As if I was not afraid
The morning after his open heart surgery, I asked Matt if he was OK
and he gave me his traditional signal to reassure me. Washington DC, April 2014
“There were all kinds of things I was afraid of at first, ranging from grizzly bears to ‘mean’ horses and gun-fighters; but by acting as if I was not afraid I gradually ceased to be afraid.” — Theodore Roosevelt
“Make believe you’re brave
And the trick will take you far.
You may be as brave
As you make believe you are.” — Oscar Hammerstein II
Now that Matt is an adult, we are no longer able to shield him from discussing the realities of his heart condition. His cardiologists understand that his disabilities do not preclude his ability to participate in his own care, and I have appreciated how they never talk down to him.
Matt’s heart surgery in late April, the fifth time his chest has been cut open, was his riskiest since the first one he had as an infant. During the months leading up to April, and to some extent during the years in which the doctors were putting off the inevitable, there was much talk about the reasons for postponing it as long as possible. The situation is complex, and the medical team wanted us to be aware of the difficulties inherent in the goals they hoped to accomplish during the long hours in the operating room.
This time, Jeff and I saw a difference in Matt that told us he understood the gravity of his medical situation. At his cardiology appointments, where he always shares jovial exchanges with the staff he has come to love, he was also pensive, almost somber as his case was being reviewed. We saw signs of this quiet reflection at home, too, in the weeks leading up to surgery.
Whenever I would ask Matt if he was afraid, he would answer either “no” or “maybe” but then go on to another subject. He seemed determined to keep his fears (which must have been many) under control. During the difficult weeks that followed, he was mostly stoic in the face of tremendous pain, and apologetic about asking for help when he needed it.
Matt has shown a similar determined optimism about Jeff since he was diagnosed with cancer. Though at times he has clearly had anxiety from watching his Daddy suffer (particularly when Jeff had an extreme adverse reaction to chemo that left him covered in painful lesions) he continues to affirm his belief that his father is going to get well. He knows from hard experience that illness hurts, and that it often gets worse before it gets better.
Some might conclude that Matt’s optimism is related to his developmental limitations, and perhaps this is true. But I need look no farther than Jeff to know that Matt’s courage appears to be a genetic predisposition, one that has prompted more than one person we know to observe “like father, like son.”
I’m sure you know people such as Jeff and Matt, who minimize their own suffering and go about life with great determination and strength. Such people are wonderful examples to those of us who have thus far been fortunate enough to avoid such medical trauma. Courage, like many other admirable traits, feels a bit contagious at times, a reassurance to us that it’s possible to survive and thrive.
If there’s anything frightening you today, I hope you will remember Roosevelt’s advice (or Hammerstein’s) and “fake it till you make it.” Your courageous actions will plant seeds of inner bravery, in yourself and others.
One year ago today:
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Bring us back home
Our sunroom, York County, June 2005
“If we had a feminism that caused us to get out of the house, is there not also room for feminism that would bring us back home, so that our homes would reflect ourselves and would once more have soul?” — Ginette Paris
“It’s acceptable to call yourself a “stay at home mom or dad,” but I think few people are willing to say they’re a homemaker these days. From my perspective the role of homemaker is essential, powerful, and worthy of redefinition and reverence.”
— Laura Forbes
I’m not sure why the term “homemaker” does not command more respect, but I can’t remember the last time I heard any child, male or female, say they wanted to be a homemaker someday, even as an added sideline to another ambition.
Perhaps it’s because the role was traditionally an unpaid task assigned to females, as one of very few choices available to women of past generations, thus seeming more like an obligation than a chosen path. Or maybe it’s because being a homemaker is so universal; after all, each of us, no matter our career or other obligations, is a homemaker. We must, of necessity, create some sort of home for ourselves.
And all of us, as children, were greatly influenced by the efforts of our parents or caregivers to create homes for us. Though my mother was a traditional “housewife” for most of my youth, she and my father worked together to create our home. Making a home is, after all, far more than doing chores such as laundry and cooking. While those are a time-consuming subset of the countless aspects of maintaining a home, they are not the heart of it. One need only spend a few days in a hotel to realize the crucial difference between housekeeping and homemaking.
Today I encourage you to reflect on your vital, powerful though possibly overlooked role of creating and maintaining a home in its fullest sense. What I have in mind has nothing to do with square footage, chores, or even decorating skills. It has more to do with the feeling we get when we walk into the door, that this is our home, and we are blessed to be part of it.
Our homes can be adorned with personal touches such as lovely handmade items, treasured photographs, favorite books and family heirlooms. We also decorate our homes in less visible ways: in the tone of voice we use when we speak to each other, the care we take to respect our shared spaces and belongings, the people to whom our doors are open, and the loving thoughts that lie behind simple gestures such as a single flower in a small vase, or a favorite surprise baked or bought for someone special to us.
What can you do today to celebrate your timeless and essential role as a homemaker?
One year ago today:
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
The first week of August
The former Sun Wheel, now restyled as Mickey’s Fun Wheel, has moving gondolas.
Disney’s California Adventure Park, Anaheim, California, April 2003
“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot.”
