The best of now
The first flowers of spring won’t last, but we can enjoy them today!
Keukenhof, the Netherlands, March 2007
“No longer forward nor behind
I look in hope or fear;
But, grateful, take the good I find,
The best of now and here.” ― John Greenleaf Whittier
No matter what is going on in your life right now, this day holds many hidden gifts. Which ones will you discover?
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.
Ten thousand truths
I almost missed this cute visitor to our Alexandria back yard, March 2014
“There are joys which long to be ours. God sends ten thousands truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away.”
— Henry Ward Beecher
A year ago my post was about Jeff’s father, and how he used to call me outside to see wildlife he had spotted. As I mentioned then, Jeff has his dad’s eye for spotting all sorts of creatures I would never notice. I’ve had so much joy from seeing the animals he shows me.
Yesterday afternoon, just after the heavy snowfall of early March, Jeff called me upstairs and told me to bring my camera. He was looking out our kitchen window, trying to point out two birds to me, but I could not see them no matter how hard I looked, even with my glasses on. I finally went up to the third floor of our townhome and used the long telephoto on my camera to find them, but only after Jeff gave me very precise directions where to look.
Sure enough, this cute fellow (or gal) and a friend were perched a couple of feet apart on a branch, looking as if they were bundled up against a very cold night. I so wished they could fly inside and stay with us until the spring came. I tried to find out what kind of birds they are by looking online, but was stumped; does anyone recognize them?
I was amazed Jeff had been able to see them from our window as the afternoon light was fading. Their colors blended into the general landscape so well that I could not possibly have spotted them, even with a telephoto, unless someone told me where to look. I’m glad Jeff was there, so I didn’t miss this particular joy, or for that matter, the five wild turkeys he had pointed out to me on the side of the highway when we were driving up from York that day.
I know there are joys that I miss every day, ten thousand truths I don’t see because my eyes are not opened to them, or because the surrounding distractions obscure their beauty. Beecher’s words are a warning and a promise. May we all have open hearts and open eyes to see the divine messages winging their way to us, bringing us hope, faith and joy.
One year ago today:
And speaking of birds, I wanted to share this photo of Sheila’s adorable Sun Conure, Walter, who escaped from his cage recently and was hiding out under the dining room table!
I did NOT digitally alter this – Walter’s colors really are that bright!
Thanks for sending this, Sheila!
WALTER! What are you doing down THERE?
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.
What anyone wants to remember
Beth, your recent comment reminded me of this wonderful impromptu vacation.
My friend Beth, brother Al and I skipped school to go to Montego Bay with Mom and Dad.
Jamaica, February 1973
“A childhood is what anyone wants to remember of it.” — Carol Shields
“A happy childhood can’t be cured. Mine’ll hang around my neck like a rainbow…”
— Hortense Calisher
I’ve written before about how it can be difficult being a child or young person, and that’s more true for some than for others. Most of us, I think, have a blend of good memories and bad ones, but even these are relative. Some of what we would describe as bad memories might sound fairly benign to anyone who has endured true abuse or trauma.
I think my own childhood was fortunate and blessed. The happy memories are far more lasting and influential today than the unhappy ones. Calisher’s quote charmed me because it seemed such an apt description. We carry the happy times of our youth with us, and I think others can see signs of it, even when we are unaware that it shows.
I feel the deepest gratitude to my parents for giving me such a foundation, and to my family and friends for decorating my early years with humor, adventure and joy. You are all part of the rainbow I wear, the one that gives me hope on my most difficult days. I hope all of you who read this can reach back into your own memories, and find colors that glow in the dark.
One year ago today:
And speaking of children, Grady wishes you all a Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
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.
Intelligence having fun
This man had as much fun balancing rocks as we had watching him!
San Francisco, February 2003
“Perhaps imagination is only intelligence having fun.” — George Scialabba
Have you ever heard of rock balancing? Neither had I until I saw this guy. One beautiful sunny day in San Francisco, he was practicing his hobby for all passers-by to enjoy free of charge (though some were leaving him tips). I don’t know who thought up that pastime, but I’m glad someone had the imagination to look at a pile of rocks and see what could be done with it, just for fun.
Have you ever found a new use for an everyday object, or created something whimsical from odd materials you found? Do you make up silly rhymes or scrawl elaborate doodles in the margins of notepaper during boring meetings? Have you ever made up any funny words or names for things, a sort of secret language that you share only with one or two family members or friends? The possibilities are endless.
Let your brain have some fun – your imagination is smarter than you think!
One year ago today:
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Courage is about doing
Courage in the face of great risk can lead to freedom…and survival.
