Pixie

While we were away last week, we had an opportunity to spend time with a sweet wee sprite: a tiny 3 and a half year old girl with a sunny disposition and an impish grin. It has been ages since last we interacted with such a young child -- Offspring the Third is on the cusp of seventeen  -- and it was very enjoyable, indeed. Such a tender little bird of a child.

We read picture books, and colored in coloring books, and attempted to make various shapes out of Play-Doh, and we stuck stickers and built short towers out of dominoes.We sat by the campfire and looked for fireworks. And when she grew tired while perched upon my lap, I sang her a quiet lullaby and rocked her until she fell asleep.

As I held her while she slept, my arms grew tired, Still, I did not relinquish her to her bed until it was necessary. There is something about holding a sleeping child that nearly defies description: it is a visceral peace and contentment, a wordless knowledge that a small human being is comfortable and safe. As I held that tiny girl, I recalled those moments when the Offspring were young and I held them the same way. My heart sighed. So long ago.

Bless the wee bairn.

Consolations

I am reading Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment, and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words, by David Whyte. Although the title itself is a wee bit... wordy, the work is an excellent collection of brief essays on particular words. The prose is reminiscent of John O'Donohue's Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom (an especially lovely work, close to my heart, as you well know from my mentionings of it here) -- in fact, I selected Consolations because Amazon.com suggested it when I recently purchased several other books by John O'Donohue. Well done, Amazon.

I have decided that rather than read straight through from beginning to end, I'll select the words individually each evening when I read before bedtime. In due course I shall bring my thoughts on those words here as well.

What a wonderful book.

Imperfect

Herself speaks.

Today's entry is an offshoot of yesterday's ruminations on what it means to be Alone. The issues herein are different from those of yesterday, and were not raised by my lovely friend who first provided the kernel of "Alone." Nevertheless, this is a companion contemplation, as it relates to "The One" -- the mythical One who will banish Alone-ness.

-----

Sometimes, we seek to find our own value outside ourselves: if I make that much money, if I receive that award, then I will clearly be successful. Or if I have that house, that car, that job. Or, most of all, if I have that One.  We all know the paragon of the One from books and movies and television:  the person who cares for us, who would do anything for us, who arrives in our darkest moments to save us, making us feel valuable and treasured and loved. The thought is this (either directly, or subconsciously):

If -- and only if -- I have such a One, do I have any worth.

Here is what I wish for you to know:

There is no One. Your value depends on no One, and on no Others. 

The presence (or absence) of Others -- a friend, a lover, a spouse, an anam cara -- in one's life, is not determinative of one's worth.

Even when there are such Others, there will be times when you are tremendously aware that you are very much Alone. Each Other, like you, inhabits a unique world that revolves around that person alone. Your Others may not recognize when you are pining, or may not realize that you need succor, laughter, help. Your Others may not understand why that news article burns your heart or why a particular memory occasionally surfaces, painfully, in your soul. Your fears may make no sense to Others. Your desires may make even less sense. Others may sometimes be spiteful or selfish. Self-centered. Unkind. Even occasionally cruel. For they are human, just as you are, and they are imperfect.

You must remember: even without Others, you are magnificent. You have the power to explore, to create, to forgive. To be kind. And to love.

You can love your Others, even when they have made you aware of your Alone-ness. You can provide for Others, even when they do not provide for you. And you can -- and must -- love and provide for yourself. Your soul is deserving. Treat it so.

You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection. - Unknown

You are worthy, purely because you are you. You are a mystery and a joy. You are no One -- you are your own One. 

And in all your imperfect glory, you are Enough. 

Found here. 

Be Your Own Tree

Herself speaks.

I correspond with a lovely, smart, warm-hearted woman with whom I attended high school.  We had lost touch over the years, but thanks to the miracles of social media, have now reconnected. I am glad. We write about serious matters, and lighthearted matters, and things in between, too.

This lovely woman wrote briefly to me recently about what she termed her worst fear -- to "end up alone."  Oh, my friend. What can I say to ease your fear?

Let's talk about being Alone.

What does Alone truly mean? Who is Alone? If one has friends, is one Alone? What about a spouse? Children? Coworkers, or co-volunteers? Fellow churchgoers, book club members, neighbors with whom one chats while out walking the dog? What if you have all of these Others? And what if there are none of these Others?

This is what I believe:  regardless of how many Others with whom we surround ourselves, we are, nevertheless, each and every one:  all Alone.