— Natalie Babbitt
When I was a child, and we would go to a fair or amusement park, we would sometimes be allowed to choose one ride to experience. It was never a contest for me; my favorite was the Ferris wheel. I loved the birds-eye view of the ground below, and the feeling of sailing over the top and downward, which was as close as I could come to flying without an airplane.
I’m no longer fond of these rides; I hadn’t the slightest desire to ride the London Eye, for example. But Disney’s “Soaring Over California” (or its later Florida version at Disney World, called “Soaring”) is such an all-time favorite that I always ride it several times on each visit. It’s a virtual hang gliding ride over the vast, varied and beautiful highlights of a remarkable state. With the help of technology, it delivers the ultimate birds-eye view of stunning sights I will never experience from that vantage point in real life. That feeling of soaring, briefly motionless and high over everything, is always a thrill.
I love Babbitt’s analogy of the first week of August as the top of the Ferris wheel, “motionless and hot,” that breathless pause before we glide down into the lovely autumn weather and the waning of another year. Now is the time to drink in the view of what lies behind us, and anticipate the accelerating pace that will soon begin, as the start of school, the fall holidays and the last of the sunshine fly past us almost too quickly to fully appreciate.
Whether you’re north of the equator and enjoying the peak of iced-tea or lemonade season, or south of the equator and sipping hot coffee or cider, I wish you a few moments of serenity as the turning of the wheel pauses briefly before whooshing down to the close of another year.
One year ago today:
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A lion inside
“Panthera leo” by Winfried Bruenken (Amrum)
Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 via Wikimedia Commons
“I was the shyest human ever invented, but I had a lion inside me that wouldn’t shut up!” — Ingrid Bergman
I want to thank Bob Mielke, who visits here often, for the inspiration behind this post. If you’ve visited Bob’s blog, you have seen his amazing images, including the animal photos that are always a favorite with me. When I saw his recent post with its wonderful photo of the papa lion and his cub, thought about how humans aren’t born knowing how to be brave, or to roar when a roar or two is needed.
A lot of times, people laugh when I talk about being a shy or scared person. For some reason, I don’t usually come across that way. But that’s only because my anger or indignation is almost always stronger than my fear, if I see something that doesn’t seem right or fair to me. I guess there is a lion inside me, too.
I think most of us are the same way. We don’t think of ourselves as courageous, but when things go wrong, we find a way to get through it. But just as the baby lion in Bob’s photo shows, we often need a little help (or maybe a lot) from people who show us, by the way they live, how to be strong. There’s nothing like watching the courage of a stawart person to help us learn to have faith and keep trying.
Next time you feel afraid, remember there is a lion in you, one that might surprise you with the strength of its roar.
One year ago yesterday:
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A giant reset button
Jeff enjoys two giant reset buttons at one time. Dam Neck, Virginia, June 2014
“I couldn’t imagine living in a state that didn’t reach the ocean. It was a giant reset button. You could go to the edge of the land and see infinity and feel renewed.”
― Avery Sawyer
One year ago today I was sitting in a hospital waiting for Grady to be born. He didn’t arrive until late that night, and while I was waiting, I wrote the post that would appear the next day. The post discussed the lovely thought that when babies are born, new parents are born too.
It’s a renewal that doesn’t end with the parents or the day of birth. As with so many aspects of nature, from oceans to animals, children carry with them immense powers to renew the worn-out hearts of their elders. When we look at a baby we see infinite possibilities, a big question mark with an underlying premise of optimism. This was true for me even when Matt was born with a worrisome heart condition and other problems. Babies are never defined by the immediate, although they inhabit it more decisively than we do.
If you are feeling in a rut, or at a dead end, find your own reset button. They are everywhere. It doesn’t have to be an ocean or a baby, although I highly recommend the effectiveness of both as a remedy for the doldrums. I think it can be any aspect of nature that hints of infinity, or any pastime that brings beauty, joy and wonder into your life.
Looking at the photo above, I realize the promise of renewal that arrived one year ago today is still with us, “new every morning,” and I give thanks with a grateful heart.
One year ago tomorrow:
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When everything is perfect
“Moonlit Landscape with Bridge” by Aert van der Neer
Licensed under public domain via Wikimedia Commons
“Every summer there are a number of nights, not many, but a number, when everything is perfect. The light, the warmth, the smells, the mist, the birdsong – the moths. Who can sleep? Who wants to?” ― Fredrik Sjöberg
During summer, my tendency to be a night owl kicks into overdrive. The longer daylight hours fool me into thinking it’s much earlier than it actually is, and the delights of summer make the prospect of going to sleep less tempting than it is during the colder, darker months.
I’ve often wondered why someone who loves to sleep as much as I do seems to have such trouble getting enough of it. It’s not just because I’m a restless sleeper; it’s also because I’m eager to spend more time enjoying all the things there are in this world to enjoy. I suppose this can be a form of greed at times, but it’s hard not to savor bliss when it is available, knowing how hard to come by it might be later.
Even if you’re an early-to-bed type, I hope you will be able to stay up and enjoy at least an hour or two of a perfect summer night. According to online sources I checked, we have another full moon coming up on August 10. Maybe you can schedule yourself a couple of hours for stargazing or just sitting outside after the temperatures have cooled. Those of you south of the equator, check back here in about six months! I wish you a starry, starry night full of enchantment!
