We are in house clean out mode again. It seems like no matter how many papers you shred, trips you make to the donation center, and loads of garbage you take out, there is still more stuff that can go.
I made a new rule in my head today. In order for anything to qualify as having sentimental value, I have to remember who gave it to me and when (approximately). And then I thought about that new rule and realized that at some point in the future when cleaning out again, the sentimental value rule will only count if my daughter remembers who gave it to me and when.
Because for all of us, eventually, any stuff we have left is sorted through by those we leave behind.
As my husband was making another trip to the shredder, he quipped that he was shredding more memories. And that stopped me in my tracks.
Are we really discarding memories?
I have to admit, I have found papers and pictures that I had completely forgotten about. And they do provoke memories.
Is that what our stuff is for? Is all the stuff representative of the moments in our lives we may not remember without them being provoked by a physical object?
How then do we keep enough to provoke the good memories without eventually drowning under the stuff we have collected?
I added another rule. Cards, letters and anything signed by someone important to you can be kept. I found a thank you card from my daughter's best friend in eighth grade, thanking us for taking her to Disney World with us. I forgot about that card. It warmed my heart to read it, and I put it with my special papers.
This exercise has me thinking about all the people who have lost everything through fire or flood or earthquake or war. I don't think I have ever been as profoundly aware of how big a loss that is as I am going through papers and files I haven't touched in fifteen years.
There is no magic answer to how much stuff is enough, and how much stuff is too much. There is no universal rule about what you should keep, and what you should throw away.
I have heard many times that you don't own your stuff, your stuff owns you. And yes, I have to find a place for everything I keep, and I have to keep the things I keep in some semblance of order. So there is a symbiosis with your stuff.
And there I am again. Balance. In everything, the question always seems to be how much is enough and how much is too much? I've learned the answer to that question changes with time and circumstance. There are things that I threw away, gave away or shredded this weekend that I would have hung on to ten years ago. I imagine the same will happen ten years from now.
The only thing that has room for all of our memories is our mind and our hearts. And when we connect with the other minds and hearts that share those memories, they get strengthened and reinforced.
What I learned this weekend cleaning out, is to tell our stories over and over again. To ask our loved ones, do you remember when....? To laugh every chance you get about the fun times you've shared. And to cry again when appropriate about the bad times.
Some experiences are better in memory than they are in reality, and some are worse. But all memories are better shared.
Talk about the past. Reminisce. Do it by yourself and with others. Share your old stories with new friends so that they can get to know you better.
The more times you tell a story or talk about or remember an event, the more pathways your brain has to those memories.
Try to make the pathways so strong you never lose the important memories, even after your stuff has all gone away.
Monday, March 27, 2017
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Voyage of Discovery
I have been reading a lot of fiction lately, and it is helping me with my own writing.
One of the things that I struggle with when I write is what I know that the reader doesn't know. When do I disclose important information, so that it enhances the story and doesn't anger the reader?
I know that to build suspense, I often have to withhold information, and that is easy. But when in order to identify with the character, the reader has to learn something about them, I struggle with when to disclose.
I finished a book the other night where the author withheld a critical piece of information until the last twenty pages or so of the book.
The withholding of this information was necessary for character and story development. It was necessary for the major theme of the book to be successful. I was shocked when I learned the information, and I had to stop reading and cry for a moment.
But I wasn't angry. The author had me so deeply emotionally involved in the story that the timing of the revelation made absolute sense. I felt the impact of the information at the same time as the central character did. It was an amazing book, and an amazing feat of emotional connection through fiction.
When I read a book like that, I think I must be crazy to try to write books of my own.
But then after a few minutes, I'm inspired to write more in the hopes that someday I can write a book that impacts a reader as profoundly as that book impacted me.
And then I started thinking about how important attitude and outlook are.
There have been days in the past few months where reading a book that good would have made it impossible for me to write. The self-doubt and self-criticism would have been crippling.
But because I am in a good space, because my overall attitude and outlook are positive right now, I see inspiration instead of discouragement.
The next step in my journey of self-discovery and improvement is how to stay in this positive space.
I'm learning more and more that it is really not external forces or events that impact my mood and attitude. It is really how much time and energy I decide to put into feeling better, or how much time and energy I put into focusing on that which makes me feel worse.