We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely—at least, not all the time—but essentially, and finally, alone. ― Hunter S. Thompson,

Even a spouse -- often held up by our society as the be-all-and-end-all of relationship goals -- does not change the fact that each half of a married couple is in fact a single, solitary person.  And it is best that way.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
.....
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
.....
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

- Kahlil Gibran, "On Marriage," from The Prophet

I say again:

We are all Alone.

This is a wondrous thing, indeed.  

We cannot fear what already is. 

Knowing that Alone is the perennial state of each an every human being, we can give up the search for The One who will banish Alone-ness for us, for such another does not exist. What we can do instead is to reach out and find those with whom we are comfortable and in whom we find comfort. Those with whom we can laugh, and cry, and just Sit And Be. Those from whom we are apart, and yet with whom we can be Together.

Blessed are we when we find such Others -- a friend, a lover, a spouse, an anam cara, whose Alone-ness intersects with ours. Through them, our journey on this small blue planet is brighter. And in our solitude, the memories, thoughts, and companionship of such Others can carry us through as we move on the path, Alone and together.  

I do not know if this is at all a comfort.  Know, though, my friend, that I am here, and Alone, together with you.

Tio

New Mild-mannered Dog was ailing this week.  He stayed in his bed, barely opening his eyes or focusing them on anyone or anything for long, for a couple of days.  It was Very Sad Indeed.  With some ministrations from the vet, though, he has now perked up. We are grateful.

Herself had originally planned that she would treat this dog a bit more at arm's-length.  She did not want to let a new canine too far into her heart; the grief of the loss of three elderly pets within the past year still pops to her surface on occasion, and it surprises her. Caution was warranted, clearly.

But then New Dog fell ill, and his illness brought Herself flashbacks of all the difficult moments with Ancient Decrepit Dog and Ottoman-shaped Dog -- the wrenching sensation of knowing that she did not know what was wrong, but that it was probably Not Good.  Her heart cracked. New Dog had put his faith in her, even though she was a new and unfamiliar human, and looked to her for help.  She rose to his call, and took care of him as best she could.

She was rewarded this afternoon with his small form peeking out the front door, wagging his tail, when she returned from work.  He stamped his little feet, too, and it was reminiscent of how Ancient Venerable Cavy would stamp his feet with delight at vegetable time.  Herself was tremendously glad.  His is a small and humble life, and it is a pleasure to know that he is happy.

This evening she made him a bit of plain chicken with a little macaroni, at the vet's suggestion. Hopefully he will enjoy that, too.

Be well, Mild-mannered Dog.  You are safe here.

Verily I say to you, inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it to me.

Home

Sort mounds of laundry,
Vacuum a pile of dog fur,
Stir fry some veggies.

Sleep in, just a bit;
Run errands with the Menfolk,

Browse through the RVs.

Tidy the kitchen;
Tiny Dog curled in my shirt,

Chat with the Offspring.

All the little things,
Joy in ordinary days:
Happy to be Home.

Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts. -- Oliver Wendell Holmes

Simple Questions

There's an interesting project out there - Humans of New York.  As best we can determine, a photographer wanders the city, takes pictures of ordinary (and occasionally extraordinary) people, and publishes them.  While we do not understand at all the mystique that seems to surround New York City, it is an unusual and sometimes thought-provoking work, depicting all sorts of slices of humanity.

Occasionally, the photographer asks the subject(s) a question and includes the answer in the caption of the picture. The questions are simple and deceptively difficult:

What was the happiest moment of your life?
What was the saddest moment of your life?
What is the hardest thing about being a parent? 
What is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?
Who would you say has had the greatest influence on your life?
If you could say one thing to the 18-year-old version of yourself, what would it be?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
What is your greatest struggle right now?
What is your favorite thing about (the person you are standing with now)?

If we were asked such questions, could we answer them?

I think we should try.

Let us start with the easiest one:

If you could say one thing to the 18-year-old version of yourself, what would it be?

I would say:

Trust your feelings. 

Why this?  Because it took nearly my entire life to learn that my own feelings -- whatever they may be -- are valid. Justified.  Allowed. Over four decades to determine that other people aren't always right, and that sometimes, in fact, other people are very wrong. If I could have learned this lesson sooner, I might have learned to stand up for myself earlier, and might have spared myself a lot of heartache.

All the same, though, I do not, cannot, have regrets for the long road I have taken.  This path has taken me through deserts, into caves, and up mountains, both in the world and within myself.  It has taken me into the presence of guiding souls who have pointed the way through my darkness.  And the lesson, slowly and painfully learned, is sacrosanct.

This path has made me who I am today.  And I am good.

1,000 Steps

We have traveled far
From the beginning, to this,
Millennial post.

