“For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others;
for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness;
and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.” - A. Hepburn
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Roadside Time
I love roadside stands and all they stand for.
Yesterday, a man sat in front of a simple folding table under a vinyl tent, on a busy street corner in the liquor store parking lot. He had baskets of early peaches, green plums, and cucumbers.
What caught my eye, though, were the tomatoes: full of beautiful red summertime glory. I watched the old man take each tomato, cradle it in his hand, inspect it, and carefully polish it clean with a soft rag. He then gently placed each one in a small cardboard basket, stacking them carefully on top of one another.
It was beautiful to watch. Do I do anything anymore with that much care? Do I make the time to create something lovely?
I pulled into the lot, and we talked quite a while about life on the farm. Mr. Clarence was born in 1924 (yes, I asked!), and remembered walking behind a mule and a plow. He now has time to sell these vegetables in this little roadside stand. He sits in 90+ degree weather, patiently waiting for customers.
I thought about Mr. Clarence as I enjoyed my first tomato sandwich of the summer. I pray he sold all his vegetables, and pray for all of the roadside vendors who keep going, despite the big-box stores and chain supermarkets. Every year, the number of roadside stands seem to dwindle. We will have lost something very special in our landscape and community fabric if the roadside stand ever goes away.
Be well.
Yesterday, a man sat in front of a simple folding table under a vinyl tent, on a busy street corner in the liquor store parking lot. He had baskets of early peaches, green plums, and cucumbers.
What caught my eye, though, were the tomatoes: full of beautiful red summertime glory. I watched the old man take each tomato, cradle it in his hand, inspect it, and carefully polish it clean with a soft rag. He then gently placed each one in a small cardboard basket, stacking them carefully on top of one another.
It was beautiful to watch. Do I do anything anymore with that much care? Do I make the time to create something lovely?
I pulled into the lot, and we talked quite a while about life on the farm. Mr. Clarence was born in 1924 (yes, I asked!), and remembered walking behind a mule and a plow. He now has time to sell these vegetables in this little roadside stand. He sits in 90+ degree weather, patiently waiting for customers.
I thought about Mr. Clarence as I enjoyed my first tomato sandwich of the summer. I pray he sold all his vegetables, and pray for all of the roadside vendors who keep going, despite the big-box stores and chain supermarkets. Every year, the number of roadside stands seem to dwindle. We will have lost something very special in our landscape and community fabric if the roadside stand ever goes away.
Be well.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Hundred Bucks and 1 to Grow On
This weekend, that old awful rumbling feeling reappeared. That sickening feeling that comes from knowing that some big expenses are looming in the distance. That sinking feeling that has not come along this way in such a...very...long...time.
It all boils down to this: I like having money in the bank, paying my bills, having a solid credit score, etc. (Vanity or security blanket-- perhaps both.)
I recently made the decision to sell my 2nd home. As the realtor and I kept adding to the to-do list this weekend, the calculators in my head were spinning. It's going to take money to do all of this: MY money!
And so today, as I inwardly fretted about all the brown bag lunches and delayed vacation plans, I squeaked with joy as I emptied the trash today. Inside the bag was a hundred dollar bill -- money that had been accidentally swept off the kitchen table, along with a pile of junk mail and receipts.
$100 doesn't go as far as it used to, but for today, it gave me hope that everything is going to be okay.
Be well.
It all boils down to this: I like having money in the bank, paying my bills, having a solid credit score, etc. (Vanity or security blanket-- perhaps both.)
I recently made the decision to sell my 2nd home. As the realtor and I kept adding to the to-do list this weekend, the calculators in my head were spinning. It's going to take money to do all of this: MY money!
And so today, as I inwardly fretted about all the brown bag lunches and delayed vacation plans, I squeaked with joy as I emptied the trash today. Inside the bag was a hundred dollar bill -- money that had been accidentally swept off the kitchen table, along with a pile of junk mail and receipts.
$100 doesn't go as far as it used to, but for today, it gave me hope that everything is going to be okay.
Be well.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Recalculating
Kindness is doable.