One year ago today:
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
To be the caretaker
Life is short! How will you choose to spend it?
Photo at left by Aaron Logan, Creative Commons Attribution 2.5;
Photo at right by mattbuck, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0
“Life is too short to be the caretaker of the wrong details.” — Alexandra Stoddard
I don’t have too many regrets in life, but one thing I know for sure I’d do less of, if I had it to do over: FILING. For years, I compulsively kept neatly tabbed file folders with everything from medical records, to school papers, to warranties for all sorts of major and minor purchases, to financial statements and paid bills. Even craft ideas and recipes were tucked away under appropriate subject headings.
Once in awhile I was able to find something I really needed, but most of the files were never touched, so I have to wonder about the value returned for time invested. I don’t think our lives would have been much worse without those files. Now, decades later, I have spent time shredding much of what was in them. It strikes me as a waste of hours that could have been better spent, and I’m so thankful for the advent of electronic records that can be located with a quick word search (assuming my computer doesn’t crash and destroy them all).
The older I get, the more I can see the difference between the details that are worth my time, and the ones that aren’t. I am not arguing that we should be irresponsible. I’m only saying that some of the biggest responsibilities are somehow harder to grasp and quantify; they can’t be neatly stacked in a “to-do” bin and filed away one piece at a time.
Over the years, whenever I’ve let the mundane household tasks go undone in favor of things that seemed more important and/or fun, I’ve been known to declare “On my death bed, I don’t want to be saying ‘Well, at least my house was always clean’ ” — to which Jeff always replies, “Don’t worry, no chance of that!” 😀
Do you ever have the feeling that you are taking care of the wrong details? What urgent-seeming but ultimately unimportant tasks can you choose NOT to do today? What would be better ways to spend that time?
One year ago today:
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Like poignant land mines
The sweet scent of these plumeria brought back happy Hawaiian memories.
Barbados, March 2010
“Nothing is more memorable than a smell…Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth.”
— Diane Ackerman
Tangerines smell like Christmas to me, just as onions sauteed in butter with sage smell like Thanksgiving. A whiff of a cologne I wore only in my youth can bring back memories of people, incidents and even dresses I thought I had completely forgotten. And is there anything more delicious than the smell of wood smoke from someone’s chimney that first crisp autumn night?
It’s not just the lovely smells we remember. In the unlikely event I were ever near a “Skunk Tree” I would surely be flooded with sensations of being back in graduate school, with tests to study for and papers to write, as I had to stroll past that rare and pungent every day when I walked to class at the University of Hawaii in Manoa. Yet the disagreeable odor would be bittersweet to me now, as my years at UH were full of happy times.
Of all our five senses, smell is perhaps the one we tend to notice the least, but our unconscious mind is keeping records for us. Though we will never have the olfactory prowess of our animal friends, our brains can make some lightning-fast connections between what must be a complex calculus of factors that make each smell unique and identifiable even after many years without experiencing it.
Have you ever had a scent detonate an explosion of memories in the way Ackerman describes? What smells evoke the most treasured memories for you?
One year ago today:
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What is left
Mike, Al and Don, before they swapped radio-controlled planes for bigger ones.
Sometime in the early 1970’s, somewhere in the Atlanta area.
“A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.” — Edward de Bono
I’ve written very little here about my younger brother Al. I guess there are a lot of reasons why. As he is my only younger sibling, I’ve always felt a stronger need to protect him, however illogical that impulse has been. Al’s life has been difficult, for him and for those who love him. But in our teenage years, I never would have dreamed it.
Tall, athletic, talented, good-looking and witty, Al seemed to have everything going for him. People used to say he had the world by the tail. I never knew anyone with a brighter future ahead of him than Al appeared to have in his youth, and looking back at those days, I cannot laugh over the happy memories without feeling at least a trace of sadness.
Al was only five when he and my older brother were injured in the car crash that nearly killed my mother and sister, and it surely must have traumatized him as much or more than it did the rest of us. For all of his studied bravado as a young man, I now realize that much more must have been going on inside him. It’s ironic that it was a drunken driver who hit my family’s car and left lasting scars on us all, most of which cannot be seen with the eyes.
In recent years, I’m happy to say, Al has been doing well, and has been an invaluable help and companion to our aging parents. Maybe that’s why I can finally talk about him and the huge role he played in my childhood and young adulthood, without being overcome by sorrow. He was the sibling closest to me in age, and when our older brother and sister left home, Al and I ended up spending a good bit of time together. While there were all the usual squabbles, there also was a lot of joy as we shared music, jokes and serious conversations.
I couldn’t talk about Al without talking about his lifelong friend Don. Long before Wayne and Garth, or Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventures, there was a zany planet inhabited by Al and Don, where they spoke their own hip (though esoteric) language, and kept me in stitches with their hilarious parodies of everything imaginable. During a time in my life that was full of insecurity and feelings of inadequacy, I could always count on Al and Don to make me laugh no matter what else was going on. Though they have seen each other relatively seldom in adulthood, Don’s friendship, which has remained steadfast and unconditional, has been a point of stability in Al’s life, and I will always be grateful for that.