Jeff at the Underground Railroad monument, Roanoke Island, NC, September 2013.
“Courage is about doing what you’re afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you’re scared.” — Eddie Rickenbacker
“Rickenbacker had learned to manage fear. It was one of the main reasons for his success…Eddie had acclimated himself to that great numbing terror of flying into a fray where it was nearly certain someone would be killed.” — Winston Groom
By any standard, “Captain Eddie” was an astounding man. I grew up hearing about him because I grew up surrounded by pilots, and also because he was a founder and leader of Eastern Air Lines, the company that employed my father and provided a wonderful life for our family for over 30 years.
The more one learns about Rickenbacker’s life and accomplishments, the more interesting the quote above becomes. If any man could claim to be fearless, he could. In fact, more than once he survived traumas that resulted in his being officially pronounced dead by the media. In the context of the bold and often heroic manner in which he lived his life, his admission of fear sounds overly humble.
But maybe fear has been given a bad name. In our anxiety-riddled age, when medications are commonly prescribed to treat phobias and lesser conditions, it might seem that fear is something to prevent rather than overcome. In some cases, I’m sure that must be true; unreasonable or paralyzing fear can hold us back, and ironically, makes us less safe if we are overwhelmed by it.
However, fear can be an asset if we use it as a motivation to act cautiously, recognizing the risks but moving forward when the stakes are high and there is much to gain. Undoubtedly, some of history’s greatest acts of valor came from ordinary people who knew what they were up against and felt very afraid, but pressed on anyway. Some of these heroic stories we know about; many we never will.
We might assume courage comes more easily to others than it does to us. Perhaps we think ourselves less strong or capable if we feel afraid, but courage feels much different on the inside than it appears on the outside. When I read quotes such as the one above, coming from a man whose personal biography reads like a barely-believable adventure novel, I realize that everybody is afraid sometimes, and that’s okay, maybe even good. What matters most is being able to do what we need to do, despite our fears.
Today, if there is anything worrying or frightening you, remember what Captain Eddie said. Courage is a good thing, and without fear, there is no courage.
One year ago today:
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The art of counting
Five of my earliest and greatest blessings, in a life filled with them. January 2014
“Envy is the art of counting the other fellow’s blessings instead of your own.”
— Harold Coffin
I often have a problem with envy, especially when friends who are my age start describing their carefree “empty nest” travels and activities. After nearly 30 years of caretaking and managing the lives of our children (beginning when Drew was born in 1984) I sometimes long for that kind of freedom. I can’t really imagine anymore what it’s like to be able to just “up and go” spontaneously, without exhaustive preliminary planning and arrangements.
Despite being thankful for the blessings that have kept us alive and together all these years, I still have occasional problems with an ungrateful and bad attitude. Here is a 100% true story of an abrupt and eye-opening experience that did much to curtail my bad habit of counting others’ blessings instead of my own.
One day back in 2012, I had decided to cook some steel-cut oats for Matt and me. Jeff usually cooks them for us on the weekends, and I just fix the regular kind for us on busy weekdays, but with Jeff at work that morning, I decided to get industrious and try cooking steel cut oats myself. That turned out to be a mistake. Let’s just say I ended up dealing with a boiled-over mess not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES that morning. Sometimes multi-tasking backfires!
I finally gave up being frustrated and just started laughing at myself and thinking how lucky I was to have had Jeff cooking it for me for the past couple of years, never once (as far as I know) ending with the disastrous results I had. I started thinking about how blessed I was; how happy I felt that I was able to stay home full time to take care of our household and all the endless details that go with managing Matt’s life. I wondered why on earth I didn’t feel those blessings constantly instead of sometimes becoming cross and negative. I resolved that I would change my attitude, beginning right then. The rest of the day passed happily.
That afternoon I heard Jeff come in the front door. “Hi babe, how are you?” I sang out cheerfully.
“Not good,” he said. Something in his voice made me freeze up inside.
That was the beginning of our lives changing radically, without warning. That was the afternoon he came home with the sudden, intense pain that sent him to the ER the next morning where it was discovered that he had a ruptured, cancerous appendix, and tumors on his liver that were suggestive of metastatic cancer from a primary cancer elsewhere.
I’ve thought again and again of the irony of how that day had started for me, as if it were some premonition that I was too clueless to notice. It haunts me in a sad sort of way; a memory I will probably never forget — and I hope I do not forget it. Every day that passes, no matter what else is going on in our lives, we are enjoying blessings that can disappear suddenly, without time to stop and reflect gratefully while we still have them.