Unfortunately, the path of least resistance for me is the one which makes me feel worse. I keep reading the depressing news stories, I don't force myself to write or crochet. I click mindlessly through the internet, instead of playing with my dogs.
I've been working hard for the past few weeks to force myself to redirect to positive uplifting activities instead of getting bogged down in minutiae that makes me sad. And it is working.
I talked to a friend the other day who told me that her company was sending everyone to stress resiliency training. I went to a class like that almost twenty years ago, and then it was called stress hardening.
The basic concept is there will always be stress, what everyone needs to do is learn better coping mechanisms. The facilitator of the course won my confidence when she told the group that when something truly terrible happens, like the death of a loved one, eating more broccoli isn't going to fix it. (Because these workshops always seem to focus on eating well and exercising more.)
She said when the truly terrible happens, you just do your best to keep breathing and surviving, and you use whatever crutches are necessary to get to a point where survival is an option.
But for all the daily stresses that are not truly terrible, forcing yourself to exercise, forcing yourself to go outside and experience nature, forcing yourself to eat healthier foods, forcing yourself to reach out to friends for socialization really does help.
As I go through life, I learn new things, but I relearn so many things so many times.
I hope someday I remember to choose to turn towards the light and away from the darkness before I spend time in the dark.
Until then, as I share my voyage of discovery with you, I hope I help you turn towards the light.
One of the things that I struggle with when I write is what I know that the reader doesn't know. When do I disclose important information, so that it enhances the story and doesn't anger the reader?
I know that to build suspense, I often have to withhold information, and that is easy. But when in order to identify with the character, the reader has to learn something about them, I struggle with when to disclose.
I finished a book the other night where the author withheld a critical piece of information until the last twenty pages or so of the book.
The withholding of this information was necessary for character and story development. It was necessary for the major theme of the book to be successful. I was shocked when I learned the information, and I had to stop reading and cry for a moment.
But I wasn't angry. The author had me so deeply emotionally involved in the story that the timing of the revelation made absolute sense. I felt the impact of the information at the same time as the central character did. It was an amazing book, and an amazing feat of emotional connection through fiction.
When I read a book like that, I think I must be crazy to try to write books of my own.
But then after a few minutes, I'm inspired to write more in the hopes that someday I can write a book that impacts a reader as profoundly as that book impacted me.
And then I started thinking about how important attitude and outlook are.
There have been days in the past few months where reading a book that good would have made it impossible for me to write. The self-doubt and self-criticism would have been crippling.
But because I am in a good space, because my overall attitude and outlook are positive right now, I see inspiration instead of discouragement.
The next step in my journey of self-discovery and improvement is how to stay in this positive space.
I'm learning more and more that it is really not external forces or events that impact my mood and attitude. It is really how much time and energy I decide to put into feeling better, or how much time and energy I put into focusing on that which makes me feel worse.
Unfortunately, the path of least resistance for me is the one which makes me feel worse. I keep reading the depressing news stories, I don't force myself to write or crochet. I click mindlessly through the internet, instead of playing with my dogs.
I've been working hard for the past few weeks to force myself to redirect to positive uplifting activities instead of getting bogged down in minutiae that makes me sad. And it is working.
I talked to a friend the other day who told me that her company was sending everyone to stress resiliency training. I went to a class like that almost twenty years ago, and then it was called stress hardening.
The basic concept is there will always be stress, what everyone needs to do is learn better coping mechanisms. The facilitator of the course won my confidence when she told the group that when something truly terrible happens, like the death of a loved one, eating more broccoli isn't going to fix it. (Because these workshops always seem to focus on eating well and exercising more.)
She said when the truly terrible happens, you just do your best to keep breathing and surviving, and you use whatever crutches are necessary to get to a point where survival is an option.
But for all the daily stresses that are not truly terrible, forcing yourself to exercise, forcing yourself to go outside and experience nature, forcing yourself to eat healthier foods, forcing yourself to reach out to friends for socialization really does help.
As I go through life, I learn new things, but I relearn so many things so many times.
I hope someday I remember to choose to turn towards the light and away from the darkness before I spend time in the dark.
Until then, as I share my voyage of discovery with you, I hope I help you turn towards the light.
