The greater part
One of many lovely sights on the grounds of Mount Vernon, Virginia, April 2010
“I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances. We carry the seeds of the one or the other about with us in our minds wherever we go. ” — Martha Washington
I don’t know when Martha Washington said or penned these oft-quoted words, but she certainly had reason to know firsthand of their truth. Her story was one of wealth and privilege tempered by sorrow, hardship and uncertainty. During her remarkable life, she had the experience of losing two husbands and four children to death. She also endured wartime camp life, staying with her husband (at his request) throughout much of the Revolutionary War.
Accounts of her later years state that she found great comfort in her faith, and even spoke of anticipating death as “a pleasant journey.” The riverside home she shared with George Washington, where they both are buried, is a fitting tribute to her determination to remain serene. Strolling the grounds of Mount Vernon, with its colorful gardens and gorgeous view of the Potomac River, visitors are refreshed by the peace and beauty of this carefully preserved estate.
I’ve always found it inspiring to read the stories of people who lived in the past, whether they were well known or relatively obscure. We are fortunate to have countless diaries, journals and biographies, through which people who passed from this earth long ago may still speak to us, sharing their wisdom and strength. Whose life stories are among your favorites? Have you ever read a biography that left you feeling encouraged, enlightened or determined to learn from another person’s journey?
If you know of a book, online resource or blog post that features an inspiring story, feel free to share your thoughts and links in the comments. We all love to meet fascinating people, even if they are no longer here with us!
Today is my 300th daily post! Thanks for being with me on this journey, which has lasted almost a year now. You have given me joy each day, and made the tough times bearable!
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.
Sowing a seed
Friends from church have a totally fun evening cooking at the PORT shelter, March 2008
You never can tell when you do an act
Just what the result will be;
But with every deed you are sowing a seed,
Though the harvest you may not see.
— Ella Wheeler Wilcox
It’s not surprising that several research studies document the benefits of volunteering to help others, whether formally or informally. While such efforts take time — hours that must be carved out of already busy schedules — I often hear people say how glad they are when they make it a priority, stating “I gain so much more than I give.”
The great thing about volunteering is that there are countless opportunities, with needs to fit every set of skills or preferences. Show up for a clean-up or work day at a local park, camp or community center. Tutor those who are incarcerated and working toward a GED, or struggling elementary school students who just need a little extra attention, or people who want to learn English but can’t afford classes.
Volunteer to mentor a young adult through Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, or Best Buddies. Coach little league teams or athletes participating in Special Olympics. Walk dogs at a local animal shelter. Host home gatherings for Bible studies, youth groups or just a bunch of friends and neighbors who haven’t gotten together for a long time.
The camaraderie shared by people working together to serve others is unlike any other you will experience. At such times, the word “community” takes on a whole new meaning. If you’ve been feeling blue, isolated or lonely, you might want to consider joining a local effort to serve others. You’ll meet some of the happiest, most generous and fun people you would ever want to know. And you just might be one of them.
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.
Enter this wild wood
This photo was snapped just inside the gate to our wooded wonderland, April 2008
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of nature… — William Cullen Bryant
The poem from which these lines are taken describes so well the reasons I treasure our little wooded lot that adjoins the back yard of our York home. This is perhaps the first place I’ve ever lived where I loved the lot as much, or maybe even more, than the house itself. While this bit of land could never be called a forest, nor even a “wild wood,” it still holds the charms of which Bryant wrote so eloquently.
Our little patch of woods contains a small creek, part of our local protected wetlands that can never be cleared or developed regardless of who owns it. Of course, I wouldn’t want to clear it even if we could! In this little kingdom I have shared space with deer, rabbits, birds, turtles, lizards and squirrels (and probably a few reclusive snakes I’d rather not know about) who pass through or live nearby. I would never want to ruin the feeling of being miles away from everything, yet still right in my own back yard.
Do you have a favorite wooded spot — a bit of land on which you live, or one near your home, or a public park with lots of trees — that you visit regularly? If not, I highly recommend you discover one. Ideally, there would be at least one small clearing where you could sit and read, or picnic, or maybe even doze on a folding lounge chair. Or just walk quietly amid the sights and sounds of the forest, and note how many different ways nature can be heard when one stops to listen intently.
Such spots are beautiful all year round, but now, before the leaves start to fall and the weather is still warm enough to make the shade refreshing, I hope you will get away for a walk in the woods. As Bryant attests, it’s a balm for what ails you!
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.
It all depends
Mom and Carla opt for the rarely accidental swing, Lake Sinclair GA, May 2003
“Now then, Pooh,” said Christopher Robin, “where’s your boat?”
“I ought to say,” explained Pooh as they walked down to the shore of the island, “that it isn’t just an ordinary sort of boat. Sometimes it’s a Boat, and sometimes it’s more of an Accident. It all depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“On whether I’m on the top of it or underneath it.”