That lesson is just as true and relevant in my life today as it was that day in September 2012. Whatever mistakes I’m still making, I am seldom unaware of all that is mine — and ours — in this fleeting present moment. I never completely forget how fragile and ephemeral this life can be.
Today, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I hope you will take a minute or two for counting the blessings that are yours right now. Comparing our lives and blessings to what other people enjoy (or maybe, unbeknownst to us, don’t enjoy at all) is a trap, a lie, and a danger. In contrast, keeping our eyes on the beauty of our own particular canvas is an art as well as a discipline; a talent we can never develop too soon. Some of the lessons we’ve had this past 18 months have been unusually harsh ones, but I’m glad we are learning them.
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.
One of those March days
The flowers said spring, but the winds said winter.
A chilly day at the Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC, March 2013
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.” — Charles Dickens
Today (two weeks before this is published) Michael commented that spring had been flirting with us. That’s a perfect description of the past week here in Virginia. We’ve enjoyed sunny days with warm temperatures (including a record-high 79 degrees in Hampton Roads!) interspersed with two days of snow during the final stretch of what must be the snowiest winter I have ever personally experienced.
By the time you read this, I hope spring will have cease flirtation and be pursuing us in earnest. Though some of you live far north enough that this is unlikely even in mid March, the weather has been so crazy lately that maybe, against all odds, you’ll be granted a warm day or two to enjoy. In any case, enjoy this Google image search and create the beginnings of a beautiful springtime in your heart and mind!
One year ago today:
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Personal charm
Jeff took this photo of Maggie and me at La Madeleine, Old Town Alexandria, July 2013.
“There is no personal charm so great as the charm of a cheerful temperament.”
— Henry Van Dyke
I’ve written here before about my friend Maggie and her family, and the happy memories I have of them that go back forty years — it’s hard for me to believe we first met in 1974! Obviously, there’s a lot I love about her, but if I had to name one defining trait that sets her apart, it’s her ability to maintain and radiate a genuinely cheerful attitude.
As one might imagine, those years have given me countless opportunities to see Maggie in all kinds of situations. Like all of us, she has faced her share of challenging circumstances, but I can’t remember a time when she was not able to muster a sense of humor about whatever was going on. She’s quite practical and realistic, so her congeniality isn’t based on delusion or denial. I think she simply discovered long ago that a sincere smile or a hearty laugh can go a long way toward improving almost any scenario.
Her upbeat demeanor is never more valuable than when she is helping others who are having some sort of difficulty, which is doubtless responsible for a good measure of her considerable professional success. Because she’s keenly sensitive, she knows when to “weep with those who weep, and laugh with those who laugh.” But it seems that no matter what I’m facing, I end up feeling like laughing when I’ve spent some time with Maggie.
Being with such people is a sure way to defeat despair, so I hope you have at least one or two in your life who shine as brightly as Maggie shines in mine. I also hope we can learn from them how to reflect and spread such cheerfulness. The world can always use more of that kind of charm.
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.
Try waking up
Jeff didn’t see this sign over his head, but I did. Bar Harbor, June 2012
“Anyone can slay a dragon…but try waking up every morning and loving the world all over again. That’s what takes a real hero.” ― Brian Andreas
In June 2012, just three months before Jeff got the first of what would be several diagnoses of cancer, we were seated in a Bar Harbor restaurant looking forward to a nice meal after a day of exploring Acadia National Park. I noticed the art hung on the wall above his head, and thought how appropriate it would be to have a photo of him sitting beneath it. (He didn’t even realize the sign was there, or notice what it said.)
I had no way of knowing how prophetic that photo would be; how hard it would be for him simply to keep waking up every day over the next year and beyond, facing the grief, uncertainty, pain and physical trauma that go with cancer and its treatments. What I did know already was that he was that kind of hero, one who would keep putting one foot in front of the other as long as he was able, not complaining or even saying much at all about his struggles and sorrow, just quietly keeping on.
Though most of us have difficulties that probably are not as obvious as his, all of us have to show that same heroic devotion. Some days, it is far from easy to wake up and love the world all over again. But somehow we do it, day after day, and in so doing, we unknowingly give each other the same strength we ourselves have drawn from heroic examples of perseverance.
I hope today is one of those days when it feels easy and happy and natural to love the world all over again. But if it’s a difficult day for you, remember that being a hero seldom looks or feels thrilling and exciting. That hidden, unnoticed sort of courage is all the more heroic, and the world depends on it.