Saturday, March 18, 2017
Who I am
I haven't been writing my blog as much lately as I used to. There have been all kinds of reasons. At first, all I wanted to write about was how disappointed and angry I was, and that wasn't cathartic, but reinforcing my anger and disappointment, so I stopped.
Then I went through a phase where I tried to write about cooking, and crochet and memories. Places to hide from the discord, without having to emotionally process through it.
And finally, I am past the anger and disappointment. I accept that this is where we are, and that it will take tremendous focus and effort and energy if the United States will ever again be a great nation that I can take pride in.
Now, what has been stifling my writing is feeling like all my happy-crappy, Mary-Sunshine, feel good philosophy is too inane and useless in the big picture of all the painful realities that many are currently facing.
I started to feel like I was fiddling while Rome burned, like I was rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.
And then, I watched a video of Fred Rogers, appearing before Congress in 1969, trying to convince Congress to continue funding public television.
Mr. Rogers wasn't angry. He didn't talk about dollars and cents much. Mostly, he talked about what he did on public television. How he provided a half hour in a place where children could know they were safe and cared for. His gentleness was his gift to those children. Mr. Rogers talked about how he helped children figure out how to navigate the difficult times in life without anger, or violence. How to solve problems so that everyone feels okay about how things turn out. He talked about how he ended every show telling the children watching that they were special, and that they were just right just the way they are.
And I realized that what I do is helpful, and necessary.
Someone has to be the voice for all of the tall children telling us that we are just right just the way we are. Someone has to suggest that problems can be solved without anger and violence. Someone has to be willing to admit to fear and indecision and feelings of unworthiness so that everyone knows they are not alone in those feelings.
Maybe much of what I write is inane, and maybe it will never change the world. But maybe someone feels better because they read what I wrote. Maybe someone feels like they are not alone. Maybe someone takes the encouragement they need to keep fighting whatever battle they need to fight.
I have to do a better job of stifling the voice in my head that tells me I am wasting my time. The world always needs voices lifting people up. The world always needs people who see the bright side. The world needs more of us to be unafraid to be relentlessly positive in the face of challenges.
Because the challenges are always there. And what may appear inconsequential to me may be a huge deal to someone else. In order to have the energy to keep going in spite of the setbacks, in spite of the disappointments, some one has to continue to say "you got this, you are amazing, you can do this".
And that someone might as well be me.
Then I went through a phase where I tried to write about cooking, and crochet and memories. Places to hide from the discord, without having to emotionally process through it.
And finally, I am past the anger and disappointment. I accept that this is where we are, and that it will take tremendous focus and effort and energy if the United States will ever again be a great nation that I can take pride in.
Now, what has been stifling my writing is feeling like all my happy-crappy, Mary-Sunshine, feel good philosophy is too inane and useless in the big picture of all the painful realities that many are currently facing.
I started to feel like I was fiddling while Rome burned, like I was rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.
And then, I watched a video of Fred Rogers, appearing before Congress in 1969, trying to convince Congress to continue funding public television.
Mr. Rogers wasn't angry. He didn't talk about dollars and cents much. Mostly, he talked about what he did on public television. How he provided a half hour in a place where children could know they were safe and cared for. His gentleness was his gift to those children. Mr. Rogers talked about how he helped children figure out how to navigate the difficult times in life without anger, or violence. How to solve problems so that everyone feels okay about how things turn out. He talked about how he ended every show telling the children watching that they were special, and that they were just right just the way they are.
And I realized that what I do is helpful, and necessary.
Someone has to be the voice for all of the tall children telling us that we are just right just the way we are. Someone has to suggest that problems can be solved without anger and violence. Someone has to be willing to admit to fear and indecision and feelings of unworthiness so that everyone knows they are not alone in those feelings.
Maybe much of what I write is inane, and maybe it will never change the world. But maybe someone feels better because they read what I wrote. Maybe someone feels like they are not alone. Maybe someone takes the encouragement they need to keep fighting whatever battle they need to fight.
I have to do a better job of stifling the voice in my head that tells me I am wasting my time. The world always needs voices lifting people up. The world always needs people who see the bright side. The world needs more of us to be unafraid to be relentlessly positive in the face of challenges.
Because the challenges are always there. And what may appear inconsequential to me may be a huge deal to someone else. In order to have the energy to keep going in spite of the setbacks, in spite of the disappointments, some one has to continue to say "you got this, you are amazing, you can do this".
