May the Hosts of Misadventure Bless You with Unexpected Beauty and Haunting Memories

Today I find myself thinking about insecurity. How hard it is not to feel insecure, and how feelings of insecurity so often cause us to lash out at others. Or, if not lash out, to reach out in unhealthy ways. Or, lead to repression, reticence, cold shoulders, hurtful silences, and self-obsession.

I am most insecure in my relationship with my spouse. The person who loves me most, who has most intentionally chosen me, who reassures me more than anyone that our love is solid and real. Unconditional. The person I should me most assured and at ease with. Yet my love for her makes me want to be perfect for her. Or at least be the best version of myself possible. I set higher standards for myself with her than I do anyone else. Not her expectations, my own. Impossible to live up to. So I am always falling short of those expectations I set, always worried I'm not good enough for her--not worthy of the love she has for me. For absolutely no reason that makes sense--for reasons that fly in the face of reality--I must constantly fight feelings of unworthiness and insecurity to see all the good that we share.

I see the same in her and in almost everyone I interact with, in one way or another. No matter how accepting my internal thoughts about them, our interactions too often leave them feeling judged. The older I get, the more I believe the key to everything is empathy and understanding for the insecurity and fear at the root of others behaving badly and projecting as much as possible acceptance and nonjudgment to counter those feelings.

(Of course, many evils go deeper than that, but this one is not nothing.)

The reason I'll probably never be a poet or a decent writer of stories is because I write about these things as concepts, in general and abstract terms. I tell, not show. I don't depict moments that communicate them in action, I describe the ideas. Others do that so much better than I do; I'm all about analysis.

And there's some of my insecurity on display. I can picture recent moments that have spurred these thoughts today, with my spouse and kids, that I could try to describe, but I'm too private to go into it--especially on this public forum. And this morning I extended an offer to help at work, to fill in for some unexpected absences, to a manager who was filling in for our normal person out on vacation, and received an odd response. My guess is my offer came across as doubting her ability to get things covered on her own instead of a simple desire to help as needed; it tapped into her insecurity and she felt judged. So I do have events in my recent life spurring these thoughts, I'm just not ready to turn them into anecdotes and illustrations at the moment.

This morning I also spent a couple of hours reading the first part of Yolk by Mary H.K. Choi. I realized by the end it had made a significant impression on my mood, so much so that I drafted the potential start of a review-to-come and sent it to myself in case I think it's accurate by the end.

Reading Yolk put me in such a bad mood. Choi is impressively adept at conveying Jayne's self-loathing and nihilism, and experiencing the world from inside Jayne's head made me feel icky, more insecure and judgmental. . . . 

To be clear, I expect this to be a positive review; the ability to capture these feelings so well in a character, to show them in a tangible way that affects readers, is a real skill. Just as I referred to myself above as not being skilled enough to do.

So, anyway, today I find myself thinking about insecurity.

I really love this "insight" from a recent Farnam Street newsletter, Brain Food: Subtraction

Anne Lamott on good relationships:

“A good marriage is one in which each spouse secretly thinks he or she got the better deal, and this is true also of our friendships.”

Pondering on that, I remembered something Jim Collins told me about a conversation he had with Bill Lazier:

“I asked Bill, “So what makes for a great relationship?” And Bill said a great relationship is one where if you ask each person independently who benefits more from the relationship, they would each say, “Well, I do.” And I said, “Isn’t that a little bit of a selfish way to look at it?” And he said, “No. Let’s think about this for a minute, Jim. Let me ask you, who do you think benefits more from our relationship?” I said, “Clearly, I do.” And he said, “Isn’t that just great, because I would answer that I do.”

"Bill said, “See, the reason both people can answer that way is because both people are putting into the relationship, not for what they’re going to get from it, but for what they can give to it. Because both people are doing that, both people would feel that they are the ones who are the ultimate beneficiary because of how much the other person gives.”

I had already marked it for this post before I started thinking about insecurity, but it strikes me as a perfect fit. Those high standards I feel the need to set for myself in order to feel deserving of my spouse's love. The insecurity of feeling we don't measure up to what others offer us.

A poem from The Path to Kindness: Poems of Connection and Joy, edited by James Crews, which I am slowly making my way through.

