Truth and Beauty and Yoga

I’m a writer. My own personal process requires stillness in my environment and a certain stillness of mind. I’ve never been able to create well in the middle of a storm of activity. Achieving stillness in my environment is easier than it used to be. If all else fails, I can always get up before the hubbub begins.

Stillness of mind is harder to achieve. I’ve used many methods. “Porch-time” is one. I just sit (on my porch, weather-permitting) and reflect. It’s a type of meditation without a mantra. I started this one when my children were little. Then, it was to gain just one moment for myself. It was simply a way to get a breather. As in: “deep breath- I’m still a human being.” It was good for problem-solving, too.

I’ve also tried traditional meditation using a mantra or music (if one can ever say meditation is traditional). This is wonderful, too, but for me it is more a spiritual and mystical experience than a means to an end.

The practice that inspires me is yoga. My practice has waxed and waned for many years… but when I commit to it, it is transformative. Yoga is an ancient Sanskrit word that means to yoke or bind and that is what it does. It literally joins body and mind. The transformation comes because it guides you gently, using breathing and specific postures, into the present moment. Since we all are earth-bound at present, this seems a good idea.

I know this sounds a little esoteric but I’m convinced that if it was called Strength and Stretch instead of yoga… everyone would be on board. The benefits extend far beyond what I have mentioned here. All I can say is find a good teacher. This would be someone who doesn’t try to make you do ridiculous, painful poses. Whatever your endeavor, try it. Try it. Try it.

So Much of it is Luck

Arthur Penn/Interview with James Grissom/2006/

"So much of it is luck. Dumb f**king luck. There is so much talent out there--in every area--and it can't get a set of eyes [to see it] or ears to hear it because it hasn't gotten into a magical circle yet. The magical circle of the right plays with the right directors with the right agents with the right reviews. No one escapes this; no one ever did. What I would like to do--and what we should all do, including you with your writing and recounting--is to persuade those with dreams and talent to keep at it, despite the odds and despite the fact that the luck hasn't noticed them yet. You have to believe that it will, and what you and I have to do is make some noise and wave some flags so that luck looks over and finally notices the mendicant that has kept up the work."--

                                                                     Arthur Penn

What They Taught Me

I have seen a lot of information lately about the messages we give our children. How incredibly important those messages are and how they become an almost organic part of the way our children see the world and how they move through life. I have seen it work both positively and negatively.

My grandfather, for example, saw his own scholar father waste his life through the disease of alcoholism. I don’t pretend to know what transpired between them but I do know, as an adult, my grandfather would have nothing to do with his father. My grandfather was a man of integrity, a leader in his community and a family man. He was compassionate and giving to others. And a non-drinker.

This led me to think about the lessons I learned from my parents and how they shaped my own journey.

My father taught me humility, absolute honesty, bravery, the power of imagination, a love of music, compassion for others and a deep love of family.

My mother taught me to truly see and appreciate nature, the meaning of unconditional love, a passion for literature, perseverance, resiliency and, by example, strength.

In a perfect world I would have passed on these messages/lessons to my children. If I could leave a legacy… that would be it.

New Beginnings

Forgive me, any dear readers out there. I’ve been absent for a while. I’ve had many ideas for blogs over the last weeks but they have usually occurred just as I was falling asleep. Needless to say they never made it onto paper as the “old" saying goes. So today is my new beginning of the year…. a little late.

Last year, I started the precedent of picking a word or phrase for the year. Kind of like a vision board, a goal or a reminder for the year. Last year I had three.

One: Practice Being Present.

Two: Appreciate the Wonder of Now.

Three: Be Aware of the Splendor of Timing.

I have to admit I am still a work in progress on all of these. But reminding myself is half the battle, I say.

So, for 2014, in addition to keeping last year’s reminders always in the back of my mind, I have chosen my new year’s word and phrase.

One: Let go of my image of what I thought my life would be at this point. This is not serving me. It holds me back with regret. So, I’m letting it go to let in fresh images.

