Intense love
Children’s artwork on display at Hagia Sophia, Istanbul 2008
“Creative work carries with it a form of intense love.” – Lin Yutang
Lin Yutang’s description of creativity is parallel to the Bible verse that tells us “God is love.” If God’s love has been made manifest in the boundless beauty and diversity of creation, it stands to reason that people made in God’s image would also feel the loving drive to be creative. For some, this creativity will take familiar, almost hidden forms: the well-cooked meal, the sewn or knitted garment, the family photographs, the handmade card or carefully penned letter. For others, creativity will produce the whimsical, attractive or masterly works that exist purely to engage the eye or feed the soul. Whatever forms your creativity takes, honor this spirit in yourself and others. We were born to create, and to delight in creation.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
On the losing side
The ʻĪao Needle, Maui 1992
“Man talks of a battle with Nature, forgetting that if he won the battle, he would find himself on the losing side.” — E. F. Schumacher
No matter how much progress we make, our ability to control nature ultimately remains elusive. Natural disasters leave trauma and suffering in their wake, so it’s understandable that we want to rein in such destruction. But perhaps it’s mostly a good thing we are not always able to manipulate the physical world to suit our own ends. Actions that seem to be a good idea at the time often turn out to be mistakes. We would do well to heed the lessons in humility that the natural world teaches us over and over again.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
I still hear the sound
Flowers on display at an Istanbul market, 2008
“The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.” — Basho
At the beginning of February, it’s good to look forward to the coming of spring. It has been awhile since I’ve seen this many flowers at one time, but thoughts of them linger and build anticipation that will have me out gardening in a few weeks. Whether you are lucky enough to have flowers blooming at this time of year, or can only see them in photographs or memory for now, I hope your day is filled with the wonderful music of flowers!
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
A happy talent
Central Park, New York City, May 2007
“It is a happy talent to know how to play.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sometimes we confuse recreational activities with play, but the two are not always linked. It’s possible to turn recreation– especially organized and scheduled pursuits– into just another task on our to-do list. It’s also possible to play while engaged in duties that most people would view as work. Playfulness is an attitude that is not wholly dependent on external factors.
At its best, play involves some spontaneity. We’ve all known of children whose lives are so over-scheduled with extra-curricular activities and “recreation” that there is no time to relax, daydream and goof off. Most of us understand that children need some free time, but this sort of freedom is important for adults, too. Are you working at your play? Are there ways you can learn to incorporate play into your work? Maybe Mary Poppins was onto something!
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Observing the effects
Drew takes in the landscape during our Kilauea Crater hike, Hawaii (the big island) 1992
“The observer, when he seems to himself to be observing a stone, is really, if physics is to be believed, observing the effects of the stone upon himself.” — Bertrand Russell
What we see and experience changes us forever. This is one reason it’s so important to feed our minds and senses with a healthy diet. How often do we focus on what we are viewing, tasting or hearing without examining the effects of these stimuli on our minds and bodies? Do we feed our minds and spirits haphazardly, taking in whatever presents itself– or even worse, what advertisers choose to show us? Or do we plan our leisure hours with purpose, making sure to include the beautiful, good or uplifting choices that are often drowned out by the demanding chaos of noise? Let’s prioritize feeding our senses with a steady diet of excellence in music, art, nature, reading and all other forms of spiritual nourishment, to counteract the disruptive or destructive messages that assault us from many directions.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
God’s medicine
Our sons laugh it up in Victoria, British Columbia 1993
“Mirth is God’s medicine. Everybody ought to bathe in it.” — Henry Ward Beecher
As Norman Cousins famously demonstrated, laughter really is the best medicine. It can break through the gloom and lift the heart more quickly than any other remedy. Years ago while we lived in Ohio, we were coping with the worrisome heart defects of our newborn son, along with the normal stress of caring for an infant and his 16-months-older brother. I remember coming in from work late at night (I worked an airline job) feeling tired, worried and discouraged. My husband would leave a clipping on the kitchen table for me to read from the Dayton newspaper, by a then-little-known humor columnist named Dave Barry. No matter how blue I was feeling, Barry’s writing would have me laughing aloud, and the effect was as cleansing to the spirit as a hot shower to a grimy body. Over the years I’ve felt a deep appreciation for anyone who brings laugher into our lives. Laugher is serious business.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Winter lives
A winter scene in our neighborhood, 2010
The “dead” of winter —
Or so they say.