― A.A. Milne
I just love Pooh. When I read this quote, it made me smile. Many things in my life, from computers to cars to cooking, are sometimes more of an Accident. It all depends.
On this busy Monday, I wish you a day that’s relatively free of such Accidents. But if you do have one (or even a few), I hope they are mild enough to remind you of Pooh’s philosophical sense of humor, so you don’t give up on whatever Boat of yours may have capsized today. Tomorrow it may be a Boat again, and you may be on the top of it. It all depends!
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.
For this I was born
April 2007 – Joan’s statue stands inside the Basilica of Bois-Chenu,
near the tiny village of her birth at Domremy, France
“I do not fear the soldiers, for my road is made open to me; and if the soldiers come, I have God, my Lord, who will know how to clear the route that leads to the Dauphin. It was for this that I was born!” — Joan of Arc
“If Joan of Arc could turn the tide of an entire war before her 18th birthday, you can get out of bed.” — E. Jean Carroll
Whether you see Joan of Arc as a leader sent from God, or a delusional country girl whose power lay entirely in the imagination of her people, her story is remarkable and bears close scrutiny. When I was a young girl, I was captivated by her role in history — a fascination that remains to this day — and the more I read about her, the more interesting she becomes. Even crusty skeptics such as Mark Twain have become ardent admirers.
Through writing a novel, I have experienced the magic of creating a world entirely in my own mind, and then spending time there among characters who became quite real to me. I can easily understand how Joan’s trance-like visits with the saints may have been entirely a product of a self-constructed fantasy world. What is harder to explain is how she went on, against all odds, to change the course of a seemingly endless conflict.
Regardless of what other forces were at work, Joan’s absolute faith in God and the purpose she believed to be her calling led her through perils, injuries and ultimately, a ghastly death at the stake. Among many other lessons to be drawn from her life, her resolve is an inspiration to me as I negotiate daily difficulties that seem laughably minute in comparison.
That second quote grabbed me because, frankly, I’ve been struggling quite a lot lately, and there are many days when it’s an effort just to get out of bed and face another day. Still, when I look at my life, despite numerous disappointments, heartaches and failures, I honestly believe that I am doing what I was born to do.
Chances are, if you examine the many roles you play and the people who depend on your faithful diligence, you will be able to say the same. Most of us were not born to be remembered in the history books, but that makes our calling no less important. We can rest assured that when we answer a divine summons to a life we may or may not have chosen for ourselves, our road will be made open.
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.
Do not cease to play
I admit it – Jeff and I enjoyed swings as much as the kids did! Torrance, CA, January 1990
“We do not cease to play because we grow old, we grow old because we cease to play.” — George Bernard Shaw
Everybody who needs more fun time, raise your hands. OK, that’s settled…we need to make more time for play!
Of course, when I say “play” I’m not talking about watching TV, or even playing “Angry Birds” or “Words with Friends.” Not that those activities aren’t sometimes fun and maybe even beneficial (although I really wouldn’t know, because I don’t do any of them), but they’re still mostly passive and not particularly creative. From what I can tell, these activities primarily involve marching to the beat of a tune someone else made up. While they can be entertaining, even addictive, they aren’t really what I think of as play.
I would define play as amusing exercise that stretches the physical and/or creative ability. Even seemingly repetitious physical activities such as swings and merry-go-rounds develop the vestibular system and teach the fundamentals of physics through action. Artwork and crafts, whether the making of kites, model airplanes, scrapbooks, painting, or endless other possibilities, allow for much freedom of design and execution. And sports — provided they are understood as a form of play rather than a ruthlessly competitive opportunity to defeat an opponent — provide good chances to interact with others in a light-hearted yet challenging venue.
By that definition, when did you last spend time at play? Might you have almost forgotten how? If so, find a child, a dog or other playful creature from whom you can re-learn. Kids seem to understand that play is serious business, and most of them plan for it accordingly. If you are lucky enough to hear a child asking you “Will you please play with me?” try your best to answer, “Actually, I’d love to” and allocate more than five or ten minutes to it. Not only will the child be pleasantly surprised; you probably will be too — it might turn out to be a lot more fun that you imagined.
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 perturbing mystery
This tiger swallowtail fluttered by in time to pose for today’s quote, August 2013
“The butterfly’s attractiveness derives not only from colors and symmetry: deeper motives contribute to it. We would not think them so beautiful if they did not fly, or if they flew straight and briskly like bees, or if they stung, or above all if they did not enact the perturbing mystery of metamorphosis: the latter assumes in our eyes the value of a badly decoded message, a symbol, a sign.” — Primo Levi
Today is the birthday of a special person, who is (according to those who know her best) too shy to want her name mentioned here. She is, however, well known to love butterflies, so today’s post is a birthday tribute to her.
