The New Yorker at 100 : The Netflix Documentary

What an institution ! 

What an incredible bunch of madly obsessive individuals ! 

To put out a publication of this caliber, quality and discernment, EVERY week  for 100 years ...

Simply UNBELIEVABLE stuff ! 

Tracking progress :) - In New Yorker

 

To be of use - By Marge Piercy

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge

in the task, who go into the fields to harvest

and work in a row and pass the bags along,

who are not parlor generals and field deserters

but move in a common rhythm

when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums

but you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real. 

Space in between - By Anton Andreev

 

Evening - By Jayant Be Joshi

 

A photograph by the Brazilian Photographer - Sebastião Salgado

 

'The Most Important Parenting Question You’ve Never Been Asked' - By Amanda Stern

From the very thoughtful blog -  https://www.thehowtolivenewsletter.org/p/alicemiller  

Such click-baity article-titles very rarely deliver - but this one comes close - definitely makes you take a deep pause and think ! Worth a read ...

If there is anything that we wish to change in the child, we should first examine it and see whether it is not something that could better be changed in ourselves - Carl Jung

Years ago, I took a friend's child to the library. One table over was a young mother with her son, around four years old. The librarian was helping them, and the mother was practically levitating with pride because her child was already reading.

As the librarian handed them the book they'd wanted, the mother opened it and said, "Show her how you can read!"

But the child didn’t want to, and shook his head no.

"Come on, show this nice lady how smart you are!" The mother looked at the librarian. "He really can read," she insisted.

The librarian bent down to the child and said, “It’s okay. You don't have to read out loud if you don't want to."

"No, he really can. I promise!” Then she sort of hissed at the boy, “Show the lady you can read.”

The boy looked terrified.

When the mother realized other people were watching, she doubled down instead of dropping it, announcing to the entire floor that her son could read.

Most likely, she thought she was praising her child. What she was actually doing was apologizing for her child being exactly who he was.

 For a person without children, I’m asked for parenting advice more often than you’d think.

 By way of advice, I ask one question:

Are you raising the child you have, or the child you want?

To answer that, you first need to answer another question: Were you raised as the child you were, or as the child your parents wanted?

We don't always realize the hundreds of small ways we overlook our children. We ask them to prove themselves—often because their accomplishments reflect well on us. The demands we make send a message: What's valuable about them is what we think is valuable. What gets overlooked is what our child values.

Adults assume we know more than children, so we don't take them as seriously as we should. But just because kids don't have the language to articulate what we know doesn't mean they don't know. Because they’re still developing language skills, they're closer to their emotions than we are.

Kids know when they are being overlooked or dismissed. They feel it in their bodies.

In her seminal book, The Drama of the Gifted Child, psychoanalyst Alice Miller describes how children develop a "false self” a version of themselves designed to meet their parents' needs. The child learns to hide their true feelings and present only what is expected. While this helps a child survive their childhood, it comes at a debilitating cost: they lose access to their own truth.

Let's say your anxious child is fixated on death—your death, in particular.

Your impulse is to tell them they don't need to worry; you're not going to die for a very long time.

But when you tell a worried child not to worry, you deny them their reality and replace it with a reality you wish were true. When you discount their real concerns, you teach them to second-guess their feelings.

Imagine confiding to your partner that you're unhappy in your marriage. They respond: "Oh, you don't need to feel unhappy. I don't feel unhappy."

It’s annihilating, right?

I am always amazed at the pride people take in announcing they are parenting their children how they wished THEY'D been parented—as though this were a good thing When we raise our kids in opposition to how we were parented, we're not raising the child we have. We're raising the overlooked version of our childhood self. That’s an imaginary child.

If you were overlooked as a child, you might rush to tend to every need of your child. You might be overcompensating for what you were denied, instead of assessing whether you’re rushing to fix things better left alone.

We rush to correct everything. We bend our children to fit into the existing structures and systems of the world, sending the message that how they are is wrong, and how the world works is correct. But what if we worked to widen the existing structures and systems to fit our unique children?

When we look at our children's struggles as deficits to fix, children often interpret those efforts—regardless of how good the intention—as a judgment on their existence.

Alice Miller observed that children will do anything to maintain their parents' love—including abandoning their true selves. In becoming the “perfect" child of their parents' dreams, they lose access to who they actually are.

Sometimes what eases our children's pain is simply being present and attuned. When we're busy looking for fixes, we're less available to mirror back that we accept the nuances of our child’s kaleidoscopic self.

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