First, a video: Jane Austen Fight Club. My birthday gift to you and Jane. If we didn't have Jane Austen, we'd never have this video, and that would be a true loss to society.
Showing posts with label woman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label woman. Show all posts
Monday, December 17, 2012
A Tribute to Jane Austen
Yesterday, Jane Austen—dearly beloved by many—had a birthday (shout hooray!). I wish I could fully describe all of my feelings about Jane Austen in words, but I'd rather tickle your senses with videos, pictures, and at least one story over the next month or so.
First, a video: Jane Austen Fight Club. My birthday gift to you and Jane. If we didn't have Jane Austen, we'd never have this video, and that would be a true loss to society.
First, a video: Jane Austen Fight Club. My birthday gift to you and Jane. If we didn't have Jane Austen, we'd never have this video, and that would be a true loss to society.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Ellis in more spaces
Great news! This summer I'll be writing for the BYU Women's Services blog as an internship. You can look forward to my posts every Tuesday—which is the best day of the week already practically. Who knew Tuesdays could get even better?
Here's the link to my first post!
http://byuwsr.blogspot.com/2012/05/hi-im-katie-and-im-pretty-sure-youre.html
Here's the link to my first post!
http://byuwsr.blogspot.com/2012/05/hi-im-katie-and-im-pretty-sure-youre.html
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
A reconnective pratice
Yoga: not everyone's favorite Saturday night activity. But I was feeling caught between having had an early morning and the loss of an hour with daylight saving's time. Wanting to go to bed early, but worried my body wasn't going to fall asleep that early, I returned to yoga, something I've loved long since and lost a while.
It's hard to find good yoga videos. It seems most instructors want to stop and teach me how to do something, as if video gives them permission to pause the flow of the universe and my breathing so they can instant reply with a close-up on the angle of the hips. Real yoga classes are much more fluid. But finally, I found a site that begins a session and just goes.
If you're looking at the video below you'll notice that yes, this is prenatal yoga. I'm not pregnant of course, but I'll confess that I choose this video anyways because few things are more comforting to me than the feel of my hand on my stomach. I snickered and laughed—breaking my own flow—the first time the instructor told me to bring my hands to "baby." But I did it anyways.
It's been so long since I've done any yoga that even the most basic of movements pulled and strained my muscles and my joints. The twists—once pleasurable—felt awkward and slow. My balance—once the pride of my yoga loving heart—was off. I could stand on my right foot, but not on my left. Every time it tipped, my body said, "Hey, I'm not used to this."
The instructor kept telling me things that are a little bit funny: reach to sky, say hello to baby, you are beautiful. Those phrases feel off somehow, and I think about how the thought of having another person in my body also feels so other worldly and beyond my mortal comprehension—still wonderful—but also sort of strange and terrifying. As we move into a seated position, the instructor says, "Be sure you have a space for your baby."
I made a space anyways, followed the flow though, let my arms reach, lifted my hands to my heart, and I told my body back, "Hey, get used to it. Someday we'll need this space."
It's hard to find good yoga videos. It seems most instructors want to stop and teach me how to do something, as if video gives them permission to pause the flow of the universe and my breathing so they can instant reply with a close-up on the angle of the hips. Real yoga classes are much more fluid. But finally, I found a site that begins a session and just goes.
If you're looking at the video below you'll notice that yes, this is prenatal yoga. I'm not pregnant of course, but I'll confess that I choose this video anyways because few things are more comforting to me than the feel of my hand on my stomach. I snickered and laughed—breaking my own flow—the first time the instructor told me to bring my hands to "baby." But I did it anyways.
It's been so long since I've done any yoga that even the most basic of movements pulled and strained my muscles and my joints. The twists—once pleasurable—felt awkward and slow. My balance—once the pride of my yoga loving heart—was off. I could stand on my right foot, but not on my left. Every time it tipped, my body said, "Hey, I'm not used to this."
