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Posts Tagged ‘wisdom in unexpected places’

Play, Grandma-and-Grandchild Style

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 14, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Luke and ThomasGrandchildren are God’s way of compensating us for growing old. Mary H. Waldrip

Imagination, it gets soaked with the ugliness of world events and can be destroyed. I need space in between each hit from hate. Meditation, exercise, and play help both my physical and mental state.

My youngest granddaughter is here today to bring welcome sunshine. She names a toy koala, Thomas and a toy cow, Luke. (Since the doll-version is gender-neutral, the name doesn’t really matter in fantasy. Ella was Daddy in our last game.) The boundaries of reality expand in play.

“How high can you jump, Luke?” I ask as Thomas.

Apparently, the surface of my bed has lost gravity. Or fuzzy, button-eyed cows have super powers.

Thomas leaps and lands on a blue blanket—a cave, with a bear inside. Time to explore.

Danger means excitement, never malice. The bear growls, yet never attacks. The toys fall. Their injuries are healed with imaginary bandages. Within seconds.

And so am I…

 

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Conflict, Arthritis, and Compassion

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2018| 1 Comment »

arthritisDifficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict. (William Ellery Channing)

Be nice. Nice. Nice. The teachings of my childhood. Begin with following all rules with a smile and… I don’t remember what came after the and.

Since I happened to be a girl who grew up in the middle of the twentieth century, options were limited. Rarely mentioned. Mom, teacher, nurse. The arts? Forget it. Not practical. Difficulties during those days needed to be faced with stoic silence.

The result—any pain, sorrow, even joys I felt that weren’t shared by my family seemed bizarre, disconnected with anyone else. I see life differently since I learned the world’s inhabitants have as many similarities as differences.

Empathy is a gift. A celebration of shared humanity.

When people, or groups of people, mock mass deaths for political motives I cringe. Conflict? Inevitable. I’ve shared meals, laughs, celebrations with some of the mockers.

Growth in compassion seems as likely as studying the brain through decapitation. And yet, using a less graphic image, grapes and roses grow after deep pruning.

Do I back down? No. That’s the advice of early childhood, the place where I got lost. Instead I follow the advice of my arthritic hands. They throb.

Mother nature has been sending enough rain to flood rivers and streams to overload the land. Pestering my aching joints with action is the way to be nice, nice, nice to them.

I pray for more people to listen to the survivors of injustices. May the listeners place themselves in similar unjust circumstances, without rushing to judgments.

May the survivors recognize they are not alone. May I somehow not sever all connections with the people I see as creating harm.

An impossible request? Maybe. A-step-up-to-unlikely would be worth the effort. In the meantime, I sharpen empathy by choosing awareness in close-by places.

The man behind me in the checkout line at the grocery store has three items. I have at least thirty. He can go ahead of me. My tired mate who needs a nap doesn’t need to be awakened by the vacuum cleaner. And, I have a friend or two who could use a phone call this evening.

Maybe the larger world is no closer to repair, but my smaller realm has been blessed.

 

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Flowers in February (Artificial)

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , on February 3, 2018| Leave a Comment »

seasonsAdopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience. (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

“Are those flowers real?” friends ask when they see the pastel arrangement of out-of-season blooms on my table.

They aren’t. I bought the vase from a struggling-artist neighbor. The arrangement matched an oil painting created by my husband’s grandmother, although my subconscious made the decision, and let me know about it later. The fact that my black thumb couldn’t kill the blossoms, chose first.

The notion of forever warmth and sunshine—without effort—is appealing.

Sure, I realize utopia doesn’t exist, even in storybook land. Either the flying unicorn runs into some adventure or the bored preschooler falls asleep before his bedtime tale ends.

Now February, the elongated 28-day month, shows its power in Midwest America. This thin-blooded, needs-another-blanket individual, shivers. (My husband wears shorts until the thermometer dips below zero.)

I don’t sparkle in the sun the way snow on a bare tree does. The secret of nature is patience. No season, day, month, year, or life lasts forever. The darker moments carry disguised blessings. Without the difficult times in my life, I suspect I could take what I have for granted.