I’m also grateful for Al’s wonderful sons, and many other gifts that remain with him, as my siblings and I grow ever-closer to what is known as “old age.” Al can still make me laugh until I cry, and while our adult years may have held more tears than laughter, de Bono is right about all of those youthful fun times. They will never unhappen, and the memories are a blessing.
What memories will never unhappen for you? What lovely mental snapshots do you linger over when you turn through the pages of the scrapbook in your imagination?
One year ago today:
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What we must give
There are all sorts of ways to give the gift of attention.
Photos taken 1996-2014
“Attention is love, what we must give
children, mothers, fathers, pets,
our friends, the news, the woes of others.
What we want to change we curse and then
pick up a tool. Bless whatever you can
with eyes and hands and tongue. If you
can’t bless it, get ready to make it new.” — Marge Piercy
When I first created my little garret retreat ten years ago, I papered the unfinished walls with images and words that meant something to me. One of the first things to go on that wall was this verse from Piercy.
Attention, it seems, is one of the most endangered gifts in today’s world. When I read Piercy’s assertion that “attention is love,” it had the ring of truth. Why else do we all crave attention, in one form or another, and go to such lengths, in such a variety of ways, to obtain it?
I’d like to be wise enough to see my attention as the finite resource that it is, and guard closely how it is spent. Yet it seems so easy to squander, like a dripping faucet that will quietly waste untold gallons if left to itself. What I fritter mindlessly away, someone else needs. Their need for someone’s attention — possibly my attention — may even be crucial.
I’ve heard people say that they don’t feel they have much to give others. Sometimes when we feel helpless in the face of suffering or sadness, we say “I wish I knew what to do.” Perhaps one place to start is by offering the gift of attention, through a few kinds words, a note, a prayer, or the increasingly rare face-to-face visit.
As Piercy’s words suggest, attention is a starting point, not a destination. But every good thing that happens has a beginning, and often, it begins with someone noticing what others were too busy to see.
What can you bless today? What needs your touch to make it new? Pay attention. Then pick up a tool.
One year ago today:
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Why we travel
The forecast was off, but only the camera noticed. London, August 2005
“Travel tends to make us hyper-aware of details…when we are away from the distractions of our lives, we come awake to the small moments. That’s why we travel, and why we take pictures. The trick is to bring that hyper-awareness home with you, and keep it alive.”
— George Lange
Until I read this quote from Lange, I had never thought about it, but I think he’s right. When I’m traveling in a place that is unfamiliar, I tend to see far more than I do during everyday life. It’s a bit like when you put that photo or note on your refrigerator door, and after awhile you tend to stop seeing it, simply because your eyes grow too accustomed to the sameness.
For me, using my camera daily (or nearly so) is one way to bring that hyper-awareness home. The lens can frame a scene and shut out competing distractions. Especially with the long telephotos that are increasingly common even in inexpensive cameras, we can “zoom in” and see things we might otherwise miss.
You don’t have to have a camera, of course. To see your world in a new way, try being hyper-aware of the details. Remember the game “I Spy?” See what you can spy in your world, and report back to us. Did you notice anything you had forgotten about, or maybe never knew was there?
One year ago today:
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Our conscious choice
Whoever tended this garden made a choice that brightened the day for me and many others.
Mission San Juan Capistrano, California, July 2004
“Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we shall tend.”
— Sarah Ban Breathnach
Every day I wake up with a mixture of thoughts, some pleasant and some not. There are always things I look forward to doing that day, and things I dread. It’s much easier to get up and go about my day cheerfully — or at least without complaining to myself — when I focus on the good things. Ruminating over unhappy thoughts does not start my day well. Every day, I get to choose which way I start out.
I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to learn this simple lesson, but it is.
How did you feel when you woke up this morning? Were you grateful to have been granted another day? Or did you get up with a sigh (as I do, too often) thinking of all the tasks still undone that were awaiting you?
Here’s a challenge: let’s tend our mental gardens, those secret places where we spend time when no one is looking. If we don’t make sure to water the flowers and pull up the weeds, it’s likely to become a place that isn’t so cheerful.
So take care of the garden of your mind — where Mr. Rogers reminds us that we can grow all kinds of ideas — and let me know what’s looking good today! Maybe we can even send each other some virtual seeds.
One year ago today:
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Imagine a time
Pick yourself a porch, bring your favorite friends, sit a spell and pour a cup of coffee or tea.
Welcome to Club Verandah!
“…I like to close my eyes and imagine a time when life was simpler. I like to think about a time when no one would choose text messaging over good, live conversation. I think about sweet tea or perhaps an after dinner cup of coffee enjoyed in time to the rocking of an old cane chair. Children play in the front yard imagining themselves a ship captain or the Lone Ranger out on the mesa.”
— Andrew Odom
If y’all read the comments, you know that Sheila and I have started an imaginary association called CLUB VERANDAH. You don’t have to be southern to join, although you’ll meet lots of us here who speak with that unmistakable drawl that goes so well with porch-sitting.
