bearing blog

bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  4  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].

  • “This is not what he signed up for.”

    Entropy is asking some good questions about dealing with NFP (added:  and marital chastity in general) when one spouse wants to follow Church teaching and the other isn't a Catholic.

     

    I'm having some trouble sorting things out. I thought that finally coming to the conclusion that the Church is right, and most importantly consistent, in their view of sexuality that it'd all be downhill from there. Sure there would be the cross of abstaining but, you know, other people have dealt and are dealing with that so the hard part would be over.

    Not so.

    I'm jealous of people like Jen@Conversion Diary and other converts whose husbands apparently converted right along with them. I sort of feel like a convert and I know my husband feels like I am. Going from a Cafeteria Catholic to an (albeit wanna-be) Orthodox Catholic is a bigger step than it first sounds like.

    There are a few rules to being open to life. How do I manage these sexual "restrictions"? Sure I could lay down the law and then I might not be married anymore or at least not happily so…..here I am asking him to buy into something he just doesn't.

    He's not a jerk, he's just not Catholic. And this is not what he signed up for….

    Anyone have experience with this kind of thing?  I don't feel qualified to answer.  Comment here if you like, or click over to her blog, Just Between Us.
    UPDATE:  Really useful commentary from jenniferfitz at Riparians at the Gate.

     

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  • Someday they’ll all be big.

    Darwin points out something that I really need to keep in mind more often:

    ….one thing we are typically not very good at is imagining the future as much other than a straight line extrapolation from the present. 

    This seems particularly important as regards family. Right now my ideas of what it means to be a parent are fully formed around what it means to be a parent of kids ranging from 8 through newborn….

    I tend to think of parenting in terms of having young children around the house, but looked at from the perspective of our entire marriage we will spend more time with adult children than with young children.

    And boy, when people think of "a family with five kids" or "seven kids" or whatever, aren't they imagining the house full of little ones?   But they DO get big, and eventually they are adults.  Don't we have a different visceral reaction to the family at that point?  Imagine a party of seven adults at a restaurant, maybe celebrating a special birthday or anniversary — Mom and Dad and the five grown kids.  Do people look at the parents and ask, "Are they all yours?"  And if they do, can it be with anything other than admiration?  Is it only the little ones that people recoil from?

    And what about the experience of coming from a larger family?  I don't know, I only have one brother and one half-brother, so I can hardly even imagine it.  It seems like it would be better to have lots of adult siblings than to have only one or two.  It seems like you'd have a better chance of being close to a sibling if there were more of them.  At first glance, some situations might be more difficult with multiple grown siblings (important family decisions could be trickier) but with some foresight maybe those could be headed off.  It seems to me that with more people to share the responsibilities of family, the hard parts of growing older could be easier on everyone, and that the fun parts (holiday gatherings and such) could be even more fun.  You'd have to do some things differently, of course…

    Do people who come from big families look at their siblings and wish there were fewer of them?  I wouldn't think so.

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  • Introduction to the Devout Life 4-13: Troubleshooting “spiritual and sensible consolations.”

    That's right:  Consolations can bring trouble along with them, and so they need to be troubleshooted (troubleshot?).  

    This isn't the first place in the book that Francis has acknowledged this.  One of the fruits of devotion, he says in part 1, is that it "prevents consolations from disagreeing with the soul."    Hurray for Francis for bringing this up — who's going to admit that our first reaction on receiving great grace is sometimes revulsion and fear?  (Flannery O'Connor knew all about this.)   And then there's the sense of being overwhelmed by sweetness, too… great consolations may be too much for us to swallow all at once.

    This chapter is longer than most.  You know how, all along, I've been adding paragraph breaks and enumerating lists and such, and telling you I'm doing it to improve blogginess?  Well, at least in the edition of Introduction to the Devout Life that I'm using (Everyman's Library, translated by Father Michael Day), this one's already enumerated.  I mean, it's all (1) (2) (i) (ii)… almost like a PowerPoint slide.

    Preamble:  Our circumstances and emotions change all the time, so we have to keep our superior will fixed on God.

