Try waking up
Jeff didn’t see this sign over his head, but I did. Bar Harbor, June 2012
“Anyone can slay a dragon…but try waking up every morning and loving the world all over again. That’s what takes a real hero.” ― Brian Andreas
In June 2012, just three months before Jeff got the first of what would be several diagnoses of cancer, we were seated in a Bar Harbor restaurant looking forward to a nice meal after a day of exploring Acadia National Park. I noticed the art hung on the wall above his head, and thought how appropriate it would be to have a photo of him sitting beneath it. (He didn’t even realize the sign was there, or notice what it said.)
I had no way of knowing how prophetic that photo would be; how hard it would be for him simply to keep waking up every day over the next year and beyond, facing the grief, uncertainty, pain and physical trauma that go with cancer and its treatments. What I did know already was that he was that kind of hero, one who would keep putting one foot in front of the other as long as he was able, not complaining or even saying much at all about his struggles and sorrow, just quietly keeping on.
Though most of us have difficulties that probably are not as obvious as his, all of us have to show that same heroic devotion. Some days, it is far from easy to wake up and love the world all over again. But somehow we do it, day after day, and in so doing, we unknowingly give each other the same strength we ourselves have drawn from heroic examples of perseverance.
I hope today is one of those days when it feels easy and happy and natural to love the world all over again. But if it’s a difficult day for you, remember that being a hero seldom looks or feels thrilling and exciting. That hidden, unnoticed sort of courage is all the more heroic, and the world depends on it.
One year ago today:
Like one of these
Intricate simplicity: a single flower is a call to serenity. Keukenhof, Netherlands, March 2007
“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.” — Jesus Christ (as quoted in Matthew 6:28-29, NIV)
I grew up hearing this verse, and always thought it beautiful. The words bring to mind a large field of flowers, but notice the phrase “like one of these” (emphasis mine). Some might say it was hyperbole for Jesus to claim that one of the richest men in history had no adornment to equal that of a single flower, but I think the words are also true in a literal sense. There is nothing made with human hands that can match the unique beauty of one perfect bloom.
This statement relates to the beauty of nature, certainly, but Jesus was also saying something about simplicity. In the context of the surrounding text, it becomes clear that he is teaching about the futility of worry, and the importance of faith in the face of being distracted by real and valid concerns: food, clothing, longevity.
This implies the obvious question: if even our most basic needs are no cause for worry, what does this say about the countless details I tend to fret about each day? Today, as I rush about attending to trivial distractions, I hope I can remember to focus on what Jesus said about the perfection of an ordinary flower, a gift of pure grace.
One year ago today:
And speaking of lovely flowers, here’s one of the photos Raynard sent me from the Philadelphia Flower Show. Because it was emailed, the file size is a bit small to have a lot of detail, but it will give you an idea of what beautiful blooms he saw:
Raynard took this photo at the Philadelphia Flower Show this week.
Read or learned or picked up
The public library at Dexter, Maine is historic but up to date. June, 2012
“One of the great joys of being a librarian is that it is the last refuge of the renaissance person — everything you have ever read or learned or picked up is likely to come in handy.” — GraceAnne DeCandido
Sometimes I think the term “renaissance person” is too loosely used in the modern sense, as an overly glorified label for people whose energies and interests are so scattered that they never focus on any one thing long enough to get really good at it. But for those of us who are that way, being a librarian is a great way to tie it all together. There’s not a topic or field you can think of that doesn’t have something to do with a library somewhere; not a reference question out there that might not be asked of a librarian.
When I came home from my first day of graduate school, having chosen library and information studies out of a number of potential majors, I told Jeff with great certainty: “This is the career I was born for.” At graduation, in a parody of the oft-quoted phrase, I joked, “Jack of all trades, Master of Library and Information Studies.”
However, given that I’ve worked relatively few years as a librarian, a parallel truth has been more relevant for me: everything I read or learned or picked up in library school has come in handy in my everyday life, in ways too numerous to count. Being a librarian is primarily a matter of knowing how to find information, and make it accessible and useful. That’s a valuable skill, whether one is a parent, spouse, homemaker, travel planner, caregiver, investor, writer, or blogger.
The great thing is, you don’t have to go to library school to avail yourself of the riches found in any public library. Your librarian is there to help you learn to help yourself, empowering you to find any information you might need or want. Whatever you do best, or want to learn to do, can be improved, explored, expanded and enjoyed through the resources of your library.
Learning is a great way to defeat despair, so I hope you will take some time to discover what’s available at a library near you. Even if you just spend a couple of hours in relaxed, unfocused browsing, you’ll have fun — and you probably will find some information that is likely to come in handy!