My purchased flowers are not real; it is okay to enjoy them, as artificial. In the meantime, I celebrate the fact that I have indoor heat, a warm coat, and opportunities to give to others. Opportunities I hope will warm the spirit of somebody else since mother nature’s timing, warm or cold, doesn’t budge.

Patience? I haven’t arrived on that perfect path yet. I still rely on artificial flowers as a reminder that their fresh counterparts will reappear. In their own time.

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Purr Love—Advice from an Orange Cat

Posted in humor, inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 1, 2018| 1 Comment »

Hahvey

Unconditional love is hard to compete with. (Abbi Glines)              

Greetings! My name is Hahvey, (Hah-VAY) official household greeter, master purr machine, and symbol for unconditional love.

Okay, I may slip in your way as you walk up the stairs. However, certain hazards occur when cats lead. Relax and love me back. I’m leading the way to your room for the night. Extra warmth provided as needed by orange fur. Your sister, my wonderful keeper-of-the-can-opener? Well, you already know how devoted she is.

You left your purse at the annual party, the fest with all the beautiful songs. The purse contained prized possessions, like your phone, and your sister turned around and drove through the ice and snow. A good four inches of it. Temperatures my beautiful fur won’t touch. Not when I could freeze my nose, tail, or valuable parts in between.

You appear puzzled. Unfortunately, feline and human languages don’t align perfectly. I have inflections in my meow; my body language is easy to read. You need words from a dictionary thicker than my litter box to communicate. You are busy with many things. Recognize the line?

Unwind. Spend some quality time with your only sister. Okay? My feline buddy, Oui, and I will keep your entertained. You know we can do it. You’ve seen pictures of our antics.

By the way, you already know Oui means yes in French. He’s a positive addition to our group of living, loving creatures here. Did you know Hahvey is a diminutive form of a Hebrew word, Ahavah? Ahavah means love. No surprise, huh?

Oh, by the way, one more scratch. Behind the left ear this time. Yeah, you caught my drift.

Happy New Year, Ahavah-style.

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On Fire: An Unusual Thanksgiving Story

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 3, 2017| Leave a Comment »

fire (2)_LI

Keep yourself a stranger and pilgrim upon earth, to whom the affairs of this world are no concern. (Thomas Kempis)

Wednesday, November 22. Thanksgiving was hours, not days away, yet I imagined the duration as minutes instead. True, my focus seemed sincere: Organic preparation for family I love. Good thoughts about them as I measured flour or cut vegetables. And yet, a plentiful bounty wasn’t going to be the theme for this year. However, I didn’t know it. Yet.

In the afternoon I attended a meeting. How was our small church group going to present our Sunday celebration? The deep pink walls welcomed me. The third member of our team pulled a super-soft furry blanket over our legs. It broke the lingering outside chill.

I’ve always enjoyed Valerie’s house. Her husband’s painting on one wall attracted my attention. The honest white, brown, and tan winter scene seemed alive, the branches ready to sway.

We shared ideas. I’m always impressed by the intelligence of my comrades.

Hours later, after I’d tucked myself into an early bedtime, the phone rang. A member of our community notified our group about a fire, currently raging—at the house where I’d comfortably sat, before old wiring sparked a lightbulb change on the second floor, before it claimed their attic, before my perspective was about to take another turn.

“But, it can’t be on fire.” My thoughts ran wild. “I was just there a few hours ago.”

Sure, I sent positive vibes, also known as prayer. However, worry got in the way for far longer periods of time. What if? What now? Fear questions. Most of my energy remained bound inside my head and bed. Useless. I knew my friend who had warmed my legs earlier had come with her husband to help, immediately.

I was not prepared to see the calm on Valerie’s face on Sunday. She and her husband had lost almost everything. And yet—they had celebrated Thanksgiving. One precious moment at a time. His voice is naturally soft. Nevertheless, I heard every grateful word he said.

“As I watched the flames, I forced myself to think halleluiah.” Valerie’s words, as close as I can recall. No one had been harmed. The repair will be long and extensive.

These two wonderful people realize they are pilgrims on this earth. I am blessed to know them.