All you have to do to join, is travel in your imagination to a time you remember in the past, or hope for in the future, when you can sit in a rocking chair among congenial people and enjoy sipping your beverage of choice (for me it’s tea, iced or hot) while chatting about things that tend to lower the blood pressure and bring on the smiles.
As the darkness falls, you’ll see some fireflies lighting up the night and you’ll hear the laughter of the kids playing hide and seek, or Red Rover, or some other game you remember playing long ago. If you tell them it’s time to go home, they’ll beg for just a few more minutes to play, and you’ll agree.
There’s a pitcher of icy lemonade over there on the side table, and plenty of herbal tea and fruit juice in the kitchen. I think I saw some freshly-baked cookies in there too, and there’s sliced watermelon in the icebox — I mean, the fridge — along with a Key Lime pie made with the juice Maybelle brought back for me from Key West yesterday.
Y’all feel free to stay as long as you want. We’ll leave the light on for you.
One year ago today:
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The enemy of the people
This giant eraser is a great reminder that mistakes don’t have to mean failure.
National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden, Washington DC, June 2014
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life…” — Anne Lamott
“I make mistakes; I’ll be the second to admit it.” — Jean Kerr
Because I’ve known so many world-class perfectionists, it took me longer than it should have to realize I am one myself. I was somehow confused by the fact that I have so many obvious deficits. I couldn’t imagine that a person so admittedly clumsy and hopeless at sports, with so many bad hair days and nervous habits, could possibly be a perfectionist for very long without totally freaking out.
But as anyone who looks closely at perfectionism knows, it has nothing whatsoever to do with perfection, and everything to do with anxiety. And one can be a perfectionist in some areas while comfortably lethargic in others. I agree with Lamott that, even when it’s fairly contained and limited, perfectionism is an ingredient in a lot of disasters– especially when it comes to relationships.
Perfectionism is an insidious tendency, because it can masquerade as so many good and desirable traits: competence, diligence, high standards, ambition, self-esteem and excellence. But it’s really about none of those things. Instead, it ends up feeding traits such as self-hatred, envy, jealousy, snobbery, disdain, despair, cynicism, scorn, cruelty and maybe even violence.
For me, accepting that mistakes and missteps are sometimes inevitable, no matter how hard I try, has enabled me to be less fearful of the condemnation of others. It has also undermined the low self esteem that paradoxically causes me to look down on others in a desperate attempt to feel better about myself.
Accepting my own imperfection opens my heart up to others who, like me, don’t always live up to their own good intentions. It helps me feel a bond with them, a kinship that comes of being human and therefore subject to lots of errors. You don’t have to condone the faults to look past them, in yourself or in anyone else.
Life is so much happier when I start out liking each person I come in contact with. If somebody gives me good reason to feel otherwise, I certainly will. But to a great extent, I’ve found that we can see what we are willing to see, and forgive what we are willing to forgive. When we look for common ground, we can almost always find it, and it doesn’t have to mean compromising any of our values. I really believe that.
Have you been sending yourself silent thoughts of criticism today? If so, talk back to them. Not by saying “so what?” or “nobody’s perfect” or “I don’t care.” But maybe try saying “This problem is not bigger than I am” or “I’m going to keep trying anyway” or “Little by little, I will get there” or “Thank God I don’t have to get every detail just right to do something well.”
Pay no attention to The Enemy of the People! Especially not when you’re looking in the mirror. You don’t have to be perfect to be better. You know you can be all that you need to be. You really can.
One year ago today:
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
In the yard
Drew and Kevin make the most of a beautiful August evening in O’Fallon, Illinois, 2004
“My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, ‘You’re tearing up the grass.’ ‘We’re not raising grass,’ Dad would reply. ‘We’re raising boys.'” — Harmon Killebrew
This is a perfect time of year for this quote. The All-Star break is coming up, and many lawns in warmer regions are getting a bit of heat fatigue. A lot of parents may be out in the yard playing fungo or catch with their kids who are aspiring athletes. Now that the spring enthusiasm for having a nice-looking lawn has died down somewhat, maybe we can worry a bit less about tearing up the grass.
But no matter what time of year it is, I think Killebrew’s quote is worth taking to heart for all of us, even if we have no children living at home. It’s great to garden and work outside, but if it becomes more important than letting people and pets enjoy our yard, it’s time to adjust priorities.
This year, I hope to convince Jeff that it’s just as important to spend time outside sipping tea and relaxing, as it is to mow the grass and edge the lawn and trim the shrubbery. He simply doesn’t love sitting in a swing and reading as much as I do, but I’d like to have his company out there sometimes. So I’m going to try to convince him to bring his Kiplinger magazine outside and sit with me some cool evenings before the weather turns cold again.
Killebrew probably grew up seeing the yard as a playing field, a place to have fun. That attitude apparently served him well. I’m afraid Jeff sees our lawn mostly as something to take care of. For me, it’s mostly something to sit and enjoy (although I admit that enjoyment is made possible by Jeff’s diligent custodial attitude). Somewhere between Jeff’s conscientious care-taking and my lazy recreational temperament, there must be a happy medium.