Primo Levi’s intriguing observation about the butterfly is likely influenced by his own survival at Auschwitz, where he may have sought many a “badly decoded message” to keep hope alive until he was able to escape a dark fate that must have seemed inevitable. On reflection, I agree with him that the butterfly’s transformative life cycle is no small part of its allure and mystique.
If nature brings us messages that transcend the scientific facts related to the wonders of our world, it is no surprise that they are “badly decoded.” Our methods of interpretation and understanding of such signs are far from perfect. Perhaps it is equally important — or maybe more so — to take simple delight in those traits of the butterflies that even a child can understand: their random but graceful movements, their intricate patterns and colors, their appreciation of, and dependence on, the flowers that complement their beauty.
Today, I send you a message that will be easy to decode: have a wonder-filled day, especially if it is your birthday!
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.
Estimating our limits
My favorite guys aboard a replica of the Susan Constant
Jamestown Settlement, Virginia, August 2005
“How many ships didn’t sail because of the belief that the earth was flat? How much progress was impeded because man wasn’t supposed to breathe underwater, fly through the air, or venture into outer space? Historically, we’ve done a remarkably poor job of estimating our limits.” — Gary Keller
Okay, so the skeptical cynic in me responds, “Yes, but how many DID sail and we never heard about them because they were lost at sea?” Nevertheless, I’m very happy SOME of them took to the water eventually, because many of us wouldn’t be where we are today if they had not.
I agree that often we have done a poor job of estimating our limits, and while this type of error can go both ways, I think we tend to err most on the side of caution. Yet there comes a time, after due diligence and reasonable preparation, when we must stop ruminating and ACT.
Something about the world today seems to be making us more anxious all the time. Were our ancestors, who were coping with shorter life spans, less food, untreatable disease and hardly any of what we think of as necessities, as fearful as we are today?
Let me be clear; I’m not suggesting you should take up sky diving, or scaling El Capitan, or becoming a NASCAR driver. It’s just that I so often hear (or speak) some variant of this statement: “I know I should _____________but I’m afraid _____________.”
You can fill in the blanks here with whatever you fear doing, but I bet most of it is not along the lines of the extreme sports I mentioned. It may have to do with making a decision about a diet, a room’s décor, a home repair, or whether to enroll in a class. It may involve getting in touch with a friend or relative from whom you feel distant right now. Or maybe you want to write, or paint, or design clothes, but fear you have nothing to say or create that would appeal to others.
Whatever your hesitation, the next time you find yourself wanting to do something but feeling too timid or incompetent, take a close look at your fears. They may be entirely reasonable and accurate. But what if you are overestimating your limitations? What do you have to gain, or lose, by making the attempt? It might be a hard question to answer, but it’s never a bad idea to ask it.
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 greatness of a nation
This frightened little stranded seal was soon to be rescued. Santa Cruz, CA, June 2003
“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way it treats its animals.” — Mahatma Gandhi
While Matt was at Ride a Wave in Santa Cruz, a fascinating drama was unfolding on the beach nearby, where a stranded seal pup was being rescued. I watched as workers carefully manipulated the net around the baby, who was clearly terrified. Though it had been mostly silent, when the net approached it lifted its head up and bellowed a heartrending cry. As I snapped the photo shown above, I felt almost unbearably sorry for the little one, and took great comfort in the manifest expertise of the handlers who would make sure the pup was examined, treated if necessary, and released back into its home.
Later that day, as I walked through the beautiful beachside neighborhoods of Santa Cruz, I felt a happiness that has lasted in my heart, making that entire day one of my favorite memories. In a world that is often portrayed by the media as cruel and inhumane, I had witnessed an overflowing of cheer, good will and compassion. The volunteers who were teaching Matt and others with disabilities to surf, kayak and enjoy the seaside safely were the primary source of my joy. But the careful competence of the marine rescue team who went to great lengths to care for a helpless seal pup, the lovingly tended flower gardens of the many homes I strolled past, and the sheer beauty of the sea, the sky, the breeze and the sunshine were a balm to my soul; an unmistakable message that good is ultimately stronger and more powerful than evil.
Not every day will be as beatific as that one turned out to be, but I try to carry within me the spirit of that lovely time, seeking such reassurance in the big and small events that unfold continuously in what we call everyday life. Today, whatever circumstances you are facing, I hope you will watch for all the subtle ways kindness and love are made manifest to us. Greatness and moral progress may not always be obvious in the world around us, but remember we are never alone in our determination to add a bit more beauty, compassion and goodness to our days. Countless happy children, rescued animals and beautiful gardens are here to prove it!
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.
