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! 🙂
Because we are so loved
A beautiful afternoon with Dr. Santos Rodriguez and Ellen Rodriguez
Fayetteville, Georgia July 2013
“I believe, with every fiber of my being, that when we are struck down by adversity, God weeps with us and, then, because we are so loved, heals us in ways we can never expect or even imagine.” — Sarah Ban Breathnach
I’ve shared here in previous posts that the past eleven months, although fraught with devastating events, have also been filled with unexpected graces. Among these are the many reunions, mostly by mail or online but also occasionally in person, with people who are praying for us and supporting us with good wishes and expressions of love.
Each letter, gift or visit comes with its own unique blessing. To those of my readers who have sent me things in the mail: you will never know how much I treasure these tangible symbols of kindness from people I’ve never met face to face. To the many friends we heard from for the first time in years: it has been such a joy to be back in touch! Meeting with Cindy and Henry, my friends from the Upper Room fellowship online, whom I’d never met in person, was another wonderful experience.
As I write this, I am thinking especially of how the past ten days have brought to mind the words “my cup runneth over,” and I’m not thinking only of our precious grandson. Months ago, when Jeff was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer after receiving the first diagnosis of apparently unrelated cancer in the appendix, I got a very special surprise in the mail.
It was a letter from my all-time favorite teacher, whom I had not seen since I was in her fourth grade classroom 1965-66. She and her husband frequently visit my mother’s health food store and chat with my younger brother who works there, who also was in her class several years after I was. Through him, she learned of our circumstances and sent me a lovely letter. It would not be an overstatement to say I was thrilled to hear from her.
A few weeks later she sent me a beautiful devotional book, and I phoned my mother and said “please tell Ms. Rodriguez that the next time I come to Atlanta, we MUST have lunch together!’ That dream came true the day after I held my grandson for the first time, as my parents and I enjoyed lunch with this remarkable couple. She looks amazingly like she did almost 50 years ago! And her husband (a physician who is 94 years young) was absolutely charming. I told my mother she should pay them to hang around her health food store; they are the best advertisement for nutrition that I have ever seen!
Those of you who are also Facebook friends (anyone is welcome 🙂 ) may have seen this photo before, which I shared with a couple of my classmates who are on Facebook and were equally happy to see the photo of our beloved teacher. Sharing memories of our childhood years was another blessing. As with most of God’s gifts, this one just keeps on giving.
During the very dark days of Jeff’s devastatingly poor prognosis, before we knew he would have such a good response to treatment and again when the healing after the liver resection seemed an almost impossible goal, it was hard to focus on or imagine all the ways God could bless us through the many crises we had endured since September. Many days, all we could do was put one foot in front of another and get through that day.
Yet we continue to be upheld and sustained by the myriad ways God is taking care of us, mostly through people such as you. Thank you for being part of a healing that we could never have expected or even imagined. Should you find yourself in a dark and lonely place, HANG ON and have faith in the goodness that surely awaits you in the future.
This post was first published seven years ago today. A few years ago, Dr. Rodriguez passed from this life, having enjoyed nearly a century on this earth. Mrs. Rodriguez (known to me now as Ellen– though it still feels a little strange to call my beloved fourth grade teacher by her first name!) is doing well, and we are still in touch. She remains beautiful, fit and active. I hope very much to see her again when COVID allows us to travel once more.
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.
Summer afternoon
An afternoon cookout with friends in northern California, June 2004
“Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” — Henry James
Though summer has never been my favorite season, I can understand why the words “summer afternoon” are beautiful, especially for someone who lives in a cooler climate than the one where I grew up. Summer coaxes us outdoors for games, cookouts, conversation — all sorts of things that bring people together just for fun.
Several blog readers may recognize someone they know — maybe even themselves!– in the photo above. Trivia question for those who don’t know any of the people pictured: can you guess which two people, newly met in this photo, ended up getting married to each other? (All giveaway clues will be censored from comments, so no cheating!)
Here’s hoping you will be able to get out a few more times this summer, and cook up some fun!
