What a Burst Pipe Taught Me About Gratitude

Image courtesy Nick Busse/Flickr.

Recently, a pinprick hole in an old pipe caused a flood in my husband’s office, which also serves as the guest room in our home at the Institute for Humane Education (IHE). Not only were the walls, ceiling, and carpeting ruined, but a huge repair job loomed.

My husband turned off the water to stop the continued flooding, and we called the plumber. They couldn’t do anything until the ceiling was demolished, which would enable them to get to the pipe that was the culprit. The plumber recommended a local mold mitigation company, and they were able to come over within two hours. Several really nice, really hard-working guys worked all afternoon and the next morning to solve the problem, and the plumber came back and fixed the leak so that we had water again in our home.

Another friend (who is a builder and who turned our old barn into a guesthouse for the students at IHE using found and recycled materials) came out right away to take measurements for replacing the flooring.

Meanwhile, the mold mitigation people have been talking to our insurance company on our behalf.

Meanwhile, my husband’s work as a veterinarian is flexible enough that he was able to get home from work to clear out his room and minimize the damage.

That night when we sat down to eat dinner and held hands for our nightly ritual, during which we share something for which we are grateful, I realized how tremendously grateful I felt for all the wonderful people who made what could have felt like a disaster not such a big deal.

It’s gratifying to feel gratitude, to know that in the midst of what might otherwise feel overwhelming and terribly upsetting, I can actually feel appreciation and thanks as my dominant emotions. That’s what I learned from our burst pipe.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm; Above All, Be Kind; and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@CEHS “How to Be a Solutionary”

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Joy and Wonder at the Detroit Airport

Image courtesy random letters via Creative Commons.

I travel on average about a week each month for work, which means I spend a lot of time in airports. Travel has become more and more challenging and unpleasant (crowded planes and tighter seats, delays, hours spent on runways, meager food service even on long trips, etc.), but the airports themselves have become more and more pleasant and accommodating. LaGuardia has a huge salad bar with lots of options for vegans like me; chair massage spas are popping up all over; and free wifi and charging stations are expanding, making it possible to work during layovers and not have my computer run out of battery power.

It’s because of these changes that I don’t mind long layovers. They’re less stressful than short layovers, during which I’m too often running a mile through a terminal with my backpack on and my wheeled suitcase behind me saying, “Excuse me! Excuse me!” as I race to make a tight connection.

Recently, I had a long layover at the Detroit Airport, which is my favorite airport in the U.S. Why? Because of two artistic additions. In the atrium in the very middle of the airport there is a fountain that I could stare at for hours. The plumes of water are like dancers, beautifully and surprisingly choreographed. But it is the tunnel connecting Terminal A to Terminals B and C that often fills me with joy and wonder. Joy and wonder? In an airport?!

As one descends the long escalator to the tunnel, one is greeted by a music and light show. The translucent walls of the tunnel are designed to look like a cross between a seascape, a mountainscape, and a cloudscape, and behind the walls are ever-changing lights in a rainbow of colors. Choreographed to the music, the lights illuminate the walls and ceiling, undulating, moving, dancing. It is a gorgeous work of art.

So when I am not in a rush, I stand still on the moving walkway and just watch. And no matter how far I have traveled, how long or arduous the journey, or whether I have spent a night in an airport hotel because I’ve missed a connection somewhere, I always smile.

I’m aware that the tunnel may be using more electricity than if it were simply lit with fluorescent lights. I’m aware that such extra use of energy takes its toll; but I appreciate that the planners of this airport thought to bring art into our experience, and that this art makes a world of difference.

Yes, I experience joy and wonder in the Detroit airport. Imagine that.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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In Praise of Science & Education: Why Sandy’s Death Toll Wasn’t Worse

Image courtesy of CasualCapture via Creative Commons.

It may seem inappropriate, perhaps a bit crazy, to talk about what went right with superstorm Sandy, but I’ve been struck by how much worse things could have been were it not for the confluence of many good people and many good systems.