How do you see your lawn and/or garden– as a chore, or a place to enjoy? Do you spend as much time relaxing outdoors as you do working? This week or sometime soon, if you are blessed with a cool evening, I hope you will make time to enjoy your home from the outside.
One year ago today:
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Constantly and visibly
These beautiful lilies are part of a reading garden at the public library.
Poquoson, Virginia, June 2014
“Life, now, was unfolding before me, constantly and visibly, like the flowers of summer that drop fanlike petals on eternal soil.” — Roman Payne
I don’t know whether it’s because I’m less than three years from 60, or because of the many life-and-death issues my family has faced in the past 18 months, but I feel as if my awareness of life’s paradoxically vast brevity is more focused. I’m astounded by how much goes on, and how quickly it all goes! It amazes me that so much life can be packed into such short lifespans for each of us, no matter how long we live.
People in my age group are in an enviable position today. Many of us have enjoyed the privilege of close relationships with people two generations older than us, and now two generations younger than us, plus all those ages and stages that lie in between. It’s an excellent vantage point from which to take in the panorama of life.
When I walk outside in the spring and summer, I am enchanted by the flowers. My appreciation of their beauty is sharpened by knowing that even the hardiest of them won’t be there very long. That’s how I feel about life right now. Incredibly beautiful, so full and so brief.
One year ago today:
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I travel somewhat differently
Jeff enjoys an evening stroll in Charlottesville, Virginia, July 2014
“Some people walk with both eyes focused on their goal: the highest mountain peak in the range, the fifty-mile marker, the finish line. They stay motivated by anticipating the end of the journey. Since I tend to be easily distracted, I travel somewhat differently–one step at a time, with many pauses in between.” — Hannah Nyala
Jeff is definitely in the former group, which explains why he prefers to skip walking altogether if a car is available. In contrast, I am definitely in the latter group, and were I to take a walk with a team of like-minded people, I probably would drive even them crazy with my frequent stops, especially if I had my camera with me.
It doesn’t really matter where I’m walking. I find much to absorb my attention whether I’m in a wooded setting, a country road or a city street. Oddly, listening to book on tape actually helps me keep moving, since it travels with me and gives me mobile competition for attention to keep my eyes from wandering. Otherwise I might never finish the first mile, let alone the 2-4 miles I tend to walk each day.
Which type of walker are you? Do you stay focused on the destination, or is the journey the real objective? If you are a goal-minded traveler, I wish you speedy and uninterrupted progress to your destinations whenever you travel. If you are like me, and find the world full of interesting detours, I wish you abundant colorful discoveries every day, and the time to enjoy them. Have fun — and send photos!
One year ago today:
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Museums, formed from the heart
A moment frozen in time at the National Gallery of Art, Washington DC, June 2014
“In poetically well built museums, formed from the heart’s compulsions, we are consoled not by finding in them old objects that we love, but by losing all sense of Time.”
— Orhan Pamuk
On a recent day while Matt was at camp, Jeff took a day off from work and we went to the National Gallery of Art at the Smithsonian. Since we intended to spend the day, we thought we might be able to work in a quick trip to the Freer and Sackler galleries as well. I had forgotten how magnificently endless the National Gallery feels when one is inside.
Daddy recently sent me an interesting article about the Wyeth exhibit, which I was anxious to see, and there was a special exhibit about Degas and Cassatt, along with a celebration of new acquisitions from the works of Van Gogh. So I knew we would be there awhile, but I had not recalled the enormity of the permanent collection, and the sheer beauty of the building itself.
We did not even make it to the newer East Building of the National Gallery, let alone to the Freer or Sackler. In fact, we could have spent hours more in the main building where we started. Pamuk is right when he says we lose all sense of time at a museum, and that can be a great consolation, especially when the past months have found us frequently engulfed in pain or sorrow.
If you are within driving distance of a good art museum, or plan to be near one during your upcoming travels, you might enjoy making time to visit there for at least a couple of hours. Even if you’re like Jeff and me, and have no particular knowledge of art, you are sure to enjoy the feeling of losing yourself in a place where beauty and universal significance are celebrated.
“Poetically well built” is an excellent description for almost all of the art museums I’ve ever been in, so you might begin feeling rejuvenated even before you glimpse the first painting. As you visit a museum or gallery, I wish you the singular consolation Pamuk describes. In a museum, we are reminded of so much that unites us at heart, despite the differences that separate us.
One year ago today:
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Compensating
Grady and his PaPa always have a barrel of fun! March 2014
“Grandchildren are God’s way of compensating us for growing old.” — Mary H. Waldrip
It seemed rather cruel to me that we learned we would be grandparents at about the same time we learned of Jeff’s devastating diagnosis. We prayed for this moment, hoped for it, dreamed of it. We are thankful that it did arrive. Thanks for being with us from then until now.
I hope you have memories of such moments, as a grandparent, as a grandchild, or both! If so, enjoy some thoughts of them today.
