atoms into suns

A while back*, I volunteered to have Umm Yasmin give me five interview questions to answer here. Now, the next five people to tell me in the comments that they'd like to be interviewed (are there even five people who read this thing?) will, in turn, become my victims, answer the questions on their blogs and offer to interview five of their readers, and so on. Here goes:

* Have you done any Ruhi Institutes? If so, what did you think of them?

I did Book 1 (Reflections on the Life of the Spirit) last summer and am in the middle of Book 2 (Arising to Serve) right now. My first experience with Ruhi was a very brief introduction several years ago when Ruhi was new in the US. Frankly, I wasn't impressed. It seemed really simplistic -- read this quote, rephrase it, ask a question by rephrasing it again, talk very briefly about what it means, move on to the next quote and do the same thing. For that reason, I resisted doing more with it for quite a while, even though several people reassured me that I'd just had a bad experience and it really was great fun.

Finally, I gave in and did a study circle for Book 1, and had to grudgingly admit that I liked it. There was still a little bit of the simplistic feel, but we moved beyond that and into some really great conversations about meanings, implications, and real-life applications. We also got to know each other a lot better. Now that I'm doing Book 2, we don't spend any time at all on the simplistic stuff. The focus is on getting in-depth into the meanings and themes of the Writings and how to apply them to our lives.

Perhaps the part I like best, though, is that it isn't just about study. Each study circle has a service and a social component. Each group chooses a service project to perform together, and also spends time just socializing. For me, that's important, because I believe faith is supposed to be lived, not just talked about. The social aspect is great for building community, which is such an important theme in the Baha'i Faith.

[Edit later, since I forgot to mention this part:]

It's also nice to finally have a set of courses for people to go through to get a systematic, solid basis in what the Baha'i Faith is all about. When I became a Baha'i I didn't really know where to look to learn more. People helped, but there was no system to it, so I felt like I was always missing important parts. Plus, Ruhi works no matter what level of understanding the person is at, from those just starting to learn about the Faith to those who've been knowledgeable Baha'is their whole lives. In fact, it seems to work better that way.

* Is your hubby a Baha'i? If so, was he born into a Baha'i family or was he a convert? If not, how do you find having a non-Baha'i partner?

Bill became a Baha'i about a month after I did. On the night I declared, he congratulated me and then mused that he should really learn something about the Faith. I gave him a book or two, which he devoured. Before long, he came to the conclusion that he already believed in everything the Faith taught, so he declared.

* How big is your local Baha'i community and what do you do together on a regular basis?

The community I live in has about 20 people -- 15 or so adults, and five youth and children. Beyond that, our cluster contains something like seven or eight communities for, oh, 150 people or so.

We have all the standard activities -- Feast every 19 days, Assembly meetings, and such. We've also committed to a couple of service projects working with nonprofit groups and maintaining a small meditation garden in a city park. The community is fairly close-knit, so dinners, hanging out, and other non-official social events are pretty common, too.

Within the cluster, we have weekly devotionals and children's classes, study circles, and periodic cluster meetings to learn what everyone else is working on and how to work together better. We also usually celebrate holy days as a cluster rather than in our individual communities.

* What does equality of the sexes mean to you?

It's evolved over time. When I was little I couldn't quite understand all the fuss -- if women wanted to be equal, then why didn't they just go to school and get the jobs that men had now, and then it'd all be equal, right? Sometime during college I realized that it wasn't that easy.

Since becoming a mother, I've come to the conclusion that men and women sometimes have different roles that one naturally does better than the other. For example, taking care of a baby involves nursing, and babies seem to naturally prefer their mothers for a while. On the other hand, if I remember right, the Baha'i Writings say that the father is responsible for providing for the education of the children. Both parents have specific, equally important roles in the lives of their children. I think this carries through to the rest of society. The roles of men and women may not be exactly the same, but they are equally important. I think true equality of the sexes is when both men and women acknowledge this and respect each others' roles. On a higher level, I think it also involves the understanding that we're all created by God and deserve equal levels of love and respect.

This is not to say that women aren't supposed to be engineers or that there shouldn't be stay-at-home dads. I think every person and every family has to figure out what works best for them, and that each situation is different.

* Have you been to Haifa for a pilgrimage? If so, what is your most outstanding memory of your pilgrimage?

We're scheduled to go next February, so instead of outstanding memories I'll tell you what I'm looking forward to. I'm looking forward to finally seeing this place that I've heard so much about and turn to every day in prayer. To looking up the slope of Mount Carmel at the Terraces and the Shrine of the Bab, shining in the sunlight. To looking out over the bay to Akka. To walking through the gardens at Bahji. To feeling that radiance from deep inside that comes from seeing, feeling, touching places imbued with such spirit. ("Blessed is the spot...")

