Today's date: týsdagr 27. harpa eða 21. may 2013 CE

Archive for family

Autistics in the mist, part one

By Sabin Published November 1, 2011

Today I was awoken from a deep slumber by the older female. She had spent the night working on getting the perfect album ready for a series of photos of her children and husband. She hadn’t slept at all, and as of this writing is still awake. Her work on selecting, cropping, editing, and captioning the 14 photos had taken her most of four hours.

The last photo of a crow purchased from the local pharmacy apparently gave her a hard time, because she wanted me to help her with a caption. After loudly debating the subject for a few minutes, she finally typed in a phrase that she came up with on her own, pressed enter and slumped forward on her desk.

My time with these autistics in the mist may need to be much longer than my university’s initial understanding, but I will not leave while I can still try and understand their ways and my ever-evolving involvement with them. I find myself irrevocably drawn to them, and I fear that my closeness may endanger my ability to remain objective in my studies.

Posted in autistics in the mist, family, thoughts Tagged: autism, autistics in the mist, family | Leave a comment

Time passing through roleplaying games

By Sabin Published July 29, 2011

As I sit down to have lunch today, I’m stuck in a whirlwind of thought about my son and his not-so-awesome experiences playing PnP roleplaying games at the local library. From what he’s telling me, it’s a pretty caustic environment (at least for him) and he’s just not having a good time. So much so in fact that he’s probably not going to go back. Which sucks. Worse than that, though, is that I’m not sure I can help him. Which really sucks.

It’s not that I don’t understand what he’s going through. I spent my entire youth (from about the age of 13 to, oh, yesterday) playing, planning, immersed in, thinking about some kind of roleplaying game. Whether Advanced Dungeons & Dragons in high school, Marvel Super Heroes in college, Both during the early years of marriage, or electronically through World of Warcraft, Neverwinter Nights, Dragon Age … well you get the idea. What I’m trying to say is that my resume is chock full of experience with the games, so I ought to be able to fix whatever he’s going through. But I can’t.

When I was in my teens, I gave a lot of thought to what it meant to get together with friends (and not-so-friends) and go on an imaginary adventure together. What it meant to sit around a table with Mountain Dew and chips, clattering dice, pencils and graph paper and share the time — not as ourselves with our mundane zit-focused can’t-get-a-date problems — as creatures from our imaginations. There was a deep trust shared by everyone there that bickering and petty disagreements from the hallways of highschool couldn’t break. That this was a time to be apart from all of that. As the dungeon master of most of our weekly games, I felt it was up to me to protect that trust. Naturally, some fun-poking would be had and alliances crossed, and all of that was in good fun. It was up to me, though, to keep it as good fun and to referee the game and where it went. I wish I could do that for Gabe.

The problem is that I’m 36 years old. I can no longer enter the world of youthful gaming in any way that wouldn’t come across as creepy. I can’t volunteer as a DM or a player. I can’t give advice to the kids on what tactics to use to keep things friendly. Hell, I don’t even know if the concerns my friends and I had around trust and whatnot apply to Gabe’s group. All I know is that he’s not having a good time.

Basic game mechanics, good refereeing of the players’ actions, fairness in on-the-spot decision making and positive story telling can all contribute to a group dynamic that — while potentially adversarial and quasi-violent — will eventually yield fun for everyone, even — perhaps especially — for the kids who are socially awkward (are you listening, DMs?) I can see the solution. I know how to fix it. I could fix it. If I were younger.

For the first time in my life (aside from the white hairs in my beard that my wife tells me look sexy) I am really faced with my age and what that means. I live in a world of adults with adult problems, most of which I can solve. Faced with issues where adults aren’t involved — where it is the teens who are running things — I’m at an impasse. I can be here for Gabe and offer advice and counsel, a calming word or a hug as needed. Maybe even a distraction in the form of an ice cream or World of Warcraft raiding session. What I can’t do, though, is the thing I desire the most: fix the source of his pain.

For years I’ve felt that tabletop RPGs were a way for teens to safely learn things about each other, to learn what it meant to trust and empathize, to learn positive social interactions in a safe environment. After all, it was always our characters being harassed, not us. It was our characters who bore the brunt of everything, and they could teach us how to respond. For Gabe, though, it seems that what he’s learning is that no matter where he turns outside of his home there is little to be found in the way of empathy, compassion, trust, and honor. Worst of all, he’s finding that characters are no longer a protective avatar, but a tool to be used as a way of enhancing real-life bullying tactics.