No such thing
Several sources tell me that deep pink roses represent gratitude. Yorktown, June 2005
“There is no such thing as gratitude unexpressed. If it is unexpressed, it is plain, old-fashioned ingratitude.” — Robert Brault
One of the great blessings to come from this blog has been the ongoing task of reading many wise and inspiring words from all sorts of people, all over the world, from the earliest recorded eras up through now. For every quote that shows up here, I would estimate that I have bookmarked or noted online dozens (maybe hundreds) of others, for which I haven’t had time to find a matching photo. Suffice it to say that I have 20-30 books full of post-it flags.
Sometimes, a quote will hit me hard with the twin awareness of how true it is, and how much I personally need to hear it. This quote today is one that really made me think. I enjoy saying “thank you,” and I do it a lot. But I know there are countless people and blessings about which I have never even taken the time to express my appreciation.
So, without further ado, I want to thank everyone who is reading these words, right now. Wherever you are, whatever your circumstances, I’m grateful for connecting with you through this online opportunity. I’m grateful for all the supportive friendliness of the blogging community, and many non-blogging friends who visit here to encourage and bless us during this difficult time.
I’m so thankful for the gift of technology, and the mind-boggling volume of information that is readily available at our fingertips. Yes, there is a lot of misinformation, commercial misuse, and even dangerously predatory behavior in cyberspace. But I honestly believe the good things that happen online outweigh the bad, and I’m determined to do what I can to raise that ratio.
But beyond that, I think of all the things I depend on daily, that I rarely think to feel grateful for. The electricity that keeps this computer going. The air conditioning that just kicked on automatically, without my having to adjust it or even feel uncomfortably hot. The food I have eaten today and will eat tomorrow. On and on I could go — and so could you.
Try this: think of someone or something you enjoy so often that you scarcely notice how it blesses your life. Then, make it a point, for a week or a month or always, to pause and express your gratitude. I’ve found that feeling grateful is a contagious practice; the more I express my gratitude, the more grateful I feel, and the more others will join me in agreeing that we have so many reasons to rejoice. If you feel moved to so do, please share some of the things you are grateful for today, in the comments below. It might remind us of something we hadn’t thought to be happy about.
This post was first published seven years ago today, but need it now even more than I did then. 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 most powerful drug
The walls of my garret are covered with words to inspire, support and comfort me. July 2007
“Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.” ― Rudyard Kipling
I don’t remember when I first realized that not everyone was as fascinated by words as I am, but it’s something that I still don’t fully understand. I have always been so drawn to words; their meaning, their rhythms and sounds, the infinite variety of ways they can be combined, sometimes with astounding power.
Stories enchant and instruct me; poems speed past logic and go directly to my heart; essays and quotes stir me and set me pondering; even the lyrics of songs reach me as deeply as the music, often more so.
During the years Matt was in school, the special education laws were more often disregarded than they were obeyed in practice (even if things looked good on paper). My life was pervasively affected by the continual need for active advocacy to ensure that he received an appropriate education, and sadly, negotiations in the endless meetings with school officials, some of whom never worked directly with our son, often became strained and even adversarial. Though I have never been a litigious person, I was forced to learn more than I ever wanted to know about formal actions such as due process hearings and the filing of compliance complaints.
Acting as an individual against firmly entrenched bureaucratic power can be a very intimidating thing. In continual meetings facing 6-10 people (sometimes even more) I often felt disregarded at best, and threatened at worst. With my anxieties kicked into overdrive for weeks at a time, I found great solace and strength in the words of authors, advocates, musicians and poets. I surrounded myself, literally and figuratively, with the power of their words.
If you are reading this blog, chances are that you also appreciate words as a means of growth, change, and connection. What are some of your favorite quotes, sayings, scripture verses or song lyrics? Have you ever faced a time when you relied on the words of others to give you the strength to keep going?
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.
Higher ground
Jeff enjoys the view from higher ground, Acadia National Park, Maine, June 2012
My heart has no desire to stay
where doubts arise and fears dismay.
Though some may dwell where these abound,
My prayer, my aim is higher ground.
–Johnson Oatman, Jr.
Growing up in a church where a cappella singing was a vital part of every worship, I was exposed early and often to verses that carried encouraging thoughts or stirring challenges. I learned to love many of these hymns, which play inside my head to this day and help me face times of trial.
As we have moved around to different churches in different parts of the country, I have come to associate particular hymns with places, people or times in my life. When we moved to Virginia in 2004, I missed northern California terribly, and took longer than usual to start thinking of our new location as “home.” Times seemed uncertain at best, with a husband serving in the military with two wars underway, and a school system that completely rejected the Individualized Education Plan (IEP) that Matt’s California special education team had spent countless hours refining.