The instructor kept telling me things that are a little bit funny: reach to sky, say hello to baby, you are beautiful. Those phrases feel off somehow, and I think about how the thought of having another person in my body also feels so other worldly and beyond my mortal comprehension—still wonderful—but also sort of strange and terrifying. As we move into a seated position, the instructor says, "Be sure you have a space for your baby."
I made a space anyways, followed the flow though, let my arms reach, lifted my hands to my heart, and I told my body back, "Hey, get used to it. Someday we'll need this space."
Saturday, February 18, 2012
"How can I become the woman of whom I dream?"
Over the past few days, the title of this talk by President Hinckley keeps coming to my mind.
"You are creatures of divinity; you are daughters of the Almighty. Limitless is your potential. Magnificent is your future, if you will take control of it. Do not let your lives drift in a fruitless and worthless manner."
Monday, February 13, 2012
A Letter to the Mother with One Child
My first thought as I glanced at this article was jealousy that there are 601 comments on it. Then I read it. If all of those 601 comments are good and positive, Simcha Fisher deserves every one of them.
These are beautiful thoughts, which I agree with completely. (I wouldn't disagree as I don't have the credentials for that.) I wanted to share it with my readers, because I want to hear your thoughts as women, girls, inbetween those two, mothers, grandmothers, and even as men, boys, and fathers.
You can read the article here, http://www.ncregister.com/blog/to-the-mother-with-only-one-child. Then come back here and share some comments. What part of this resonates with you the most?
Here's what resonates with me: we have so many expectations of what we are capable of and of how things should feel. We are usually wrong: we are capable of everything, and there is always deep joy to be had somewhere.
I include this picture of my brother and me from about five years ago because this was a moment when we were deeply grateful for my mom, who tried to get us to win her a cake at the elementary school cake walk for twelve years, between the two of us. At the last time possible, we did it.
These are beautiful thoughts, which I agree with completely. (I wouldn't disagree as I don't have the credentials for that.) I wanted to share it with my readers, because I want to hear your thoughts as women, girls, inbetween those two, mothers, grandmothers, and even as men, boys, and fathers.
You can read the article here, http://www.ncregister.com/blog/to-the-mother-with-only-one-child. Then come back here and share some comments. What part of this resonates with you the most?
Here's what resonates with me: we have so many expectations of what we are capable of and of how things should feel. We are usually wrong: we are capable of everything, and there is always deep joy to be had somewhere.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Remembering: Part two
Last night, Super brought me a piece of pumpkin pie that was thoroughly covered in whipping cream on ALL THREE SIDES! I love whipping cream, practically as much as I love him for bringing me pie. Sometimes, I forget how wonderful he is.
I tend to forget a lot of important things. Lately, I've been working on remembering what divine potential I have because I am a daughter of God. It's easy to forget that I can do hard things and I can do them well. It's easy to forget that I know what is right and I can do it. It's easy to forget that I am capable, lovely, and bright.
In addition to remembering these things, I love to remember that even when I forget these truths they are still true. My heart may freeze over and my potential may go dormant for a season, but the is still a seed of light in me. If I choose to stay like that for too long, I won't be the wonderful person I am, but if I do remember and start living these truths, God is more than willing to pick up where we left off and continue making me even more wonderful and divine. He never forgets what I can do.
He also sent me a man named Super who remembers that I am beautiful and wonderful and who helps me to remember that by treating me with respect and patience.
I still forget things sometimes. (I forgot how long my pigtails were and accidentally got part of that whipping cream in my hair. My friend Sarah tells me there's a place for me in the retirement home she works at.) But there are deep truths that will always be true. My potential is one of God's great truths. I am never forgotten.
I tend to forget a lot of important things. Lately, I've been working on remembering what divine potential I have because I am a daughter of God. It's easy to forget that I can do hard things and I can do them well. It's easy to forget that I know what is right and I can do it. It's easy to forget that I am capable, lovely, and bright.
In addition to remembering these things, I love to remember that even when I forget these truths they are still true. My heart may freeze over and my potential may go dormant for a season, but the is still a seed of light in me. If I choose to stay like that for too long, I won't be the wonderful person I am, but if I do remember and start living these truths, God is more than willing to pick up where we left off and continue making me even more wonderful and divine. He never forgets what I can do.