Take Love for Granted

Assume it’s in the kitchen,

under the couch, high

in the pine tree out back,

behind the paint cans

In the garage. Don’t try

proving your love

is bigger than the Grand

Canyon, the Milky Way,

the urban sprawl of L.A.

Take it for granted. Take it

out with the garbage. Bring it

in with the takeout. Take

it for a walk with the dog.

Wake it every day, say,

“Good morning.” Then

make the coffee. Warm

the cups. Don’t expect much

of the day. Be glad when

you make it back to bed.

Be glad he threw out that

box of old hats. Be glad

she leaves her shoes

in the hall. Snow will

come. Spring will show up.

Summer will be humid.

The leaves will fall

in the fall. That’s more

than you need. We can

love anybody, even

everybody. But you

can love each other,

the silence, sighing,

and saying, “That’s her.”

“That’s him.” Then to

each other, “I know!

Let’s go out for breakfast!”

–Jack Ridl

Found also at Ridl's website. Don't be insecure about the love of your loved ones; take for granted it's there. Assume it, don't doubt it.

My spouse just messaged me a Facebook Reels video. It's a short dialogue. Here's a transcript.

"Why do I feel like everyone in my life is disappointed with me?"

"Probably for the same reason you've always felt like an alien around your peers."

"How did you kno--"

"And the reason why your baseline emotional state is just overwhelming guilt."

"Yeah--"

"And probably the reason why you feel like everyone else was given a script in this fucked up play except for you, and they get mad when you try and improvise."

"Yeah."

"You feel like the world looks at you like an undomesticated animal that the system hasn't weeded out yet in their conquest for a domesticated society."

"Holy shit, that is so true."

It's from an ADHD page or group, and the person who made the video wanted to share the insecurity that goes along with having ADHD and being aware of your difference from accepted norms of behavior. The first time I watched it, though, I didn't even realize that. I thought it was just about general feelings of insecurity, since I related. Though it makes even more sense in proper context.

Our younger son, 7, was diagnosed with ADHD not long ago. Though we've suspected for a while, and we're working on a referral for our 9-year-old as well. We've been trying to learn as much as we can about how to parent in ways that are helpful to them.

"Our reactions are so important," she wrote after sending the video. What we say and do in response to their behaviors can either feed their insecurities or communicate acceptance and nonjudgment.

A bit further afield from my theme, but I'll continue my habit of sharing other things I've consumed or experienced recently with some of this post. This article was linked in Brain Food: Subtraction and I find it fascinating. I'm still mulling over what it means and how to apply it.

Why Life Can’t Be Simpler

To do difficult things in the simplest way, we need a lot of options.

Complexity is necessary because it gives us the functionality we need. A useful framework for understanding this is Tesler’s law of the conservation of complexity, which states:

"The total complexity of a system is a constant. If you make a user’s interaction with a system simpler, the complexity behind the scenes increases." . . . 

Complexity is like energy. It cannot be created or destroyed, only moved somewhere else. When a product or service becomes simpler for users, engineers and designers have to work harder.

The article gives some examples, though I would be glad for more to help transfer the knowledge to other realms than the ones described. I hope to revisit it soon.

This is also fascinating.

How the Great Depression Shaped People’s DNA

The worst recession in US history shaped how well people would age — before they were even born. Researchers have found1 that the cells of people who were conceived during the Great Depression show signs of accelerated ageing.

The study authors measured these changes in the cells’ epigenome — the collection of chemical markers attached to DNA that determines when, where and by how much genes are expressed in each cell. And they think the pattern of markers that they uncovered could be linked to higher rates of both chronic illness and death.

The work, published on 8 November in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences1, adds to a cache of studies indicating that exposure to hardship such as stress and starvation during the earliest stages of development can shape human health for decades. . . . 

In the earliest stages of development, an embryo is a packet of potential, containing genetic instructions to build the molecular components of the body. Over time, however, cells add and remove chemical modifiers known as epigenetic tags to their DNA, and these shape how those cells and their descendants execute the instructions. The tags are influenced by a variety of factors, including hormones, diet and people’s environment.

The alterations made during this key window can last a lifetime. . . . 