Somewhere during those first months in Virginia, this song I learned in childhood came back into my head and heart, and I decided to adopt its words as my theme for this phase of my life. I printed out all the verses to the song and hung the print inside my linen closet door, where I saw it daily, and actually still see it each day we are in York County.
In 2004 I had no idea of the challenges that would lie ahead during the years to come. Multiple cardiac hospitalizations as Matt’s heart condition grew worse, the suicide of a dear friend, and Jeff’s diagnosis of stage IV cancer were only a few of the heartaches that awaited us. Despite this, the determination to rise above the unpredictable assaults of life continues. I know very little about Johnson Oatman, but I thank God that he penned words that have served me so well.
Do you have any favorite songs or hymns that help you head for higher ground in your mind, when things are pulling you down? If you can’t think of any, perhaps you can take some time to choose a few to learn and sing, aloud or in your heart, when your courage starts to fail. It’s hard to feel afraid when singing words of cheer, faith and hope.
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.
Bringing light
The view from our Bed and Breakfast room in Magog, Quebec, May 2009
“Most people are mirrors, reflecting the moods and emotions of the times; few are windows, bringing light to bear on the dark corners where troubles fester. The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.” — Sydney J. Harris
It’s so easy to be reactive; to allow outside influences to determine our moods, our deeds and even our beliefs. Mirrors can reflect light, of course, so it’s not necessarily a bad thing to return a likeness of what we see. But reflected daylight is never as true and bright as what streams through clear, clean glass windows.
If Harris is correct in stating that education strives to turn mirrors into windows, we must take care how we define “education.” When we, as students, simply reflect back what we hear our teachers saying, or more likely, what we think they want us to say, that’s just another sort of mirror. There is nothing inherently more sophisticated about taking all our cues from an academic as opposed to a celebrity, or a neighbor, or a friend. If anything, it’s riskier to think we can be impartial about the views of those who will grade our work.
Education can turn a mirror into a window only insofar as it removes anything that obscures truth. In that sense, education may be largely a subtractive effort; elimination that facilitates illumination. When windows bring light, they are not the source of the light, but conduits through which it can shine. It’s not about us, what we know, what we can do, or even what we choose to reflect. It’s the process of clearing away our delusions and distractions, and letting the light of truth shine through us.
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.
Awareness of an audience
The audience awaits a truly wonderful performance of my favorite play,
Arms and the Man, at the California Shakespeare Theater, July 2003
“Glory is largely a theatrical concept. There is no striving for glory without a vivid awareness of an audience.” — Eric Hoffer
While I’m not sure Hoffer’s assertion is 100% correct (and it may depend upon how “glory” is defined), he definitely has a point. Certainly many types of glory for which people strive are closely connected with adulation, admiration or adoration. But such striving also comes with the distinct possibility of failure; hence the common saying, “no guts, no glory.”
If “glory” is defined as widespread praise and fame, I think we would certainly do well to avoid seeking it. In the first place, we’ll get distracted from our priorities if we are always playing to the reactions of the crowd. And besides, the audience we may imagine is probably much smaller in real life than in our own minds. In reality, most people are focused on their own day, their own troubles and efforts. It’s a bit narcissistic to suppose that people are watching us as closely as we watch ourselves.
So relax! While it’s more easily said than done, we will be much happier and more productive if we don’t worry about what our imaginary audience may be thinking. If we lose our self-consciousness by concentrating on things we know to be good, right and honorable, the rest will take care of itself. Kudos to everyone with the guts to disregard glory!
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.
An art of balance
Jeff and I enjoyed a soothing, calming afternoon at the Corcoran Gallery in DC, July 2013
“What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter – a soothing, calming influence on the mind, rather like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.” — Henri Matisse
I understand and agree that art is meant to do a variety of things. Some works are thought-provoking or even disturbing rather than comforting, and these are no less impressive than the ones we find instantly appealing; indeed, they may be more so, since they involve daring and indifference to criticism.
Regardless of this, I am most thankful for artists who recognize the need to use their talent as a balm for the hurts of life. We all have times when we would benefit from an afternoon stroll through a quiet, spacious gallery, a few minutes spent enjoying a beautiful symphony, or even curling up with a cozy mystery or other novel with a happy ending.
Among the painters, sculptors, writers, poets, composers, musicians, architects and other artists you enjoy, whose work reminds you most of the description Matisse gives us here? What are some of your favorite “armchair” creations?
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.
A virtue in itself
Sweetie with a sweetie: Aunt Peggy with her winsome cockatiel, December 2011
“A good disposition is a virtue in itself, and it is lasting; the burden of the years cannot depress it, and love that is founded on it endures to the end.” — Ovid
I can’t think of anyone with a better disposition than my Aunt Peggy. She has endured more than a few experiences that would have made most people bitter, but she remains one of the most loving, giving and reliably fun people I have ever had the pleasure to know. When I visit her, I always leave wishing we had more time together. And I think anyone who knows her could say the same.