And that someone might as well be me.
Saturday, March 11, 2017
The things you learn
I had gotten really stuck in my writing. One of my characters, Pete, was behaving in a way I never imagined him behaving. I couldn't seem to make him behave any differently, and I couldn't figure out how to get him out of the mess he had gotten himself into.
For those of you who don't write, who don't have a cast of characters that inhabit your imagination, I may sound crazy. And maybe I am. But for me, my characters write my stories. They are as real to me as the people I see and interact with. And they are just as surprising at times.
I read a book in that window of time, where one of the principal characters in the book had appeared in two previous books. This character did things I would have never imagined her doing. By the end of the book, the character reconciled to herself, and she too couldn't believe the things she had done.
That book unlocked my block. It helped me realize that we all act "out of character" sometimes. Grief, worry, insecurity, anxiety, depression, there are many influences that make us behave differently than we usually do.
Once I had that realization, I could analyze deeper why Pete was behaving as he was, and figure out how Pete would react. Would he dig in and stay in the dark place, or would he seek help to find the light?
I figured out what Pete would do, and the words flowed again.
And that got me to thinking. If I can't make a fictional character that I created out of my own imagination do what I want instead of what the character wants, how can I ever think I can make a flesh and blood human do what I want them to do?
The most important word in that last question is "make". All kinds of people do what I want them to do every day. But it is because of a multitude of reasons. Maybe they do what they do because they want to, too. Maybe it is because they love me. Maybe it is because it is the path of least resistance. Maybe it is because they want to see me smile. It doesn't really matter what their motivation is, the important thing is that I understand that I can't "make" anyone do anything without causing damage to the relationship.
One of the mistakes most people (including me) make in relationships is trying to use force or manipulation to get others to do the things we want them to do. No one likes feeling an imbalance of power in a relationship. The best relationships are partnerships with give and take, with compromise and accommodation. Every time one person uses fear, or intimidation, or force or manipulation to get someone else to do their bidding, they diminish the sanctity of the relationship.
We all do this sometimes. There are times when it is deliberate, and times when it is inadvertent. I wish I would have understood this better when I was actively parenting. I know my daughter could have had a happier childhood if I had understood this. I wish I would have understood this better when I was forming relationships myself when I was younger. I could have avoided some painful lessons.
As I try to become an author, I realize more and more how complex we all are. The things that frighten me are not the same as the things that frighten someone else. We all find our joy in different places. We all suffer, but each suffering is unique. We all struggle at times. And sometimes what causes someone great pain wouldn't bother someone else at all.
What my writing is doing for me is helping me see the world through other viewpoints. My characters are not me. They don't do what I would do, they don't feel how I would feel, they don't think how I would think.
And that is helping me to realize that as well as I know anyone, I don't know them totally. So it is helping me to listen more objectively. My writing is making me more observant.
The other thing my writing is teaching me is how important communication is. One of the most often used devices in fiction is misunderstanding. Two characters experiencing the same thing and drawing different conclusions from what happened. In fiction, this is often the catalyst for the conflict in a story. In real life, it doesn't have to be.
I still believe with all my heart that one of the most important purposes of fiction is to teach us more about life. To help us get to know people who would perhaps frighten us in real life. To help us to get to know people who we would never encounter.
Fiction can open our eyes to all the worlds we do not see. And can provide a blueprint for how to navigate difficult situations we find ourselves in. Fiction can help us to see how we want to be as a person, and how we don't want to be as a person.
I don't know if I will ever be successful as a writer. But trying to learn to write is already helping me to be more successful as a person.
For those of you who don't write, who don't have a cast of characters that inhabit your imagination, I may sound crazy. And maybe I am. But for me, my characters write my stories. They are as real to me as the people I see and interact with. And they are just as surprising at times.
I read a book in that window of time, where one of the principal characters in the book had appeared in two previous books. This character did things I would have never imagined her doing. By the end of the book, the character reconciled to herself, and she too couldn't believe the things she had done.
That book unlocked my block. It helped me realize that we all act "out of character" sometimes. Grief, worry, insecurity, anxiety, depression, there are many influences that make us behave differently than we usually do.