Two: Write. That’s it. Write. Pure and simply. Wherever it takes me. Do it. Write.

Here is to a Happy Year.

"The goal of life is to make your heartbeat match the beat of the universe."

 — Joseph Campbell

The Beauty of Endings

Things end. Weeks end. Years end. Relationships, friendships, vacations, chapters in our lives. Life itself. Sometimes these endings leave us full of regret. We wish we had accomplished this or that. A cleaner house, finished that novel, lost weight, written Christmas cards, seen that person one more time, painted that room. We waste so much time on regret and what ifs we often forget one simple thing. We can’t begin anew if we don’t close some chapters. Nature is a great teacher. Endings, with their dying away, nurture new growth.

My dear friend G is closing a big chapter of her life. I’m sure she has fear and anxiety about it. But she is, with great courage, beginning an exciting new life, and fulfilling a life-long dream. I envy her, I will miss her and I am thrilled for her all at once. I wish her wings.

So, I love fall and the browning of the leaves. I love that the winter trees bare themselves and shed their dress to stand stark, angular and strong against the sky. I then love the slight warming of air that signals the budding again. Ending, Beginning. Ending, Beginning. Ending, Beginning.

Happy New Year

Photograph by Gray Alexander

What Would Jane Do?

Some really exciting news! I contribute to a blog on my writer’s group website:

http://columbiawritersworkshop.blogspot.com/

 It was chosen by our group this month to be submitted to our statewide SCWW website. Check It Out!:

http://myscww.org/?p=3736

Woo Hoo!

I Am Stardust

The title of this blog comes from a woman I saw speak who has been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. She was given no more than ten years to live and is in her ninth year. In the face of all odds, the cancer seems to be retreating.

She said cancer is her teacher. It has taught her she is part of a vast network of being. It has taught her that joy is right now. If joy comes in the future, so be it. But right now is all there is. It has taught her to see beauty. Really see it. Maybe that’s what it- cancer- is for. I’ve often wondered. If so, it doesn’t always work to inspire.

In any event, living that way is something to aspire to all the time. Not only if you are struggling with illness or challenges. So I am going to try to remember her words because they are so beautiful.

“I am a part of a much bigger whole. I am stardust, I am this earth, I am this planet, I am everything that was and everything that will be. And there is a thread that you can call God… or Higher Self… or Universe… that runs through me. And that thread can never be broken.”

-Kris Carr

Perseverance

What separates the men from the boys, so to speak? Women from girls? What distinguishes cowardice from bravery?  We hear all the time that people who do heroic things think of themselves as afraid. So what stands in their stead? Backbone? That’s what my mother called it. And we all know people who don’t have it and those that do. It’s obvious. Desire for it fuels the international obsession with heroes. We can’t get enough of heroic stories of heroic deeds; legends; films of figures so adept and fearless that we watch in awe and admiration.

 

So how does one get it? This backbone thing. Is one born with it? Are we taught? Do we model after watching others? Clearly we model everything else, from copycat killing to fashion. If that were the case, wouldn’t we have a nation of Jason Bournes? Tom Cruises? We don’t, do we.

 

How does one keep on in the face of lethargy, fogginess, lack of motivation or just plain fear? Sometimes I think backbone is simply perseverance; not giving up. It’s the thing that keeps us striving. Georgia O’Keeffe said that she was terrified every single moment of her life but never let it keep her from doing a single thing she wanted to do. So very hard to persevere. So necessary.

 

 

“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.”
                                                                               -Harriet Beecher Stowe

The Joy Factor

Joy is underrated. Or misunderstood. If you ask someone what gives them joy, often their eyes glaze over, they mumble or laugh self-consciously. “Joy?” they repeat and grimace as if you have spoken a foreign language. Hey, I haven’t asked you to jump off a cliff, I want to say. I’ve just asked what brings you joy. It’s almost as if the old Puritan Ethic kicks in. You know, that one that says we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves too much, attach ourselves too much to earthly pleasures, etc. Is that it or is it that the concept sounds too New Age? (Let’s be honest, here, New Age is no longer new).