    I.  Devotion does not consist in our feelings, including spiritual consolations.

    II.  But our "devout" feelings and spiritual consolations are useful to us, and worth much more than worldly pleasures.

    III.  Q.  How can we tell the difference between spiritual consolations and useless pleasures?  A.  By the fruit they yield.

    IV.  How to receive consolations:

        (i) Humble ourselves and be aware that our consolations are not evidence of our goodness

        (ii) Realize that God probably gives us consolations because we're so darn weak that we need them

        (iii) Be thankful to God for providing them

        (iv) Use them as God intends

        (v)  Detach ourselves from them by protesting to God that we want Him, not His consolations

        (vi) Tell your confessor if you get a lot of consolation so he can help you deal with the abundance.

    Reading this chapter reminds me that, as consolations have hazards, spiritual dryness has its purpose.  When we beg God for better "feelings" maybe we should consider that getting what we ask for would not be as wonderful as we make it out to be.   It might be a shock, it might be scary, it might tempt us to pride… 

     St. Francis wants us to preserve our "equanimity."  Crucial to note that he doesn't say to preserve a mood of peace or tranquillity in the face of external ups and downs; rather, swings of mood (from peace to affliction, from tranquillity to temptation and back) are to be expected, too, and it is something that can stand separate from our mood, more separate still from our external circumstances, which is to be fixed on God.  This is our "compass," our "superior will."  Francis takes the changeability of our perceptions to be part of human nature, maybe even a beautiful part:

    God maintains the world in existence in a state of continual change:  day passes into night, spring into summer… and no two days are ever exactly alike, some being cloudy, some rainy, some dry, some windy, a variety which makes the world all the more beautiful.  The same law of change applies to man…for his state is ever changing…sometimes lifted up by hope, sometimes depressed by fear, swept one way by consolation, another by affliction; no day, no hour, exactly the same.

    It almost sounds as if Francis wants us to admire the swings between hope and fear, consolation and affliction, because it makes life interesting and beautiful, even as we somehow stand apart from it and maintain a steady course (of the will) toward God.

    An inviolable resolution to tend always to God and his love will serve to preserve our equanimity in the midst of all the changing circumstances of our lives.

    On devotion not being identical with "feelings:"

    So some, when they consider the goodness of God and the passion of our Lord, feel great tenderness of heart… in spite of all this apparent devotion they would not restore a penny of their ill-gotten goods, renounce any of their evil inclinations or put themselves to the least inconvenience in the service of the Saviour…[the devil] encourages them to make much of these consolations and take such satisfaction in them that they no longer seek true devotion, which is to do constantly, resolutely, promptly, and energetically whatever we know to be pleasing to God.

    A little voice is suggesting to me that perhaps true devotion is not to blog about devotion right now, but instead to go downstairs and help clean up the dinner…

     

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  • “Do you want more children?”

    Jen at Conversion Diary has a great post about the question, "Do you want more children?"  Very timely for me, as I have a physical scheduled next week and so I know I'll hear it.  Obviously, as part of a medical exam it's a reasonable question, even though I would prefer a wording like "Are you hoping to have more children?" — it's the question from strangers that is so unbelievable.   I cannot imagine ever asking anyone "Do you want more children?" least of all a stranger.   

    One of her commenters writes, "I think for many people, it is just a conversation starter out of curiosity, when having more then two is an oddity…. I don’t even think people realize what they are implying."

    I think she's right about that, and yet it's so irritating to hear that question.  Jen has six answers to "Do you want more children?"  which are very good for internalizing the firm rejection of the question, although I might quibble with how many of them begin with the word "I".

    But what we really need, of course, is something we can really say in answer to people.  Jen's first answer –"It's not all about me" — is pretty good for that.  It will be taken first as a way of clarifying whether the "you" means "you the mother" or "you the parents":

    Q.  Do you want more children?

    A. It's not all about me (smile).

    Q.  Oh, of course, I mean, do you and your husband want more children?

    Back to where you started.  (There might be a tendency for the questioner to assume that there's a disagreement between you and your husband about it, but that's their problem, not yours.)