But winter lives
In her own way.
She leaves her tracks,
She shows us signs:
Not brilliant blooms,
But webs of lines.
— Douglas Florian
As I write this, there is snow on the ground outside and I have my space heater running near my feet. Next week, the weather forecast calls for unseasonably warm temperatures. I’ll be happy to go outdoors and not get chilled instantly. But I have to admit, it’s pretty cozy on snowy days.
What is the weather like where you are? How does winter live in your neighborhood? Or do you live in a part of the world where January is summertime?
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Hope I cannot measure
Appomattox Court House National Historic Park, Virginia 2005
“Green pastures are before me, which yet I have not seen;
Bright skies will soon be o’er me, where the dark clouds have been.
My hope I cannot measure, my path to life is free,
My Savior has my treasure, and He will walk with me.” — Anna Laetitia Waring
On a recent Sunday at a church where we are frequent visitors, the congregation sang the hymn “In Heavenly Love Abiding,” the final verse of which is printed above. I grew up singing this song, and its words are familiar, but hearing them in the context of my husband’s recent illness gave them new meaning for me.
I noticed in the music annotation that the hymn was written in 1850. I could not help reflecting that these words were penned during an era when there was arguably much less reason for such optimism than there is now. At that time, there was very little of what we would call real medical help available; no emergency rooms, no heart surgery, no chemotherapy. In fact, even the antibiotics or anesthesia that we rely upon today were not yet developed. And effective, compassionate medical help for depression or other mental illnesses certainly was not available.
Anna Waring was 27 years old when she wrote these verses. What were the dark clouds, storms and “low heart” she referred to in the words of this hymn? History doesn’t tell us, but it seems clear that her life must have had its share of sorrow. Yet her hopeful spirit shines through in this verse. Over 160 years later her words live on, inspiring me and countless others to live in faith that better things lie ahead.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
A delightful society
The British Library welcomes me to London, December 2005
“Books are delightful society. If you go into a room and find it full of books – even without taking them from the shelves they seem to speak to you, to bid you welcome.” ― William Ewart Gladstone
From the most magnificent libraries to the humblest bookshelves, I feel at home wherever there are books. I guess that’s why I eventually earned my Master of Library and Information Studies at the University of Hawaii (1994-1996). But long before I had a graduate degree in library science, I haunted the stacks of every library I could find, and still have about a dozen active library cards to various libraries. Wherever I go, I seek out and visit the public libraries, each unique but all with the enduring appeal that comes from housing infinite possibilities for exploration and discovery.
Through books, I connect to other people from worlds vastly different from my own, experiencing the timeless bond that comes from the sharing of ideas, stories and viewpoints. While the internet now offers similar opportunities for connection, for me there will never be anything quite like the comfortable yet exciting “click” of recognition I sense whenever I walk through a library door: I belong.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Hidden inside
Cactus flowers in an Amsterdam floral shop, March 2007
“Sometimes what you want is hidden inside what you don’t want.” — Ashleigh Brilliant
Just as the prickly cactus produces beautiful blooms, so harsh circumstances can result in positive change and growth. This does not negate the pain of grief and loss, but it does provide a way through darkness. Christians believe “in all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28), a verse that is sometimes misinterpreted to mean “everything that happens is for the best.” Not everything that happens is good, but God promises us that no matter what happens, we can find a way to bring blessings from sorrow.