They knew things
Mission Carmel is one of the oldest buildings still standing in California. December 2002
“We know some things they didn’t know in the past, but they knew things that we’ve forgotten.” — Ashleigh Brilliant
Here’s something to ponder: if you were to time-travel and suddenly swap places with a person of your age, gender and ability who lived two or more centuries ago, which of you would have a harder time functioning independently in your new surroundings? It’s a safe bet that either of you would need a good bit of help from people who might be baffled at your ignorance.
In any case, we have one distinct advantage over our ancestors: we have the option of learning some of the things they knew. Whether we learn and practice age-old skills on a camping trip, at a living history center or in a classroom, it might be strangely calming to focus our attention on something not requiring electricity, climate-control or a tight schedule.
The California missions are among many places all over the world where bygone ways of life can be studied. It has become popular to look at the past through a harshly critical lens, but future generations will have ample reason to do the same to us, equipped with the benefit of hindsight. In our determination to rise above the mistakes and wrong actions of those who lived long ago, let’s not forget that people who lived in past centuries also have positive things to teach us.
If you could spend a day with your great-great-great grandparents, what would you most want to learn from 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.
Exquisitely dependent
Simple but strong, the cables keep the cars running. San Francisco, July 2003
“We live in a society exquisitely dependent on science and technology, in which hardly anyone knows anything about science and technology.” ― Carl Sagan
I plead guilty to that! Or maybe not.
On my list of things I find fascinating, my impulse would be to place “science and technology” near the bottom. Actually, though, I’ve always enjoyed learning about it. In my immediate family, my experience with computer technology is far ahead that of my husband or sons; sort of a stereotype-buster. And I’ve always been interested in learning how things work. As a kid, I would take apart broken watches and toys to figure out why they stopped running. So I guess being analytical is not too far removed from enjoying science or technology.
I don’t know anyone who ever went to San Francisco without at least seeing (if not riding) the justly famous cable cars, which are one of only two moving landmarks on the National Register of Historic Places. Relatively few take advantage of the free admission to the Cable Car museum, where I snapped the photo above.
One day when I was riding the Powell-Hyde line I heard a tourist ask the gripman, “What makes the cable cars run?” He smiled and answered “Cables!” It sounds too simple, but the actual machinery that is visible at the museum validates that answer. The muscles of the gripmen and the incredible strength of the cables — one for each line — pull thousands of people each day (over seven million each year) up and down the steep hills of San Francisco.
One of the first science lessons I remember is “What is a machine?” The cable cars are a great example of a relatively simple machine that provides an easily understood introduction to technology for the science-impaired such as I. What are some of the simple or complex machines on which you depend every day? When I ask myself that question, I come up with a whole new list of things for which I’m grateful. I hope you will do the same.
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 fascinating vitality
Jeff at Franconia Notch State Park, New Hampshire, May 2009
“Moving water…has a fascinating vitality. It has power and grace and associations. It has a thousand colors and a thousand shapes, yet it follows laws so definite that the tiniest streamlet is an exact replica of a great river.” — Roderick Haig-Brown
We lived in Memphis during the years Jeff was in dental school, and I loved the city for many reasons, but what I loved best was the mighty Mississippi River. I never tired of sitting on the bluff at Tom Lee Park and watching the river flow.
There’s something mesmerizing about watching water in motion. Ocean waves, woodland brooks and waterfalls all have a calming quality, lovely to the eyes and soothing to the ears. It’s no wonder there are so many indoor and outdoor fountains that enhance the appeal of parks, city squares and indoor atriums everywhere. But even the most beautiful fountain is no match for the experience of standing on a riverbank, wading through a creek or feeling the cooling mist of a waterfall.
The hot days of August are perfect for enjoying the beauty of water. Head for a nearby park that has a creek or waterfall tucked away on a shady trail, or take a few minutes to enjoy a fountain at a plaza, hotel or shopping center. If you don’t have time to find one in real life, enjoy the sights and sounds recorded here or here or here. I’m wishing you a few minutes of cool mental refreshment on this warm August day!
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.