    At that point you have an option of explaining further…

    A.  It's not all about us either, or about what we "want."

    In the interest of short, life-affirming conversation, I have usually answered, "We would love to have more children."  The truth is that we would; if we had them, we would love to have them.  It's not appropriate for me to say I "want" another human being like I "want" a new iPad.  It's nobody's business whether my life is such that I view it prudent to seek another pregnancy right now.  I can't predict the future and know whether it will be prudent tomorrow, or (if you want to put it that way) what God will ask of me.  The question is stupid but my answer is true.

    And since what strangers (and maybe some family members) are really asking is, "like, are you one of those weirdos?" it gets right to the point as far as they are concerned.  Why yes. Yes I am.

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  • For want of any better ideas, I’ll just do a lazy “Reason #N that I am glad I homeschool” post.

    Centennial school district, north of here, is contemplating plastering advertisements all over the lockers in their schools.  Check out the picture.

    "I hate to say it's all about the money, but it probably is," said Paul Stremick, Centennial school superintendent. "Still, we want to keep students' interests in mind." That means the district would be allowed to turn down ads not deemed suitable for kids.

    Lovely that they would be "allowed" to.   I deem this (and yes, I feel the same way about vending machines and fast food in schools) a serious conflict of interest.  Anyone in charge of the education of kids needs to be committed to teaching skepticism towards advertising claims, something that's a bit hard to do when you're getting paid to advertise to them.

    Sometimes I like to tell people that I homeschool not to shelter my kids from the world, but to make sure that they are fully engaged in it.  Other times I think, heck, maybe I *am* doing a little sheltering…

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  • Introduction to the Devout Life 4-12. Sadness.

    (An index of all posts on St. Francis de Sales' work Introduction to the Devout Life is here.  A post outlining part 4 of the book is here.)

     In our last look at Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Francis de Sales showed that anxiety's chief danger is that it can lead to a destructive sadness which I think we can even call depression.  He treats this sadness or remorse in the next chapter, 4-12.  

    As usual, in what follows, I have broken up paragraphs and modified punctuation a bit to improve blogginess.

    "Supernatural remorse," says St. Paul, "leads to an abiding and salutary change of heart, whereas the world's remorse leads to death" (2 Cor 7:10).  Sadness, then, may be good or evil, depending on its effect, though it produces many more evil effects than good….

    …[T]here are only two [good effects]:

    1.  
      1. compassion
      2. repentance

    …[I]t produces six bad effects:

    1.  
      1. anxiety
      2. discouragement
      3. anger
      4. jealousy
      5. envy
      6. impatience

    Here is a perfect example of why St. Francis appeals to me so much:  he makes lists.

    We should be suspicious of sadness that interrupts our objectively virtuous activities:

    The devil takes advantage of sadness to tempt the good, striving to make them sorrowful in their virtue as he strives to make the wicked rejoice in their sins, and as he can only tempt us to evil by making it appear attractive, so he can only tempt us away from what is good by making it appear unattractive.  He delights to see us sad and despondent because he is such himself for all eternity and wishes everyone to be as he is.

    And that reminds me, another reason why we should strive to be cheerful and not morose about our Christian life is that we have a responsibility not to make it more unattractive to others.  Who would want to take on a life that makes everybody complain all the time?   At the same time, we need to seek support and give support by being honest about our frustrations and struggles.  (Cf. the post about lactational amenorrhea a few days ago) Can we be honest and struggling and cheerful at the same time?  Some discernment is necessary for this, for sure.  Clearly this is one of the reasons why God gave us a sense of humor.

    Here are Francis's diagnostic criteria for "evil sadness:"

      • disturbs the soul
      • leads to disquiet and inordinate fear
      • breeds distaste for prayer
      • clouds the mind
      • undermines our judgment, resolution, and courage
      • saps our energy
      • robs our soul of consolation
      • leaves our soul powerless and almost paralysed

    I guess if none of that is happening to you, you might have the good kind of sadness.

    If such sadness should come upon you… make use of the following remedies:

    Pray.  "Is one of you unhappy?" says St. James, "let him fall to prayer" (James 5:13) make use of aspirations, either vocal or interior, which tend to confidence and love, for example:  "O God so merciful and good!" "My loving Saviour!" "God of my heart, my joy and hope!" … and so on.

    Stand firm.  Resist any tendency to sadness most vigorously and do not falter because your efforts seem to be made half-heartedly and without fervour, for the devil will cease to trouble you when he sees that instead of being wearied by sadness you continue your good works and gain all the more merit as a result.