Kindness seems easier than being perfect or saintly.
The bumper sticker motto, "Just Be Nice" seems achievable.
It's a modern take on The Golden Rule, which says we are to love our neighbors as our self. But how do you love your neighbor if you are not gentle with your own flaws and shortcomings?
That is the gist of this beautiful radio program:
http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2011/what-we-nurture/transcript.shtml
I understood clearly Dr. Boorstein's analogy of the forgiving, unflustered GPS. With every mistaken turn, the machine calmly says, "Recalculating" and gets you back on the right path. No matter how many times you make a wrong turn, without judgment or frustration, it merely replies, "Recalculating."
What if we could turn off the static and turn on our inner GPS? How much simpler life's journey could be if we could simply forgive ourselves our numerous slips and detours.
This resulting kindness would then allow us to nurture others on their own path. No one walks alone, if they show kindness to another.
Be well.
Kindness seems easier than being perfect or saintly.
The bumper sticker motto, "Just Be Nice" seems achievable.
It's a modern take on The Golden Rule, which says we are to love our neighbors as our self. But how do you love your neighbor if you are not gentle with your own flaws and shortcomings?
That is the gist of this beautiful radio program:
http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2011/what-we-nurture/transcript.shtml
I understood clearly Dr. Boorstein's analogy of the forgiving, unflustered GPS. With every mistaken turn, the machine calmly says, "Recalculating" and gets you back on the right path. No matter how many times you make a wrong turn, without judgment or frustration, it merely replies, "Recalculating."
What if we could turn off the static and turn on our inner GPS? How much simpler life's journey could be if we could simply forgive ourselves our numerous slips and detours.
This resulting kindness would then allow us to nurture others on their own path. No one walks alone, if they show kindness to another.
Be well.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Discoveries
"It is through living that we discover ourselves
at the same time as we discover the world around us."
- Henri Cartier-Bresson, 1952
Be well.
at the same time as we discover the world around us."
- Henri Cartier-Bresson, 1952
Be well.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Dear Karma
I am sorry if I was bothered, annoyed, rushed, or rude to anyone ever from 1974 to the present.
Please stop paying me back. I've had enough, and learned the lesson, okay?
Signed,
Growing Wiser Every Day
Please stop paying me back. I've had enough, and learned the lesson, okay?
Signed,
Growing Wiser Every Day
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Grin and Bear It
For the past few days, I've been nursing a sore shoulder: maybe a 3 on a scale of 10, and more of a nuisance than anything else. Yesterday, my to-do list was longer than a 10-K, and I think I overdid things.
This morning, it frightened me to realize that I couldn't jump out of bed, and instead I gingerly tried to brace myself against the pain. As I walked back down the hall after feeding the dog, my ears began ringing and I found myself getting terribly dizzy and disoriented.
I kept giving myself silent lectures, "Snap out of this! There are people worse off than you. Quit your kvetching. Get on with it. You don't have time for this." The morning wore on, and I kept struggling to get things done, and try different home remedies to get some relief.
However, when I went to Mom and Dad's for Sunday dinner, my Mother took one look at me as I got out of the car, and demanded, "What has happened to you? What's wrong? Why do you tell me everything's fine when it so clearly ISN'T?"
And just like that, my cover is blown, and I revert back to being 5 years old, and trusting that my Mother will make everything better.
And she does.
Be well.
This morning, it frightened me to realize that I couldn't jump out of bed, and instead I gingerly tried to brace myself against the pain. As I walked back down the hall after feeding the dog, my ears began ringing and I found myself getting terribly dizzy and disoriented.
I kept giving myself silent lectures, "Snap out of this! There are people worse off than you. Quit your kvetching. Get on with it. You don't have time for this." The morning wore on, and I kept struggling to get things done, and try different home remedies to get some relief.
However, when I went to Mom and Dad's for Sunday dinner, my Mother took one look at me as I got out of the car, and demanded, "What has happened to you? What's wrong? Why do you tell me everything's fine when it so clearly ISN'T?"
And just like that, my cover is blown, and I revert back to being 5 years old, and trusting that my Mother will make everything better.