Going to the desert
Jeff with our sons near Palm Springs, California, January 1990
“Modern life is becoming so full that we need our own ways of going to the desert to be relieved of our plenty.” – Thomas Moore
The first time we ever drove across the United States en route to our new home in California, we thought we were making pretty good time when we arrived in Texarkana, on the border between Texas and Arkansas. Two days later we were still in Texas, after driving what seemed like forever through the parched landscapes on the way to El Paso. Then through New Mexico, Arizona and California, the desert went on and on. Jeff said “It’s kind of hard to worry about over-population after making this drive.”
Amid the traffic and crowds of the cities where we had lived and traveled, we had no real idea how much barren and unpopulated land still exists in America. Of course we knew it was there, but the vast extent of it was something we couldn’t imagine until we journeyed through it.
In the same way, contemporary life tricks us into believing there is no escape from the noise, rush and demands of every day. Routines our grandparents would have thought bizarre, such as being on call for dozens of people all our waking hours via cell phones and texting, have come to seem not only normal to us, but inescapable. But there are still places of refuge from such urgency, and I suspect they are more plentiful than we think they are until we have learned to visit them.
As I write this, I’m feeling very overwhelmed by all the tasks I did not get done yesterday, or a week ago, or even father back than that. My head spins as I try to sort out my thoughts and prioritize what must be done first. Yet I can’t escape the nagging feeling that I might be more efficient if I could somehow clear everything away for an hour or two and just breathe deeply without thinking much about anything. I’m not sure I could achieve that even if I tried.
But, I can do a few things today that might help. I can allow myself to work on one task at a time, and not allow interruptions to de-rail me. I can prioritize clearing away visual clutter to keep my eyes from contributing to the sensory overload. Most importantly, I can turn down that inner voice that continually chastises me for being so far behind in the first place. I can spend some time in quiet reading, prayer or gratitude, and “just say no” to self-imposed pressure.
What are some of your favorite ways of going to the desert?
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.
No time
This turtle had time to pose for me near the Palace of Fine Arts, San Francisco, July 2003
“I have no time to be in a hurry.”— Henry David Thoreau
When I was a child, I often heard talk of “the lazy days of summer.” I haven’t heard that phrase in a very long time. Indeed, summer seems more hectic than any other season, with vacations, activities and daily obligations packed so tightly that the time slips away before we accomplish half of what we had planned.
It’s no use getting into a rush, though. At least it’s not for me; I make more mistakes and get even farther behind when I try to do more than I’m capable of doing within a certain period of time. And the stress of running behind, trying to make up lost time, is almost unbearable. In my case, haste really does make waste.
My challenge is having a poor grasp of time and how long things will take. Thus I pack way more ambition into my plans than would be realistic for a time slot twice as long as the one I’m dealing with. The only way around this I have found is to leave huge cushions of time whenever I’m planning anything. It feels like sloppy planning until the time arrives, during which I normally STILL run out of time, even with a generous allowance built in. I keep hoping I’ll get better at planning, because just as Thoreau says, I really have no time for hurry.
Whatever you have planned today, or this week, or the remainder of the summer, don’t be afraid to SLOW DOWN if things start spinning past you too quickly!
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.
In season
A fruit stand in Sorrento, Italy, May 2008
“Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within the reach of every hand.”
— Mother Teresa
With all the people in the world who are hurting for lack of love, can we really believe that it is within the reach of every hand? Absolutely yes, if we think of love as something to give rather than something to receive. A number of studies have established that loving others is inextricably linked with happiness. And anyone can love (or learn to love) others, regardless of whether that love appears to be reciprocated in the same measure.
Think of celebrities who are subject to the intrusive attentions of thousands or millions of fans who “love” them. Is this sort of one-way adoration and attention the key to happiness for these stars? I know few people who would say that it is. But genuine love for other people — not actions done with the hope of some sort of payback, but real, unalloyed affection — seems to increase our sense of purpose and well-being in ways not necessarily tied to what we get in return. Even tending to pets or houseplants has been correlated with increased life span and contentment.
There’s a wonderful moment near the end of the movie Marvin’s Room, in which an unmarried woman dying of cancer after years of care-taking her aging parents tells her younger, more selfish sister not to feel sorry for her. “I’ve been so lucky,” she tells her. “I’ve had so much love.” The younger sister replies, “Yes, they love you very much.” “Oh,” the dying sister says, “I mean my love for them. I’ve been so lucky to have two people in my life to love so much.”