Joy is pretty powerful stuff. I mean the word itself is big. It’s right up there with ecstasy and bliss and adjectives like magnificent and amazing (both overused, by the way). It’s not in everyday usage. We have a hard time saying, for example, “You know what makes me happy?” And happy is definitely a couple of steps down descriptively from joy.

I recently asked my son what brings him joy. The reason I asked was that he was a very good-natured, quirky, funny and yes, joyful child. He didn’t answer right away. I asked because he is no longer a child. He is married with a serious job and many responsibilities. Sometimes the journey to adulthood can squash joy. Sometimes we forget to remember it. About two hours later he said, (and I paraphrase) “I thought about your question. I think what brings me joy is having goals. Striving.”

My list for joy is: Writing, Being Outside, Planting things, Trees, Time with my Children, Being in the moment with my Husband, Friends.

So Joy. So important. It makes the cells sing. It gives energy, purpose, life force. So recognize it. Find it and revel in it. Every single time you can. And don’t forget to remember it.

 

The Cord

Loss is a strange thing. For a period of time the world loses color. Voices blur. The heart beats in your chest . A hollow bell. It hurts. Pain from the inside. Everything else is numb. Vision is a black and white kaleidoscope. A gray scrim.

A friend of mine just lost her son in a senseless accident. She lost her husband to a debilitating illness less than a year ago. Both tragic, unseemly, untimely.

So. Is this just random? Just s--t happens? Is there a reason? A purpose? Now seems the time to ask these questions because thinking about them all the time is too difficult. At least for me. So. Is there a lesson? Is there meaning? If this is our earth-school, do we need to learn about loss to appreciate the now?

My brother lost his son a few years ago. His mother almost didn’t recover. How could she? It doesn’t bear thinking about. By extension I think of my own son. My daughter. How much I miss them. How as a mother your heart never quite stops aching when you are not with your children. I think it was my own mother who said it was as if there is an invisible cord attaching heart to heart. Does that cord ever break? I think not. Certainly not with separation. Not even with loss.

I know there is something more. That’s all I know. So I’m sending comfort. Hoping that’s possible at this time. Sending.

Wedding Song

Written for my son and his bride on the occasion of their wedding.

WEDDING SONG

 ~That you each have found someone you want to spend your life with is a gift.

Realize it.

~That you will be able to wake up beside this person almost every day of your life is a gift.

Appreciate it.

~ At the end of your lives, you will remember the big things, the amazing trips, the once in a lifetime experiences, the hard times. But you will discover it is the small things that are most important.

~Maybe it will be the way he brushes your hair back from your forehead or takes your hand when you walk down the street. Maybe it will be the way she touches your shoulder when she passes your chair; unexpected, shared laughter; a sunset.

~If I could give you a gift above all others it would be this:

In the mad dash of your lives together,

Be conscious of it.

Be present

         Don’t be in such a hurry to make it happen that you forget it is happening.

Right here.

Right now.

This moment.

 “The best portion of a good man’s life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.”

~William Wordsworth

 

So Simple

I am not ashamed to say that I adore watching Oprah Winfrey. I may not be globally considered the most intellectual of thinkers to admit this, but I suspect I am not alone. It’s not so much the celebrity interviews and Master Classes, although I enjoy those as well, but her conversations with the great thinkers, philosophers, teachers, humanitarians. She does us all a great service by allowing us to hear them.

Today I only had a bit of time to watch an episode of Super Soul Sunday with Elie Weisel. I knew of him, of course, and even missed an opportunity to hear him speak due to unforeseen circumstances. What an incredible spirit:  Humanitarian, Author, Teacher, Human-Rights Activist, Nobel Peace Prize winner. She talked with him about his recent brush with death and serious open-heart surgery. He expressed his thoughts upon being faced with death and said, “I have so much left to do, to read, to write, things to tell my loved ones, friends to embrace, conversations to have. I wasn’t ready.” I thought, if after all he has accomplished, he feels he has just begun, I need to be listening. Instead of feeling that a person’s “time” has passed, perhaps it is just beginning. Instead of winding down, it’s really all just preparation for what is ahead.