My husband’s stage IV cancer is a nightmare; we could never see it as being “for the best.” Yet even with the suffering, we have been blessed with unexpected joys:
The outpouring of love and support from people we are close to, as well as those we had not heard from in years, is a continual encouragement. And many people we have never met strengthen us daily with their prayers and expressions of concern.
A lot of frustrations or concerns that once held a false sense of importance have been rendered powerless to bother us, seeming minor in comparison to the challenges we face now. We have a sharply focused picture of what really matters; many truths we understood intellectually before, we now know with our hearts.
And I have spent more time with my husband in recent weeks — despite that time being mostly in medical settings — than we were ever able to spend together before. As strange as it may sound, I have been so glad to be with him even when the reason we’re spending time together is because of the “worse” part of “for better or worse.”
Whatever trials or challenges you may be facing now, my prayer is that there will be hidden blessings that emerge from the pain.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Talk of mysteries!
Jeff snapped this photo of me on Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park, June 2012
“Talk of mysteries! — Think of our life in nature, — daily to be shown matter, to come in contact with it, — rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! The solid earth! The actual world!” — Henry David Thoreau
I hope nobody’s getting tired of my going on about nature, but the natural world is a marvel to me that never loses its wonder. There is simply nothing more effective at ridding me of the frustration, anxiety or depression of whatever burdens are weighing me down. Getting outside and paying close attention to the things God created puts everything into perspective.
The great thing about it is, I don’t have to travel to a faraway feast of nature such as Acadia or other national parks (although I highly recommend doing that as much as possible). I can go to a local park, or my back yard. I can re-pot plants or water my flowers and shrubs. Even digging weeds while listening to a book on tape is a balm for my spirit (and my neighbors have joked that I’m welcome to dig weeds in their yard anytime!)
Next time you’re at the end of your rope, make time to visit a nearby park, or take a walk in your own neighborhood and try to name the different birds, trees and plants you encounter. Take along an MP3 player loaded with your favorite music, or a great mystery or an inspiring classic. Tune in and rejoice!
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
The ordinary arts
At the Hearthside Bed and Breakfast, Bar Harbor, Maine 2012
“The ordinary arts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.” — Thomas Moore
There are small details– inexpensive or free– that make our homes a more nurturing environment. For me, some of the minimal efforts that have maximum impact include making the bed daily, keeping things tidied up, and adding touches of color with flowers, books, or other attractive items of personal significance. What are some of the simple ways you can brighten your life by enhancing your home?
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
An island in itself
The atrium of the Diamond Princess on her maiden voyage, 2004
“The most fascinating island you’ll ever visit on a big ship is the ship itself.”
— Ashleigh Brilliant
Count me among the people who are hooked on cruising with their first voyage. Beyond the allure of waking up in new surroundings each morning, or the convenience of unpacking and checking in only one time, there is the undeniable marvel of the ship itself. Modern cruise ships are floating cities, and each year the cruise lines seem to compete to see which can produce the most superlative ship. Some go for size or “bells and whistles” while others emphasize luxury and elegance. All offer unlimited food and a wide variety of activities.
No matter your travel preferences or tastes, there seems to be something for everyone who can afford the fare. While cruising is actually a cost-effective way to see many places in a short time, travel is expensive at best. But even if you can’t afford to cruise this year, it’s fun to spend some time browsing the websites and ship plans of the various lines, or reading about the many itineraries and ports of call. In fact, the anticipation of planning for a cruise– for months or even for years– is one of the best aspects of going on one.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
An authentic style
Scarves on display at an Istanbul market, 2008
“People with an authentic style know what they are, but even more important, they know what they are not. They don’t care about labels. They care about personal expression.” — Sarah Ban Breathnach
I have always admired women who know how to use accessories to create beautiful outfits. Usually, a woman whose style I admire does not rely on the latest fashion fad to create an eye-catching look; rather, she knows how to pull colors, garments and costume jewelry together to highlight what is most beautiful about her own personality and character. This talent does not require spending a lot of money. Some of the most stylish people I know are frugal and creative, unafraid to try something different.
