Hello, Mentatrix readers!
I’m thrilled to continue a series of guest posts written by fellow Substack writers, here on Mentatrix, on our themes: reflection, inner journeys, nature, human relations.
The timing is perhaps even more fitting: as summer settles in, I’m giving us all — both you and myself — a bit more space: to read across a broader range, to experiment with formats and ideas, to break routines. From this Sunday over the next two months, I’m going to post only twice a month; my aim is to invite fellow writers to contribute in my place, and this way to offer you alternative voices over the summertime. I’m not doing it entirely unselfishly: this will also give me a break from posting, while keeping you around; I hope you will enjoy the refreshing variation.
Today I’m bringing you Jill Ebstein. Jill and I are loyal fans of each other’s writing, perhaps also because we write about similar themes in our own, different voices, which is both enjoyable and refreshing. I love the candour of Jill’s fictional characters and the way she formulates deep life learnings in the unsophisticated, unpretentious terms of a teenager.
When I asked Jill to say a few words to you, Mentatrix readers, about herself, she replied, with her usual kindness and modesty:
Thank you, Zoe.
When I find writers who speak to me, I end up learning more about myself. Like Zoe, I think about conscious living made simple. Finding our peace, building relationships, and making sense of our world with a strong dose of humor, tend to be my areas of focus. I write fiction, social commentary, and a lot about dogs and family. The most noteworthy aspect of my writing is that I am building a fictional series (2 books in, and third being written) which is quirky, maybe enlightening, and built for short attention spans.
In case I've made you curious, these two books are Alfred's Journey to Be Liked and Hannah's Journal to Be Happy.
I believe the series offers a few chuckles.
Enjoy Jill’s fiction piece below, on how school kids learn the meaning of being present!
Saul is a 10-year-old boy and not extraordinary in any obvious way. At least, that is how he feels about himself. When he plays basketball during recess, he can only slowly dribble, and then only with his right hand.
His friend, Clay, can dribble with both hands and through his legs and finish up with a behind-the-back pass that goes right to the intended target.
When Eliana is in art class, she sits next to Pamela and often watches her draw. Pamela starts with an idea, carefully outlines the shape, and then selects her colors. Eliana is usually still thinking about what to do, or maybe she is doodling, or she might be trying to draw something geometric because that is the easiest for her to imagine. But nothing looks as interesting or as creative as Pamela’s drawings. “How does Pamela do it,” she wonders.
When Darren eats lunch, he is always the first to finish. He doesn’t talk much, and he quickly works his way through to the cookies at the end. He promised his mom that he wouldn’t start with cookies. Darren keeps his word. He tells himself that keeping his word is important and that if he slips once, it could become his new habit and cookies his new starting point. Other kids are talking and laughing and leaving half of their lunch untouched. Not Darren.
Neither Saul nor Eliana, nor Darren feel bad about their day. It “just is” — robotic in a way. They move from one moment to the next.
You get up, go to school, try to get the answers right on the test, play with your friends at recess, go home, do your homework, eat dinner, go to sleep, and then get up and do it all over again. That’s “life”— a four-letter word. Saul’s parents tell him that some four-letter words aren’t good, and Saul wonders if “Life” might be one of them. His parents have said that “work” is one of them.
He also thinks there are some four-letter words not to be used by kids, but he doesn’t want to think more about that.
Something changed on February 11th, though. Here’s what happened.
A class that included Saul, Eliana, and Darren went to the gym, where many mats were lined up on the floor. A teacher named Shauna came in and announced that they were about to do yoga, and each person should select a mat. They had never before met Shauna or done yoga.
The idea of yoga made the kids laugh. Small voices whispered, “Yoga? Are you kidding?” To these children, yoga was something their parents did—slow and not very fun. Yet, at this moment, Shauna was describing the first pose, which she called “Sun salutation.”
Shauna describes how to do Sun Salutation and then demonstrates how you move from one pose to the next. Most of the kids find the salutation silly, and they try to rush through what Shauna asks. Some look up at the clock on the wall to count how many more minutes of class are left.
Shauna notes this, and then she does something that shocks them all. She stops the class.
For Shauna, there was a decision to be made at that very moment: drag the kids through another yoga pose or meet their boredom head-on and see if she could change their minds.
Here’s what happened next as Shauna addresses the class:
Shauna: When you do yoga, you need to be intentional. You don’t rush. You give each moment it’s due. You breathe deep and respect that moment. Who here has ever heard the word ‘intentional’?”
Faces stare at Shauna, followed by a hushed silence. No raised hands, no giggles, no side chatter.
Shauna: I will take it that no one here knows what ‘intentional’ means. Intentional means that you don’t treat the moment as something you do quickly so that you can do what’s next. Think of ‘intentional’ as being the opposite of speed. Think of it as showing a purpose to what you are doing.
The group still looks confused. So now Shauna tries another tack.
Shauna: “How many of you collect cards? It could be any kind of cards — Pokeman, baseball, Magic cards, you name it.”
Many hands go up.
Shauna: When you trade cards, do you do it quickly, or do you carefully consider the card you might be trading for?
Saul raises his hand and offers, “You have to consider the deal. You want to make sure that it’s a good trade.”
Shauna: What makes a trade good?
Saul: You are getting something that you want, and it needs to be worth at least as much as what you are giving up.
Shauna: So, does this take a few minutes?
Saul: At least. Maybe more. It can even take a few days sometimes.
Shauna: So there you have “intentionality.” You are doing some with purpose and thought.
At that, Shauna smiled. Her point was made.
There were 10 minutes of class left, and now Shauna was considering how to make her lesson on intentionality stick.
Shauna: I am going to give you all a choice, and I want you to raise your hands and vote. How should we spend our last ten minutes of class today? Choice #1 is that I teach you more yoga. Choice #2 is that you share with your friends an intentional moment you experienced in the last week. So let me see hands raised for choice #1.
Three hands went up.
Shauna: Now for choice #2?
Fifteen hands went up.
And then the conversations among classmates began. Shauna walked around as she listened to a boy describe how he walked his dog. Another offered how she made her after-school snack. Yet another told how he approached a complex math problem.
One story, in particular, stuck with Shauna. She overheard Eliana sharing with Pamela how she went to visit her grandma.
“First, I picked the prettiest flowers in our garden. Then I wrote a “Roses are Red” poem. And then, when we got there, I walked into her room and gave her a big, big kiss. She always likes big kisses. And then I gave her my presents.”
After Shauna’s class ended, she felt a kernel of hope that she had made progress. They seemed to get her message.
And then, just like that, the children scampered off to their next activity. They had places to go and games to play. They were, after all, kids.
But just maybe, just maybe, Shauna thought, “I gave them an idea of how they can bring slowness to their day.” She could even imagine the word “intentionality” being brought up at a family’s dinner table if she were lucky.
The last thought made Shauna smile.
Deliberate… intentional… savoring the moment… throwing out the clock… maybe a new tempo was about to be discovered.
Zoe, I love the themes you bring to us that make us really think about our world and our perceptions. What a wonderful idea to then let authors share how they’ve treated similar ideas.