    Sing.  Sing spiritual canticles… Remember how David, by singing psalms, drove away the evil spirit which so oppressed Saul.

    [K]eep yourself occupied with exterior works as varied as possible, to divert your mind from the cause of your sadness, to purify your heart and increase your fervour; for sadness makes us lukewarm.

    Express your devotion outwardly even though without sensible fervour; for example, embrace the crucifix, clasp it to your breast; kiss our Lord's hands and feet; raise your hands to heaven in supplication; make … acts of love and confidence…

    Voluntary physical suffering merits spiritual consolation, while the soul is diverted from its interior sufferings by these exterior ones….

    Holy Communion is an excellent remedy…

    [Make your sadness] known humbly and sincerely to your confessor…

    [S]pend as much time as possible in the company of spiritual persons…

    Finally, resign yourself into God's hands and strive to bear patiently the sadness which troubles you… confident that, having tested you, God will deliver you from this trial.

    Well, that's quite a lot of advice.

    I confess that at this point, I see a pattern.  Although Francis does suggest some specific remedies for specific problems … Rather obviously, Francis suggests prayer, confession, and Holy Communion as remedies for basically everything that can go wrong with the devout life.  

    It's not so much that this surprises me as it strikes me as a little inefficient — maybe Chapter Four should have had a general bit of advice at the beginning along the lines of "No matter what, try prayer, confession, and Communion first."

     I'm beginning to think that prayer, confession, and Holy Communion — heck, you may as well just go to Mass!  get them all taken care of at once! — is kind of the equivalent of "turn the blasted thing off and turn it on again.  See if that fixes it."

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  • “…it is not a case of being left wing or right wing, but being for Christ.”

    This quote, linked to on Rich Leonardi's blog today, is about Pope Benedict's ideas, but it is true about the political thoughts of anyone who is meaningfully Christian.  

    Ignatius Insight: What misunderstandings or misrepresentations of Benedict's thinking do you find most bothersome or in need of correction?

    Dr. Rowland: Unfortunately many people, in particular journalists, can only think in dialectical categories like: left-wing, right-wing, progressive, conservative. They never ask questions like: conserve what? or progress toward what? It is very difficult to present Ratzinger's ideas in sound-bites without doing violence to the nuances.

    There is, for example, a sense in which it may well be right to classify Ratzinger as a progressive in 1964 and a conservative today but what changed is not the actual theological beliefs held by Ratzinger, but the historical and theological contexts. In 1964 to be progressive meant wanting to introduce some flexibility into a theological framework which had become ossified and dry. It meant being critical of Su‡rezian Thomism. Today, being progressive means being in favour of contraceptives, women priests, homosexual "marriage" and Marty Haugen.

    As Cardinal Francis George has often written, it is not a case of being left wing or right wing, but being for Christ. In some social contexts that will look right wing, in others, left-wing, but these terms and labels are not the standard, and nor are they stable.

     

    (emphasis mine).

    Trying to describe our absolute positions in words like "conservative," "progressive," "left-wing," "right-wing" is, bluntly, useless.

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  • End of an era.

    Derek Lowe, defending chemistry blogging against the usual charges (no fact-checking, no editorial oversight, yadda yadda yadda) is absolutely right:

    There is indeed a lot of inaccurate nonsense on the internet. And everyone should read what they find online with a thought to who's written it, and why. But everyone should do the same with stuff that's printed on flattened sheets of dead trees, too, even if there are flattened-dead-tree-sheet editors and fact checkers. This is no place to list the stories that have been horribly messed up by even the most respectable of the old media. I'm thinking of a good list right now; any well-informed person should be able to. (If you can't, you're not as well-informed as you think you are). And there is indeed a lot of good science reporting in newspapers and magazines, although we can't ignore the fact that there's an awful lot of lazy and sloppy science reporting, too.

    But there's a lot of inaccurate nonsense in the peer-reviewed literature, too. Without editors and reviewers there would surely be more, but too much junk gets through as it is. And if you want to see that stuff flagged, you'll do well to read the chemistry blogs.

    Professional journalists — even (especially?) sci-tech journalists — don't have a monopoly on the wide dissemination of sci-tech information anymore.  And we're all better off for it.