I constantly am reminded that every day, every moment can hold a lesson.  Even the face of this man moves me. In spite of man’s many missteps, he believes in humanity.

“Whatever you do in life, think higher and feel deeper. Life is not a fist, it is an open hand.”

          -Elie Weisel

 

Soul Festival

I recently attended a local Book Festival. Numerous well-known authors, poets, editors, artists and media specialists were there. Some had set up tables to sell their self-published books; some were there to speak about their latest work; some were there to talk about their artistic journey; some were there to inspire. Sometimes all of the above. I attend this Festival every year. I guess I go to remain inspired, to learn and to be around others who love reading and/or writing as much as I do.

There is usually a center area like a vast ballroom that has been partitioned into row after row of booksellers, booths, big box store-representatives, etc. And let me just say it: Being in that space is overwhelming. And I absolutely love it. It’s like a giant library I can actually buy. I don’t of course, because of being overwhelmed with too many choices but I adore it nevertheless. Just being in that space, surrounded by books is joyful for me. All I can think is, how will I ever have enough time to read everything I want to read? I could have wandered the aisles for many hours. My feet gave out long before my curiosity about what was around the next corner did. I know I am not alone in this. I could see it in the faces of everyone around me. The crowd of literature lovers was impressive.

Surrounding this ballroom was a circle of rooms kind of like a conch shell of chambers. Each chamber held a master class on writing, an author or group of authors talking about craft, poetry readings and on and on. The problem was what to choose.  An embarrassment of riches.

A highlight for me this year was a purely random event. I was pausing at a table of books and suddenly the great artist Jonathan Green walked up. He spoke to the vendor who was selling his books and she asked him to sign several copies. I was a bit awestruck, having been a huge fan of his work and of the magnificent ballet based on his work. He looked up, shook my hand and smiled and I said as much. He was so gracious, gentle and humble.

Jonathan Green

When I walked away I found that I was very emotional. I think it was the fact of being around so much brilliant creative talent. It was all around me. It filled the air. It filled my heart. It filled my soul.

Life Lessons

Life Lessons. A big topic. Where did I learn what is important to me? My values? My belief system? Although I continue to be shaped by my experiences and the passage of time, certainly, without question, it began with my parents. I do not need Mother’s Day and Father’s Day to be reminded of them and how missed they are but I do want to take time to acknowledge their gifts to me.

My Father. A beautiful man physically, he was tall, athletic, strong, graceful and a great dancer. He was good with his hands, could fix anything and loved to be outside. He was once asked to join the United States Olympic Diving Team and even started and sang in his own orchestra. He never fully realized either one of those dreams. If he was bitter about it, he never said. Regretful, maybe. He made other choices. He loved children. All children. He was unfailingly kind to people less fortunate. Loving music and singing, he taught his children to love all things musical, too. Every trip in the car was full of funny and/or beautiful songs. Christmas, in his hands, became a magical time created by him for our excitement and wonderment. Many nights before going to sleep he sat on my bed and told me story after amazing story made up just for me. He taught me absolute honesty and the imperative of doing the right thing. If he didn’t always, I think he tried. He gave me music and story-telling and unconditional love. So much more, but I’ll leave it there.