One year ago today:
Anticipation, remembrance, and reality
We might call him Dopey, but at least he’s getting paid to be there.
And he’s not waiting in any lines, either. Disney World, summer 1995
“Most travel is best of all in the anticipation or the remembering; the reality has more to do with losing your luggage.” — Regina Nadelson
“Just get on any major highway, and eventually it will dead-end in a Disney parking area large enough to have its own climate, populated by large nomadic families who have been trying to find their cars since the Carter administration.” — Dave Barry
Yesterday I talked about believing in fairy tales. Today, let’s temper that with a bit of realism.
At this time of year, I typically start dreaming of travel. In years past, this usually meant planning actual trips, but that’s something that has been put on the back burner lately, so I’m searching for reasons to be relieved at that rather than disappointed.
If you too are planning to forgo travel this year, there are plenty of reasons to be happy about it. I’m not thinking here of the fun of taking local “staycations” as a substitute. Primarily, I’m referring to all the elements of travel that are less appealing. Is it just me, or do these seem to multiply as time passes? I could mark this up to aging and getting tired and grouchy, but it’s an indisputable fact that air travel in decades past did not involve choosing between full body radiation that produces arms-up quasi-nude images somebody in a closet somewhere is looking at, versus waiting in line for a public pat-down.
Of course, you can always travel by car. Or maybe I should say, you can sometimes travel by car. In the DC area, this means avoiding the hours of 6-10 a.m. and 3-7 p.m. Your actual traffic experiences may vary based on weather, accidents (yours or someone else’s), construction, and other unpredictable factors that sometimes seem to be related to the alignment of the stars and planets.
So, it’s a great year to be staying home! Or so I keep telling myself. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the anticipation of future trips, and the remembrance of past ones. If you’re planning a trip this year, have fun and be sure to send us some photos, horror stories, or both.
Happy Birthday today to Beth and Janice, two friends
who helped me create many happy memories of having fun while staying home!
One year ago today:
Some day you will be old enough
Amy and I toured this ancient but appealing castle on the Rhine in April 2007.
“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” — C.S. Lewis
My friend Amy commented here recently that she still believes in Cinderella and knights on white horses and miracles. Maybe that’s why she’s such a great traveling companion. Real-life castles are often old and decaying, but she can see past the ravages of time and imagine the magical stories they contain. Like me, she loves the Disney versions too, but you never have to worry that she will let a few cracks and flaws in real-life scenarios get in the way of her appreciation and her unmatched ability to have fun wherever she finds herself.
Come to think of it, that’s also what makes her such a great lifelong friend! Being a rather cracked and flawed person myself, I value her willingness to look past the not-so-great and see the infinite possibilities.
If you’re not yet old enough to enjoy fairy tales again, I hope you’ll get there soon. When you do, you’ll realize that they never went away, but were just waiting for you to start believing again. Enchantment is a “once and future” kingdom full of Merlin’s wisdom and a thousand stories with happy endings. See you there!
One year ago today:
The seriousness of a child
Drew at play in San Diego, California, in the spring of 1991.
“Man is most nearly himself when he achieves the seriousness of a child at play.”
— Heraclitus
There’s a lot of talk about how childhood is magical and carefree, and I agree that it was (or is) a wondrous time for many of us. Yet even with the most advantageous childhood, I think the first decade of life is also quite difficult. As adults we may forget the utter powerlessness we often felt at having so many aspects of our lives decided without our input.
In particular, I can remember feeling frustrated that activities meaningful to me were often insignificant to grownups. To a child, “fun” and “serious” are not mutually exclusive, but sometimes we forget that as we grow older. As a result, we may disregard the need to set aside unscheduled time to spend in preferred activities, not just for our children, but for ourselves.
It’s crucial, of course, to learn the inevitable lessons that come with maturity (how many of us were justifiably told “It’s only a GAME!” when we were in tears over losing at board games or ball games?) but sometimes we learn unintended parallel lessons that don’t necessarily serve us as adults. Focused on productivity and controlled by clocks, we often multi-task ourselves in pursuit of the urgent or “important” to the point that we lose sight of more essential goals.
The state of optimal awareness that Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and other psychologists have described as “flow” seems much more apparent in a young person absorbed in building with Legos or shooting baskets than it does in a harassed, hurried adult rushing from one obligation to another. Not that we always have a choice about that. But it’s worth consideration, if only to prompt us to re-think our schedules now and then, and assign a higher priority to those interests that captivate our minds in a way that all children seem able to understand.
What did you most enjoy doing in childhood? What is fun for you? I hope you will find some time, today or soon, to re-capture the alert focus of a child at serious play.