We do not yet know
Where the path leads, or wherefore;
Step by step, we go.

The sojourn abides.
We are glad for the journey
And your company.

All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.  - Martin Buber

Footprints

Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart. - Eleanor Roosevelt

A woman whom Herself knows is dying.

The woman -- we shall call her Em -- is part of the "family" of individuals who formed the core of the gym when Offspring the Third (and eventually Herself, and Offspring the First and Second) began taekwondo.  Em is a remarkable presence; she lights up a room. Her lovely hair, pristine skin, and quick smile have always shone despite the rare and difficult medical condition that has plagued her for a very long time.  Em has a certain kind of serenity, likely brought about by her needing to pace herself carefully lest she wear herself out. She is occasionally cynical and ribald; we have never seen her angry or in a panic. She makes people laugh.

Em has a beautiful young daughter, talented in martial arts, with eyes and a charming smile that are quite similar to those of her mother. A marvelous legacy, her daughter:  Em's lasting gift to the world.

When we think of Em, we immediately think of Em's giant heart for her friends:  amigas, so tightly knit, never hesitant to help one another, present for one another through times of difficulty, understanding one another so well. It is a rare gift from the Universe, to have a close friend such as Em has been to hers. She will leave behind tremendous footprints in the hearts of so many people.

We will remember you, Em.  Rest well, and find peace and joy. Godspeed.

This lovely image was found at http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2183/2459438227_95d52742c0.jpg. 

Healing

Wounding and healing are not opposites. They're part of the same thing. It is our wounds that enable us to be compassionate with the wounds of others. It is our limitations that make us kind to the limitations of other people. It is our loneliness that helps us to find other people or to even know they're alone with an illness. I think I have served people perfectly with parts of myself I used to be ashamed of.  ― Rachel Naomi Remen

Not Anymore

Yesterday afternoon, Herself had a telephone conversation with long-term Acquaintance to arrange for Acquaintance to visit for Offspring the Third's birthday.  In the course of the conversation, Acquaintance commented on why Herself's attending of a relative's complex medical appointment last week was helpful:

You're not easily flustered by people.  Well, you are by me, but not by other people.

If seemed like a little poke, designed to put Herself off balance.  Herself ignored the statement. She would not take the bait.

Yesterday evening, when Acquaintance was visiting, Herself felt -- for the very first time in as long as she could remember -- calm and unruffled.  She allowed the little irritating things Acquaintance said to roll away. She remained unperturbed. It was a magnificent sensation.

Why the change?

For the first time, Herself understood at last that she truly does have Backup.

She was not alone. She was protected. She was safe.

Easily flustered by Acquaintance?  Oh, I think not.  Not anymore.

Herself would cry for happiness.

Simple

Fewer things are more delightful than coming across some small thing that one knows a particular person will enjoy, and presenting it to them.  Humble items, perhaps inconsequential to all but the receiver: a ceramic paring knife; an uncommon color of nail polish; a T-shirt naming an unusual band; a roll of shiny duct tape; a fuzzy bee; a flavor of ice cream. The delight of such tiny moments brings joy to the heart.

I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all. - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Optimist

My hopes are not always realized, but I always hope. - Ovid

Practice

To take upon the suffering of others -- that is the practice of compassion.

To give others your own joy and happiness -- that is the practice of love.

- His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Calm

There is a calmness to a life lived in gratitude, a quiet joy.
- Ralph H. Blum

String Theory

Herself has an acquaintance who has strings:  strings, strings, strings, stretching invisibly from everything that the acquaintance says and does, to try to bind others.  If one asks this acquaintance for a favor, one will suddenly find oneself obligated by a string to offer something return.  Performance is not strictly quid pro quo; perhaps a hefty serving of "thank-you-so-much-you-are-so-magnificent-for-assisting-me-and-I-am-appreciative-beyond-measure" will suffice, particularly if it is presented in the vicinity of others who will hear of the acquaintance's beneficence accordingly.

The acquaintance is quite concerned that things be EQUAL among people.  Once, Herself mentioned to the acquaintance that she was preparing various foodstuffs to bring to a friend's house for movie night.  "Oh?  And what is your friend providing?" was the inquiry.  "Friend is providing the venue, beverages, and Friend's valuable company," was the answer.  The acquaintance huffed slightly, as if this was not quite a fair exchange, but mercifully moved on to other topics.  Such an attitude rankles Herself, and thus, we are contemplating strings.

We have discussed previously our thoughts on the exchange associated with helping another individual.  Giving of help, in Herself's perspective, must not entail strings -- for string-laden help diminishes the person who is receiving the aid.  Herself extends the same sentiments to all human interactions:  in giving, one should never expect any particular return.  She wishes she could bring her acquaintance to understand this viewpoint, for it is quite liberating. 