That line has stuck with me. Love really is within anyone’s reach. Usually when we give love, we will be loved in return. But even if we are not, genuine love for others is the source of happiness because it takes our mind off of our own sorrows, and connects us to all that matters most. I wish you a life of love!
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.
Ultimately worthwhile
I snapped this photo on the Amalfi Coast of Italy, May 2008
“Anything I’ve ever done that ultimately was worthwhile…initially scared me to death.”
— Betty Bender
In most ways I’m a cautious person, riddled with anxieties about all sorts of things, but some people get a false impression that I am bold or daring. I think this is because certain traits that run strongly in me — tenacity, curiosity, love of adventure, and being generally excitable, defiant and hotheaded — can masquerade as courage.
When we visited the Amalfi Coast of Italy, my terror of the winding, cliff-hugging roads and fast drivers was surpassed only by my awe at some of the most stunning sights I’ve ever experienced. It reminded me of when we drove up Pike’s Peak, and I was such a nervous wreck by the time we got to the summit that I sought (unsuccessfully) some other way to get down. Once we started the trek back, however, the panorama beneath us was so breathtakingly beautiful that I had no time to be afraid.
Fear in itself is a neutral trait, neither helpful nor harmful until we allow it to be one or the other. If we use fear as a motivating factor to learn, prepare and take reasonable precautions, it is our friend. But if we allow fear to chain us to an illusion of safety — and in the end, almost everything in which we trust for safety is at least partly an illusion — we will never really live, for fear of dying.
What scares you most? Does your fear play the role of friend or foe?
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.
Enliven and transform
A cheerful setting can transform a cup of tea into a special occasion!
Yorktown, Virginia, May 2013
“Instead of resigning ourselves to lives in which 75 percent of the day is less enjoyable or at best, neutral, we can find ways to enliven and transform these moments.”
— Todd Kashdan
Whatever you have planned for today, tomorrow, or this week, see if you can think up some ways to add sparkle to the daily routine of life. It doesn’t have to take a lot of money or effort. Light a candle, use your good china, play some nice music or listen to an audiobook as you tackle mindless chores. Tape a treasured card or photo to your mirror where you see it first thing in the morning. Make a new recipe, or dig out one you haven’t used in awhile. Leave surprise “I love you” notes for family to find later.
There’s nothing like a brush with our own (or a loved one’s) mortality to reinforce a truth that we all know, but seldom enact: Life is too short to spend even one day dwelling on the discouraging, sad or frustrating. Whatever you plan for today, or this week, I hope you will get creative and brainstorm some ways to enliven and transform your routines. Please share your ideas with us in the comments!
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 most perfect refreshment
Not England, but close enough: at the Montréal Botanical Garden, May 2009
“To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.” — Jane Austen
I have been so happy to see Jane Austen finally getting the attention she always deserved. When I was a young mother, I loaned a copy of Pride and Prejudice to our teenage babysitter, along with an enthusiastic endorsement, and she seemed to think me naïve to assume she would read it. Please give it a chance, I thought. Apparently, quite a few people of all ages have done just that in the past two decades, generating a cottage industry of Jane-related fan fiction and movies.
On this hot summer day, I wish you a virtual retreat to a cool English meadow where you can relax in the shade, perhaps with a glass of iced tea or club soda spiked with fruit juice, and take in the green. If you have a similar setting nearby, I hope you can make time for an actual visit, not just a virtual one. In any case, this is the time of year when such perfect refreshment is just the thing to beat the heat. Pass the scones!
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.
Something absolutely new
Drew on the day he was born, March 1984
“The moment a child is born,
the mother is also born.
She never existed before.
The woman existed, but the mother, never.
A mother is something absolutely new.” — Rajneesh (Osho)
As most readers know, I normally schedule these posts well in advance, usually by about two weeks. However, today I am making an exception and preempting tomorrow’s scheduled post in favor of this one, which I’m writing as I sit in the waiting room of the hospital where I am awaiting the birth of our first grandchild. He is to be a son, as was our first child, whose newborn baby picture appears above.