One year ago today
My sunset sky
I snapped this picture of sunset over our church building in Fairfield, CA, August 2003
“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” ― Rabindranath Tagore
There are a lot of things I really like about getting older. Based on what others have said or written, I know I’m not the only one who has experienced a wonderful sort of letting go of past anxieties, and a freedom to enjoy the unpredictability of life from a kind of distance that wasn’t there in youth, when I was eager to move ahead into what then seemed an endless future.
It’s not that there are no storms or rain now; indeed, there may be more of them than ever. But the older I get, the fewer alarming disruptions they cause in my world. The colors, on the other hand, grow more dazzling all the time. Maybe they were always this way, and I just didn’t have time to see it.
If you’re a young person reading this, you might suppose that such talk is just the way old people console themselves. But think about it: which is better — sunrise, when you are full of energy and face a day of tasks, some that are fun and some that are formidable? Or sunset, after your work, though possibly incomplete, has reached a stopping point of sorts; when you’ve finished the last chore for the day, and look forward to a few hours of relaxation (or at least, less strenuous work) and maybe some candlelight, nice music or reading before bed?
I realize not everyone sees things this way, but as lovely as I find the sunrise, I think sunset is my true favorite. No more worries about the clouds then. Rain occasionally may spoil daytime plans, but at night it makes a wonderful sound by which to fall asleep.
Next time you see a beautifully tinted sky at sunset, remember Tagore’s wise observation, and bask in the thought of the serenity and rest awaiting you at day’s end.
One year ago today:
Only the beginning
Carved into stone, a narrow but passable garden gate. The Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC, March 2013
“The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning.” — Ivy Baker Priest
Over the past 18 months, I’ve gotten a lot of practice at re-framing how I think about things. I’ve had to do quite a bit of that for most of my life, but never as much as recently. It simply doesn’t work for me to see obstacles as dead ends; I start to panic and the anxiety blossoms into multiplied worries and fears, the agitation feeding on itself.
At such times I’ve learned to force myself to switch off the negativity, re-directing my thoughts through prayer, reading or other distractions. Yet I don’t want to be delusional, kidding myself about what we might be facing in the future. I don’t want to be blinded by wishful thinking or unprepared for a steep uphill climb.
It helps to focus primarily on the immediate path ahead, with all its unexpected detours and narrowed options. We may not be traveling the exact itinerary we had planned, but as long as we can see a few feet ahead, that’s enough. Each threshold we pass through is another beginning, and so far the way has been blessed with abundant beauty no matter how rocky the path gets.
So we travel on in hope, still enjoying the trip. I hope you are able to do the same in your life. Thanks for walking with us!
One year ago today:
Fling off thy sadness
No leaves yet, but the skies are blue and the trees are budding! March 2013
Awake, thou wintry earth –
Fling off thy sadness!
Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth
Your ancient gladness! — Thomas Blackburn
As I write this, I keep glancing out my glass doors, and I see there is still snow on the ground. But the sun is shining brightly, and the snow is melting, slowly but surely. It was raining and gloomy when I got up this morning, but the weather has turned around rather dramatically. I hope to take a walk this afternoon.
The days are getting noticeably longer. I haven’t had to use the flashlight I carry in my pocket for some time now. In fact, it was so light outside when I got back from walking yesterday that I kept wondering what happened; had I left earlier than usual? Did I somehow walk faster or shorten my walk without knowing it? No, it’s just lighter now. Spring really is coming.
After this winter, which has been long and hard but also full of cozy warmth and love, I am especially eager for spring. I am guessing many of you probably are too. Today, I hope you see signs of it to lift your spirits. Whether it’s a budding tree, the first shoots of daffodils or crocus, or some glorious late-afternoon sunshine, I hope you can see evidence that the earth is laughing off its sadness, ready to celebrate.
One year ago today:
Anything created
This is about the most normal-looking spot you’ll find in Park Güell,
but it’s a good representation of how beautiful a place it is. May 2008
“Anything created by human beings is already in the great book of nature.”
— Antoni Gaudi
One year ago today I published a post that is one of my favorites, because it includes a link to a delightful PBS re-mix featuring Fred Rogers. It’s all about how “you can grow ideas in the garden of your mind.” When I went back to that post, I was reminded of Antoni Gaudi, whose mind must have been one of the most strangely fantastic gardens of all time.
I had never heard of Gaudi until we visited Barcelona, but seeing his work at various places in that city was an unforgettable experience. In fact, our time at Park Güell stands out in my mind as one of the most wonderful memories in the two-week trip of a lifetime. I’m not the first person who thinks immediately of Dr. Seuss when seeing Gaudi’s eccentric buildings; the similarities are fairly obvious. Scholars have suggested that Gaudi was almost certainly an influence in Theodor Geisel’s whimiscal fantasy illustrations.
