We opened the car doors and spilled out into the theater, where we were rushed to our seats in time for the show to begin.

Our friend called that parking karma.

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Rambling

I didn't leave myself much time to write any more countdown pieces for Thanksgiving. And so, after just one blog post, and before I realized it, Thanksgiving arrived this morning.  I suppose I can be thankful that I have been so busy thus far not to have noticed that days had passed by quickly. Or I might be alarmed that time is moving so fast. I mean, just when I want it to slow down a bit. Lately, I want to cherish the moments. Life is shortening just as winter is upon us and days darken earlier than a few months ago. I love it, actually. Leafless trees and blackened barks in cloudy, cold mornings. They make me sigh deeply and relax. No need to rush around – instead, time to hunker down and keep warm with a good book and a bowl of hot vegetable soup. The type that is thick with zucchini, leek, lentils, onions, garlic, celery, green peppers, carrots, tomatoes, and anything else that beckons to me from the fridge.  Much like becoming older and heading into retirement. Holding still in the moment feels good to me. It is like letting out a long breath after holding it in to the count of ten during my breathing exercises. Indeed, it is like being released from the prisons in my mind: letting go of all those duties and anxieties I created for myself when I was younger, when I thought if I did not live up to whatever it was I was trying to live up to I might surely perish.

So here I am this Thanksgiving morning crispy cold outside, heading out for a walk with a friend, after feeding the cats and preparing the turkey to put into the oven later in the day, the yard all cleaned up after days of raking and pruning. It has been two weeks of work, conferencing, grading papers, and play with concerts of Zimbabwe singers, and coffee and dinner with friends, all leading up to this moment right here, right now.

And later today, the biggest treat of all: darling little Benya will be stopping by with his mother and father to share in the dinner I am preparing.

I mean, honestly. Who could ask for more?

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Countdown to Thanksgiving, 2017 #2

Thanksgiving is days away and it's time for my "countdown" to giving thanks. 

This morning I am  grateful to be alive.

I woke up in the middle of the night realizing that next year I will be 70 and retired. This is a formidable transition for me. Even though, to my core, I understand life's evolving developmental stages, I lay awake thinking that the end is near every moment of my life. I began to wonder if all my "affairs" are in order, and what would happen for the cats if I suddenly died. Needless to say it took awhile for me to return to sleep, and when I finally did, I had many vivid, nostalgic dreams conjuring up old friends I haven't seen in a long while.

On Saturday I gave a talk at our local synagogue where I discussed my latest book, Everyone Needs Attention: Helping Young Children Thrive, going beyond the book’s focus on the needs of children to engage everyone in an interactive discussion of our needs for attention across the age span, raising questions about how these needs may change and what we can do to satisfy them as we get older.  So aging and retirement is actively on my mind. Mind you, I am not feeling sad or anxious about this. Just looking at it from all angles:

Exploring, examining, confronting. 

And so, when I woke up early this morning I lay quietly before I rose up to give the cats their treats, make coffee, and gather up the last of my things to pack for my trip to Washington DC – to NAEYC – to give a three hour presentation, meet up with fantabulous colleagues, attend committee meetings, and sign books in the Exhibits Hall.

And I smiled to myself realizing that this morning, as my blogging countdown to Thanksgiving begins … I am grateful to be alive!

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Countdown to Thanksgiving, 2017

I cannot believe that ten years ago I wrote a series of blog posts about turning sixty.  I mean where did those ten years go? For, now it's already time to count down to 70. Somehow this stage feels even more formidable than 60, especially because at the end of June next year I will be officially retired from my position at Rider University. While I know that I will be busy facilitating professional development workshops and making presentations in Macau in April and New Zealand a year later – not to mention my usual early childhood conference contributions – I will not formally belong to any institution. It feels weird! After all, I have worked for one educational institution or another for the past 45 years. Hmm, I must admit it is like being put out to pasture – plain and simple. On the way to tennis with a friend yesterday, when I used that term: "being put out to pasture," he declared that at least it will be easy – just eating grass – lots and lots of grass! I'm entering a new stage of life – one that has a definitive end. The other night one of my students said that it was "morbid" that I should be thinking about "the end." But I really don't feel "morbid!" Just facing facts of reality – in the moment, looking fairly and squarely at my developmental stage.

I figure there is not much time left since it flies by so swiftly these days, and am not quite sure how to write about all these feelings: Sadness at the loss of youth and livelihood; excitement and trepidation about unknown roads ahead; anxiety about how to consider myself worthwhile; and joy and relief at being free to do what, where, and whenever I like. And, surely I will identify many more emotions along the way. For example, I am really going to miss those students, accompanying them as they start off their academic journey and future career with me as high school students. Sending them off at the end of four years when they have become fine, professional young women and men, poised to care for and educate our youngest children, or continue on to graduate school to become counselors, principals or anything else at all that their heart desires.

So, I say: let the countdown to 70 begin with me feeling stronger, more confident and youthful than I have experienced in a long while. So much of what I do lately is authentic and meaningful, whether it is brushing the cats, fasting on Yom Kippur, walking along Forbidden Drive by the Wissahickon, playing tennis, watering plants on a Saturday morning, going to the movies, having coffee with a friend, reading a book, writing postcards to legislators, visiting my son and his wife in Manhattan, teaching a class, or making a presentation to early childhood educators. As the days and months progress toward the seventh decade event, I will endeavor to unpack and explore emotions and experiences that accompany this new journey into the unknown.