The same is true for other forms of art incorporated into everyday life. The most memorable homes and living spaces I’ve seen are the ones that are unique, expressing the essence of the people who live there, accentuating the most interesting aspects of their lives.
Not all of us are gifted at dressing or decorating with artistry, but we can appreciate those who add beauty to the world in this way. When you see people whose clothing or home style brightens your day, tell them so! And if you have a talent for creating with style, know that others enjoy and benefit from your efforts to make the world more attractive.
This post was originally published seven years ago yesterday. You can view the original with comments here.
Everybody can be great
Our son Matt in June 2012, with one of his favorite people, Tilly, who comes from England
each summer to help young people with disabilities have a great time at camp.
“Everybody can be great… because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”— Martin Luther King, Jr.
These beautiful words are being quoted more frequently in recent days as the nation prepares to honor Dr. King’s memory with “A day on, not a day off.” Community service projects are planned throughout the USA as a way to honor Dr. King’s call to service. As a minister, King took seriously the words of Jesus in Matthew 23:11-12: “The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Some of the greatest people I know will never be famous, powerful or rich. They are the women and men who prepare meals for church potlucks and homeless shelters. They teach in a variety of locations, from school classrooms to prisons. They clean our buildings, drive our buses, fly our airplanes and watch over our loved ones who are sick or disabled.
I have seen many of these people up close for years, because our younger son was born with multiple disabilities. As an adult, he depends on the kindness of countless people: doctors, nurses, job coaches and respite providers, and many others too numerous to mention.
The high point of his year is always a week or two at summer camp, where he and other young adults with disabilities gather with non-disabled peers who come from many countries to provide a safe and caring place to have fun. Because of the wide range of disabilities among the campers, these camp staffers work long and often gruelling days, with tasks most people would shun, but their enthusiasm and love for the job is always evident. It would be impossible for me to put into words the gratitude I feel for these wonderful people.
The really great thing is that the campers also serve. Their humor, forgiving spirit and persistence through frustrating obstacles are an inspiration to those who have the heart to interact closely with them. Though we all have different gifts, “anybody can serve.”
Next time you are working hard and feel taken for granted, remember the people who count on your service, and know that you are appreciated more than you may realize.
This post was originally published seven years ago on Martin Luther King Jr. day. You can view the original with comments here.
All sorts of folks
Our California church family gathers around us to sing, pray and wish us well on the Sunday before our move to Virginia, July 2004
“I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you.” — Woody Guthrie
I’m fairly new to the world of blogging, and I find the scope and size of the blogosphere amazing. While linked in some cases to traditional publishing, it stands apart for its unprecedented accessibility and ease of entry; a great many people all over the world can blog without paying much to do it (even those who don’t own computers can access them through public libraries, schools or benevolent friends).
This morning as I was marveling over this, how I can turn on my computer and hear from people literally all over the world who have read my words, and I can go and read theirs, I thought of Woody Guthrie and his devotion to the people who were seldom heard of through the media of his day. It seems to me that blogging is to literature what folk songs are to music.
Because blogging belongs to the people at large and not to the gatekeepers of traditional publication, it is seen by many as unsophisticated and ephemeral, somehow less important than “real” publishing. But just as folk songs capture and record the invaluable history of everyday people, so the countless blogs published online daily are forming an unparalleled record of the entire world; who we are, what we think, how we feel.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Infinitely healing
Green hills near our northern California home, 2003
“There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature– the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.” — Rachel Carson
Among the things I miss most about living in northern California is being able to see the beautiful green hills on a daily basis — but only for a relatively brief time in the spring. The famed California sunshine quickly burns them to a golden brown for the rest of the year.