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  • Seven in a row. And a new ID.

    This morning I'm going back into "weight loss mode" for, I think, the first time since I got back down to my postpartum goal weight.  I've been within bounds for close to three months — not a bad run, considering I'm dealing with the ups and downs of breastfeeding.

    (A note on that — When I was heavy, I didn't even notice that breastfeeding made me need more food.  I figure I was already eating so much and throwing off the excess in heat, that my body just threw off less heat and fed the baby from that.  Now it's very, very obvious that feeding the baby means I have to eat more, though the exact quantity is difficult to hit.)

    I weigh daily.  One way I make this work for me — one rule — is that I return to stricter habits when I have seven readings in a row that are above my target weight of 112.  It goes very nicely with daily weighings (seven days = one week) and it's not hard to remember.   Seven is enough data points that a trend can be visible among the random ups-and-downs.  

    I still have a hard time understanding why people say "Oh, I can't weigh daily."  Data from the National Weight Control Registry has me convinced that daily weighing is not harmful (even though you will frequently see that advice on dieting sites and in books as if there was evidence that daily weighing stalls weight loss all by itself).  

    I guess I can understand it depending on the personality.  I have to hold myself back from restricting my habits too soon — like, oh no, I had a bad food day and the next day the scale reads 2 lbs higher, I better act NOW.   Well, I hadn't thought of this possibility, but it can act the other way too — a friend of mine told me she doesn't weigh daily because, when she happens to have a lower reading, it's easy to convince herself she "has room" to go off habits that day.  

    (Which is a normal part of maintenance — but is an act of pure self-sabotage in attempts to reduce weight.  "The data shows that what I've been doing is working!  I should do the opposite today!")

    Anyway.  Seven "high" days in a row, and it's time to check my habits.  I consider myself back in maintenance after I bring my five-day running average under the target.  That can take a few weeks.  

    Habit number one:  tomato juice and boiled egg for breakfast…

     

     * * *

    In other news, my new driver's license arrived today.  It strikes me as a really stupid idea to scan pictures of my ID and put them on my blog, so I won't, but let me tell you — the difference between the old one and the new one is really cool.  I keep putting them side by side and looking at them.

    A couple of times over the last couple of years, I pulled my driver's license out to prove to someone that I used to be heavy.  (The weight listed on my old DL is 160 lbs; my new one, 112.)  I think I'll go on carrying the old one in a spare slot in my wallet.

     

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  • Introduction to the Devout Life 4-11: Troubleshooting anxiety.

    (An index of all posts on St. Francis de Sales' work Introduction to the Devout Life is here.  A post outlining part 4 of the book is here.)

     

    Still with me, friends?

    Francis begins his chapter on anxiety by writing about sadness.  Sadness leads to anxiety and "anxiety in its turn increases sadness and makes it extremely dangerous."

    Today I think we might call that "extremely dangerous" sadness by a different name:  depression.  We might translate Francis into modern terms by saying that we react to evil with sadness; that this normal sadness can develop into anxiety; and that anxiety can develop into depression, of which he says:  "We become overwhelmed with anguish and distress, and feel so weak and discouraged that the evil seems incurable."  The next chapter treats sadness in more detail, and we'll come to that one in another post.

    Francis gives the names "trouble," "worry," and "disquiet" to both anxiety and its cousin, over-eagerness.  Anxiety is disquiet about a bad thing that one fears; over-eagerness, disquiet about a good thing that one hopes for; but Francis regards either kind of disquiet as a great evil that can befall us, "the greatest… except sin."  According to him, we want to nip it in the bud.  And since in his view it's a cause of depression, no wonder.  

    Just as revolt and sedition in a country cause havoc and sap its resistance to a foreign invasion, so we, when troubled and worried, are unable to preserve the virtues we have already acquired or resist the temptations of the devil…

    The comparison to "revolt and sedition" connotes that same idea of a self divided into parts.  Part of me wants to fight my base tendencies, but part of me resists fighting, fears fighting, believes it does no good — a self-fulfilling belief.  That part of me wants to be right, doesn't it?  Wants to be proved right by failing?

    So, here is Francis's explanation and prescription.

