interacting as a spiritual act

Before I lose some of you simply with the title, let me say that I don't normally interact well. Although I write at great length about the importance of support networks in my "Choosing Single Motherhood" book, including discussion in the Conclusion of moments of interaction that had a profound effect on me, I'm still a relatively isolated person. I don't "walk the talk" as well as I would like.

Yes, I have a few close friends and family that I count on greatly. And yes, I've gotten very involved with my daughter's school. And yes, I joined a local Unitarian Universalist church in order to help my children grow in a spiritual community. But ultimately, I always find myself a little dense when it comes to the basic lesson that interacting with others can be good for the soul.

My latest reminder happened this way. I signed up for what sounded like an intellectual workshop at my church. We would be exploring how we define theology. At our church, social justice is intertwined with inspiration from everything from the Bible to the Koran to Buddhist teachings to Ralph Waldo Emerson. So this sounded like a proper "thinking" opportunity for me to learn from, as observer, as listener. Not necessarily as participant.

Yet the workshop wasn't for bystanders. At the first of three sessions, we were asked to speak for 5-10 minutes each about the moments in our lives that have led us to our particular theologies.

And what happened next was....magical. One by one, we heard moving, intense, honest revelations from the 15 ordinary men and women who signed up for intellectual conversation. One by one, we spontaneously started our conversations about faith and mystery and search-and-find by talking about low points that prompted us to rise above.

The elderly man whose father was an old school European who believed only in developing the body, contrasted with his intensely Catholic mother. The woman who was raised as a Communist, and felt uncomfortable about it, yet wanted to fulfill a social justice mission, and had found comfort as an adult at UU. The young woman who tended to carefully craft her life, until a moment of serendipity in Spain enabled her to discover that living in fear of the unknown was no real life.

One by one, we heard common yet unusual stories of everyone. And we began to be lifted by the realization that it was incredibly rare for any of us to take that step back, think about the defining moments of our lives, and then share it with others. And that, having shared, how enlightened we felt. Buoyant.

We connected simply by sharing our lives, in brief -- and the end result was to feel intimately lifted. Not like "sharing with your best girlfriend" lift. But the unique "sharing with a stranger" lift. Being vulnerable, and trusting, and deep in a way that gets beyond the general chit-chat of everyday life.

It's something I see on a regular basis in the online discussion board I moderate for Choice Moms. When we reveal parts of ourselves, it can be so liberating, and focusing, that it's like taking a big step on our personal journey, rather than a series of shuffle steps. We take that leap to say, "This is Me. This is where I've been. This is where I'm going. This is what I believe."

We develop confidence, in articulating ourselves to others. And we develop great power, in connecting to each additional point of energy in our universe.

So I encourage any of you reading this to do the same. Connect. Use the "comments" button to share something about how you have come to be the person you are now, and where you want to go.

Donor insemination

I'm writing from San Diego, where I recently spoke to the Reproductive Council of the American Association of Tissue Banks.

Weird place for me to find myself, yes. But I was invited to talk to roughly 30 sperm bank directors and accreditors about the concerns Choice Moms (and others I've interviewed for a pending book) have about the insemination industry AFTER they've conceived and have a live, curious child asking questions about the donor. Or of donors who realize later in life the importance of genetic history and feel an obligation to pass on medical history and contact info for basic questions to offspring but don't feel the sperm banks are helping them do so. Or of donor-conceived kids who -- much as they love their family -- feel a gap in knowledge about simple things that reflect their own identity questions, like "does he like music the way I do?," "where did my blond hair come from?"

I also offered the reminder that our young kids today don't STAY our children. They become adults with the same nagging questions. When their own child is born, they might feel conflicted about passing along an absent genetic history to their beloved next generation. As they get older, filling out medical forms at the doctor, again, with "unknown" under history of heart disease or cancer, they might resent not being forewarned about important medical conditions they should be aware of.

Anyway, I was invited to talk about the social issues from the view of recipients. I explained that my own experience as the sister of an adopted brother, with two close adopted relatives whose unknown possible genetic predispositions for depression or violence greatly impacted family, led me to use a known donor -- despite the legal and emotional pitfalls of that choice.

My two goals for the industry, I told them, as someone who knows hundreds of Choice Moms who have donor-conceived kids, are: 1) create a central registry so that medical history, basic geography and number of offspring per donor, and willingness to be contacted, can be accurately recorded and updated; 2) work as an ally in raising awareness of potential issues and concerns with donors and prospective parents.

I don't know that my talk with them will facilitate anything at this point other than the agreement, as it did, that further talk and resolution is needed. But I do know that it strengthened my resolve to be part of the solution.

Conscious Parenting

I consider myself to be a good, loving, nurturing parent. Yet as my two-year-old son insisted on being outside in the lovely 70-degree sun, I bemoaned the fact that his unwillingness to play inside was depriving me of valuable work time.

I consider myself to be an independent, unconventional woman who shows by example that following your own passions and dreams, however unpopular, is a liberated life. Yet I was shocked when I learned that my seven-year-old daughter is embarrassed to be friends with someone because other girls don't think she dresses nice.

I consider myself to be a spiritual, reflective person. I was excited, yet harried, to leave town for a weekend without my kids at a woman's retreat associated with my Unitarian Universalist church. I hung back when I got there, withdrawn, worried that my lack of interest in earth-based rituals, chanting, and group hugs left me adrift from the other 80 women. Yet as the weekend unfolded, and I engaged in conversations, I found that we had a great deal in common. We all tended to be women passionate about being part of the world, yet like so many we tend to "fill the hole in our soul," as the keynote speaker put it, with busywork, clutter, listmaking, plans and other distractions, rather than focusing on that which "fills the whole in our soul."

Did I sign up for the retreat so I could be by myself? Or so that I could stretch and explore new things that I might need in my life to balance out the logistics of having two young children, a large house, and growing work success?

I need the space to write. I also need the willingness to learn from other lives.

I consider myself to be self-aware and honest. Yet there is so much I don't yet know.

This is my space for figuring some of it out.

Another baby....

I'm crazy for starting this. I have a 6-year-old daughter and a 16-month-old son, and I'm maybe a month away from publishing a book for women thinking of becoming single moms. Because I haven't made any serious income in two years--due to the book-writing process -- I'm finally starting to take some freelance writing assignments. I'm itching to return to writing a novel I shelved a while ago...my house is never clean...the plants aren't getting watered...bills are lost in my office...my toddler has misplaced a Netflix movie that arrived more than a month ago and I don't even know where to look next....I don't have nearly enough child care time, or social time, or writing time...and the school year is ending for my daughter, who will now need more attention and transportation from me. Yet I'm committing myself to write my brains out to a completely unknown audience.

This is the mentality that led me to have two kids on my own in the first place. I love a new challenge.

So what will I do with this vehicle? Help others? Organize my thoughts? Dispense information? Vent?

I think the main goal should be to be honest. The book talks about the realities of this choice -- the ups and downs -- and includes anecdotes from myself and others about what it takes to raise kids on our own. But by necessity it doesn't dwell on the daily/weekly issues, since there was already so much to talk about in nearly 400 pages! Maybe this is where women can turn to find out, really, what it's all about, day in and day out. Life as mom, life as author, life as independent woman who is 43 and trying to find a way to balance my goals as an individual with my responsibilities to two young children who need me.