Imagine my surprise, then, to find that Gaudi was a devout ascetic who wanted to parallel divine creation by following natural law. He apparently thought of his creations as being based on earthly landscapes, where he perceived only curved lines. I suppose it makes sense from that standpoint, but a quick visual review of the beautifully odd works he created might give you an idea why I see his architecture as the most otherworldly constructions I’ve come across. And their vibrant colors and elaborate designs are not remotely suggestive of the spare, abstemious existence he embraced in his personal life.
Very few professional artists, let alone amateurs, can hope to leave the sort of unique fingerprint Gaudi achieved, but that’s probably a good thing. Regardless, we can be inspired by his singular vision, and cultivate our own gardens of ideas with which we can decorate our lives and our personal corners in the world.
Do you agree with Gaudi that all art (even his own whimsical work) has its source in nature? What do you think of his creations?
One year ago today
Visual surprise
Photographed in early March 2010, sunny Grenada was a sight for sore eyes!
“Visual surprise is natural in the Caribbean; it comes with the landscape, and faced with its beauty, the sigh of History dissolves.” — Derek Walcott
There’s nothing like a good dose of the Caribbean to warm and brighten the dullest March. There are places more elegant, more prestigious, more affluent or trendy, but I’ve never been anywhere that was quite as good at making me feel welcome, relaxed and carefree.
Part of the vibe comes from the colors, which are everywhere. The tropical flowers and birds would be enough, but islanders add splashes of vibrant hue in their buildings and even their roofs. And then, of course, there’s that incomparable Caribbean blue; warm saltwater of a color palette not quite duplicated anywhere else, even in Hawaii.
I don’t know about you, but for me, this is the time of year when I could use a little visual surprise here and there. I did a quick Google search using the term “Colors of the Caribbean” and then clicked on “images.” I came up with this collection of island brights. Scroll through them quickly and let me know if you can hear Calypso music playing in your head!
One year ago today:
When we sip tea
Just a few of the tins from my ELC* as of February 2014 —
when it comes to tea, even the containers are delightful!
“When we sip tea, we are on our way to serenity.” — Alexandra Stoddard
With all the bad weather this winter has brought us, it’s definitely tea time. So I couldn’t resist repeating my offer from one year ago today (which you can read about at the link below). Anyone who would like me to send them a tea bag or two from my *embarrassingly large collection, just send me your address in the comments (which I will NOT publish online – I’ll delete the address from the rest of your comment). Be sure to let me know what types you prefer – black, green, white, herbal, fruit, caffeine, decaf, etc. — I probably have something to fit most every taste.
And a special thanks to the many blog readers who have sent me tea over the past year. I’ve been the recipient of unique teas from some fairly exotic places – Alaska, Hawaii, even Prince Edward Island (home of Anne of Green Gables, a special tea made in her honor) as well as some delicious traditional flavors. I feel as if I’ve been having a virtual tea party with so many of you all year long! So let’s raise a cup to the end of this unusually harsh North American winter — whenever that will be — and keep warm inside while we wait for the outside to catch up.
Here’s to serenity!
One year ago today:
As the magnet finds iron
Inconvenient, even dangerous, but also beautiful; a December 2004 snowstorm.
“The unthankful heart… discovers no mercies; but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!” — Henry Ward Beecher
As I write this, two weeks before publication, much of the country is in the grip of yet another fierce winter storm. This is especially difficult for those in the south, where such weather is far from typical.
Hundreds of thousands of people (including my parents) are without power. I worry about them, and about people who have emergencies that require them to be on the road in dangerous conditions. I am dismayed to think of the storm-related deaths that likely will be reported by the news. I feel sympathy for stranded travelers whose flights are cancelled or delayed. I hate to think about the inevitable financial fallout associated with such weather, as work schedules are curtailed for those on hourly pay, and heating expenses rise.
Yet, as always, there is much to be thankful for. This morning we saw our neighbor (who knows Jeff is fighting cancer) shoveling the snow outside our home, giving valuable help without waiting to be asked. I know there are countless others who are acting as Good Samaritans in these adverse circumstances, helping friends, neighbors or strangers with no thought of getting anything in return.
I’m thankful that my brother Al is there with Mom and Dad, available to help with tasks they are unable to do. I’m thankful for the competence and dedication of emergency professionals such as Michael’s son in Atlanta, who are on call to respond when needed. I’m thankful that Jeff was taught how to disconnect his chemo IV from his port here at home, making a long risky trip to Bethesda unnecessary, enabling him to be here at home with us today, safe and sound.