Not only does Peggy enjoy life; she helps others to do likewise. Her home, exquisitely decorated year round, is absolutely enchanting at Christmas. Her beautiful flower arrangements enhanced our wedding and every home we have lived in for over thirty years. Even her husband LeVern and her cockatiel Sweetie are delightful – and who wouldn’t be, living with someone who is unfailingly comforting, supportive and compassionate?
I hope you will brighten your own day by thinking of those rare people you know who can face gracefully whatever life dishes out; those who make the burdens a little lighter for each person they meet. If it’s appropriate, maybe send them a quick thank-you note today, or let them know how much they have added to your happiness. I thank God for my Aunt Peggy, and for all the people like her whose good cheer adorns a world sorely in need of it.
This post was first published seven years ago today. Since that time, Aunt Peggy has become a widow for the second time, her sweet husband LeVern having died some time ago. Before that, she and LeVern lost Sweetie, who died after many happy years of bringing delight and laughter to their home. In her sorrow, Aunt Peggy understands what I have endured and is a continual source of love and support as I cope with the loneliness following many losses of the past five years. And I’m happy to say that Peggy is still the same fun-loving, sweet and cheerful soul she always has been, coping bravely with the isolation of living alone in the post-COVID world. For a gregarious person who loves other people as much as Peggy does, this must be a trial for her, but her beautiful love of life always shines through.
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.
Exactly like me
Even the most beautiful mask is no match for a real face. Venice, June 2008
“Nobody can be exactly like me. Sometimes even I have trouble doing it.”
― Tallulah Bankhead
Some of us are more reserved than others, but almost all of us don a figurative mask occasionally, or maybe even often. We feel vulnerable and a bit intimidated about being ourselves, since we harbor a vast inner archive of our shortcomings, past mistakes and embarrassing experiences. If we aren’t careful, we can let our insecurities rob the world of the gifts only we can give it.
When I think of the people who most appeal to me, whether they are friends I know personally, writers I know only through their works, or celebrities I will never meet, the common trait among them is their willingness to be themselves, honest about their own hopes, fears and failures. Those who mask their unique personalities tend to blend into the background, inoffensive but forgettable.
For many years, Fred Rogers closed each of his programs for children with these simple but profound words: “There’s only one person in the world exactly like you.” Considering how many people are in the world, isn’t it amazing– almost miraculous — that each of us is unique? That fact alone makes the world a very interesting place! And you are part of that big fascinating picture.
What can you give others today that can come ONLY from you?
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.
Waiting to be enjoyed
Palos Verdes, California — one of countless free pleasures awaiting you! March 2004
“…no matter where you live, the woods and parks, the trees, sky and sun are free and only waiting to be enjoyed. You never know what you’ll learn from a walk in the park.”
— Tammy Strobel
Whenever the weather is nice — not too hot or cold, sunny with maybe a light breeze, or in the early hours of the evening or morning — I always feel I’m wasting something precious if I don’t spend some time outdoors. Even if it’s only a few minutes, there is something rejuvenating about taking in the greens and blues and splashes of other colors found in nature.
Be on the lookout for the next really nice day. Maybe it will be the first touch of fall for those who live in the northern climates, or an unusually mild day in the southern climates, or just a pleasant evening when the sun is down but still lighting the sky. There is something beautiful out there, just waiting for you to enjoy it. I hope you will find it!
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.
Alchemy in sorrow
Statue of a fisherman’s wife and child, Katwijk, the Netherlands, March 2007
“Sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmitted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness.”
— Pearl S. Buck
I believe that true optimism must include comprehension of the role sorrow plays in all our lives. A positive outlook is not a form of denial; rather, it’s a conviction that even our deepest grief has meaning; that our trials and tragedies bring understanding and transformation more than superficial knowledge ever could.
In the years since Matt was born, Jeff and I have dealt with sorrow upon sorrow as the medical and developmental challenges continued one after another, and practical daily support was often scarce. It has changed us forever, in more ways that we can describe or even know. But I truly believe that our lives have been made richer for all Matt has taught us, that we could never have discovered without him. It’s no coincidence that the author of the quote above walked a similar path years ago, and left us a priceless literary legacy as a result.
For as long as I can remember, I have heard Jesus referred to as “the man of sorrows.” I didn’t understand how profound and ultimately beautiful a concept that was, until I experienced recurring sorrow for years on end. The terms “God with us” and “man of sorrows” are now linked in my mind, as I contemplate the full implications of a God who, in granting humans freedom of choice, allows us to undergo suffering — an omnipotent God who chooses to walk beside us and share in that sorrow, rather than render us powerless to choose our own destiny.