One year ago today:
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Like one of these
Intricate simplicity: a single flower is a call to serenity. Keukenhof, Netherlands, March 2007
“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.” — Jesus Christ (as quoted in Matthew 6:28-29, NIV)
I grew up hearing this verse, and always thought it beautiful. The words bring to mind a large field of flowers, but notice the phrase “like one of these” (emphasis mine). Some might say it was hyperbole for Jesus to claim that one of the richest men in history had no adornment to equal that of a single flower, but I think the words are also true in a literal sense. There is nothing made with human hands that can match the unique beauty of one perfect bloom.
This statement relates to the beauty of nature, certainly, but Jesus was also saying something about simplicity. In the context of the surrounding text, it becomes clear that he is teaching about the futility of worry, and the importance of faith in the face of being distracted by real and valid concerns: food, clothing, longevity.
This implies the obvious question: if even our most basic needs are no cause for worry, what does this say about the countless details I tend to fret about each day? Today, as I rush about attending to trivial distractions, I hope I can remember to focus on what Jesus said about the perfection of an ordinary flower, a gift of pure grace.
One year ago today:
And speaking of lovely flowers, here’s one of the photos Raynard sent me from the Philadelphia Flower Show. Because it was emailed, the file size is a bit small to have a lot of detail, but it will give you an idea of what beautiful blooms he saw:
Raynard took this photo at the Philadelphia Flower Show this week.
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Read or learned or picked up
The public library at Dexter, Maine is historic but up to date. June, 2012
“One of the great joys of being a librarian is that it is the last refuge of the renaissance person — everything you have ever read or learned or picked up is likely to come in handy.” — GraceAnne DeCandido
Sometimes I think the term “renaissance person” is too loosely used in the modern sense, as an overly glorified label for people whose energies and interests are so scattered that they never focus on any one thing long enough to get really good at it. But for those of us who are that way, being a librarian is a great way to tie it all together. There’s not a topic or field you can think of that doesn’t have something to do with a library somewhere; not a reference question out there that might not be asked of a librarian.
When I came home from my first day of graduate school, having chosen library and information studies out of a number of potential majors, I told Jeff with great certainty: “This is the career I was born for.” At graduation, in a parody of the oft-quoted phrase, I joked, “Jack of all trades, Master of Library and Information Studies.”
However, given that I’ve worked relatively few years as a librarian, a parallel truth has been more relevant for me: everything I read or learned or picked up in library school has come in handy in my everyday life, in ways too numerous to count. Being a librarian is primarily a matter of knowing how to find information, and make it accessible and useful. That’s a valuable skill, whether one is a parent, spouse, homemaker, travel planner, caregiver, investor, writer, or blogger.
The great thing is, you don’t have to go to library school to avail yourself of the riches found in any public library. Your librarian is there to help you learn to help yourself, empowering you to find any information you might need or want. Whatever you do best, or want to learn to do, can be improved, explored, expanded and enjoyed through the resources of your library.
Learning is a great way to defeat despair, so I hope you will take some time to discover what’s available at a library near you. Even if you just spend a couple of hours in relaxed, unfocused browsing, you’ll have fun — and you probably will find some information that is likely to come in handy!
One year ago today:
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Anticipation, remembrance, and reality
We might call him Dopey, but at least he’s getting paid to be there.
And he’s not waiting in any lines, either. Disney World, summer 1995
“Most travel is best of all in the anticipation or the remembering; the reality has more to do with losing your luggage.” — Regina Nadelson
“Just get on any major highway, and eventually it will dead-end in a Disney parking area large enough to have its own climate, populated by large nomadic families who have been trying to find their cars since the Carter administration.” — Dave Barry
Yesterday I talked about believing in fairy tales. Today, let’s temper that with a bit of realism.
At this time of year, I typically start dreaming of travel. In years past, this usually meant planning actual trips, but that’s something that has been put on the back burner lately, so I’m searching for reasons to be relieved at that rather than disappointed.
If you too are planning to forgo travel this year, there are plenty of reasons to be happy about it. I’m not thinking here of the fun of taking local “staycations” as a substitute. Primarily, I’m referring to all the elements of travel that are less appealing. Is it just me, or do these seem to multiply as time passes? I could mark this up to aging and getting tired and grouchy, but it’s an indisputable fact that air travel in decades past did not involve choosing between full body radiation that produces arms-up quasi-nude images somebody in a closet somewhere is looking at, versus waiting in line for a public pat-down.
Of course, you can always travel by car. Or maybe I should say, you can sometimes travel by car. In the DC area, this means avoiding the hours of 6-10 a.m. and 3-7 p.m. Your actual traffic experiences may vary based on weather, accidents (yours or someone else’s), construction, and other unpredictable factors that sometimes seem to be related to the alignment of the stars and planets.