By the time this post is published, I hope that most of the country will be nearing the end of this exceptionally rough winter. But those in regions farther north still have many weeks of cold weather to get through before spring arrives. Whether you are bracing for more storms, or seeing the first hopeful signs of winter’s end, I hope your heart can sweep through the day today and find heavenly blessings that will bring you hope and joy!
One year ago today:
Something wonderful
An unknown path need not be fearful. The Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia, November 2011
“I had begun to feel that the days that stretched out in front of me were a dark, terrifying wilderness. As I wrote about moments along the way, everything looked more friendly, and I discovered that the days are only days. I received and gave love as I untangled my thoughts through the act of writing, and discovered something wonderful. Truly, life was funny, surprising, and beautiful. I told myself the truth, again and again, and I began to believe it.”— Rachel Devenish Ford
In her book Trees Tall as Mountains, taken from the early years of her blog Journey Mama, Rachel Devenish Ford writes of a life that is so different from mine as to seem exotic, yet also familiar enough that reading her work feels like chatting with a good friend.
Juggling the challenges of caring for young children while pursuing her own creative and unique path with her “superstar husband” (an affectionate nickname I appreciate in the contemporary climate of too many snarky spousal put-downs), Ford experiences many of the conflicts and anxieties that face me and, I imagine, many others all over the world. Yet she returns again and again to an insistent optimism that enables her to press on through her most difficult days.
I think many of us who blog have made the same discovery Ford describes: things have begun to look more friendly, more funny and surprising and beautiful. The interactive nature of blogging has enabled readers and writers to enjoy the company of like-minded people from a wide variety of places, making the world feel a bit like a very large neighborhood full of potential friends.
Depressed or distressed thinking can take on a frightening authority, convincing us that things are far worse than they really are. If we talk back to our despair, telling it the truth “again and again,” we will break through the barriers created by unreasonable fear, and open our eyes to a multitude of blessings within our reach.
The next time you are feeling stressed, frustrated or sad, I hope you will find ways to tell yourself the truth about life. It’s a gift and a privilege to cherish, even though its beauty is sometimes hidden.
One year ago today:
Filled with joy
Without a word, flowers instruct our hearts and lift our spirits with evidence of divine grace.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do the same?
“One filled with joy preaches without preaching.” ― Mother Teresa
So often, words are painful without being beneficial. Most of us who say harmful things aren’t deliberately trying to hurt anyone, but we end up doing it anyway. We may be trying to help someone else by pointing out where we believe the person is mistaken or wrong, but this almost always backfires, leaving everybody feeling worse.
I can think of many times when I’ve hurt people I love, or when people I love have hurt me, by saying things that were meant to help, but only ended up wounding. What was intended to make a situation better only made it worse for all involved. The best lessons don’t come from words, but examples. This doesn’t mean we should not communicate through words, but it does suggest that we should be careful how we do it, and realize that conduct, not speech, leaves a more lasting impression.
Thinking about Mother Teresa’s quote, I realized it encourages us to focus on improving our own hearts and our own thinking. If we do that, our actions will shine brightly and we won’t need to worry about correcting others with verbal instruction or criticism.
One of the most needed things we can do in this world is to radiate joy. I’m not talking about a giddy insensitivity to the sorrow others may be feeling, but a steadfast inner peace that holds out hope even when things are not going well. If we can show others through our own lives that it’s possible to choose joy in all circumstances, it will be more a powerful influence than thousands of words of advice.
What are some ways that we can “preach without preaching” by being filled with joy?
One year ago today:
Made for kids
Drew loved baseball from a very early age…with his Daddy’s influence, of course!
Sometime in 1986, Huber Heights, Ohio.
“Baseball was made for kids, and grown-ups only screw it up.” — Bob Lemon
Those of us who admire the complexity of baseball — or maybe only imagine that we do — might think Lemon has oversimplified things with this statement. But he has far more authority on the subject than I do, and in many ways, I think he’s right about grown-up ambitions and agendas messing with something nearly flawless in its purest form.
One doesn’t have to be adult or sophisticated to get enough of a grasp of the game to enjoy watching or playing it. And even those who live in the endless universe of baseball statistics might admit that the most appealing aspects of the game are still the most basic. A team sport where each player’s individuality is highlighted and accentuated; a game with a predictable but theoretically unlimited structure; a brilliant excuse to get outdoors as soon as the weather allows, and stay out until the cold returns.
What better gifts to give our children? Or for that matter, ourselves?
One year ago today:
Beauty without color
Inside Norfolk International Airport, Virginia, January 2014
“Beauty without color seems somehow to belong to another world.”