“What we see from this study is that socio-economic structural inequalities that make it difficult for women to access the care they need might have long-term consequences,” Schmitz says. With social inequality on the rise around the world, the findings also highlight how paid parental leave, welfare payments and other policies and programmes can help to blunt health disparities in the future.

In My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Mending of Our Bodies and Hearts, Resmaa Menakem writes about how the impacts of trauma are physical, held in the body, and passed on generationally. This is part of the science behind that. Racism, poverty, and all manner of oppression have real, lasting, bodily impacts.

(See Equal Parts Sardonic, Absurdist, & Fuzzy Teddy Bear for more on Menakem's book.)

From Farnam Street's latest, Brain Food: 500, a parenting thought:

Something I try to teach the kids: Every ordinary moment is an opportunity to make the future easier or harder.

When they engaged in ineffective behavior I used to ask them if what they were doing is going to help them get what they wanted. Now I ask them if they’re using gasoline or water. The visual is a powerful (and often humorous) way for them to pause and ask themselves if what they’re doing is making things easier or harder.

Sometimes we pause a conversation or action, and I ask them, “if we wanted to pour gasoline on this, what would it look like?” their responses often give us something to laugh about. Then I ask them, “what would it look like to pour water on this?” Then I hit “unpause!” and step away. They rarely choose to add fuel to the fire.

Here’s an example of how it plays out in real life. Last night my oldest stepped on the toe of his younger brother, which started to get heated as the youngest instinctively reacted. I walked by and said, “Pause! … I don’t want to know what happened. Just tell me, if you wanted to pour gasoline on this fire, how would you do it?” I listened and then followed up with, “if you wanted to pour water on this fire, how would you do it?” Then I said, “unpause!” and watched them both choose water as I walked away.

With water or gasoline, you can start a fire, make it bigger, or put it out. The choice is yours.

I love that. I've tried to teach the same general idea but with much less effective language and imagery. I'm hoping I remember to try it out.

Though I'm afraid with our boys we might have to demonstrate literally throwing gas on a fire for the image to be meaningful--and to stop them from trying it to find out what it's like on their own.

Speaking of, a few recent anecdotes about our children as first shared on Facebook:

The boys were disappointed when they realized we wouldn't be having a big holiday meal today since we've had too much sickness to attend our church's gathering as planned or grocery shop. Yet they didn't want to try any of the family activities we suggested to celebrate instead of food. So finally we strong-armed them into watching E.T. with us for the first time.

They were skeptical, as they're always skeptical of Mom and Dad choices. [Older], especially, was being a grouch. I suspect he was hoping if he was enough of a butt we'd tell him to go away. He ended up watching to the end and enjoying it; [Younger] was excited to share a name with the main character, left for the middle hour because he found it too scary, then rejoined us for the end.

The first moment of amusement [Older[ showed was the scene with first family meal, after Elliott has had his initial E.T. sighting but no one believes him.

Movie Elliott: "Shut up, penis breath!"

[Older], laughing joyfully: "Now that's the [Younger] I know."

Happy Thanksgiving

For the record, neither of them has ever been heard to utter "penis breath," nor have we said it in front of them. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard that phrase said other than in that movie.

For about a week now, [Younger] has enjoyed carrying around a rolled up piece of paper, a "scroll" he made with an invented symbol on it. My favorite part is the name he created for the symbol, its meaning: "The Light Within." Pictured with a couple of rocks he found on our latest trip to the park.

[Younger] ran into the house from playing out back with [Older]. "How are things going?" I said.

"Good . . . and deadly!"

They have big imaginations. We also recently tried having him watch the first Harry Potter movie, but he wandered away after a while. He said he likes magic and fantasy stories, but prefers "more hand-to-hand combat." It shows in their play.

When [Older] and I visited this past weekend, [Cousin] gifted us the dragons she collected when she was into the Wings of Fire book series. Our boys happen to be into the books right now, so it was perfect timing. [Younger] was so excited when we brought them home tonight that he took them to bed for reading time. And he helped them gradually swarm me while I read, until I was fully pinned down and couldn't move but to turn pages. (Picture by [Younger].)

They also created a "hideout" for the dragons on the patio, giving each a nest made of unique materials to suit each dragon. And my spouse captured another picture of me reading to them on a different day.