One thing is for sure, though – it looks like I won't have to go it alone. For, there are friends who are waiting for me to join them with encouragement and support, as they are already on their way.

Recently I learned that this expression, “we get what we get and don’t get upset,” is used freely and frequently by teachers of young children. The adults say it, for example, when they are deciding which musical instruments they are handing out, or which snack they are doling out to each child. This message clearly represses feelings and creates an unsafe emotional environment for young children. It comes from adults who are uncomfortable with their own feelings. It has developed out of a culture of emotional discomfort and repression. It’s yet another one of those misinterpretations about the concept of self-regulation with young children, where they have to suppress their feelings and go it alone. For children, the message is quite simply: curb your desire at all costs; don’t fight for what you want or need at all costs; keep the peace at all costs.

This expression immediately raises questions for me:

As a child, how do I validate what I feel? How do I learn to think critically? How do I form an opinion? How do I learn about why I should curb my desires?

And let’s say children do get upset with what they get. What if they want more? Where do their feelings go?

Who can they talk to about it, and who will listen when they cry or become angry and hurt?

Why are tantrums or expressions of anger and frustration of young children considered bad? Why do they cause adults discomfort?

Why does it anger adults when children want something more or different to what they are given?

How much of our judgement or determination about what is important is based on knowledge of child development or is objective and professional – and how much comes solely from the gut? In fact, how do adults determine or judge as to what is important for each individual and unique child when our judgement is based on or clouded by some of these factors? Our own biases; our own childhood experiences; our own ways of solving problems that seem to have worked for us; our convenience, our own cultural norms; our fears; our survival skills and defense mechanisms; and our self-interest.

The expression, “we get what we get and don’t get upset,” angers me personally, yes indeed. It pushes all my buttons, because I am reminded how terribly good I am at “getting what I get, and not allowing myself to get upset.” As a child, I learned that lesson all too well, for when I do get upset, I become anxious and feel bad about myself. These days, late in my life, I am desperately trying to unlearn it, and allow myself to feel upset and desire more than what “I get” – or, even, to know what I want at all.

Conclusion: The message, “we get what we get and don’t get upset,” is solely for the comfort, convenience, and emotional laziness of the adults who care for children. It is repressive for the children who learn it. As adults who care for and educate young children, we simply must change the way we do and say things, in order to help them understand their feelings, wants and needs, and to develop a sense of who they are.

My publisher recently interviewed me for a future, featured slot on their website to promote my latest book. They wrote to me with a bunch of questions and I sat thinking about and writing out my responses over the course of a few days. The one that I found the hardest to answer had to do with what might be on my "bucket list." In fact, I completed all the other questions and still could not think of anything at all to say about my wish list. Finally, I managed to write this response:

This question always baffles me. I think if I am honest with myself I have always tried to follow my heart personally and professionally. This hasn’t always been easy, and as a result I have at times made poor life decisions. On the other hand, I think I have mostly reached out with enthusiasm and excitement, and grasped opportunities that came my way. This included different relationships, as well as travel, academic and scholarly prospects. As a result, I don’t really feel like I have a bucket list, because while I have become more responsible and cautious as I become older, I am still fortunate enough to be able to seize interesting or intriguing opportunities that might come my way. I guess, though, it would be fun to be interviewed by Oprah!

When I woke up this morning the air was clear and cool and I decided to go for a long walk. I set out and soon my mind became lost in thought. It strayed back to the question of my bucket list and I thought about being interviewed by Oprah – something I had joked about at the end of my response in the interview question. I imagined sitting on the stage with her and she asked me questions about my book. Very soon, she was asking me about my relationship with my mother, because I describe some hurtful interactions between her and me in my book, and how that affected the way I viewed myself for many years. Now the interview with Oprah became intense, and my stray thoughts turned into a full blown day dream. I almost blurted out aloud on my walk as I heard myself fervently stating to Oprah and her audience,

"No! On the contrary," I exclaimed. "I adored my mother. I loved her with a passion. I admired her for the charismatic and large-as-life person she was. She was a voracious reader and taught me to love plants and flowers. She had an amazing sense of humor and a huge, healthy appetite for food, life and travel. She was a non conformist and quite irreverent, which made me think critically, largely and widely about everything and everyone. She was shockingly intolerant and did not suffer fools. It took courage to have the opinions she had in the small, provincial town we lived in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). She followed her heart no matter what, and voiced her opinions no matter how they offended people. My issue was never that I did not love her. No! I adored her. My issue was that I longed – yearned – for her to love me back as passionately, and make me a priority from time to time. I longed for her acknowledgement, and felt lacking in so many ways." 

I began to weep silently as I dreamed of my interview with Oprah. It had become intense and almost real. My statement during my reverie was exactly what I felt. I laid out for myself the relationship with my mother clearly and absolutely. By this time, my walk had taken me up to the beginning of Chestnut Hill and I was startled out of my day dream when my husband came up beside me in his car. He was smiling. "Want a ride the rest of the way, honey?" he asked sweetly. I climbed into the car and as we drove together to the center of town for brunch, I wiped away the tears and beamed at him. I had lived out my bucket list wish in my mind on the walk up to town. I felt full of love for my mother, and I thought to myself that in March when it is the second anniversary of her death I want to visit the grave and tell her just how much I had loved her.