— Murasaki Shikibu
Walking through the Norfolk airport recently, I looked to my left and saw the scene pictured above. Though most of the snow had melted, I thought at first it was a tree that was somehow still covered in snow. However, on looking more closely, I saw it was only the natural color of the tree itself. It was so striking, I had to stop and take a photo. I hope the couple in the photo realized the tree, not they, prompted my curiosity!
When I saw Shikibu’s quote, I realized why the winter landscapes can be so arresting. I doubt that any of us will regret to see the spring that will be coming soon, but I must admit I have rather enjoyed the beautiful aspects of a winter with so much snow.
If you’ve been able to take any photos in the snow, this year or any time, feel free to send them along (or post links to them online) and share the otherworldly beauty of the winter that has now almost passed. Here’s a lovely photo taken by my nephew Andy, a gifted photographer, who captured this snow scene in northern Alabama just ten days ago.
One year ago today:
The true magic carpet
With a little help from Disney, Drew and Matt take an imaginary trip to Morocco.
EPCOT Center, Orlando, Florida, August 2003
“Imagination is the true magic carpet.” — Norman Vincent Peale
Even when we aren’t free to travel because of health, finances or responsibilities, our minds are always free. And now, with the entire world available literally at our fingertips, through words, photos, music and videos, our minds have even more fuel for our imaginary journeys.
If you’re reading this, you are looking at a computer or mobile device with internet access. Quick — where would you most like to go right now? What place on earth would you travel if you could be there instantly? Do an online search, and click on “images” or “videos” or even “music” in the search results. Almost anyplace you can think of in the entire world will have at least a few photos available to bring that faraway place within the reach of your thoughts for a five-minute vacation.
I realize there are elaborate scientific explanations as to how all this is possible. I know it’s all zeroes and ones, and we have engineers to thank. I know all that. But I still think it’s magical.
Have an enchanted day – and send a few photos of your make-believe travels!
One year ago today:
Until I write
A surprise in the mail from Boomdeeville is a beautifully reassuring reminder
that what is unique and memorable can very seldom be rushed. January, 2014
“I cannot see what I have gone through until I write it down. I am blind without a pencil…But it does seem a slow and wasteful process. (Like walking, tapping with a cane.)…There is so much waste in creativity, always. But there is something curious about creativity: the trying-too-hard for results seems to defeat itself.”
— Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Sometimes when I look at all my husband and others like him have accomplished, I feel woefully inadequate, tapping away at my keyboard, addicted to reading and writing as I have been for as long as I can remember. I often feel guilty for not producing anything more substantive, even though I have never had to rely upon it as a source of income.
Yet, as Lindbergh attests, there is no such thing as forcing results when it comes to creativity, no matter what form it takes. Because I tend to think and talk rapidly, it took me years to realize how much more slowly I work compared to most people I know. In crafts, in photography, even in cooking and household tasks, I find that I’m unable to function well under time pressure. I can get things done, but there is no satisfaction in anything I have rushed through.
For me, it’s much more rewarding to complete something slowly and thoughtfully, not in a perfectionist, nit-picking way (an easy trap to slide into when time allows it), but in an attentive, relaxed state of mind. Given the rushed nature of modern life, it’s easy to become impatient and see a relaxed pace as a waste of time. In reality, though, perhaps haste really does make waste. Even if the end result of rushed work is satisfactory, there may be collateral damage to our moods, our relationships or the flow of our day.
Next time you feel impatient with yourself for “wasting” time, think about what you are doing, and how you feel about it. Is it really less wasteful to spend thirty minutes on unhappy, pressured and self-imposed stress, rather than spending the hour it might take to actually enjoy what we are doing? Wouldn’t our time be better invested in savoring the pleasant details of our lives, focusing on the quality of what we do rather than quantity?
Admittedly, leisure is not always possible. But it might be a worthy goal to give ourselves periods of time when we are off the clock, free to go at a natural pace, focusing on the process more than the product. I have a sneaky suspicion that even the mundane details of work would be more interesting if our minds were not in a hurry to move on to something else.
What activities are more enjoyable to you when not rushed?
One year ago today:
Every stretch of road
Every stretch of road has meaning…even this one near Delle, Utah, August 2004.
“A route differs from a road not only because it is solely intended for vehicles, but also because it is merely a line that connects one point with another…A road is a tribute to space. Every stretch of road has meaning in itself and invites us to stop.”
– Milan Kundera
With only a week to drive from the west coast to the east, there was very little to tempt us to visit places such as Delle, Utah when we moved from California to Virginia in August 2004. The heat alone was enough to dissuade us from stopping. However, I agree with Kundera that every stretch of road has its own meaning. And who knows what we may have missed by driving quickly through?