There could be no deep joy if we did not know sadness, just as a person who has never gone hungry is unable to appreciate food as fully as those who have been without it. It’s a kind of paradox; a mystery we can’t fathom. Yet its truth has sustained people through circumstances far worse than the ones we now face. If you are in a time of suffering or grief, I pray you can hold on to the belief that your sorrow may yet be transformed into happiness deeper than you could have imagined.
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 answer to a great many things
Matt trains at Ride a Wave in Santa Cruz, California, June 2003
Each year, Olympic surfers and first responders provide free training
for people with special needs learning to surf and kayak.
“I have a feeling that in the end, probably, that training is the answer to a great many things. You can do a lot if you are properly trained, and I hope I have been.”
— Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom
With characteristic reserve, Queen Elizabeth II summed up her secret for handling the demands of her long career as she marked the 40th year of her reign. As her biographer Sally Bedell Smith pointed out, “Her formal education was spotty by today’s standards. Women of her class and generation were typically schooled at home, with greater emphasis on the practical than the academic.” Now, with the Queen having passed the 60-year anniversary of her reign, and seemingly destined to be the longest-ruling monarch in Britain’s history, it would appear that her practical education has served her well.
As Matt’s multiple learning disabilities were diagnosed one by one, we learned firsthand the invaluable role of training, as developmental milestones that happen naturally for most children had to be taught to Matt with patience, practice and repetition. It’s really no different for anyone; when it comes to becoming more adept at a skill, even the gifted must rely on hours of disciplined training and practice.
The good news is that training for competence is within the reach of anyone who longs to improve, and is willing to put in the time required. Often, we will have to prioritize among many opportunities and focus on one, or just a few, to achieve mastery before moving on to other skills. But the opportunities for training, whether self-taught or with help, have never been as widely available and relatively affordable as they are now.
What would you like to get better at? Do you know of any online learning opportunities you’d like to share? Feel free to post links in the comments below.
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 we enjoy
Some favorite things: teapots, tea, England, Lewis Carroll, Darla’s home
and pretty much everything in it, including Darla! Yorktown, December 2012
“I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment…” — C. S. Lewis
Tea. Books. Friends. Flowers. Animals. Family. I hope nobody is getting sick of seeing these and other topics here, over and over, because I have so much fun writing about what I enjoy — including anything written by C. S. Lewis, my favorite author.
I think it’s good exercise for our spirits when we praise what we enjoy, and express gratitude for the amazingly abundant blessings we share. Let’s make this post the online extension of the song “My favorite things.” Play the song linked there, and no matter whether you feel sad or happy right now, I bet it will lift your spirits. Then think of some of YOUR favorite things. Jump in and tell us about them in the comments below.
Meanwhile, lets see…Christmas. Springtime. Music. Cinnamon rolls. Photographs. Fresh fruit. Ice Cream. Cookies baking. Rain at night. Sunny days. Birds singing. Nice surprises…
More wisdom from C. S. Lewis:
This post was originally 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.
Clarity from stillness
A snapshot of serenity at the Montreal Botanical Garden, May 2009
“If water derives clarity from stillness, how much more so does the mind!” — Zhuangzi
In a recent post, I discussed the fascination of watching moving waters. But still waters are captivating as well, particularly when they mirror beautiful scenery.
Stillness is a trait that doesn’t come naturally to me. Even when my body is not in motion (which is rare during waking hours) my mind is churning endlessly. I can’t count the number of times, mostly late at night, when I wished my conscious mind had an off/on switch such as Jeff seems to have. I’ve learned more than a few coping mechanisms to deal with insomnia, but nothing ever chases it away permanently.
It wouldn’t be so bad if my mind accomplished anything useful when my thoughts are scattered or distracting. An active mind can be an advantage, after all. But I think my frequent inability to concentrate is often the result of all this perpetual motion in my brain, and it’s not a recipe for clarity inside or outside. It drives Jeff crazy when I interrupt my own sentences with tangential thoughts!
As one strategy to still my mind, I’m working on dialing back this societal fixation with what is called “multi-tasking” but all too often means “partial and interrupted tasking.” I could use a little more mental clarity, especially as I age! Do you have any “stillness secrets” to share with me? Please post them in the comments, and HURRY, before my mind wanders to a different topic!
This post was originally 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 incredible gift
Welcome to a typical morning with Mama and Daddy, August 2013
“The incredible gift of the ordinary! Glory comes streaming from the table of daily life.” — Macrina Wiederkehar
One of the hardest things about the past year has been the need to cancel no fewer than three scheduled visits to see my parents. It’s good that our grandson happened to be born in Atlanta, so I finally was able to stay with Mama and Daddy when I went to see Grady. I had not seen them for more than a year, and it felt like forever.