On the coastal regions of California, we experienced winter as the rainy season. The rains would begin in December and continue steadily until February or early March. Although the rain would become annoying at times, we always needed it badly after going months without it. Whenever I would find myself complaining about the rains tripping the breaker and turning my outdoor Christmas lights off, or soaking my shoes and keeping the skies a gloomy gray for weeks, I would remind myself of the glorious green hills that soon would follow.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Mad with joy
A garden in Colonial Williamsburg, May 2009
“People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.” — Iris Murdoch
Go a little mad with joy today. Visit a florist or plant nursery, or just the floral department of a grocery store, and take a few minutes to see– really see– the flowers. Or, if you cannot get out, enjoy the flowers here and here and here. Or just google “flowers” and click on “images.” Bloggers, please feel free to post links to your favorite flower photos in the comments! As we used to say in the 60’s: FLOWER POWER!
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Perfect Picture
An island of beauty in a cobblestone square, Germany 2007
“I’d started playing another game, one I kept a secret…I called it the Perfect Picture game. The goal was to find snapshot-sized scenes in my town that showed absolutely no sign of Katrina. The game had been especially challenging right after the storm. Broken limbs, torn streets, and mangled houses relentlessly assaulted the eyes. With the Perfect Picture game, I’d discovered I could turn off my peripheral vision and focus on one small area…Much later, I would understand why the game seemed so important to me. The miraculous gifts of the storm were those of the spirit…Yet it was difficult to pair any image with those inspiring qualities. Meanwhile, the losses of Katrina were imminently visible, branding the brain with panoramas of despair and pain…Finding even a small visual balm — like a small garden planted by a neighbor — gave us the power to heal our dreams and restore our peace.” — Ellis Anderson
In her award-winning book Under Surge, Under Siege, Ellis Anderson writes movingly of her small Mississippi town surviving the ravages of Hurricane Katrina. Faced with overwhelming loss and grief, the residents of Bay St. Louis pulled together and rose above sorrow through their relentless determination to overcome despair with optimism and strength. The Perfect Picture game was one of my favorite parts of Anderson’s engaging book, and probably was an influence in the creation of this blog. Just as Anderson managed to frame islets of perfect beauty amid massive destruction, so we can create mental places of refuge from pain by focusing our eyes (literally and figuratively) on what is beautiful and inspiring. In 2013, try creating your own “perfect pictures” with your camera, your eyes, or your heart.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Permit yourself the luxury
Neighbors on a winter afternoon stroll, York County, Virginia 2010
“Winter is the time of promise because there is so little to do – or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so.” — Stanley Crawford
Each year, I enter January with delusions about how much I will get done — I will clean out my closets, sort through old letters, put my photographs into albums or digitize them to send to others. I never seem to accomplish all that I plan to do in the winter, partly because that season is rarely as idle as I imagine it will be, and partly because, more than any other time of year, I permit myself the delicious pastimes associated with the dormant season: browsing through books, strolling on a cold, sunny day, and daydreaming about the coming spring. I wish for you the wonderful winter luxury of taking a break while nature itself is half asleep.
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Practicality with pleasure
A Piazza Navona café, Rome 2008
“He has gained every point who has mixed practicality with pleasure…” — Horace
Treat yourself today to some wholesome indulgence. Whether it’s a cup of tea, a piece of fruit or an afternoon nap, savor the enjoyment of things that are delightful as well as beneficial. If the weather is gloomy, browse in a bookstore or library; if it’s sunny, take an afternoon walk. A small break in the normal routine can brighten up a winter’s day. What are some of your favorite practical pleasures?
This post was originally published seven years ago today. You can view the original with comments here.
Every exit
Garden Gate, Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia 2005
“Every exit is an entry somewhere else.” — Tom Stoppard
Sometimes a painful change can be eased by choosing to have faith that good things may lie ahead. Perhaps we can re-frame a forced or unwanted exit — from a job, a relationship or any phase of life — as the beginning of a new direction. If we focus on the discovery of hidden possibilities, we will face the future with optimism instead of dread.
This post originally was published seven years ago today. To view the original post and comments, scroll down in the archives at the right hand side to January 2013, or use the search bar to search for the post by date.