Once I had that realization, I could analyze deeper why Pete was behaving as he was, and figure out how Pete would react. Would he dig in and stay in the dark place, or would he seek help to find the light?
I figured out what Pete would do, and the words flowed again.
And that got me to thinking. If I can't make a fictional character that I created out of my own imagination do what I want instead of what the character wants, how can I ever think I can make a flesh and blood human do what I want them to do?
The most important word in that last question is "make". All kinds of people do what I want them to do every day. But it is because of a multitude of reasons. Maybe they do what they do because they want to, too. Maybe it is because they love me. Maybe it is because it is the path of least resistance. Maybe it is because they want to see me smile. It doesn't really matter what their motivation is, the important thing is that I understand that I can't "make" anyone do anything without causing damage to the relationship.
One of the mistakes most people (including me) make in relationships is trying to use force or manipulation to get others to do the things we want them to do. No one likes feeling an imbalance of power in a relationship. The best relationships are partnerships with give and take, with compromise and accommodation. Every time one person uses fear, or intimidation, or force or manipulation to get someone else to do their bidding, they diminish the sanctity of the relationship.
We all do this sometimes. There are times when it is deliberate, and times when it is inadvertent. I wish I would have understood this better when I was actively parenting. I know my daughter could have had a happier childhood if I had understood this. I wish I would have understood this better when I was forming relationships myself when I was younger. I could have avoided some painful lessons.
As I try to become an author, I realize more and more how complex we all are. The things that frighten me are not the same as the things that frighten someone else. We all find our joy in different places. We all suffer, but each suffering is unique. We all struggle at times. And sometimes what causes someone great pain wouldn't bother someone else at all.
What my writing is doing for me is helping me see the world through other viewpoints. My characters are not me. They don't do what I would do, they don't feel how I would feel, they don't think how I would think.
And that is helping me to realize that as well as I know anyone, I don't know them totally. So it is helping me to listen more objectively. My writing is making me more observant.
The other thing my writing is teaching me is how important communication is. One of the most often used devices in fiction is misunderstanding. Two characters experiencing the same thing and drawing different conclusions from what happened. In fiction, this is often the catalyst for the conflict in a story. In real life, it doesn't have to be.
I still believe with all my heart that one of the most important purposes of fiction is to teach us more about life. To help us get to know people who would perhaps frighten us in real life. To help us to get to know people who we would never encounter.
Fiction can open our eyes to all the worlds we do not see. And can provide a blueprint for how to navigate difficult situations we find ourselves in. Fiction can help us to see how we want to be as a person, and how we don't want to be as a person.
I don't know if I will ever be successful as a writer. But trying to learn to write is already helping me to be more successful as a person.
Thursday, March 9, 2017
Back in the saddle again
The days of excess are over for now. I'm back to trying to eat better and drink less alcohol. This is day three.
I have to say I'm not having any difficulty. And part of that is because my husband is not drinking either, and he is eating an even more restrictive set of foods than I am.
Which leaves me free to eat what I like. And I happen to really like healthy foods.
Last night, I made a stir fry with Green Giant Cauliflower rice blends (the one with carrots and broccoli), Birds' Eye Broccoli Stir Fry frozen vegetables, and rotisserie chicken. I used olive oil and garlic to get started, and then seasoned the mixture with ground ginger, champagne vinegar and soy sauce. After the vegetables were cooked and the chicken warmed through, I added two egg whites. Then I sprinkled the whole thing with toasted sesame seeds. It was delicious. I'll have the leftovers for dinner tonight.
The night before, I roasted butternut squash, and finished Monday night's gumbo on cauliflower rice.
Salad for lunch both days, yogurt and granola for breakfast all three days. Lots and lots of ice water.
What this made me remember is that when I lost those fifty pounds, I cooked for me, and separately for my husband. I've gotten lazy and tried to go back to just one meal for both of us, but that is not in my best dietary interests. In order for me to eat clean and healthy and not feel deprived, I have to eat things that I like. It may mean more time and effort, but I'm retired, I can afford the extra time and effort.
Now I know I self-sabotage. The next step is figuring out why.
One reason is I am naturally lazy. Another reason is that I like to get along. Another reason is that even though I like healthy food, I like unhealthy food too. And if it is there, I will eat it. And I like the feeling of a belly full of food, and the tension relief after a few beers or glasses of wine.