And she does.
Be well.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
It's Nice to Be Remembered
On the way back from the hospital today, I stopped at an unfamiliar gas station. As I dashed inside to pay, the clerk looked at me for a moment, and asked, "By any chance did you adopt a rescue dog a few weeks ago?" My face broke into a ridiculously delighted grin, and I nodded.
The clerk, who also volunteers at the local animal shelter, recalled that particular adoption day quite differently than I did. My attention then was squarely focused on a busy ball of fur with floppy ears and wagging tail. I remembered the volunteer's voice, but I did not clearly remember her.
It's funny how two people can be in the same space at the same time, and yet have such very different impressions and memories of the same event.
As I drove home, I began to think about my daily visits with some amazing people who just happen to have dementia. Wonderfully accomplished, interesting, generous men and women whose memory has betrayed them.
Nearly everyday, I reintroduce myself to these remarkable people: they are parents, 4-star generals, teachers, nurses, engineers, doctor's wives, volunteers, etc. I give out lots of hugs and smiles, and we talk about whatever's on their mind at the moment. Life here is no different than anywhere else, although we may have to be a bit more creative to meet them where they are.
If they allow us to do so, we can cautiously and respectfully "come into their world". I think about my own family members who lived with dementia over the years, and the frustration and agitation it can sometimes bring. If I can bring just a little distraction and connection to them for even a brief moment, it's so beautifully, ridiculously worth it.
Be well.
The clerk, who also volunteers at the local animal shelter, recalled that particular adoption day quite differently than I did. My attention then was squarely focused on a busy ball of fur with floppy ears and wagging tail. I remembered the volunteer's voice, but I did not clearly remember her.
It's funny how two people can be in the same space at the same time, and yet have such very different impressions and memories of the same event.
As I drove home, I began to think about my daily visits with some amazing people who just happen to have dementia. Wonderfully accomplished, interesting, generous men and women whose memory has betrayed them.
Nearly everyday, I reintroduce myself to these remarkable people: they are parents, 4-star generals, teachers, nurses, engineers, doctor's wives, volunteers, etc. I give out lots of hugs and smiles, and we talk about whatever's on their mind at the moment. Life here is no different than anywhere else, although we may have to be a bit more creative to meet them where they are.
If they allow us to do so, we can cautiously and respectfully "come into their world". I think about my own family members who lived with dementia over the years, and the frustration and agitation it can sometimes bring. If I can bring just a little distraction and connection to them for even a brief moment, it's so beautifully, ridiculously worth it.
Be well.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
And Just Like That, the House Fills Up
She's finally here... a dog for this house. A running, romping dog to explore the backyard. Man's best friend. A daily teacher of life lessons.
Together, this little 25-pound ball of fur and I are learning from each other how to be:
loyal,
playful,
consistent,
patient,
humble,
responsive.
I swore I would never become one of "those people": you know the type. The dog-parents who have pictures of their pets on their desk, who bore you silly with all the tricks their dogs can do, who dress their pets in parkas and boots, who speak in baby-talk to animals, etcetera adnauseum.
But today, I could not resist showing pictures of Mattie to my colleagues. We took a long walk this evening, she and I. It's cheaper than the gym and better than therapy.
This little dog has been here at home for just four days, but already she's fitting right in. We may just get the hang of this soon enough. With a little play and patience, we'll be just fine.
Be well.
Together, this little 25-pound ball of fur and I are learning from each other how to be:
loyal,
playful,
consistent,
patient,
humble,
responsive.
I swore I would never become one of "those people": you know the type. The dog-parents who have pictures of their pets on their desk, who bore you silly with all the tricks their dogs can do, who dress their pets in parkas and boots, who speak in baby-talk to animals, etcetera adnauseum.
But today, I could not resist showing pictures of Mattie to my colleagues. We took a long walk this evening, she and I. It's cheaper than the gym and better than therapy.
This little dog has been here at home for just four days, but already she's fitting right in. We may just get the hang of this soon enough. With a little play and patience, we'll be just fine.
Be well.
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