 

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Preparing for Thanksgiving: Before, During, After Thursday

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 24, 2017| Leave a Comment »

November tree 2017It’s never too late – in fiction or in life – to revise. (Nancy Thayer)

A windstorm hit the Midwest last week. I would have sworn every red, yellow, and gold leaf would be blown from its branch—possibly with part of the tree still attached. Most of the deciduous trees are winter-bare, not all of them.

Determination remains in all areas of existence.

I’m working on some edits. For someone else. I have a short deadline. Working on it away from home seems like the best approach because my house looks like the storm snuck inside, then, continued to create further havoc.

Moreover, Thanksgiving celebrations continue before and after the official Thursday. I enjoy cooking with fresh vegetables as well as baking without mixes. However, instant-prepare has an appeal for good reason. Packages take less time. Less clean-up.

So, why don’t I use them? I can’t fit as much love into ready-made. So, why can’t I take this time and put a little bit of me into the pages in front of me? If I didn’t care about this project, I wouldn’t help.

I take off my shoes and climb into a comfy chair. My husband is taking a class in another room. I make use of the time and work as I wait.

A tree sways in the wind outside the front window. Golden leaves sparkle against the blue sky.

One more revision begins. In expectation, copy-editing, and perspective.

 

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Vision, Without Sight: A Special Friendship

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on November 10, 2017| 1 Comment »

The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter. (Mark Twain)

My friend Ann lost one eye to glaucoma when she was a young teenager—the pressure won and destroyed it. Then, several years later, the disease attacked the other eye. Even so, Ann is fiercely independent.

I am at her apartment. She has mail for me to read to her. An audio device in her kitchen announces her laundry will be dry in one minute.

Don’t get up, Terry. She will be insulted. After all, she does this all the time without your assistance. “Go ahead. This newsletter is kind of long.”

I have imaginary glue on my chair. Nevertheless, after what seems like an exceptional amount of time, I rise. Slowly. On purpose. And tiptoe to the hall. From the top of the stairs I recognize her blue pants and beige shoes. She is inside the laundry room, and next to the door.

“Hey, girlfriend! Need help carrying anything?” A request I would ask anyone.

“Sure. Want to carry the basket?”

Her towels are neatly folded. (My folding fits into the good-enough-to-dry-a-dish or body-part category.)

When I tell Ann that she does more for me than I do for her, she always smiles and thanks me. However, she doesn’t realize how tangible the rays of her spirit are. “I’ll be your friend forever,” she often says.

After we finish with the mail, she slides between an old couch and a bookshelf. “I want to show you some things, if I can find them.”

No if about it. She finds what she wants within seconds.

Pull-string toys that tell jokes. Two fish full of puns. “Fish business begins on a small scale.” I laugh, not because I haven’t heard most of the jokes, but because the atmosphere here is fresh. Stale cod jokes, but no odors. This place is beautiful.

When I left home I was anxious because I kept missing calls about biopsy results. My friend loosened my fears—good, since the word benign resounds loud and clear when the call finally arrives.

Ann has lost her sight, not her vision. Friends for life? I’ll take it.

photo-shopped public domain image

 

 

 

 

 

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Apples: A Metaphor

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 6, 2017| 1 Comment »

We are born believing. A man bears beliefs as a tree bears apples. (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

A friend is doing me a favor. My right hand has limited strength. A fractured metacarpal, age, and arthritis have limited my joint flexibility. Maneuvering a Lovenox injection into my belly prior to a diagnostic procedure would be like repairing eyeglass screws with vise grips. Who knows what I would stick with the needle? A thumb, wrist, or table top in a bizarre flip move—if I managed to remove the tricky cap.

Not only does J. arrive to help me at 7:30 in the morning on five consecutive days, she brings in the newspaper—and one morning she delivers a bag of apples. Farmers’ market fresh. The photo below is no longer accurate. I had two ripe red beauties for lunch today. Four have been baked, cinnamon sweet. Yum, maybe one more now.

A pre-school neighbor has an EpiPen dependent peanut allergy. Even so, for the experience, her parents took her door-to-door to greet neighbors on Halloween. I gave the little girl two dollars to spend on a treat for herself earlier Tuesday morning. However, the snacks we shared with visiting princesses and superheroes were not safe for her.