We just finished the 10th Wings of Fire book, wrapping up the set of five books in the second subseries. At the conclusion, everything the protagonists have done in the hopes of preventing conflict has failed, and two tribes of dragons are engaging in a massive battle that could lead to one of them being eliminated in a genocidal war. Then, one of the stars comes up with an innovative way to use their magic. This is the spell he crafts:

"I enchant this object to connect the minds of all the dragons in the battle overhead for the space of a hundred dragon heartbeats," she said aloud, "so that they feel what every other dragon is feeling as completely as they feel their own emotions, and know exactly whose feelings they're experiencing. When that time is up, they will return to normal, and at that moment I enchant this object to instantly transport all the IceWings to the main palace of the Ice Kingdom and all the NightWings to the Great Diamond in the Night Kingdom, safe and unharmed."

Pretty soon, the group's mind reader, who is also connected to all the minds in the battle, starts broadcasting thoughts of one dragon after another. After a sequence of long, detailed, personal inner monologues, the sharing winds down with this:

" . . . the animus gift they stole, break through the Great Ice Cliff, and wipe out the entire IceWing tribe because they hate them and have always hated them.

"But you hated us first.

"You hated us first.

"You want to kill us all.

"You want to kill us all.

"I'm afraid of you.

"I'm afraid of you.

"I'm afraid, and that is why I fight."

Silence fell. The hundred heartbeats were up.

The NightWings and IceWings faced one another for a long moment.

And then they all vanished from the sky.

In the end, the empathy gained from that insight works. Each side realizes the other was only lashing out from fear and insecurity, and once they realized that they realized they had no real reason to fight. Insecurity and empathy.

To end, something completely unrelated but too good not to share. One of the books I read recently is Victories Greater Than Death by Charlie Jane Anders. Here's my review:

There are a lot of things to like about this book. It's fun, fast-paced, sensitive, and positive. Lots of diverse, interesting characters. I think many readers will love it. I made myself write all of that, though, made myself acknowledge its appeal, to talk myself up to three stars from two. I found the story's telling too . . . superficial, too shallow and breezy. The right ideas are there, but portrayed without depth or heft or believability--not the plot or science, but the people--their thoughts, words, and emotions--never felt real, just a flat, two-dimensional imitation. So it's not bad, but it wasn't a good fit for me.

It wasn't my favorite book, but I loved the series of greetings and responses that came up over its course. Ritualized blessings for different situations. A group of humans join a widespread, far-flung, diverse, alien peacekeeping military force on an adventure. Adventure being a key word, as they are always making reference to "the Hosts of Misadventure." As in:

Hosts of Misadventure help us. By the grace of the Hosts of Misadventure. Let's hope the Hosts of Misadventure are on our side. We shouldn't tempt the Hosts of Misadventure. Oh, thank the Hosts of Misadventure.

And similar. Anyway, here are the blessings I noted as I read.

Greeting: Great hopes and small mercies.

Response: Brave deeds and kind cautions.

Greeting: Good food and lucky escapes.

Response: Strong drinks and unexpected friends.

Greeting: Wild voyages and unexpected beauty.

Response: Safe arrivals and haunting memories.

Greeting: Happy memories and bearable regrets.

Response: Clever guesses and educational mistakes.

Greeting: Wild weather and safe harbors.

Response: Harmless fauna and lush flora.

Greeting: Righteous battles and healing respites.

Response: Proud hearts and joyful reunions.

Greeting: Thrilling stunts and minor injuries.

Response: Delicious meals and harmless poisons.

Greeting: A beautiful life and a worthy death.

Response: Epic love affairs and no hatred.

Greeting: Raised glasses and last dances.

Response: Bright memories and warmth in the dark.

Greeting: Brave comrades and predictable enemies.

Response: Raucous celebrations and few funerals.

And an unanswered one from the first encounter:

Happy reunions and short absences . . . 

I love the sentiments in all of them, though I think my two favorites, for the poignancy, are Unexpected Beauty and Haunting Memories.

May the Hosts of Misadventure bless you with unexpected beauty and haunting memories.

And empathy, assurance, and lack of insecurity.