On a more worldly level, we're planning to meet up, maybe in London, with a close friend who moved to New Zealand a few years ago and who is scheduled for the pilgrimage after ours. Also, this will be my first trip outside North America -- and I've been dreaming of travel since I was young -- so I'm looking forward to seeing a bit of the world and being surrounded by a culture not my own.

*That was a while ago, and in the meantime I thought I'd do this quick little upgrade to the site and then post my answers. Instead, I got swept up in that little upgrade that took a couple weeks to complete, and, well, here I am posting my answers rather tardily. My apologies.

Since my oldest child got to the age where discipline was necessary and limits were constantly being tested, I've been trying to figure out just how to do it. How do you convince a child that climbing up the bookshelf isn't cool? Kids don't care that you're worried they'll fall off and crack their head open; they just know that you're taking away their fun. We want our kids to have adventurous spirits, of course. We want them to climb mountains and travel to strange places and test their limits, but at the same time, we're parents who don't want our kids to get hurt. I'm still trying to find the balance between being overprotective and not protecting enough. I know that will last for as long as I live, and I'm sure all parents go through the same thing.

So, how do we discipline? We don't hit, period. I really try not to yell, but when you have to pull the kid off the shelf for the fifth time in an hour, it's tough to control the frustration. I try to put it in perspective, walk off and take some deep breaths, and then come back to explain why I'm so insistent and upset about this. But sometimes it's hard to reason with preschoolers.

Don't get me wrong; I have absolutely wonderful kids. I marvel at how great they are, how sweet and considerate and radiant and kind. I try to put it in perspective -- if the biggest complaints I have are about climbing shelves, making messes, and making noise when the baby's sleeping, we're doing pretty well. Nevertheless, there are times when discipline is necessary.

I've been thinking about this issue a lot lately. Then last weekend I went to a workshop on "Domestic Violence and the Baha'i Community", which covered the whole range of domestic violence, including violence toward children. One of the things that struck me most is that the definition of domestic violence is far more broad by Baha'i standards than by current legal, if not societal, standards. The list goes on for nearly two full pages and includes everything from physical and verbal abuse to economic abuse, neglect, corrupting, coercion, isolation, even "creating dirt, disorder and filth in the living environment" and breaking and throwing things. Belittling and yelling at children are, of course, on the list.

A couple of the quotes from the materials:

It is not, however, permissible to strike a child, or vilify him, for the child's character will be totally perverted if he be subjected to blows or verbal abuse.

--'Abdu'l-Baha, Selections from the Writings of 'Abdu'l-Baha, pg. 125

[The principle of the oneness of mankind] calls for a fundamental change in the manner in which people relate to each other, and the eradication of those age-old practices which deny the intrinsic human right of every individual to be treated with consideration and respect.

--Letter written on behalf of the Universal House of Justice on the subject of domestic violence, January 24, 1993

I think it's common to treat children as less deserving of our consideration and respect. It's easy to forget that discipline and guidance must be done respectfully and with loving-kindness rather than with frustration or even disdain or vengefulness.

I guess, after writing this out and letting it roll around my brain a bit, that discipline simply needs to be done with detachment -- the recognition that the child is testing limits rather than acting out of disrespect -- and loving guidance. Seems so simple. The detachment, I need to work on.

See also...

When your preschooler asks you to go to a certain fast-food restaurant known for its marketing to children, it's time to cancel the cable.

Especially when we've never taken our kids to the place. And we only watch a few hours of TV a week, on supposedly educational channels.

The conversation with the cable customer service lady, as recounted by Bill:

The woman asked why we were getting rid of it, and I said "It's corrupting my children."
There was a pause, and she answered timidly, "I'm sorry".

Then I laughed to ease the tension.

Then, a few days after it was disconnected, someone from the cable company came to the door doing a survey on how we liked our service, so I got to overhear Bill telling him again that it was corrupting our children. This time, the reply was a too-confident laugh, followed by, "Corrupting your children! What do you mean, corrupting your children?"

I love making cable representatives nervous. Too bad it doesn't work for TV executives.

I'm still getting used to this whole parenthood thing. It really wasn't all that long ago that I was a kid, thinking that my parents were so old and that they knew everything. Now that I'm a parent myself, I know better, but I'm also very aware that my kids rely on me (us) for everything and expect me (us) to know exactly what to do.

I'm also the type of person who only goes to the doctor when she's near death -- or pregnant, but that's something else altogether -- so it didn't really occur to me that if we've been sick for nearly three weeks we might want to get checked out. Fortunately, I talked to my mom late last week and she convinced me to call the doctor's office and at least ask them if we should go in. So it happened that on Friday we found out that our oldest has a mild case of pneumonia.

Thankfully, it can be taken care of with antibiotics and won't require a hospital stay, but this is another one of those experiences that just drives home how little I know about parenting.

(I fared a lot better -- nothing worse than an impressive post-nasal drip.)