Smuggling Grace

I remember learning about photosynthesis in science classes during my elementary school years. Perhaps you do, too. I even remember walking outside and picking up leaves so we could laminate them and learn about their processes.

If we tap back into those lessons we had when we were younger, we’ll likely remember that in the spring and summer, trees gather energy and grow through photosynthesis, and that makes their leaves green. When we get to the autumn months and see those glorious changes take place, the leaves are not exactly turning red, orange, yellow, or brown. In a lot of ways, they are being revealed to be these colors because trees stop their photosynthesis process — the very process that makes those leaves green — and we are left with the vibrant colors we see each year.

I was driving through my town and admiring these changes as they are beginning where I live. And I had a strange thought that probably connects less to trees themselves and more to us.

Here’s what I wondered: When those trees sense, in their own way, that the hours of sunlight are becoming fewer, and they stop that photosynthesis process, revealing those colors, do they have any sense of sudden anxiety or panic that they’ve stopped producing?

Is that jolting for them?

Do they suddenly wonder who they are now that they are not producing? Or do they rest into this process quite easily, allowing their colors to emerge and be revealed, almost as if they are showing us their truest selves?

Obviously, I am anthropomorphizing to the max here, but I know that we often feel these kinds of feelings when we get into those rhythms of working hard and then stop our rhythms of making, working, and creating.

Sometimes, we have a jolt of anxiety. We wonder who we are, as if we are ultimately that output, that work.

What if instead we have something intrinsic about us? Something beautiful? Something that shines whether we produce or not? Whether we work hard or not? Whether we keep going or take a break? Or whether enter a season where we do considerably less?

What if we can be revealed?

—Renee Roederer

Here’s a little tip: We can do helpful things for our body’s stress release simply by taking in some big breaths over four counts and exhaling over five counts. I’ve been using this technique after hearing the podcast episode called “Stress: The Science of Chilling Out,” on Science Vs.

I recommend it!

I’ve been on tour. Actually, we’ve been on tour, and I’ve been joking that we need band shirts.

Some of my fellow team members and friends at the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan have been traveling throughout Northern Michigan. As a team member and as an explorer, this trip was invigorating. We accomplished quite a bit.

We showed the incredible film Under the Lights twice, both in Marquette and Traverse City. This film tells the story of Sam, a teenager living with epilepsy who wants so desperately to go to prom with the rest of his peers, even though the lights are likely to make him have a seizure. There’s also a powerful dementia story that goes along with Sam’s narrative as he and his close friend learn more of who they are and how to care for one another.

We also offered a Seizure Recognition and First Aid training in Marquette. And then I ventured off into the Keweenaw Peninsula, which is the pinky of the Upper Peninsula on the Michigan hand map. I traveled up to Houghton, Hancock, and beyond, and then traveled back to Traverse City where we held our final event.

All in all, we visited two universities, one Student Disability Services office, one community mental health organization, one law enforcement academy, one community resource center and food pantry, one faith community, one health department, and six health clinics and hospitals. We were also on the news twice.

That was quite an adventure.

On top of it all, it was absolutely gorgeous. I fell in love with the northernmost parts of Michigan, some of which were uncharted to me. And the Great Lakes will never cease to utterly amaze me.

I should also say it was a ton of driving, especially over the weekend. I ventured back to my home in Southeast Michigan on Sunday night. And after all of it, all of the adventure that I cherished, I felt such a deep sense of relief and relaxation to be home.It’s amazing what a house and a home can do when you’ve been away for a while. I felt instantly rejuvenated just being back in my own space.

I was glad I went away. I was also glad I came home.

How have you been appreciating home lately?

I know not all aspects are easy. There are grumbles with family members. There are shelves that have gone undusted. There’s food to prepare and routines that become utterly mundane. But have you let yourself be thankful for those lately?

It’s amazing how our bodies need a sense of rhythm. I think that’s a sense of home, too — not just place or people, but practices, routines, daily actions. I know I feel appreciative.

Maybe find a way to pat your house, or your pet, or yourself after dusting, on the head and say, “Good job. Thanks for taking care of me.” Home sweet home.

—Renee Roederer

I recently learned about a list of ten rules that lived at the center of a community of art students at the Immaculate Heart College Art Department. They were created by Sister Corita Kent. There are a lot of good insights here:

Image Reads:

RULE ONE: Find a place you trust, and then try trusting it for awhile. 

RULE TWO: General duties of a student — pull everything out of your teacher; pull everything out of your fellow students.

RULE THREE: General duties of a teacher — pull everything out of your students. 

RULE FOUR: Consider everything an experiment. 

RULE FIVE: Be self-disciplined — this means finding someone wise or smart and choosing to follow them. To be disciplined is to follow in a good way. To be self-disciplined is to follow in a better way. 

RULE SIX: Nothing is a mistake. There’s no win and no fail, there’s only make. 