I offered her an apple. She was thrilled. J.’s gift expanded. Something as simple as a piece of fruit has made a child happy.

The apple has further symbolism for me. I belong to a spiritual group that is, yes, named after a fruit. Many years ago, before I joined, a young woman read a Scripture quote, “You are the apple of my eye.” Several members were pregnant, and round as apples. They laughed. The name stuck, long after the developing children were born, and became parents.

Now, we are grandparents. Ephemeral fruit, hoping to nurture life in a different way. Acceptance of ourselves and others, the ability to listen, change at any age, live and not simply exist—no matter how ugly the world may become.

Once fresh fruit rots it can become compost. It nourishes the soil. Rotten places inside me, any human, can disappear into the past…if I let go. And accept a humility that wasn’t in my agenda.

An apple seed. A thank you. A belief that grows through kindness, yet never calls itself perfect. Gratitude, renewed each day…

Thanks, J.

 

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Autumn, One Water Color Painting, Me-Too

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 29, 2017| Leave a Comment »

Whatever might be taken from me need not leave me with a deficit in its wake. (Craig D. Lounsbrough)

Sometimes when sun rays slice through a tree, a new dimension jumps out where the light touches a branch or gnarly root. Now, as autumn strikes the Midwest I want to hold onto the last of warmth, and grab color for a little longer. I found a seasonal water-color painting in my basement. I painted the picture some lost number of years ago. I can’t find an old unused frame. Maybe I’ll buy one, maybe not. The drawing now stands bare in a cheap photo holder.

I saved unprotected paper. A small stain mars the left corner of my amateur work. The stain cause remains unknown. Outside, real leaves drift from one yard to another. Real memories float through my mind. Some are wonderful; the birth of my sons, the gifts of friendships, blessed guidance from an innocent child.

Other memories bring out the stains of the past.

Events better forgotten, emerge like uprooted poison ivy plants. Repeated reminders come through social media. Me-too, statements from women who have been the victims of sexual assault, pop up across the page, and then scream: You are not alone and never have been.

Some of the women, both old and young, share sparse details. Others do not. Eventually, I add a detail or two. Multiple assailants. Their conviction. My mother, as she passes judgment on me. A life sentence that ends only when I can forgive her, far more difficult than forgiving men I expected to leave me in a ditch somewhere. Since these individuals never cared for me, there was no trust to break.

Through social media, a few women admit assault, yet can’t face their memories. Many of the young Me-too’s express anger. Normal. Better than depression and self-destruction.

The real Me-too experiences flash like colorful leaves, but instead of floating away, join into fresh power with other survivors. You are all beautiful; you are not what was taken from you.

 

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Two Bananas, an Extraordinary Gift?

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on October 20, 2017| Leave a Comment »

Life is always bringing unexpected gifts. (May Sarton)

Perhaps I’m reaching into my ancient ape ancestry; I crave bananas. Since they are good for digestion, my body may be telling me I need them after my illness. My husband and I split the last banana yesterday.

I’m taking my blind friend to the doctor today. I’ll stop at the store before I pick my comrade up. The time will be tight, but it’s possible.

However, someone calls from one of my doctor’s offices—about my Friday appointment. She has questions, enough to take up my shopping time. I have a few minutes to fill my gas tank. The minutes can’t be stretched for price-check-on-lane-two or a cashier who needs to change receipt paper.

My potassium craving will need to wait. I sate my car’s appetite instead, park along the side of the lot and pull out my cell phone. “Hey, girlfriend, are you ready? I’m on my way.”

“I’m just finishing breakfast, then I’ll meet you downstairs. By the way, could you use a couple of bananas?”

“You bet. I’ll tell you about it when I get there.”

Hmm, does my buddy have incredible intuition or do angels run fruit deliveries? Sure, serendipity happens. Then again, unexpected gifts happen, too.

My friend appreciates the ride. She thanks me. Now, I can let her know how much I appreciate her. I enjoy the fruit; she is the gift.

photo:  Photo Booth, Kaleidoscope

 

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