So, it’s a great year to be staying home! Or so I keep telling myself. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the anticipation of future trips, and the remembrance of past ones. If you’re planning a trip this year, have fun and be sure to send us some photos, horror stories, or both.
Happy Birthday today to Beth and Janice, two friends
who helped me create many happy memories of having fun while staying home!
One year ago today:
This post was first published seven years ago today, but it sounds as if it was written during the COVID-19 era. Nevertheless, I’ve taken a few trips already this year, and am busily planning more. Sometimes the urge to travel surpasses dread of the hassles. Or maybe I’m losing my mind as I age. I must not be the only one, though, because I didn’t take any of these trips by myself.
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.
Some day you will be old enough
Amy and I toured this ancient but appealing castle on the Rhine in April 2007.
“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” — C.S. Lewis
My friend Amy commented here recently that she still believes in Cinderella and knights on white horses and miracles. Maybe that’s why she’s such a great traveling companion. Real-life castles are often old and decaying, but she can see past the ravages of time and imagine the magical stories they contain. Like me, she loves the Disney versions too, but you never have to worry that she will let a few cracks and flaws in real-life scenarios get in the way of her appreciation and her unmatched ability to have fun wherever she finds herself.
Come to think of it, that’s also what makes her such a great lifelong friend! Being a rather cracked and flawed person myself, I value her willingness to look past the not-so-great and see the infinite possibilities.
If you’re not yet old enough to enjoy fairy tales again, I hope you’ll get there soon. When you do, you’ll realize that they never went away, but were just waiting for you to start believing again. Enchantment is a “once and future” kingdom full of Merlin’s wisdom and a thousand stories with happy endings. See you there!
One year ago today:
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The seriousness of a child
Drew at play in San Diego, California, in the spring of 1991.
“Man is most nearly himself when he achieves the seriousness of a child at play.”
— Heraclitus
There’s a lot of talk about how childhood is magical and carefree, and I agree that it was (or is) a wondrous time for many of us. Yet even with the most advantageous childhood, I think the first decade of life is also quite difficult. As adults we may forget the utter powerlessness we often felt at having so many aspects of our lives decided without our input.
In particular, I can remember feeling frustrated that activities meaningful to me were often insignificant to grownups. To a child, “fun” and “serious” are not mutually exclusive, but sometimes we forget that as we grow older. As a result, we may disregard the need to set aside unscheduled time to spend in preferred activities, not just for our children, but for ourselves.
It’s crucial, of course, to learn the inevitable lessons that come with maturity (how many of us were justifiably told “It’s only a GAME!” when we were in tears over losing at board games or ball games?) but sometimes we learn unintended parallel lessons that don’t necessarily serve us as adults. Focused on productivity and controlled by clocks, we often multi-task ourselves in pursuit of the urgent or “important” to the point that we lose sight of more essential goals.
The state of optimal awareness that Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and other psychologists have described as “flow” seems much more apparent in a young person absorbed in building with Legos or shooting baskets than it does in a harassed, hurried adult rushing from one obligation to another. Not that we always have a choice about that. But it’s worth consideration, if only to prompt us to re-think our schedules now and then, and assign a higher priority to those interests that captivate our minds in a way that all children seem able to understand.
What did you most enjoy doing in childhood? What is fun for you? I hope you will find some time, today or soon, to re-capture the alert focus of a child at serious play.
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.
My sunset sky
I snapped this picture of sunset over our church building in Fairfield, CA, August 2003
“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” ― Rabindranath Tagore
There are a lot of things I really like about getting older. Based on what others have said or written, I know I’m not the only one who has experienced a wonderful sort of letting go of past anxieties, and a freedom to enjoy the unpredictability of life from a kind of distance that wasn’t there in youth, when I was eager to move ahead into what then seemed an endless future.
It’s not that there are no storms or rain now; indeed, there may be more of them than ever. But the older I get, the fewer alarming disruptions they cause in my world. The colors, on the other hand, grow more dazzling all the time. Maybe they were always this way, and I just didn’t have time to see it.
If you’re a young person reading this, you might suppose that such talk is just the way old people console themselves. But think about it: which is better — sunrise, when you are full of energy and face a day of tasks, some that are fun and some that are formidable? Or sunset, after your work, though possibly incomplete, has reached a stopping point of sorts; when you’ve finished the last chore for the day, and look forward to a few hours of relaxation (or at least, less strenuous work) and maybe some candlelight, nice music or reading before bed?