But I don't like how I was feeling. I had gotten sluggish, both physically and mentally. Already, that sluggishness is receding. I know I will continue feeling better and better as I continue cleaner living.
One of the struggles I have as I age is the knowledge that no matter how hard I try, I'm getting older. My skin is crepe-y and I have wrinkles. I'm lucky that I have lots of good hair, but there is no doubt about the gray in it. No matter how good I look, I'm still getting older, and looking older every day.
The vanity component of clean living is kind of shot as a motivator. Now I have to figure out how to make the long term feeling better win the daily battle with the short term feeling satiated from excess food and drink.
Vanity has always been the primary motivator for me. But now, even if I look thin and fit in a photograph, I still am not really happy with how old I look. So I have to get past that.
The funny thing is, I see people in their eighties and marvel at how good they look, never seeing their wrinkles, or crepe-y skin, or thinning hair. I see their love, and enthusiasm for life, and their wisdom.
I hope someday I can learn to see myself with the same eyes that I view the rest of the world with.
Until then, I will keep trying to remember how good I will feel again tomorrow, if I treat myself right again today.
I have to say I'm not having any difficulty. And part of that is because my husband is not drinking either, and he is eating an even more restrictive set of foods than I am.
Which leaves me free to eat what I like. And I happen to really like healthy foods.
Last night, I made a stir fry with Green Giant Cauliflower rice blends (the one with carrots and broccoli), Birds' Eye Broccoli Stir Fry frozen vegetables, and rotisserie chicken. I used olive oil and garlic to get started, and then seasoned the mixture with ground ginger, champagne vinegar and soy sauce. After the vegetables were cooked and the chicken warmed through, I added two egg whites. Then I sprinkled the whole thing with toasted sesame seeds. It was delicious. I'll have the leftovers for dinner tonight.
The night before, I roasted butternut squash, and finished Monday night's gumbo on cauliflower rice.
Salad for lunch both days, yogurt and granola for breakfast all three days. Lots and lots of ice water.
What this made me remember is that when I lost those fifty pounds, I cooked for me, and separately for my husband. I've gotten lazy and tried to go back to just one meal for both of us, but that is not in my best dietary interests. In order for me to eat clean and healthy and not feel deprived, I have to eat things that I like. It may mean more time and effort, but I'm retired, I can afford the extra time and effort.
Now I know I self-sabotage. The next step is figuring out why.
One reason is I am naturally lazy. Another reason is that I like to get along. Another reason is that even though I like healthy food, I like unhealthy food too. And if it is there, I will eat it. And I like the feeling of a belly full of food, and the tension relief after a few beers or glasses of wine.
But I don't like how I was feeling. I had gotten sluggish, both physically and mentally. Already, that sluggishness is receding. I know I will continue feeling better and better as I continue cleaner living.
One of the struggles I have as I age is the knowledge that no matter how hard I try, I'm getting older. My skin is crepe-y and I have wrinkles. I'm lucky that I have lots of good hair, but there is no doubt about the gray in it. No matter how good I look, I'm still getting older, and looking older every day.
The vanity component of clean living is kind of shot as a motivator. Now I have to figure out how to make the long term feeling better win the daily battle with the short term feeling satiated from excess food and drink.
Vanity has always been the primary motivator for me. But now, even if I look thin and fit in a photograph, I still am not really happy with how old I look. So I have to get past that.
The funny thing is, I see people in their eighties and marvel at how good they look, never seeing their wrinkles, or crepe-y skin, or thinning hair. I see their love, and enthusiasm for life, and their wisdom.
I hope someday I can learn to see myself with the same eyes that I view the rest of the world with.
Until then, I will keep trying to remember how good I will feel again tomorrow, if I treat myself right again today.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
My DNA
For Christmas in 2016, my husband and I bought each other DNA testing from Ancestry.com. My results came back on Saturday.
I'm surprised and not surprised.
The not surprised part is that I am 55% Irish. I knew that 3 of my father's four grandparents were born in Ireland, and that my mother's maiden name was Dunn, so this result was kind of expected.
Where the surprise comes in is there is no match for German. My mother's maternal grandfather was born in Germany, and my mother's mother's maternal grandmother and grandfather were born in Germany. My grandmother shared stories of corresponding with her cousins in Germany. If the DNA map doesn't include Germany, where did they move to Germany from? Maybe I just didn't get a bunch of the German DNA. My sister is going to have her DNA tested so that we can see how alike or different our results are.