He also sent me a man named Super who remembers that I am beautiful and wonderful and who helps me to remember that by treating me with respect and patience.
I still forget things sometimes. (I forgot how long my pigtails were and accidentally got part of that whipping cream in my hair. My friend Sarah tells me there's a place for me in the retirement home she works at.) But there are deep truths that will always be true. My potential is one of God's great truths. I am never forgotten.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Remembering: Part one
The other night, I was cold, so Super, my boyfriend, gave me his sweater to wear. It's big on him, so it was enormous on me. If I had had the right belt, I could have pulled it off and still looked trendy. Without a belt though, I just looked cozy in a wash of grey knit that hides every curve of my body.
I am not uneducated in the debates over gender that are raging throughout the world. I understand that there are a lot of questions and none of them quite have easy answers. Is there such a thing as gender? Are we simply socialized to behave in these ways?
When it comes to answering these questions in direct words, I believe that "gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose." I have always been female, and I will always be female. Here's the source for that quote, and let me say that I believe every word in this document on the family.
When people want an answer about gender, I turn to that document and that quote. But today, I'd like to write about the part I don't usually bring up in debates.
I feel like a woman in this sublime way that I cannot describe. Standing in front of the mirror the other day, I knew that there is something deep within me—beyond physical attributes, beyond what toys I played with as a kid, beyond what colors I like to wear—that is truly feminine. It transcends the mortal explanations and categories that so many scholars and interest groups throw at it. I just am beautiful and divine. Nothing outside of me can diminish my worth or my purpose. I am made to do all things: work, raise children, get an education, serve others. And I do all of these in a way no one but me can do, a way that is rooted in my identify as a woman.
It frustrates me that this isn't a valid argument in the voting polls or the scholarly discourse. It frustrates me even more that I cannot put it into words even for myself sometimes.
My hope is that other women will be more in tune to those moments where something in their spirit communicates that they are women. Often times there are a lot of things in the way, like our own ideas of beauty. I think that is in itself a sign that we are missing part of the picture.
I don't think it's just standing in front of a mirror. It's a moment that happens when we're least expecting it. This kind of knowledge happens though when you start thinking beyond what you see to what you feel. Keep thinking until nothing you come up with has anything to do with the world's view of these things. Think until it's only something you understand. I think then you'll understand what I mean.
I am not uneducated in the debates over gender that are raging throughout the world. I understand that there are a lot of questions and none of them quite have easy answers. Is there such a thing as gender? Are we simply socialized to behave in these ways?
When it comes to answering these questions in direct words, I believe that "gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose." I have always been female, and I will always be female. Here's the source for that quote, and let me say that I believe every word in this document on the family.
When people want an answer about gender, I turn to that document and that quote. But today, I'd like to write about the part I don't usually bring up in debates.
I feel like a woman in this sublime way that I cannot describe. Standing in front of the mirror the other day, I knew that there is something deep within me—beyond physical attributes, beyond what toys I played with as a kid, beyond what colors I like to wear—that is truly feminine. It transcends the mortal explanations and categories that so many scholars and interest groups throw at it. I just am beautiful and divine. Nothing outside of me can diminish my worth or my purpose. I am made to do all things: work, raise children, get an education, serve others. And I do all of these in a way no one but me can do, a way that is rooted in my identify as a woman.
It frustrates me that this isn't a valid argument in the voting polls or the scholarly discourse. It frustrates me even more that I cannot put it into words even for myself sometimes.
My hope is that other women will be more in tune to those moments where something in their spirit communicates that they are women. Often times there are a lot of things in the way, like our own ideas of beauty. I think that is in itself a sign that we are missing part of the picture.
I don't think it's just standing in front of a mirror. It's a moment that happens when we're least expecting it. This kind of knowledge happens though when you start thinking beyond what you see to what you feel. Keep thinking until nothing you come up with has anything to do with the world's view of these things. Think until it's only something you understand. I think then you'll understand what I mean.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