I realize not everyone sees things this way, but as lovely as I find the sunrise, I think sunset is my true favorite. No more worries about the clouds then. Rain occasionally may spoil daytime plans, but at night it makes a wonderful sound by which to fall asleep.
Next time you see a beautifully tinted sky at sunset, remember Tagore’s wise observation, and bask in the thought of the serenity and rest awaiting you at day’s end.
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.
Only the beginning
Carved into stone, a narrow but passable garden gate. The Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC, March 2013
“The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning.” — Ivy Baker Priest
Over the past 18 months, I’ve gotten a lot of practice at re-framing how I think about things. I’ve had to do quite a bit of that for most of my life, but never as much as recently. It simply doesn’t work for me to see obstacles as dead ends; I start to panic and the anxiety blossoms into multiplied worries and fears, the agitation feeding on itself.
At such times I’ve learned to force myself to switch off the negativity, re-directing my thoughts through prayer, reading or other distractions. Yet I don’t want to be delusional, kidding myself about what we might be facing in the future. I don’t want to be blinded by wishful thinking or unprepared for a steep uphill climb.
It helps to focus primarily on the immediate path ahead, with all its unexpected detours and narrowed options. We may not be traveling the exact itinerary we had planned, but as long as we can see a few feet ahead, that’s enough. Each threshold we pass through is another beginning, and so far the way has been blessed with abundant beauty no matter how rocky the path gets.
So we travel on in hope, still enjoying the trip. I hope you are able to do the same in your life. Thanks for walking with us!
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.
Fling off thy sadness
No leaves yet, but the skies are blue and the trees are budding! March 2013
Awake, thou wintry earth –
Fling off thy sadness!
Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth
Your ancient gladness! — Thomas Blackburn
As I write this, I keep glancing out my glass doors, and I see there is still snow on the ground. But the sun is shining brightly, and the snow is melting, slowly but surely. It was raining and gloomy when I got up this morning, but the weather has turned around rather dramatically. I hope to take a walk this afternoon.
The days are getting noticeably longer. I haven’t had to use the flashlight I carry in my pocket for some time now. In fact, it was so light outside when I got back from walking yesterday that I kept wondering what happened; had I left earlier than usual? Did I somehow walk faster or shorten my walk without knowing it? No, it’s just lighter now. Spring really is coming.
After this winter, which has been long and hard but also full of cozy warmth and love, I am especially eager for spring. I am guessing many of you probably are too. Today, I hope you see signs of it to lift your spirits. Whether it’s a budding tree, the first shoots of daffodils or crocus, or some glorious late-afternoon sunshine, I hope you can see evidence that the earth is laughing off its sadness, ready to celebrate.
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.
Anything created
This is about the most normal-looking spot you’ll find in Park Güell,
but it’s a good representation of how beautiful a place it is. May 2008
“Anything created by human beings is already in the great book of nature.”
— Antoni Gaudi
One year ago today I published a post that is one of my favorites, because it includes a link to a delightful PBS re-mix featuring Fred Rogers. It’s all about how “you can grow ideas in the garden of your mind.” When I went back to that post, I was reminded of Antoni Gaudi, whose mind must have been one of the most strangely fantastic gardens of all time.
I had never heard of Gaudi until we visited Barcelona, but seeing his work at various places in that city was an unforgettable experience. In fact, our time at Park Güell stands out in my mind as one of the most wonderful memories in the two-week trip of a lifetime. I’m not the first person who thinks immediately of Dr. Seuss when seeing Gaudi’s eccentric buildings; the similarities are fairly obvious. Scholars have suggested that Gaudi was almost certainly an influence in Theodor Geisel’s whimiscal fantasy illustrations.
Imagine my surprise, then, to find that Gaudi was a devout ascetic who wanted to parallel divine creation by following natural law. He apparently thought of his creations as being based on earthly landscapes, where he perceived only curved lines. I suppose it makes sense from that standpoint, but a quick visual review of the beautifully odd works he created might give you an idea why I see his architecture as the most otherworldly constructions I’ve come across. And their vibrant colors and elaborate designs are not remotely suggestive of the spare, abstemious existence he embraced in his personal life.
Very few professional artists, let alone amateurs, can hope to leave the sort of unique fingerprint Gaudi achieved, but that’s probably a good thing. Regardless, we can be inspired by his singular vision, and cultivate our own gardens of ideas with which we can decorate our lives and our personal corners in the world.
Do you agree with Gaudi that all art (even his own whimsical work) has its source in nature? What do you think of his creations?
One year ago today
Do yourself a favor– follow the link above to “The Garden of your mind” and watch the video there. It’s such a day brightener!