I took this photo one morning after arising to an everyday scene that becomes more dear to me each time I see it. I know a day likely will come when I would give so much for one more chance to wake up to this sight. Mama and Daddy were preparing freshly picked beans from their organic garden, and Mama protested when I brought out my camera (and she might be mortified if Daddy tells her about the photo appearing on this blog), but she has always been a good sport about such things.
I think she looks pretty good for a woman in her 80’s who has just gotten up and hasn’t yet dressed, combed her hair or put on makeup. As is her frequent custom, she prioritized getting a start on dinner before tending to her personal appearance. I know you can probably guess who she sent out to pick those beans, long before I got up!
I had enthusiastically devoured the freshly picked purple-hull peas and cornbread they fixed the day before, so I appreciated her fresh vegetables and wanted a photo of her as I’ve seen her countless times. To me she is beautiful any time, as is my Daddy, whose longsuffering smile has always brightened my spirits.
Today you probably will come in contact with at least a few people who are dear to you. Chances are there won’t be any special occasions to photograph, but it’s the everyday memories we will treasure most anyway. Take a minute or two to snap some digital or mental images of your extraordinary ordinary life, and cherish these incredible gifts for many years to come.
This post was first published seven years ago today. Those of you who know me well can guess how bittersweet it is to read these words again. The day I refer to in the second paragraph above is now here, and has been arriving every day for years now. If only I could go back for just a moment to that morning! On the other hand, there’s a sense in which I really can be there again. I love looking at this photograph. I still feel Mama and Daddy looking at me with the same expressions: Mama, eternally no-nonsense but willing to make allowances for my whimsy (which I always felt she enjoyed vicariously) and Daddy, wise, humble, funny and loving, through and through.
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.
Jump in the lake
Jump in the lake if you must, but at least choose a nice one. Lake Louise, September 1999
“The writer is only free when he can tell the reader to go jump in the lake. You want, of course, to get what you have to show across to him, but whether he likes it or not is no concern of the writer.” — Flannery O’Connor
I admire Flannery O’Connor, but I was somewhat taken aback by her stark advice. Not because I disagree with it, but because my first thought was, “I NEVER want to tell anyone who reads my blog to go jump in the lake.”
On second thought, though, maybe I do. If any of the people reading this blog are cruel or mean-spirited, they can go jump in the lake. Those who refuse to open their eyes and be grateful for the blessings that grace their lives can go jump in the lake. Those who want to bring us all down to wallow in the mire of despair and hopelessness: jump away.
But I hope they won’t stay there. I hope the water in the lake will be of a bracing temperature, waking them up to life. I hope they will swim vigorously if they know how, or learn to dog paddle if they don’t. I hope they will emerge from the lake feeling a little happier, saying to themselves, “What was I THINKING?!”
To the rest of you, the majority who are here because you have faith, or tenacity, or courage, or good will, or all of the above: I do sincerely hope you like what I write, even if O’Connor thinks it’s no concern of mine. And if someone tries to sabotage your determination to defeat despair, well…you know what to tell them.
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.
Waiting
Passengers waiting at Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris, June 2008
“Waiting is one of the great arts.” — Margery Allingham
It’s fitting that this quote came from an author of detective stories, because the seemingly glamorous life of a private eye requires a great deal of tedious waiting.
For Jeff and me, it seems as if the past year has held well more than its share of waiting. Countless hours, days and weeks we spent in hospitals and clinics involved mostly waiting. Waiting to be called into the examination room, waiting for consults with other doctors, waiting for IV drips to finish, waiting as overbooked schedules were adjusted to allow another appointment.
We also waited in other locations, too, stuck in the traffic between Bethesda and northern Virginia, and then after we got back home, waiting for phone calls to physicians to be returned, for test results to be reported, for prescriptions to be ready for pickup at the pharmacy.
And of course, we waited for a grandson who, like his father before him, took his time arriving into our world!
I came across Allingham’s quote months ago, and I had to give it a bit of thought to understand what she meant. I had never considered waiting to be an art; rather, it was a nuisance, a necessary evil of these rushed and impatient times.
But I’ve come to the conclusion that waiting is indeed an art in many respects. It requires stillness coupled with action, the discipline of knowing when to be passive and when to move. It’s not the same thing as procrastination; indeed, in some ways it’s the opposite. Often, we have to wait because are on the receiving end of someone else’s procrastination, or their overly busy schedule.
As with any other art, there are skills that can be practiced to make waiting more bearable. We can learn what activities we can accomplish while waiting, and note which habits of mind tend to lead us away from our agitation rather than increase it. We can develop a literal or symbolic “tool kit” to redeem these potentially wasted hours, and put them to good use.
Are you good at waiting? If so, share your secrets with us! If not, try to brainstorm with us about ways to appreciate and utilize this unavoidable aspect of life. I’ll be waiting to hear from you! 🙂
Defeat Despair 