One year ago today:
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A kind of artist
A summer day in the gardens at Monticello, near Charlottesville, Virginia, June 2014
“We have neglected the truth that a good farmer is a craftsman of the highest order, a kind of artist.” — Wendell Berry
History tells us much about the wide-ranging though conflicted brilliance of Thomas Jefferson. Aside from his celebrated love of books, farming may have been his greatest passion. He and his trusted gardener Wormley Hughes left a legacy of agricultural artistry at Monticello that still can be seen and felt today.
The five thousand acres of Monticello were home to an entire community of free and enslaved workers, and his gardens were “a kind of laboratory where Jefferson experimented with 330 varieties of more than seventy species of vegetables from around the world.” Jefferson’s analytical skills and compulsive record-keeping documented years of success, failure and persistence that yielded food for the tables at Monticello and inspiration for generations of family farms and gardens.
Perhaps the unusually long life span of Jefferson and many of his enslaved collaborators are a testament to the benefits of a locally grown plant-based diet. Most of the individuals we think of as “founding fathers” were also farmers, and probably we have as much to learn from their agrarian achievements as we have from their political deeds.
Whether or not you have space for a home vegetable garden, I encourage you to learn more about locally grown food. The widespread rediscovery of family farms and gardens may ameliorate much of the emotional, environmental and physical damage done by our over-processed, mass-produced food supply that has largely separated us from the contact with nature that is healing on many different levels .
I’ve seen (and tasted) the benefits of home gardening, and I’m convinced Berry is right about the importance of small local farms to the overall good of society. Like so many other urban and suburban people who get their fruits and veggies from the supermarket, I have a long way to go in putting this philosophy into practice, but I hope you will join me in moving in that direction. Maybe we can start by planning a visit to an orchard or garden where we can pick our own food and experience firsthand the connection between its source and our table.
Do you grow anything edible? If so, do you agree that there are benefits that go beyond the superior taste of home-grown food? Feel free to inspire us with your experiences and advice!
One year ago today:
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The meaning of immortality
Scenes such as this put our troubles into perspective. Bavaria, Germany, August 2005
“The wise understand the meaning of immortality, and do not seek the never-changing in the transient.” — Upanishads
No small part of my sorrow in life comes from my abiding difficulty in accepting that nothing on this earth will last forever. This reluctance to let go encompasses the entire spectrum of my life, from a treasured trinket to a useful appliance to more expensive investments such as houses and cars, and ultimately on to intangible blessings such as relationships with animals and other people, as individuals (such as friends and loved ones) and as groups (such as church congregations, schools, and neighborhoods or community circles).
I think this longing for something that lasts, even when we look for it in all the wrong places, is one of the surest evidences we have of immortality. Descartes, among others, asserted that a finite being could not, on its own, conceive of an infinite one. (See item 2 under the summary section on Meditation III.) As much as humans tend to crave novelty, we also seek endlessly for that which is unchanging and reliable. So in one sense, it’s logical that we want unlimited warranties for our material goods, and undying commitment from the people in our lives.
Growing up in a family that embraced Christianity as the source of eternal truth, I have been taught from my earliest memory that eternity is real, and what we think of as our earthly lives are only a relatively small piece of the overall picture, however central a role these perceptions play in our everyday existence. Why, then, do I have so much trouble throwing away a magazine I have not read, or a memento of a long-ago vacation? This may sound like the ultimate leap from the sublime to the ridiculous, but I know some of you will understand. 😀
I think I need to repeat this quote from Upanishads as a sort of mantra next time I undertake another of my seemingly unlimited series of efforts to clear out my belongings and bring order to my home — or to my mind. Fortunately, there are some handy symbols of eternity to which I can cling in my anxiety over loss. The sky, the mountains, the seas, and even the reliable life cycles of nature all hint of the reality that life is everlasting. These beautiful visual aids put my Goodwill donations and full recycling bins into perspective, don’t they?
Today, when you find yourself stressed, frustrated or annoyed, try asking yourself the ultimate question. It’s not “Will this matter in 100 years?” though that is indeed a worthwhile inquiry. But how much more powerful is the question “Is this a matter of eternal significance?” Relatively few of our troubles will merit a “yes” to that question, but for the few that do, that’s a clear indication we need to go straight to the source, so to speak, and leave the matter in the hands of God. Easy to say, hard to do. But infinitely comforting.
One year ago today:
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A curious fact
I can relate to this guy’s hours, can’t you? From Wikimedia Commons
“It is a curious fact that people are never so trivial as when they take themselves seriously.” — Oscar Wilde
When I think of the celebrities who annoy me most, I almost always think of the ones who appear to take themselves too seriously, as if they were the center of the universe, or had some sort of exclusive key to wisdom and significance. I won’t get tacky and list names, but I’m sure you can think of a few of these types yourself.
On the other hand, I find it hard not to like someone who is laughing. Even actors or politicians or pundits who don’t usually appeal to me at all become instantly charming when they are laughing, especially if they are laughing at themselves.
Laughter that is without meanness or hostility is one of the healthiest things we can do for ourselves and each other. Best of all, it’s free and fairly easy to come by. If you don’t believe me, just watch these videos. No matter how many times I watch them, I literally cannot get through them without laughing myself, because this kind of uncontrolled hysteria is very contagious.
Give one (or all) of these a try, and let me know: did you laugh too? And if so, didn’t you feel a bit happier afterwards? I hope so!