With no strings, one need not keep a running calculation of who owes what to whom; with no strings, one is free to be grateful for all of the little things. 

Kahlil Gibran has beautifully captured the essence of giving.  My favorite words from his composition are:

There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.

It is my joy, to give to you.  There are no strings.

Choices

Herself had an uncomfortable conversation with an acquaintance of hers a couple of days ago.  This acquaintance has an adult child with certain issues; while the adult child has suffered various difficulties and problems at times, overall the adult child is a successful human being:  a devoted friend, a caring parent, a successful businessperson.  The acquaintance used a few choice words that did not sit well at all with Herself.  The words rankled and festered until Herself felt obligated to write a response to them.  I present her thoughts for you, with names changed in consideration for those involved: 

I was mulling over what you said yesterday, that Child is ‘well known for poor choices,’ and that Child's poor choices are related to Child's issues, and I had a few thoughts I thought I’d share with you.


Yes, Child has some issues. Yes, Child has made choices, some good and some poor, over Child's life. While having these particular issues certainly predisposes Child to be a greater risk-taker at times, we cannot attribute each and every choice of Child's to the issues. Like the rest of us, Child is also human. All human beings make choices, for good or for poor, throughout their lives. We all do the best we can with what we have at the moment.

Does Child wish that certain aspects of Child's life had turned out differently? Perhaps. I think we all do on occasion. The important thing, though, is not to be boxed in by past decisions, but to be able to learn from them and move forward. Child is working on coming to terms with Child's life as it now exists, as well as trying to make a fresh start in certain ways. The best we can do for Child, I think, is not to hold Child captive to the past but to come to terms with how things are now.

We can wish things had turned out differently, and we can be sad or even disappointed at times, certainly. Nevertheless, we cannot change Child's past any more than we can change our own. What is done is done.

As I am fond of telling my Beloved, if only we could mentally will other people (such as the Offspring!) to do what we think ought to be done, things would be far easier at times. However, we cannot. It can be quite frustrating to watch someone you love do things differently from how you think they ought to be done, or to make mistakes and have to live with the consequences. All we can really do with another adult, though, is to offer opinion when they ask, and otherwise stand back and watch them try to learn to fly. And, of course, to be there to prop them up and encourage them to try again when they fall.

I know this is all quite philosophical and much, much easier said than done. It’s a day-to-day process at times. But as Lao Tzu says, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. We can spend time looking back at the footsteps of where we all have been, or we can keep those steps in mind and look out at the open space ahead of us and imagine the places our footsteps might go.

 

The Path

It was a desperate struggle.  She contended with things she did not understand, with feelings previously unknown, with thoughts dark and furious.  She wept bitter tears, and yet found no relief in the crying.  There was no resolution in sight.  Agony.  She despaired.

And then, through the void, a glimmer of light.  She was brought backwards in memory to the times when she felt the guidance of the invisible hand.  How she has missed those flashes of understanding of the path before her.  This is, she now understands, but another waypoint on the journey. 

She has embraced and taken the darkness into herself, and in doing so, has calmed the tempest within.  The night sky is clear and starry.  The path stretches out in view once more.

No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.

- Buddha

Resplendent Respite

On the one hand, to write about yesterday's adventure would diminish it, since any penned description will be quite inadequate.  On the other hand, not to write about it would also cause some of its splendour to be lost as well.  I will try, fruitlessly, to capture its essence in words.

Herself, her Beloved, her cherished friend, and I drove out to a geologic point of interest - Kilbourne Hole, New Mexico.  The roads were rough but the Jeep handled them effortlessly.  The volcanic rock and the sandy soil were weathered into various interesting shapes and held small colorful stones.  There was silence broken only by the sound of the flies and an occasional vehicle passing by.  They poked about in the rocks, had lunch, sat comfortably in the shade.

It was a glorious reprieve from It All.  All ordinary thoughts and worries were displaced by the quiet and the tranquil landscape.  Only the movement of the shadow of the tarp showed that time was passing.  Herself wished for profound and meaningful things to say, inspired by such a serene environment, but could not muster a single complex thought, for her brain was resting. 

It was a much-needed respite.  Blissful.  Peaceful.  Comforting. 
We returned refreshed, but with a sense of loss for having left the Hole. 

We'll go back someday. 

See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence.... We need silence to be able to touch souls. - Mother Teresa

Bee

Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.

- Kahlil Gibran, "On Pleasure," The Prophet