My Mother. My gloriously gorgeous mother. As a child I just remember the vitality of her presence. She was always busy; a force of nature. She had incredible energy and stamina. She called it drive and convinced us we were invincible and had unlimited possibility. She was on the cusp of a time when women were just beginning to come into their own. She had four children and made that her career for many years. She poured so much of her creative fire into us that she sacrificed her own ambition. Later she worked many jobs in radio, magazine, advertising and brokerage houses, all while raising us, putting meals on the table and trying to keep my brothers in check. No easy task. Her passion was writing. She was an extraordinarily gifted poet and fiction writer. She loved nature and taught me to see it with the eyes of a poet. She loved to read, exposed me to great writers and encouraged my own writing. She was loyal and steadfast beyond what was even possible. Everyone loved her. She was always there to listen, offering support and ideas. She gave me a love of nature, a desire to learn, intellectual curiosity and unconditional love. So much more, but I’ll leave this too, for now.

Boy, was I lucky. So other than the extraordinary gifts I was given, I would say to anyone, the Life Lesson is don’t give up on your dreams and don’t give up hope. Someone is watching.

                                          Sweetheart Tree. Because they were.

Paulo Coelho

Imaginings

I find myself on a journey. I’m not sure if it could be called a spiritual journey, a physical journey or an intellectual one. It seems to have elements of all three. I find myself seeking out teachers by listening to lectures given by speakers of all kinds.  Poets, writers, spiritual gurus, self-help coaches, financial planners (!), you name it, I’m interested.

The most interesting thing I have noticed is that almost everyone has similar themes. It’s as if they are all using the same primer so to speak. Be true to yourself, be still and listen, be present, be aware, live in the moment, but plan for the future. They all suggest “active imagining”. Whether it’s planning your financial well-being or creating your wildest dreams. They seem to be saying, if you can imagine it, you can make it happen. Okay. Really? It’s like the quote from the old movie Field of Dreams: “If you build it, he will come.”(Often misquoted as “they will come.”). But you get the idea…if you put your hopes, your dreams, your imaginings out into the Universe (I capitalize on purpose) it/they will magically appear. In the case of financial planning saving dollars actually does add up, no magic in that, but don’t strain at a knat.

The good thing about this is my intellectual curiosity is at full tilt. I haven’t felt this excited and stimulated by ideas since I was in college. It’s thrilling, really. The problem is finding someone to discuss it with. Most people still find all of this kind of talk “woo-woo” in the extreme. I’m not sure exactly why. It’s probably because it can’t be measured scientifically. It’s like the old creation debate. Is it the biblical rendering or evolution. I say, why can’t BOTH be true?

The absolute truth is, I don’t bring it up. I don’t feel the need to defend, if that be the case or convince. Just good old-fashioned conversation would be nice. A what-if kind of scenario.

So. What does it hurt to create by imagining? It doesn’t suggest sitting on one’s posterior and waiting. It does suggest we have, according to quantum physics, the power to create our own reality. Maybe it’s as simple as positive thinking, maybe it’s something more mystical. Whatever it is, it sounds good to me.

 

What an extraordinary creature.
Heartbreakingly beautiful.
He's on a journey, too.

 

 

This Beautiful Moment

There is a plain wooden sign posted in a park in California. It says: This Beautiful Moment. That’s all, just: This Beautiful Moment.  I saw it on the blog: So Much Beauty Here: http://somuchbeautyhere.blogspot.com/

For some reason this resonated for me. It's what so many of us struggle with every day. It invites the reader/observer to just stop, be still and be. Take it all in. This beautiful moment. That’s all. I have this feeling when I read a particularly beautiful phrase or passage in a book, when I see the night sky exploding with stars, when I see colors in a painting that by some miracle render an image, when I see afternoon light across the marshy grassland in the low country of South Carolina, when I hear Rachmaninoff.

It seems we have forgotten how to do this. We have moments, that’s for sure, but children do this as a matter of course. Everything is fresh and shiny. When my children were young, watching them doing and seeing and hearing for the first time was a source of unimagined joy. It was as if I was experiencing it all again for the first time. If there was music they liked they would dance. If there was a dog they thought was pretty, they patted it. If there was chocolate, they ate it. It was simple. No complex moral issues or repercussions, i.e. Will people think I’m crazy if I dance? Will the owner think I am presumptuous if I pat their dog? Will I get fat if I eat that?