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.
Visual surprise
Photographed in early March 2010, sunny Grenada was a sight for sore eyes!
“Visual surprise is natural in the Caribbean; it comes with the landscape, and faced with its beauty, the sigh of History dissolves.” — Derek Walcott
There’s nothing like a good dose of the Caribbean to warm and brighten the dullest March. There are places more elegant, more prestigious, more affluent or trendy, but I’ve never been anywhere that was quite as good at making me feel welcome, relaxed and carefree.
Part of the vibe comes from the colors, which are everywhere. The tropical flowers and birds would be enough, but islanders add splashes of vibrant hue in their buildings and even their roofs. And then, of course, there’s that incomparable Caribbean blue; warm saltwater of a color palette not quite duplicated anywhere else, even in Hawaii.
I don’t know about you, but for me, this is the time of year when I could use a little visual surprise here and there. I did a quick Google search using the term “Colors of the Caribbean” and then clicked on “images.” I came up with this collection of island brights. Scroll through them quickly and let me know if you can hear Calypso music playing in your head!
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.
When we sip tea
Just a few of the tins from my ELC* as of February 2014 —
when it comes to tea, even the containers are delightful!
“When we sip tea, we are on our way to serenity.” — Alexandra Stoddard
With all the bad weather this winter has brought us, it’s definitely tea time. So I couldn’t resist repeating my offer from one year ago today (which you can read about at the link below). Anyone who would like me to send them a tea bag or two from my *embarrassingly large collection, just send me your address in the comments (which I will NOT publish online – I’ll delete the address from the rest of your comment). Be sure to let me know what types you prefer – black, green, white, herbal, fruit, caffeine, decaf, etc. — I probably have something to fit most every taste.
And a special thanks to the many blog readers who have sent me tea over the past year. I’ve been the recipient of unique teas from some fairly exotic places – Alaska, Hawaii, even Prince Edward Island (home of Anne of Green Gables, a special tea made in her honor) as well as some delicious traditional flavors. I feel as if I’ve been having a virtual tea party with so many of you all year long! So let’s raise a cup to the end of this unusually harsh North American winter — whenever that will be — and keep warm inside while we wait for the outside to catch up.
Here’s to serenity!
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.
As the magnet finds iron
Inconvenient, even dangerous, but also beautiful; a December 2004 snowstorm.
“The unthankful heart… discovers no mercies; but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!” — Henry Ward Beecher
As I write this, two weeks before publication, much of the country is in the grip of yet another fierce winter storm. This is especially difficult for those in the south, where such weather is far from typical.
Hundreds of thousands of people (including my parents) are without power. I worry about them, and about people who have emergencies that require them to be on the road in dangerous conditions. I am dismayed to think of the storm-related deaths that likely will be reported by the news. I feel sympathy for stranded travelers whose flights are cancelled or delayed. I hate to think about the inevitable financial fallout associated with such weather, as work schedules are curtailed for those on hourly pay, and heating expenses rise.
Yet, as always, there is much to be thankful for. This morning we saw our neighbor (who knows Jeff is fighting cancer) shoveling the snow outside our home, giving valuable help without waiting to be asked. I know there are countless others who are acting as Good Samaritans in these adverse circumstances, helping friends, neighbors or strangers with no thought of getting anything in return.
I’m thankful that my brother Al is there with Mom and Dad, available to help with tasks they are unable to do. I’m thankful for the competence and dedication of emergency professionals such as Michael’s son in Atlanta, who are on call to respond when needed. I’m thankful that Jeff was taught how to disconnect his chemo IV from his port here at home, making a long risky trip to Bethesda unnecessary, enabling him to be here at home with us today, safe and sound.
By the time this post is published, I hope that most of the country will be nearing the end of this exceptionally rough winter. But those in regions farther north still have many weeks of cold weather to get through before spring arrives. Whether you are bracing for more storms, or seeing the first hopeful signs of winter’s end, I hope your heart can sweep through the day today and find heavenly blessings that will bring you hope and joy!
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.
Something wonderful
An unknown path need not be fearful. The Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia, November 2011
“I had begun to feel that the days that stretched out in front of me were a dark, terrifying wilderness. As I wrote about moments along the way, everything looked more friendly, and I discovered that the days are only days. I received and gave love as I untangled my thoughts through the act of writing, and discovered something wonderful. Truly, life was funny, surprising, and beautiful. I told myself the truth, again and again, and I began to believe it.”— Rachel Devenish Ford
In her book Trees Tall as Mountains, taken from the early years of her blog Journey Mama, Rachel Devenish Ford writes of a life that is so different from mine as to seem exotic, yet also familiar enough that reading her work feels like chatting with a good friend.