My DNA would indicate Scandinavia; a migration to Germany from Scandinavia, where I have a 21% DNA match. The approximate distance from Norway to Germany is 620 miles or 1000 kilometers. To put that in US terms, about the same as from North Carolina to Florida.
So not a really far away place, but still, a puzzle.
And does it really matter?
For me, it only matters in that science or research can always present you with information that is surprising, that challenges what you think you know. Everything we think we know can be influenced by the evolution of the information available.
Who I am is less about the DNA I carry and more about my stories, and my personal history and my mark on the planet. Who I am is in this blog, and in my writing, and in how I care for and about others.
It is great to understand where I came from. What the biology of me says about my ancestry. But that is only important in that it can help me find lost relatives, or understand the medical challenges I may face.
The really important truths about me are in my time on the planet, the time behind me and the time yet to come. No matter the circumstances of my genealogy, I have every minute of every day to choose how I want to write the story of my life.
And so far, I've been blessed to write a happy story. It has plenty of drama, and conflicts, and difficulties, but overall, a happy story. I know not everyone is so blessed. I also know that there were times in the past when the happiness in my story was overshadowed by the trials of the moment. For anyone reading this who is walking in shadow right now, I hope you return to the light. I hope you get to write a happy story.
Learning more about myself, my biology, my ancestors, is all interesting stuff. It expands my world view. It reminds me that no matter what I think I know, there may be data that will inform me differently. And that is what makes the journey so exciting.
Being open to finding out that everything you think you know can have a data set to call it into question makes it easier to hear someone else's truth. Because I found out I had an incomplete picture of my own biological truth.
And you can't get much more surprising than that. So, I am once more dedicated to listen with an open mind and an open heart, because there may be another truth I think I know that will be called into question with data.
I'm surprised and not surprised.
The not surprised part is that I am 55% Irish. I knew that 3 of my father's four grandparents were born in Ireland, and that my mother's maiden name was Dunn, so this result was kind of expected.
Where the surprise comes in is there is no match for German. My mother's maternal grandfather was born in Germany, and my mother's mother's maternal grandmother and grandfather were born in Germany. My grandmother shared stories of corresponding with her cousins in Germany. If the DNA map doesn't include Germany, where did they move to Germany from? Maybe I just didn't get a bunch of the German DNA. My sister is going to have her DNA tested so that we can see how alike or different our results are.
My DNA would indicate Scandinavia; a migration to Germany from Scandinavia, where I have a 21% DNA match. The approximate distance from Norway to Germany is 620 miles or 1000 kilometers. To put that in US terms, about the same as from North Carolina to Florida.
So not a really far away place, but still, a puzzle.
And does it really matter?
For me, it only matters in that science or research can always present you with information that is surprising, that challenges what you think you know. Everything we think we know can be influenced by the evolution of the information available.
Who I am is less about the DNA I carry and more about my stories, and my personal history and my mark on the planet. Who I am is in this blog, and in my writing, and in how I care for and about others.
It is great to understand where I came from. What the biology of me says about my ancestry. But that is only important in that it can help me find lost relatives, or understand the medical challenges I may face.
The really important truths about me are in my time on the planet, the time behind me and the time yet to come. No matter the circumstances of my genealogy, I have every minute of every day to choose how I want to write the story of my life.
And so far, I've been blessed to write a happy story. It has plenty of drama, and conflicts, and difficulties, but overall, a happy story. I know not everyone is so blessed. I also know that there were times in the past when the happiness in my story was overshadowed by the trials of the moment. For anyone reading this who is walking in shadow right now, I hope you return to the light. I hope you get to write a happy story.
Learning more about myself, my biology, my ancestors, is all interesting stuff. It expands my world view. It reminds me that no matter what I think I know, there may be data that will inform me differently. And that is what makes the journey so exciting.
Being open to finding out that everything you think you know can have a data set to call it into question makes it easier to hear someone else's truth. Because I found out I had an incomplete picture of my own biological truth.
And you can't get much more surprising than that. So, I am once more dedicated to listen with an open mind and an open heart, because there may be another truth I think I know that will be called into question with data.
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