As a disclaimer: I’m no fan of the teachings of Rajneesh (also known as Osho, whom I’ve quoted before). While he had some ideas to which I take strong exception, he also had quite a way with words. And perhaps no quote I’ve seen recently more accurately captures the experience of becoming a parent (I think the father is also something absolutely new).
Babies change their parents as nothing else can. The formerly carefree will experience anxiety at levels previously unknown — as will the already anxious. Those who were impatient are about to be immersed in the grueling curriculum of the School of Learning to Put Up with Stuff. And those who were happy before are about to forget how they could have possibly been content (or busy) without these new creatures who suddenly take up most of the real estate inside their hearts and minds.
If things go as planned, by the time you read this, I’ll have experienced being a grandparent for the first time. I’m told it’s the real payoff for all those years of diapers, delights, disputes and departures. What do you think? Those of you who are grandparents, share your best advice with us 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.
He always stays
Marlee channels Jack Benny, March 2008
“A good dog never dies. He always stays. He walks besides you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter’s drawing near.” — Mary Carolyn Davies
However else I remember 2013, I will remember it as the year of saying goodbye to dogs. Within a few weeks of the day we lost our four-legged family member, Pasha, three others who are dear to me grieved parting with beloved canine companions of many years. One of these unforgettable dogs, Sir Marlee (Marlee to his friends) is pictured above.
Marlee was born on this day seventeen years ago. Like most dogs, he was typically canine, yet also unique. He provided joy, comfort, and a stabilizing presence of love to his family through many years of medical crises and uncertainty, along with the countless joys and sorrows of everyday life. In these ways, he was no different from other dogs. But I will always remember him for bringing me laughter through a quirky characteristic he shared with a comedian whom readers “of a certain age” will remember: Jack Benny.
If you watched Jack Benny very much, you know that he could provoke laughter simply by turning his head in reaction to what his fellow performers said or did. It’s the sort of thing that’s hard to describe until you see it. This dated and politically incorrect but hilarious clip will give you an idea of what I’m referring to, in case you don’t remember.
The first time I met Marlee his demeanor was familiar to me, but it took me awhile to figure out why. Marlee was a laid back, low-key type of dog whose adopted younger doggy brother, Max, was anything but. When the antics of Max or nearby humans would get a bit ridiculous, Marlee would heave a sigh and turn his head, a weary look in his eyes. I told Marlee’s mom he reminded me of Jack Benny, and she knew immediately why I said that. It became a private joke to us, and even today, when Marlee is no longer on this earth, we are able to laugh when things get absurd by imagining Marlee looking on, turning his head. Marlee will always be with us, lightening even the most frustrating situations when we remember his comical resignation.
Among the precious gifts our pets give are abundant occasions to laugh. What are some of the funniest traits of your pets, past and present? I hope you will share some funny or touching memories of your animal companions, whose gifts live on even after they leave 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.
Our ordinary days
A golden summer moment at Amy’s home in Winnweiler, Germany, August 2005
“Summer weather, like being in love, is a philosopher’s stone which turns our ordinary days to gold. But not the whole day… For it is never the whole day, never all our life which is transformed in any happiness, but only the exquisite moments.” — Nan Fairbrother
More than any other season, summer seems to promise more than it can deliver. We exit springtime with all sorts of ambitious notions about what we’ll do, see and accomplish during the long hours of sunlight. We’ll have time for fun reading. Picnics and maybe trips to the beach. Tending the lawn or garden; maybe growing tomatoes? Getting that garage or closet cleaned out, once and for all. Perhaps some lazy mornings sleeping in.
As July draws to a close, most of us look back on the past eight weeks with amazement, wondering where it went and what became of our plans. The delightful warmth of early June has become the sweltering heat of August, our petunias are beginning to fade or grow leggy, and the back-to-school advertisements catch us off guard. Already?! But it feels as if summer just began…
Despite its ephemeral presence, summer almost always leaves us a new cache of memories to keep and treasure. Such fleeting moments are fitting symbols of the summer itself, which shares their brevity. As the summer begins to wane, I hope you can look back and find some exquisite moments to remember, when the magic of summer’s alchemy turned the ordinary to gold. If you have none so far, you have a few weeks left to discover some. Happy treasure hunting!