Juggling the challenges of caring for young children while pursuing her own creative and unique path with her “superstar husband” (an affectionate nickname I appreciate in the contemporary climate of too many snarky spousal put-downs), Ford experiences many of the conflicts and anxieties that face me and, I imagine, many others all over the world. Yet she returns again and again to an insistent optimism that enables her to press on through her most difficult days.
I think many of us who blog have made the same discovery Ford describes: things have begun to look more friendly, more funny and surprising and beautiful. The interactive nature of blogging has enabled readers and writers to enjoy the company of like-minded people from a wide variety of places, making the world feel a bit like a very large neighborhood full of potential friends.
Depressed or distressed thinking can take on a frightening authority, convincing us that things are far worse than they really are. If we talk back to our despair, telling it the truth “again and again,” we will break through the barriers created by unreasonable fear, and open our eyes to a multitude of blessings within our reach.
The next time you are feeling stressed, frustrated or sad, I hope you will find ways to tell yourself the truth about life. It’s a gift and a privilege to cherish, even though its beauty is sometimes hidden.
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.
Filled with joy
Without a word, flowers instruct our hearts and lift our spirits with evidence of divine grace.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do the same?
“One filled with joy preaches without preaching.” ― Mother Teresa
So often, words are painful without being beneficial. Most of us who say harmful things aren’t deliberately trying to hurt anyone, but we end up doing it anyway. We may be trying to help someone else by pointing out where we believe the person is mistaken or wrong, but this almost always backfires, leaving everybody feeling worse.
I can think of many times when I’ve hurt people I love, or when people I love have hurt me, by saying things that were meant to help, but only ended up wounding. What was intended to make a situation better only made it worse for all involved. The best lessons don’t come from words, but examples. This doesn’t mean we should not communicate through words, but it does suggest that we should be careful how we do it, and realize that conduct, not speech, leaves a more lasting impression.
Thinking about Mother Teresa’s quote, I realized it encourages us to focus on improving our own hearts and our own thinking. If we do that, our actions will shine brightly and we won’t need to worry about correcting others with verbal instruction or criticism.
One of the most needed things we can do in this world is to radiate joy. I’m not talking about a giddy insensitivity to the sorrow others may be feeling, but a steadfast inner peace that holds out hope even when things are not going well. If we can show others through our own lives that it’s possible to choose joy in all circumstances, it will be more a powerful influence than thousands of words of advice.
What are some ways that we can “preach without preaching” by being filled with joy?
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.
Made for kids
Drew loved baseball from a very early age…with his Daddy’s influence, of course!
Sometime in 1986, Huber Heights, Ohio.
“Baseball was made for kids, and grown-ups only screw it up.” — Bob Lemon
Those of us who admire the complexity of baseball — or maybe only imagine that we do — might think Lemon has oversimplified things with this statement. But he has far more authority on the subject than I do, and in many ways, I think he’s right about grown-up ambitions and agendas messing with something nearly flawless in its purest form.
One doesn’t have to be adult or sophisticated to get enough of a grasp of the game to enjoy watching or playing it. And even those who live in the endless universe of baseball statistics might admit that the most appealing aspects of the game are still the most basic. A team sport where each player’s individuality is highlighted and accentuated; a game with a predictable but theoretically unlimited structure; a brilliant excuse to get outdoors as soon as the weather allows, and stay out until the cold returns.
What better gifts to give our children? Or for that matter, ourselves?
One year ago today:
Beauty without color
Inside Norfolk International Airport, Virginia, January 2014
“Beauty without color seems somehow to belong to another world.”
— Murasaki Shikibu
Walking through the Norfolk airport recently, I looked to my left and saw the scene pictured above. Though most of the snow had melted, I thought at first it was a tree that was somehow still covered in snow. However, on looking more closely, I saw it was only the natural color of the tree itself. It was so striking, I had to stop and take a photo. I hope the couple in the photo realized the tree, not they, prompted my curiosity!
When I saw Shikibu’s quote, I realized why the winter landscapes can be so arresting. I doubt that any of us will regret to see the spring that will be coming soon, but I must admit I have rather enjoyed the beautiful aspects of a winter with so much snow.
If you’ve been able to take any photos in the snow, this year or any time, feel free to send them along (or post links to them online) and share the otherworldly beauty of the winter that has now almost passed. Here’s a lovely photo taken by my nephew Andy, a gifted photographer, who captured this snow scene in northern Alabama just ten days ago.
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.
Defeat Despair 