In reality, life is simply too short, and the demands of living too intense, to allow us to explore every stretch of road we travel. Through sheer necessity, we will use them as routes more far often than we will be able to wander along them as pathways.
But once in awhile, life throws us a curve ball and we get stuck in a place we didn’t intend to stay. Whether it’s a car breakdown that grounds us for a few hours, extreme weather that stops us for a few days, or a temporary job assignment that ends up taking weeks or months longer than we expected, a discoverer’s mindset can lessen the frustration of detours and delays.
Next time you find yourself with more hours than you care to have in any particular place, remember Kundera’s thoughts. If your route unexpectedly becomes a road inviting you to stop, take advantage of whatever hospitality you can find. Take out your camera (if you have one with you) and ramble a bit. You may never again see that particular spot of the planet in quite the same way.
One year ago today
Up and doing
One week before surgery, Jeff prunes away the overgrowth in our wooded lot, May 2013.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
If a few short words could sum up the past 18 months of Jeff’s life, it would be hard to find any more appropriate than these. The photo above was taken one week before he was hospitalized with the first of two major surgeries to resect metastatic tumors. He had just finished months of gruelling chemotherapy, and despite being beset with the usual side effects of fatigue, nausea, and acute neuropathy, he continued to work full time (except on days when he was taking treatment) and at home, kept up with most of his many chores.
He always knew how to labor, but waiting does not come naturally to him. However, he has probably spent more time waiting in these past 18 months than in the rest of his life combined. How difficult to wait when one is tired, worried, and far behind on the responsibilities of the workplace and home. How much more difficult when one is waiting on outcomes that will literally mean life or death! Yet he has managed it beautifully, and his faith has not wavered despite enduring a level of physical trauma and suffering that probably would have killed me or almost anyone else I know.
One of the most essential character traits we could develop is the ability to have “a heart for any fate.” I think Longfellow realized one key to this is to be “up and doing.” I am not as good at this as Jeff is, but with his example, I may yet learn.
One year ago today:
What grandparents do
Dinnertime at Granny’s! And you wont believe how delicious it will be.
Granny in her dining room, sometime around 1973.
“Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.” — Alex Haley
I’ve written about my mother’s wonderful mother. I didn’t mention my other grandmother, or either grandfather, but suffice it to say that my siblings and I hit the lottery jackpot when it came to grandparents. The great thing about the grandparent lottery is that it has way more winners than losers!
My grandmother was a fascinating person to me. Because her father and her husband were both much older than typical for women of her age, she had the distinction of being the daughter of a Civil War veteran, and the widow of a Spanish American War veteran. According to family lore, her great-great aunt was Eliza McCardle Johnson, America’s first lady following Mary Todd Lincoln. But Granny was interesting to us long before we were old enough to understand any of that.
When it came to having fun, Granny gave us more attention than any other adult I can remember. Unlike our busy parents, she had time to play Scrabble, Monopoly and other games with us – and taught us to play well and by the rules, never (as far as we could tell) letting us win just to appease us. She was a real ace at Scrabble because of her expert-level crossword puzzle skills. She knew more two-letter words than anyone I’ve ever known.
She was an extraordinary seamstress, but unlike my mother, an equally skilled seamstress who made all the clothes for my sister and me, Granny made fabulous outfits for our Barbie dolls. Each year at Christmas, my sister and me, along with our cousins Judy and Kay, could expect to get new Barbie wardrobes, with exquisitely trimmed evening gowns, square dancing dresses (with matching shirts for Ken), chic street-length dresses and fun, casual separates. The cheaply made store-bought Barbie clothes were obviously inferior despite their plastic accessories, and our couture Barbie wardrobes furnished many happy hours of dress-up play for our friends as well as for us. When we got too old for Barbies, my sister and I filled an entire suitcase with our Barbies’ wardrobes!
Granny’s house was enchanting. It was the same home she had been born in, before the turn of the century, and my Daddy was also born in that home. It had been remodeled and was well kept over the years, full of interesting historic objects and yet-untold stories. The kitchen had an ancient walk-in pantry and an antique cabinet with a built in-flour sifter. That kitchen was the source of the only cooking that, in my mind, could possibly rival my mother’s. My little brother learned to head straight for the kitchen as soon as we arrived at Granny’s, looking for the M&M cookies that he knew he would always find there (a special treat we only got at Granny’s house).
And speaking of untold stories, Granny never seemed to run out of them, though we had to coax her into telling them. She had met and married our grandfather during his years as an actor and director in a traveling theater troupe, and she spent the early years of their marriage in that same company, touring, singing and dancing. Once in awhile, if we kept after her long enough, she would pull out her old photographs of her show business days, and they were spellbinding. It’s likely that Granny’s old photographs were influential in my own love of photography.