One year ago today:
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For almost everything
You can find creative new uses for almost anything online!
Even if you plan to donate the old rather than design the new, it’s great inspiration.
“There is a use for almost everything.” — George Washington Carver
“A great master can find a use for everything…he is good at salvage. He wastes nothing; therefore, he always has enough. He values everyone; therefore everyone values him.”
— Chris Prentiss
One year ago today I wrote about my problems with clutter, and having way too much stuff, as well as my determination to clean up and clear out. Since then I’ve had some success, though I still have a long way to go. A large part of the battle has been trying to figure out why I ended up with the stuff in the first place, and how to change the thought patterns that result in continual accumulation.
I think a lot of us have a fear of wasting resources, and an aversion to tossing out what is still useable. This is not a bad trait, especially with landfills overflowing and budgets stretched to the limit. While I keep reminding myself it’s actually just as wasteful to keep and store more than I can ever use, I admire those who are able to transform something unwanted into a new and needed object.
Repurposing is one of the most practical forms of creativity we can develop. And it’s more popular than ever, with online tips and ideas so numerous that it would be impossible to explore all of them. The next time you find yourself undecided about whether to throw something out, try doing a Google or Pinterest search with the words “repurpose” and a description of the object you are reluctant to trash. You might be amazed at some of the ingenious uses for everything from small utensils to large pieces of furniture.
If you can’t find an idea for upcycling whatever you vaguely dread wasting, you can throw it out in good conscience. Believe me, if anything could be done with it, someone would have discovered it, created it, and posted it online. Give yourself points for effort, and pitch it.
If you do find lots of ideas for it, here’s where you have to exercise wisdom and willpower. Will you actually make and use this new creation anytime soon? If so, go for it! If not, your time online still has not been wasted. You’re in the best position of all; you can donate the item knowing others can find a use for it, with the immediate reward of a cleaner, more spacious drawer, closet or room.
Have you found any clever ways to re-use something broken or unneeded? If so, we’d love to have you share them with us. Meanwhile, spend a few minutes online marveling at all the ways people can get clever with their clutter. Transforming trash to treasure is a great hobby to enjoy, whether as observer or creator, and you might pick up some inspiration for a project of your own.
One year ago today:
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Flowers that fly
Peacock butterfly (inachis io) by Charlesjsharp (CC BY-SA 3.0)
“But these are flowers that fly and all but sing…” — Robert Frost
Of all the symbols of summer, perhaps butterflies come the closest to capturing the season. The brevity of their time here, coupled with their freedom of movement and dazzling visual appeal, seem well matched to the warmer months when we tend to see them most often.
I agree with Frost that the butterflies appear so carefree and joyous as to seem ready to burst into song. But I think silence is part of their mystique. They appear as light as petals in the wind, and make no more noise than flowers do. It’s rare to see anything that moves so rapidly yet soundlessly, flitting nimbly around in endlessly varying flight patterns.
Watching a butterfly can be mesmerizing, almost a form of meditation in itself. Grace, silence, agility, energy, beauty…all admirable traits I’d like to have more of. Maybe if I watch enough of them, I can soak up some of these characteristics by osmosis. In any case, I appreciate their charms and look forward to seeing lots of them before the cold overtakes us again. I hope you will too!
One year ago today:
Graceful, varied and enchanting
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No faster or firmer friendships
Amy and me with a teeny-tiny section of her family’s BOOKS! February 2012
“There are no faster or firmer friendships than those formed between people who love the same books.” ― Irving Stone
OK, think of how to describe the friend of your dreams. The best friend you can imagine.
First, and this is a big one – someone who lives close enough that you can get to her home in less than an hour (in good traffic). Hmmmm, that leaves almost all of my friends out. Well, we’re just imagining right now, so we can come up with anything we want. That one is not a requirement for being a friend, but in an ideal fantasy world, it counts.
OK, next, someone who has the same value system as you do, and understands your life’s priorities. Someone who is there the minute you need her. Someone who totally gets it when life is horrible and you just need to cry. Someone who doesn’t expect perfection and knows how to laugh often and heartily. Someone who loves to travel and is fun to be with when it’s time to go places.
So far, so good. Now let’s add some icing on that cake. Someone who has a super cool animal living at her home — and for me, extra points if it’s a dog. Someone who has lots of tea and likes to chat over a cup. Or two. Or three. Someone with lots of ice cream…no, make that an ice cream parlor! In her basement! With toppings and everything! (Hey, this is a fantasy, remember?)
And here’s a really big one: someone who LOVES BOOKS, all kinds of books, including some of the same ones you love!
Wait a minute…I just described my real-life friend Amy! So some dreams come true, and not everything in my life is difficult right now. If some of you are wondering how we manage to keep going through all that has happened recently, now you know one reason why we can.
Not every friend will fill all these qualifications, but most of us have some very dear friends with whom we share at least a few of them. Aren’t you glad? Whoever came to your mind when you read this, send her (or him) a quick note to say “thanks.” While you are at it, find out if there are any good books you can talk about together. Ice cream optional!
One year ago today:
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Defeat Despair 