If this is all there is, and I’m not saying it is or isn’t, I say, take it all in. Isn’t that the gift we have as artists, or for that matter human beings? Not trying to proselytize. Just saying, savor this beautiful moment.

 

Spring

I missed all of February and here it is almost the end of March! I’ve been editing, editing, editing, writing, writing, writing!!!! It’s been a very productive and creative seven weeks for me and I’m very happy with the results. February has typically been a blue (or gray) month for me, but this year it was full of color!

Still, I’ve thought of the importance of my blog many times. The importance to me, anyway. It’s a place to muse and contemplate some of life’s bigger issues. No mind-blowing, philosophical breakthroughs that the world should know about, but some quiet realizations for sure. We all have those moments of “insight” but they are ephemeral.  A wisp of absolute clarity that is gone in a moment. This blog helps me hang on to those moments, and hopefully helps you, too, Dear Reader. If you are out there, I’d love for you to drop by and leave a word or two. The comment box has magically appeared at the end of each blog now, so you can do so without a hassle.

Okay, so how am I doing on my Word for the year? My words were actually phrases:

Practice being really present

Be in the NOW

Observe the splendor of Timing

I’m trying on all fronts. I am discarding things that make me unhappy for the most part. This is an ongoing battle. For example, I took my eleven year old dog to see the ocean (she had never seen it before) instead of going to a funeral. That was truly being in the now moment and something I had wanted to do for a while. The problem is, I still feel bad about it. Working on it.

My biggest accomplishment by far has been writing fulltime. Every. Single. Day. The joy is immeasurable. Still trying to not feeling guilty about being out in the workforce. Working on it.

 

 

 

TIME

How important is your time? It’s everything, right? Well maybe not as important in the grand scheme of things as say, LOVE or relationships or global warming. But it ranks right up there and overlaps with all the critical parts of existence. Right?

I wish I had come to this realization a long time ago. I guess I was so busy doing or not doing that I didn’t stop to reflect. You can’t get it back. I know there are a lot of things that fit this criterion but there is one really tragic truth. You can’t recover missed opportunities. You can’t undo wasting precious moments on things that don’t matter. So, first of all, No Regrets.

There are a lot of hamstery things that we can’t avoid. Laundry, cleaning, cutting our toenails, ad infinitum… But when there is a choice, and we have this more often than we think…jump off the treadmill of expectation. Your own and other people’s. Maybe you don’t have to go to that meeting about neighborhood drainage problems; maybe you don’t have to have dinner with people who make you want to stab yourself (or them) with a fork. Maybe you can wait to go to the grocery until you are really out of food.

I’ve decided it’s time to spend my time, as much as possible, in doing what gives me joy. Having lunch with people who make me laugh. Ordering take out and not feeling guilty about not cooking. Waiting to do the bills until they are really due and reading a great book or a trashy one instead. Listen to music I love. Not be so OCD about square corners when I change the sheets. I used to joke that what it will say on my tombstone is:

She Did Laundry.

Now I hope it will say (if I even have one):

She Had Joy. She Took Back Her time.

It’s Time.

Timing

Revelations occur at strange times.

Last night I was having a lovely, unexpected dinner with my husband, my son and his fiancé and my daughter and her husband. I was practicing my “being present” mantra from my previous post. We have been at the beach at Kiawah Island for several days for our yearly, holiday get-together. We had planned to have dinner in Charleston at a place we have been many times, good food but kind of a tourist trap. At the last minute, we opted for a new place. The food was wonderful, the atmosphere golden, the wine, conversation and laughter flowed.

I tell you all this because during the course of the conversation the question of timing came up. It had to do with how and why each of us had met our mates. Each couple had a story about the perfect timing of their meeting. Any earlier or later in our lives, would have been too soon or too late. It made me realize that synchronicity may not be just a new-age buzz-word. There may be some Universal Truth at work. I believe that some events are random. I think. But there is indefatigable proof in my mind that there are other forces, be they spiritual or molecular, or both, at work. Furthermore I am convinced that this conversation would not have occurred at the other restaurant. Hmmmm….