It is tragic that several dozen people have died from this storm, and I realize that the death toll has increased each day since the storm and likely will increase further. There are millions without power; there are elderly in high rises who cannot get help, heat, food, or water. But Sandy was a massive storm affecting tens of millions of people in the most populated region of the U.S., and the number of people who have died in the U.S. from this storm is smaller than the number who died from car accidents during the same time period. How is that possible given the magnitude of this storm?

A week prior to Sandy’s landfall, meteorologists predicted the storm’s path with an astonishing degree of accuracy. Sandy was called a “Frankenstorm” for a reason. It was influenced by Arctic air to the north and a cold front and storm to the northwest. Yet the scientists were right on the mark. And because they were, people could prepare. There was time for evacuations; time for sandbagging; time for boarding up buildings; time for Con Edison in New York City to turn off the power to lower Manhattan before the storm did more damage that would delay the eventual return of the subways; time for the Red Cross and FEMA and political leaders in the affected states to prepare and address the worst case scenario. The worst case scenario actually came to pass with the confluence of tide, full moon, wind direction, and Sandy’s landfall. And yet, it could have been so much worse. Far more people could have died.

If this is not a wake up call to deeply, fully embrace education and science I don’t know what is. The scientists proved themselves worthy of our respect and gratitude. And if this is not a wake up call to heed scientists’ warnings about climate change I also don’t know what is. Let’s not forget how much we owe those teachers who trained those scientists; the federal money that has supported their work; and the peer review process that ensures that what is published and shared by scientists is as accurate as possible. Scientists are not perfect, and meteorology and climate science will always be unpredictable, but this is the best we have. In Sandy’s case, we’re lucky we had it.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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The Last Beet for Mother’s Day

Image courtesy of sean dreilinger via Creative Commons.

I’m writing this post on Mother’s Day, which is one of those days that’s complicated for me. On the one hand, I don’t like being manipulated by a Hallmark holiday – a day created to sell products. On the other hand, I do like having a day each year that I can consider special. It’s always been a great opportunity to do something fun with my husband and son. But my son no longer lives at home, and so now I find myself full of expectations around this fake holiday that set me up for silly hopes and even sillier disappointments.

I returned home last night after a 7-hour drive and several days away. When I awoke, the day was full of possibility. We could drive to a favorite spot we love to visit at this time of year when the fiddlehead ferns emerge, and hike a 10-mile loop with the dogs; but after such a long drive the day before, I wasn’t up for what would be a fairly long drive again. We could canoe, but the dogs wouldn’t like that as much. As I considered the possibilities I ventured outside, where I was confronted by the enormity of work that needed to be done in the garden and around the house. Already, the garden is full of weeds. The dandelions around it are in bloom, and much as I love them, are threatening to seed the entire garden. Our small pet grave area also needed weeding and tending. Plus the big projects that await us, like blazing a new trail through the woods.

So instead of venturing away, I got to work in the garden, and I wondered, as I periodically do, about whether it was worth all this work. So much work! Theoretically, I love that I grow so much of my family’s food, but practically, I sometimes think I should just go to the farmers’ markets or join a CSA instead. It’s hours and hours every week tending the garden. I remind myself that if I enjoy it; if it’s a good break from my primary work in Humane Education, then of course I should do it. But it’s often more a chore than a labor of love. As I weeded around the beet seedlings that I had planted a month ago, noticing that there were way more weeds than seedlings, and as the black flies started biting me, I thought, It’s time to go do something else – at least today, on Mother’s Day.

And then I went inside and stopped to check the big trash can of vermiculite in which I store our beets during the fall and winter; and lo and behold, there was a perfect beet at the very bottom, the last one from last year’s garden. I remembered the juice I made all last fall, mixing a beet and carrots and pears and apples – all from our garden and property. I recalled how delicious and beautiful that juice was. I looked forward to cutting up this big remaining beet for our salads at dinner, and I remembered why I grow food. Finding that beet was a lovely Mother’s Day treat – reminding me that tending my garden is worth it. So we’ll do some more work around the house today. And then, we’ll take those dogs on a walk in the woods and be a good mom to them, too.