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.
You will flow
Swans go with the flow at the Palace of Fine Arts, San Francisco, July 2003
“As your faith is strengthened you will find that there is no longer the need to have a sense of control, that things will flow as they will, and that you will flow with them, to your great delight and benefit.” — author unknown; attributed to Emmanuel Tanay
Among the most ultimately comforting but persistently difficult teachings of Jesus are his words in Matthew 6:25-34, where he warns us against worry, saying “take no thought for tomorrow.” Really? When I read these words I find myself saying “Yes, but…”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean to be irresponsible.” (No, it doesn’t, but there is a difference between being responsible and feeling a compulsive need to control everything as much as possible.) “Yes, but he wasn’t speaking literally.” (He wasn’t? Did he really mean “You should only worry a little bit” or “You should only worry about REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS?”) “Yes, but things were very different in those days.” (And I’m guessing there was even more to worry about then…food, clothing, survival, all the things mentioned in the full context of what Jesus said.)
It really is possible to live a sane, wise and responsible life without excessive worry about the future, but our culture does not promote that kind of mental framework. Advertisers seek to sell us everything from clothes to cars to insurance by playing to our worst fears and insecurities. The news media bombard us continually with stories designed primarily to catch and keep our attention by making us afraid of what we might miss. Financial advisers have created an advice industry geared toward teaching us to find security in money. Health care providers coach us to stay current on diagnostic screening. On and on it goes.
I am working on learning to do what I can, and then let go of the outcome. It’s a difficult process, but unfortunately (or fortunately?) life has a way of prying our fingers loose from anything we hold too tightly. When I get most agitated and tense, it really does help to take a few deep breaths and imagine something peaceful, such as a gently flowing brook, or the graceful gliding of a swan in the water. There are times when it becomes all too obvious that we have no choice but to “go with the flow” of life, one day at a time. I hope your day will flow peacefully 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.
A vision that stays
Another unsuccessful attempt to capture the indescribable: Muir Woods, May 2003
“The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe…they are ambassadors from another time.” — John Steinbeck
It really is impossible to capture a forest of redwoods in a photograph, and not just because they are far too tall for even the widest angle. Walking through a redwood grove is a multi-sensory experience that permeates the soul. As many times as I visited Muir Woods, I never felt ready to leave. I always left later than I intended to, promising myself another visit as soon as I could get back. Now that I live on the east coast, I can only visit in my memory, but Steinbeck is right: the vision stays.
What are some of the places you carry inside your heart?
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.
Carry your childhood with you
Carla, Al, Julia, Eric and Kitt Katt, Sunday morning, circa 1966
“If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.” — Tom Stoppard
Here it is: photographic evidence that a lot of things about me haven’t changed in nearly half a century. I still love cats. I still love yellow. I still wear my hair in a bun often (no wisecracks about librarians here). And the camera, well, need I say more?
This photo was taken just before we left for church (that’s the only time we were all dressed up) and I’m amused to recall how my parents let me wear and use that cheap plastic camera everywhere I went. Back in those days, not many kids were taking photos of any kind. I just wish my old black and white negatives were not lost in the decades that followed.
I’m guessing that you, too, carry many things from childhood inside you. For almost all of us, it’s a mixed bag, but I agree with Stoppard that if we stay in touch with all that was best about being a child, we never really grow older.
What happy traits and images do you carry with you from childhood? I hope you will visit with your inner child often. For some, the inner child is a pop psychology construct, useful for analysis or recovery, but otherwise disdained. For me, though, my inner child is a muse, reminding me of all the best lessons I learned early, filled with uncontaminated wonder at a world that seems one part intrigue and two parts promise.
If the weather is good where you are, go out and play for awhile! If it’s rainy, stay indoors and play. In the immortal words of the Cat in the Hat, “your mother will not mind at all.” 😉
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 