So this brings me to my friend Connie’s blog: LOOSE LEMONS. She and a group of friends choose a “word” every year to represent what they want their journey to be for that year. I have been pondering. It seemed a rather significant and overwhelming choice. But now I have it. I confess I have two “phrases” rather than words. Hope that’s okay. First, practice really “being present”. Appreciate the wonder of now. Second be aware of the splendor of “timing”. I’ve given myself a tall order as they say. I’ll let you know how I do.

Happiest of New Years to Everyone.

Being Present

We are in that sweet spot of the holidays between Hannukah or Christmas and New Year’s Day. Time slows down. All the frantic shopping for a tree, gifts, wrapping paper, various accoutrement, baking supplies, groceries has culminated in gift-giving, feasting and celebrations.

Somewhere between -when all the dishes are done and the leftovers are stored safely in containers, the tablecloth and napkins washed and ironed and put away for next year –and- the anticipation of a champagne-fizzled New Year -lies a pocket of time. Christmas-POCKET- New Year’s.

If I could give you a gift, it would be an appreciation of this time. A breath. A sigh. It seems as human beings we are always in a state of either reminiscing about the past or anticipation for the future. I’ve read it again and again from all the master gurus and philosophers, but I’m just beginning to process it. Now is it. This is all we really have. The rest is memory or speculation. Be present in your now. We have the gift of being the observer. I am trying to use it.

Some of my present. My daughter’s face. It fills me with joy. Every time I see it. Every time. My grown son’s little boy cackle. He makes me laugh like no one else. Sitting and looking at the ocean, holding a cup of coffee, my husband beside me.  When I look, I am trying to really see. When I breathe, I am trying to feel the breath.

This is just one moment. One pocket of time that will make memory. My sweet spot.

What are you doing right now? Make it sweet.

Falling Down and Being Thankful

It’s not about the turkey, mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce. At least not completely. Truth be told, I could care less about the food… although I enjoy it. It’s about family. It’s about all the people that move through your life. The holidays make me remember and appreciate. I’m thankful for that.

Each of us, at least once, has had challenges to overcome. Whether they be health-related, relationship related, community related or all of the above. A devastating loss, an impossible decision, something we think we will never get over.  Most of us have fallen down more than once. Literally and figuratively. I’m thankful for that.

I know that sounds crazy. I’m not thankful for the pain, of course not. But for having made it through… more or less intact. I’m thankful for the people that circled me like eagles, protecting me, encouraging me, not letting me hit the ground too hard. Sometimes I have felt completely on my own. But if I am truthful with myself, really I’m not. I’m thankful for that.

There is something in the falling. Every time we get back up is proof that we can. My mother was one of the constants in my life. She is no longer here in the physical sense and although I can no longer hear her voice, I hear her voice. Look for the beauty. Get some rest. Believe it will get better. It always does. Be still. I’m thankful for her.

I’m thankful for a family I can count on. I am thankful for friends that are truly friends. People may disappoint you if you have too many expectations. So here it is. I know I can get up by myself and I know I can ask for help. I’m thankful for that.

I am thankful and honored too, if I can be the eagle for others.

Carl Sagan

Carl Sagan loved books. Not so surprising when you think about it. When I hear about eBooks replacing regular books, it makes me sad. It makes me worry about booksellers, libraries, bookstores. How could something so irrevocably part of mankind be obsolete? Truthfully, I don't think we will ever completely be without them. But although I don't own an electronic device for reading, I choose to embrace them. I expect at some point I will own one. I do love technology and when I am published, I expect I will love selling eBooks as well as paper ones. 

There is something that says to me, books  are like classical music, like long afternoons swinging in a hammock, like sitting on the porch to watch the last rays of sunlight at dusk, a glass of wine in candlelight, those starry universes that Carl Sagan imagined.  Some things should never be given up.