And for this I have to apologize to my son. I’m sorry, man. I had thought that the games that brought me joy and lasting friendships in my youth might do the same for you. I hope you keep playing. Because if you do, I’ll be your DM anytime you want.

Posted in empathy, family, parenting Tagged: beard, dice, gabe, old, roleplaying games, youth | 3 Comments

Even Scottish cows eat haggis

By Sabin Published July 10, 2011

The area between the house and the back woods used to be used as a pasture back when my dad was a boy here. Cows and horses grazed it. When I was a boy, our neighbors ran their horses there. What used to qualify as a pasture can now be considered nothing less than a wilderness meadow. Sweet Bedstraw, Milkweed, Goldenrod, Wild Strawberries, Moss, Alders are all competing for space and pushing out the grass and alfalfa that used to hold so much sway.

While mowing yesterday, I produced quite a lot of mulch from this mix of wild growth and human-designed plantings and wondered what kind of animal — if any — could eat it. Danielle and I would love to get some Icelandic sheep to graze out there. We’ve recently started thinking about — at least I have — having some kind of cow (though a lactose-intolerant family would lead me to believe that perhaps a goat would make more sense) out there. So what kind of animals could survive on such a wild mix of crap? According to my dad not any kind of cow except a particular kind of Scottish breed. As I thought about that, it struck me as funny. So funny, in fact, that the following scene has been playing through my head since yesterday morning. I imagine a breakfast session in our back pasture might go something like this: (with honor to Danny Bhoy).

Morning on the farm. The sun rises above the northeastern woods. A few cows and sheep graze passively in the meadow.

Holstein (munching on straw and hay): Mmmm. I love this clover and grass here. It’s so good. Yum yum light tasty breakfast.

Icelandic (chewing contentedly on a string of moldy roots): Mmph. Ya pansy.

Ayershire (coming in with a giant wad of grassy, weedy, seedy stuff): Aye, sheep. That’s no way ta start tha day, Holstein.

Holstein: Ew. What’s that ball of sloppiness you’re chewing on?

Ayershire: It’s “graggis”. My mum used ta make it for me every mornin’ when I was a wee calf. Goldenrod, grass, moss, alder sprouts all wrapped up in a milkweed leaf. Wanna bite, lass?

Holstein: Heavens, no!

Ayershire: Suit yerself. Oi, sheep! Wanna a taste o’ the graggis?

Icelandic (spitting a mouthful of something out): Ya! That sounds fantastic. It will go well with this moldy squashroot.

Holstein: …

Posted in family, humor, thoughts, vermont Tagged: achenmead west, ayershire, hardwick, holstein, icelandic sheep, meadow, pasture, vermont | Leave a comment

Heathenism in the 21st century

By Sabin Published June 8, 2011

Kind of a short post here, but the sentiment is from my heart: stop creating “Heathen” groups. It doesn’t make any sense.

Heathenism is powerful because of its decentralized and unorganized nature. Families on disparate farms had their own ways of tracking and marking holidays, prayer and sacrifice were — for the most part — individualistic (Uppsala was a huge center for worship where yearly feasts were held, however, and is an example of there being some kind of organization). Part of this decentralized nature could be attributed to regional weather, travel difficulties, distances between farms, perhaps; though it must be said that if any group of people took to travel, the Northern Europeans did. I think, though, that the greater proportion of reason for a lack of centralization lies in the very nature of what Heathenism is.

To be a Heathen is to simply be. To live as a human and get the most out of each day. To strive forward and live with a code of ethics based on honor. To care for your family and friends, to help your neighbors if they need it, to treat each day as though it could be your last. To be a Heathen is to enjoy the hell out of living. You don’t need an organization and weekly meetings and reading assignments to do that. In fact, it’s better to start your own kindred among your family and close friends. Share old heathen stories with each other, vent about the work day, make a good meal, revel in your shared and personal existences. Work together to understand your place in the scheme of things, and let your common sense guide you in how you will represent heathenism to your neighbors and community.

The constant influx and arguments from the neo-Heathens about which organized group best represents “true” Heathenism is absurd. Those are the arguments for Christians, not for us. There’s no need for a Heathen Martin Luther with his 99 points. Each kindred is going to have different needs, experiences, and expectations out of life. There’s just no way or need to force all of those people to follow the same tenets, rituals, rules, etc. If you must have an example, look to the philosophers.