Primitive purity
Here’s the post that was published seven years ago today. I noticed immediately how much shorter my entries were in those early days. Maybe that’s why I was able to post every single day for those first two years. I have re-posted entries a few times in the past (which Raynard humorously and accurately referred to as “re-runs”) but with a total of 1116 posts over 7 years, I can’t begin to remember all of them. I’m guessing if I can’t, nobody else can either. Should I continue to re-post entries from seven years ago, now that I’m not writing any new ones?
Its own measure
The brick path to the river was inviting in the warm October sunshine.
“A journey implies a destination, so many miles to be consumed, while a walk is its own measure, complete at every point along the way. There are things we will never see, unless we walk to them.” – Thomas A. Clark
On the last Sunday of October, it was an amazing 80 degrees outside at the warmest part of the day. The morning had brought hard and steady rain, but by noon the sun emerged and the landscape was quickly transformed. It was the perfect excuse to get out and walk.
At the end of that day, my Fitbit told me I had walked about five and a half miles. Since I typically walk the equivalent of two miles even on days when I don’t take walks, I estimate that my strolling amounted to about three miles. I wasn’t really paying attention. My walk, as Clark says, was its own measure.
I’ll let the photos do the talking from here on in. All these were taken on my walk that day, in my northern Virginia neighborhood on the Potomac River. Join me for a quick virtual tour!
The moment’s impermanence
Seventy degrees on our deck– the flowers linger, and the leaves begin to add festive color.
It won’t last, but while it’s here, it’s beautiful. October 2019
“What solidity of sentiment it takes not to let an awareness of the moment’s impermanence dilute its richness, its sweetness, but purify it and saturate it with the utmost ‘fullness of being’.”― Maria Popova
There’s a brief interval each year when many of the flowers, though fading, are still in bloom, and the weather is deliciously cool, turning the foliage into dazzling colors. Each year I long for these days to last. I want the temperatures to stay comfortably above freezing, and the flowers to find a second wind after the heat of summer dissipates. But golden moments never last long enough.
Popova is right: the knowledge of impermanence can distract us with premature grief at the inevitable passing of what we cherish. I can remember noticing this about Christmas when I was very young. My favorite day was always Christmas Eve, not Christmas itself. On Christmas Day the high point passed all too quickly, giving way to what seemed to a child an unbearably long time before it would come again.
When Jeff and I were mired in the numb anger, shock and devastation of a diagnosis that gave him only two years to live, I begged him to hold onto hope that he would beat the odds and be in the 5% who survived for at least five years. Though I really believed he would make that milestone, I knew he was a realist who would have difficulty buying into hope as I did. So I argued another approach, one that turned out to be more valid than the idea that he would survive the cancer. “Even if you only have two years to live,” I told him through tears, “these can be the best two years of our lives.” I wanted to believe that, too, but mostly I was just trying to be brave. I was determined to make the best of whatever time was left to us.
They weren’t our best years, of course, but they were full of sweetness nonetheless. During the nearly four years he did survive, his tremendous suffering through surgeries and chemotherapy were set firmly aside during times he wasn’t actually at the hospital. We took lovely, brief vacations and made happy memories that are among my most cherished. We welcomed two grandsons. And though I didn’t think it possible to be more bound up in each other than we already were, the intimacy of such an ordeal fused us ever more tightly together, even as it separated us from others to whom we once felt close.
In the realm of earthly joys, everything is impermanent. I know this, and I don’t want to let grief over all the painful losses of the past seven years blind me to the blessings that I still have, and still take for granted. Popova refers to “solidity of sentiment” as the remedy, and it’s an interesting concept, because sentiment is too often ephemeral and fragile. The very word “sentimental” often hints of disdain for shallow and fleeting emotions, but it need not be so.
Awareness of impermanence may sting, but in the long run it can nurture more joy in simple, daily graces, and deepen our appreciation for the goodness of life. May we all grow up enough to find contentment in what lies within our reach, right now, today.
Defeat Despair 