RULE SEVEN: The only rule is work. If you work it will lead to something. It’s the people who do all of the work all of the time who eventually catch on to things. 

RULE EIGHT: Don’t try to create and analyze at the same time. They’re different processes.

RULE NINE: Be happy whenever you can manage it. Enjoy yourself. It’s lighter than you think. 

RULE TEN: “We’re breaking all the rules. Even our own rules. And how do we do that? By leaving plenty of room for X quantities.” (John Cage) 

HINTS: Always be around. Come or go to everything. Always go to classes. Read anything you can get your hands on. Look at movies carefully, often. Save everything — it might come in handy later.

–Sister Corita Kent

I especially like that line that reminds us that being happy is “lighter than you think.”

—Renee Roederer

Greetings from the Keweenaw Peninsula in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

–Photos by Renee Roederer

Have you ever heard a cornu?

Me either. But this brass instrument was found remarkably well-preserved in the ruins of Pompeii. And since that time, more have been made. Like this one below.

Greetings from the Keweenaw Peninsula! If you’ve ever seen a person from Michigan show where they live by holding up their hand as a map, you know the routine. We have hand maps for both peninsulas. And if you use one hand to make the Upper Peninsula, the Keweenaw Peninsula is the pinky — that long stretch of land jutting out into Lake Superior.

I’m here on an outreach trip for work, and today I stopped by several hospitals and health clinics to drop off materials and share about the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan. But I started my day at Michigan Technological University in Houghton, where I met with Student Disability Services.

While I was on campus meandering about, including in search of coffee, I saw several signs that I found really touching.

One said, “You don’t have to earn your place in our pack.”

Another said, “One pack united.”

And another: “Creating connections at the heart of campus.”

I think there’s something so wonderful and important about telling people of any age, but especially students, that they belong intrinsically without having to prove something, or do something, or be a certain way.

This is the kind of message we all long to hear. And frankly, we all deserve it, too.

If no one has told you this lately, or if you struggle to believe it, I’ll say it again:

You don’t have to earn your place.

You already belong as you are.

—Renee Roederer

Quick, someone send a message to some of my family members! They’ll be delighted that I was on Fox News this week.

Actually, it was a Fox affiliate and a tiny one. A dear colleague and I ventured out bright and early at 5:30am in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to arrive at Marquette’s TV6. They did a lovely interview with us — the sweetest team! — about the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan and some upcoming events we have this week in the region.

We can really feel the changing seasons as we’ve moved into autumn. I felt the cold when I stepped out of the house to go to the station.

But what really got my attention was looking up.

Suddenly, I could see so many more stars than I usually do. And there was Orion, just above the driveway where I was standing. (Side note: When I was a little kid, I used to think that the three stars in the belt of Orion were the profile of a cow’s face, and I basically created my own little constellation of a cow in the sky. That’s what I saw above our house.)

Everything was so bright and visible! Without the light pollution, everything was abundant. And the strange thing is that it really scared me. That feeling didn’t last long, because I was also delighted and had a sense of awe. But I’ve just forgotten what it is like to have all of these magnificent stars. They’re so bright, and in a way, they feel closer to us, too.

We have lost something extraordinary with light pollution.

I remember when I was moving to Michigan, the first stop was the Grand Canyon. I loved seeing those incredible formations. In the daytime, pictures don’t do them justice. But at nighttime, that was maybe the most abundant sky I’ve ever seen in my life. And suddenly, there was a realization that this is what most of humanity saw every single night, wherever they lived.

The cosmos is jolting. It’s good to be awestruck.

—Renee Roederer

You are wildly improbable. Immensely unlikely. You exist against all odds.

When you think about human genetics and the vast combinations of genetic material that could hypothetically be assembled to create and shape particular human beings, most of those forms will never actually exist. But you do. We do. And it’s incredible.

Have a watch:

@theo.sayit

Theo Von on most people who could exist mathematically will never actually exist #fyp #theovonclips #theovon #neildegrassityson #viral

♬ original sound – Theo Say It – Theo Say It

I struggle with winter. Fortunately, I don’t experience challenges like seasonal depression. But I really do revel in being outside. That becomes curtailed, and then, on top of it, it becomes harder to socialize. It’s not impossible, but when you’re an extrovert who lives in a wintry climate, that’s not necessarily ideal.

I’ll tell you what got me through it last year: I started privileging novelty.

It didn’t have to be something gigantic, but every day, I would challenge myself to either have a social experience with a friend, visit a community event I’d never attended, or, just as frequently, simply enter a new building, store, coffee shop, or place where I could get a cocktail and read a book.

It’s been a major mood booster.

It’s not that I spiral, but I lose my energy if I don’t have time out in the community. And when you do work like I do, where you give a lot of energy to others, winter can quickly become depleting.

So here we are, with autumn beginning. If this is something that might help you, I offer it as a recommendation. It’s something I’m going to keep up. It makes my days a bit more adventurous, and it gives me a boost of energy I need.

—Renee Roederer