Existentialism in its simplest form is Heathenism. The understanding that our reason for being here may never be known, that there is no universal moral compass, that we are in charge of our own destinies and decisions. There is great freedom in these things. Great freedom and tremendous responsibility and room for error. These are the foundations upon which an ethical and powerful life can be built if one chooses to do so. These are the foundations of Heathenism. Unfortunately, attaching yourself to a pre-fab neo-Heathen group’s not going to help you. It’s going to turn you into a sheep who cowers from the adventure of free choice, who follows instead of leads. A sheep who might as well be Christian. This is something we each have to find and understand on our own.

So in closing, there’s nothing wrong with a good bonfire a few times (or more) a week, some good mead or beer to clear the head, and a few raucous cries to the heavens in case the gods are listening. Just don’t let anyone else tell you when or how you should do it. Make your own noise as you barrel through life. Laugh at your troubles. Brace yourself for the challenges. Live full and proud and as long as you can. It’s what life is for, after all.

Posted in family, heathenism, humanity, philosophy, religion, runes, thoughts Tagged: heathen, heathenism, home, humanity, old norse, philosophy, runes, thoughts | Leave a comment

My new Tattoo

By Sabin Published June 29, 2009

Skuldalið. Old Norse for "family" or "household" written in runes for talismanic properties.

I got my first professional tattoo this weekend. I’ve been thinking about a tattoo since high school, but there was never anything that struck me as a permanent idea. Something that I wouldn’t mind embedded in my skin for the decades of my life I’ve yet to live. As I’ve grown older, though, some very relevant concepts have remained constants in my life. It is one of these constants that I chose to get imprinted on the inside of my left arm: family.

My concept of family, though, is nothing like the sociological sense of “nuclear” or “broken” or “alternative” that we hold on to today. Family to me is the idea that there are inherent obligations towards a certain set of people — obligations which go above and beyond the needs of other people.

Also, my perception of family is as one of the rings on the hierarchy of human experience. Being human requires participation in this hierarchy — at least it does in an existential mode of living — and it’s how I choose to live. The rings go from inner to outer in the following order: self, family, clan, neighborhood, village, town. Anything beyond “town” is a purely socio-political idea that doesn’t really affect humanity other than mashing us all together in one place. The six I’ve listed, though, coincide to our spheres of influence, from most influence to least influence. Each sphere, however, has more influence over the next one than the previous sphere does. For example, I have more control over myself than my family. However, a neighborhood has more control over a village than a family does.

This idea of a kind of concentric living is, as I said above, part of the existential experience. More importantly, though, it is also part of the human tribal experience and has been for centuries. At any point in human history, at any given gathering of humans, this kind of structure could be observed. It is in that spirit that I chose the concept of “family” for my tattoo.

The end result is nine runes (Sowilo, Kenaz, Uruz, Laguz, Dagaz, Ansuz, Laguz, Isa, Dagaz) that create a ritualistic presentation of the Old Norse word “Skuldalið”. Approximately translated it means “family” or “household”. I chose runes because of a closeness to my own sense of being, as well as a deep sense of connection to that aspect of my personal history. Runes are also used to elevate a word to a more potent talismanic idea. A word written in runes is not just the word, but the idea of that word and the impact that it has on those who read the runes.

Family is everything to me. From that, I gain my own sense of well-being and foundation. I also define my family through my own actions. Ultimately, the world’s perceptions of me and of my family are one and the same. If I want my family to continue to thrive, then I must temper my actions against not only what is good for me, but also for my family. From there, the clan on out are also affected.

Skuldalið. Family. Household. My life.

Posted in family, runes, tattoos, thoughts Tagged: family, runes, tattoo | Leave a comment

By Sabin Published November 25, 2007

The temperature this morning registered a nice and crisp 28° Fahrenheit, which is officially our first frost of the year. Having grown up in Vermont, it’s very strange to be waiting until after Thanksgiving to mention frosts. Maybe, though, it has very little to do with latitude and more to do with climate shifts overall.

Two weeks ago, there was a day in Boston where the temperature was 60° Fahrenheit. Everyone seemed so happy to be able to walk to work and along the sidewalks in their skirts and short-sleeves and baseball hats. And why not? Winters are hard in New England. Surely we deserve a break or two.

Seeing the frosted-over lawn this morning, however, reminded me that it’s been a number of years since there’s been snow on the ground much before Xmas, and last year we were hard-pressed to find any day worth playing in the snow.

I’m worried about the climate, but I’m not worried because of the fate of the earth. I’m worried for my son. What will his winter memories be? Will he have the same pleasures we had as kids? Running through waist-deep snow just to jet down the other side of an unknown hill? If climate change needs to be reversed, then we need to reverse it — not for the fate of all humanity — for the fate of those closest to us.