For a humane world,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Ode to My Garden

Flying home to Maine from New York on Halloween was surreal. A few minutes after the plane ascended over Westchester County, the fall foliage was interspersed with huge swaths of snow. The snow was thick all through New England, until the descent into Bangor where, on one side of the plane the snow covered the fields, and on the other it was completely clear. Somehow, although downeast Maine apparently did get hit with the storm, the snow was minimal and melted quickly here. Thus I came home to my garden.

It’s hard to describe just how much food my 900 square foot garden has produced this year, or how much fruit I still have from the apple and pear trees and the kiwi vine. I’ve been juicing beets, carrots, apples and pears almost daily (the color is unreal), and still have a garbage-can-sized bucket of beets. I’ve only dug up 1/4 of the potatoes, but the pantry bin where I store them is already full. I’ve yet to eat all the melons that ripened during the Indian summer, and the crisp, crunchy and delicious kohlrabi (see photo) looks like it’s on steroids (it’s not; the garden is organic). I have two bins of delicata squash, and I’ll be picking kale leaves and brussels sprouts for some time. I just hope I manage to eat all the leeks before they succumb to the cold. Fortunately, I canned some of the tomatoes before the frost so no worries there. It’s a cornucopia.

Which is amazing to me. When the ground was bare in April and I planted tiny seeds, sometimes so small I could barely separate one from the other as I sowed them, I had to trust that each would sprout and grow into food. Sure enough, they did, the sun and rain having given them all they needed so that tonight, at the beginning of November, I can make a hearty soup oozing with flavor, color and nutrients. And tomorrow night another feast, and so on for months to come.

Having grown up in Manhattan, and having lived the first 35 years of my life in the east coast’s biggest cities, it is so gratifying to grow so much of our family’s food, to understand what it entails to do so, to marvel at the miracle that is life. Every spring and early summer, before the bounty is in, but when the time required to prepare and sow and weed seems endless, I wonder why I do this. Tonight I won’t be wondering.

Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Gratitude in New York

Image courtesy of asterix611
via Creative Commons.

I had quite a weekend in New York the weekend of October 29. Nine months ago, I had been invited to give a big talk in L.A. on the 29th of October, which happened to be my mother’s 80th birthday. I called her up to ask her how she felt about my not being there for such a big birthday, and she said I should definitely go to L.A. I told her we would come earlier in the month to celebrate with her (which we did). In August, however, my mom’s friends planned a party for her and asked if I could come, and so I said yes, changing my plans (which, fortunately, were changeable). I decided to let my appearance at her party be a surprise for her, and planned events in NYC to make up for missing L.A. I offered a day-long MOGO (most good) workshop, and the Institute for Humane Education (IHE) held a Crystal Ball to celebrate our 15th Anniversary.

That weekend could not have turned out better. The workshop went beautifully, and everyone made it despite the blizzard. I called my mother during our lunch break to wish her a happy birthday, and she told me it was snowing in New York. I said, “Really! Wow!” and let her know it was lovely in L.A. Somehow, despite the fact that so many people knew I was in the city, no one slipped when talking to my mother so that when she arrived at her party and I was there, she was stunned. And so very, very happy.

And then our Crystal Ball was a huge success with wonderful people coming to support IHE and others coming to learn about our work. If you’d like to see the video tribute to IHE on our 15th anniversary, you can watch it here.

Sometimes, things work out so beautifully. I feel very grateful for such a wonderful weekend.

Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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A Brief, Gorgeous Present

In July, I wrote about my intention to get a tattoo, and on August 22, I found myself in a tattoo parlor with my 18-year-old son, watching a Star Trek episode on my laptop in order to endure the hour of pain as I did something so utterly and bizarrely out of character. As I’ve pondered for two weeks about what I wanted to write about the experience on my blog, I found that I would either need to write a chapter-length account, or just share a poem. I’ve chosen the latter, my ode to my new tattoo.

They say you become more of who you are as you age
(neural pathways so deeply etched it would take a deluge to shift them),
and boy is that true
as I try not to react to every trigger
even faster than the last.

So how can I explain a big tattoo on my back?
Me, of all people,
who swore I’d never,
ever,
get a tattoo.