    Anxiety arises from a desire to be delivered from the evil we experience or to obtain some good for which we hope, yet nothing so aggravates the evil or impedes the good as tis overeagerness and anxiety.  Birds remain ensnared because they flutter in their wild attempts to escape from the net, and in doing so get all the more entangled,

    so, when you desire to be delivered from some evil or to obtain some good, first, strive, above all, for peace and tranquillity.

    •  
      •   First compose your judgment and your will…
      • [T]hen seek to attain your end quietly and gently, taking the most suitable means one at a time. 
      • …Examine several times a day, but at least morning and evening, whether your soul really is in your hands or whether some passion or anxiety has taken possession of it; whether your heart is under control or has escaped and become carried away by inordinate love, hatred, envy, avarice, fear, weariness, or joy;
      • in which case you must, above all, recapture it and restore it to the presence of God, subjecting its feelings and desires to his will.
      • When you experience disquiet, turn to God and resolve not to do what you desire until the disquiet has passed…
      • …[but if] it is something which cannot be deferred,…. you must restrain, control, and moderate your desire as far as possible with gentleness and tranquillity, acting according to reason, not mere inclination.
      • If you can make known your disquietude to your confessor, or at least to some good and faithful friend, be assured  that you will at once find relief.

    This is a very important chapter for me. Anxiousness about the many things I have to do and wish to do is a major weakness.  Let's look at the prescription in a bit more detail.

    First, a reminder of what Francis means by "gently:"

    "Gently" does not mean "negligently" but "without eagerness, anxiety and disquiet," otherwise, instead of attaining your end, you will only make everything far worse and get more and more entangled [like the snared birds mentioned before].

    About your soul being "in your hands" — that comes from Psalm 118, and the line might be a nice aspiration-type prayer or mantra:  

    I carry my life in my hands, yet am I ever mindful of thy law.

    And how about that reminder of the things that can carry away your heart?  Not just the evils of hatred, envy, and avarice or the neutral fear and weariness, but also love and joy (if inordinate) can create disquiet in us.  Carried away by these we can make poor choices or be seized with disappointment and sadness when things turn out differently than we had hoped.

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  • ROI.

    Kind of a neat article discussing the return-on-investment of college degrees.  The data comes from this ranking of colleges by ROI (some appear twice because of separate calculations for in-state and out-of-state tuition).  My almae matres performed reasonably well, I'm glad to see.

    In general, ROI increases with selectivity, but it varies so widely within selectivity categories that you cannot use selectivity as a proxy for value.

    It seems reasonable to reject outright an institution whose ROI is less than the cost of borrowing the money to finance the degree (about 7% right now).  There's a list of 17 failures at the first link.

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  • Recovery.

    About four weeks ago I came down with an awful cold, and then one day I had a terrible migraine, and then we went out of town for the weekend, and then I contracted an eye infection at LensCrafters, and then my in-laws came to visit this weekend, and what do you know: I hadn't managed my regular exercise schedule for almost a month.

    I did get to the gym a couple of times in there, but not more than that.

    And do you know, I felt real resistance (sloth!) when it came time to start going again. Just a sort of "nah, I could go tomorrow instead."   Running seemed yucky, and swimming suddenly seemed complicated.   I can see how one week could turn into one month could turn into never again.  It kind of frightened me.  

    Luckily, I always enjoy swimming, and I know it, so all I had to overcome was the "complicated" bit.  The most important part of any workout is to show up for it.  "I'll show up.  If the 4yo won't stay in the child care, or the baby nurses until I run out of time, or the goggles hurt my recovering eye, I don't have to go through with it."  I showed up, it went fine (except that I'm already noticeably slower and weaker — wow that happens fast), and I think I'm back on track now.

    It's just sort of astonishing how dependent the belief "I have to do this three times a week" is on the evidence.  I mean, I don't have to do it three times a week.  Clearly I didn't self-destruct in my month of illness and schedule conflicts.  And so I could stop exercising.  I don't want to stop.  Maybe I have to pretend to myself that I can't stop, so that I won't.

    On the other hand, I guess I didn't stop.  So maybe I'm safe even knowing the reality that I hold the choice in my own hands all the time.  It feels dangerous.

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