Though she lived into her 90’s, Granny was sharp and lucid to the very end, and even left us a final gift of a letter written to each one of us, leaving them with my Aunt Norma to be mailed after Granny died. In her letter to me, she urged me to enjoy my children and play with them often. She left us a good example of how to do that, one I hope I was able to follow.
Undoubtedly, our grandparents have influenced us in ways too numerous to count or know. What memories do you have of your grandparents? Share some of your own stories of how you, too, hit the jackpot in the “grandparent lottery.” Remembering the love of our grandparents is a great way to defeat despair!
Happy birthday to my sister Carla, who shares so many of my happy memories of both grandmothers!
One year ago today
On my farm
No wonder he wanted to go back!
This is the view from Washington’s porch, Mount Vernon, Virginia, April 2010.
“I had rather be on my farm than be emperor of the world.” ― George Washington
Washington didn’t just say those words, he lived them. At the close of the American Revolution, and again at the end of his presidency, he willingly set aside his power and returned to Mount Vernon. Strolling the grounds of that beautiful estate, it’s easy to understand why. Washington was a farmer long before he was a Revolutionary War hero or President, and that was the role he never gave up.
Today we honor the memory of Washington and another great President, Abraham Lincoln, who also was acquainted with farm life as it was lived on the American frontier nearly 100 years later. While neither of these men found their way into the history books because of their agricultural activities, it seems likely the time they spent working under the rigorous demands of nature became an integral part of the strength that would define their leadership.
Today, on President’s Day, I hope you will take a few minutes to enjoy the timeless pleasures that still come to us from farms. We can do one thing neither Lincoln nor Washington could do, powerful though they were: we can walk into a grocery story and buy fresh fruits and vegetables with literally dozens of choices, even though it’s deep into the winter. That’s something any emperor in history might envy!
One year ago today:
Some kind of recreational activity
Coffee as recreational activity: Virginia Beach in the snow, January 31,2014
“It is inhumane, in my opinion, to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity.” — Dave Barry
I know people who have a genuine medical need for coffee, and I’m not one of them. I have a genuine medical need for tea, but I do sometimes engage in coffee as a recreational activity, especially if I can get eggs and hash browns with it.
Recently southeastern Virginia, where our York home is located, got a rare heavy snowfall, Under the circumstances, we did what anyone would do: we went to the beach. Seriously, the roads were pretty clear, and I was up for breakfast at the Belvedere again; it was a rare opportunity to see Virginia Beach covered with snow, and we didn’t even have to wait for the table with the best view. So rest easy, Dave: I did not keep anyone in dire circumstances waiting for their coffee.
If anything, breakfast at the Belvedere is MORE fun in the snow, especially with delicious hot coffee and a cozy booth with a great 180 degree view. Apparently lots of people share our enthusiasm for snow-covered beaches, because I snapped many photos of joggers, bikers and indulgent canines walking their human companions through the powdery white stuff. The waves kept crashing as always, totally unimpressed with the temperatures, and the sun perked everything up.
So coffee as a recreational activity is perfectly suitable for the beach, especially when it snows!
One year ago today:
Rivers are roads
Jeff and Matt pause at an overlook on the York River, June 2012
“Rivers are roads that move.” — Blaise Pascal
I’ve always been fascinated by maps; I could literally sit and study them for hours. One of the first things I noticed as a child, when I would look at maps, is how the cities of America seemed to cluster along rivers and coasts. There’s a logical reason for that, of course, but it’s one that is often lost on us in these days of interstate highways and air travel. There was a time when rivers were the primary roads.
Even when we didn’t live on the coasts, we were always near rivers, and I’ve enjoyed them all. Yet I seldom think of them as roads to discovery, preferring instead to sit in one place and watch them flow by. But sometimes I daydream about how much fun it would be to have a boat and go traveling by water, stopping at places along the way and making discoveries I might miss on land.
Our York home sits near several rivers — the York, the James, the Elizabeth — as well as Hampton Roads, Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. Every time I go to the Yorktown waterfront, I enjoy it so much I tell myself I’m going to start visiting more often, if only for an hour or so each week, but when I’m home I’m busy with tasks and seldom make the time.
I think one thing I find so appealing about rivers is, even if I’m not traveling down them, other people are. Seeing the boats come and go, and the water flowing into the horizon, out of sight, reminds me of opportunities, possibilities, undiscovered wonders. I’ve heard people say “the road is calling” and perhaps rivers, as roads, call us in the same way.
Do you live near a river? If so, do you ever use it as a road for travel?
One year ago today:
Defeat Despair 