Me with a coward’s tolerance to pain
(who can moan and complain about a paper cut and has to hum audibly when getting a shot)
under the gun for a godawful hour
to stain my skin
with a permanent mark

of transformation (there’s the rub)

A luna moth has alit on my spine,
a spine that caused me no end of grief for thirty years,
and then mysteriously stopped hurting;

A luna moth,
caterpillar dissolving into genetic goo
to emerge completely changed,
a reminder that this DNA does not mean
we’re stuck forever in our ever deepening ruts;

A luna moth who lives for one week,
(only to mate and reproduce, without even a digestive tract);
just joy and beauty for a brief, gorgeous present.

Imagine that.
A brief, gorgeous present
permanently etched on my back.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach”

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Why We Are So Lucky That We Are Going to Die

I found these four minutes profound and beautiful and deeply motivating to protect our beautiful planet:

I feel lucky that I am going to die one day.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Homage to Teachers

For my blog post today, I simply want to share an essay from the New York Times by Charles Blow that was published on Sept. 2. Blow says it all so well. Here is a brief excerpt:

“Since it’s back-to-school season across the country, I wanted to celebrate a group that is often maligned: teachers. Like so many others, it was a teacher who changed the direction of my life, and to whom I’m forever indebted.

… I’m not saying that we shouldn’t seek to reform our education system. We should, and we must. Nor am I saying that all teachers are great teachers. They aren’t. But let’s be honest: No profession is full of peak performers. At least this one is infused with nobility.

And we as parents, and as a society at large, must also acknowledge our shortcomings and the enormous hurdles that teachers must often clear to reach a child. Teachers may be the biggest in-school factor, but there are many out-of-school factors that weigh heavily on performance, like growing child poverty, hunger, homelessness, home and neighborhood instability, adult role-modeling and parental pressure and expectations.”

Read the complete essay.

For all you teachers out there beginning a new school year, thank you.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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On Turning 50: Letting Go of Demons & Focusing on Creating a Better World

I turned 50 last week. I’m more fit than at 20, and much happier too. My life feels meaningful and purposeful, and the dominant emotion I experience when I attend to my life is gratitude. But there are still some demons that haunt me, and they don’t abate. I’ve tried to keep them at bay for decades and all my efforts simply keep them from gaining much more traction. I haven’t cast them out.

The biggest one is the “Things aren’t the way I want them to be and they should be different” demon. This is an easy demon to cast out when the thing I want to be different is something I have control over. But when it’s another person’s behavior – especially someone close to me – and I have no control, but still perseverate on their failures to be different, I create suffering: suffering for me certainly, but also suffering for them.

The next biggest demon is worry. I worry a lot. I can catastrophize in a nanosecond. I worry about so many things: family members, of course, but also whether I’ll make a connecting flight; whether I offended someone with something I said; whether we’ll hit peak oil before we have alternative clean fuels; whether we’ll have honey bees in a decade and who will pollinate if we don’t; whether so many species will disappear that a cascade of extinctions will threaten everything we know; whether the twinges I feel in my leg will turn back into debilitating sciatica. You get the picture.

Yet worrying serves no purpose at all.

It might seem that these two demons might be motivators for my changemaking work, but they aren’t. If anything they are impediments. What motivates me to devote my days to my work at the Institute for Humane Education and to creating a generation of solutionaries able to solve global challenges is vision, hope, and love — not worry and frustration that things aren’t the way I want.

In reaching the half-century mark, my goal is to practice letting go of these tenacious demons that have glommed onto me. And I know that this is no easy task. It’s going to require all my own tenacity to refuse to indulge these demons, to prevent them from continuing to forge grooves and pathways in my brain that become ever more entrenched, to divert initial worry and frustration into a new groove of acceptance.

By acceptance I do not mean that I will not seek to create change, but rather to choose where and how to influence and help so that I am more successful, joyful, effective and loving in the process.

That’s my goal for the next 50 years, and I realize that it will take discipline and daily practice to achieve it.

Wish me luck.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

Like my blog? Please share it with others, comment, and/or subscribe to the RSS feed.

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