Friday, February 14, 2014

Life Comes In Waves



We’ve not had a full week of school since I don’t remember when, all due to snow and ice and freezing temperatures.  The most recent days off were Thursday and Friday of this week.  And Kim and I moved here thinking that we’d be out of the snow and cold.  Ha!  Not hardly!

Dutifully, Kim, Emily and I would traipse out to the driveway dressed like we lived in Alaska, drag our shovels, and start digging away.  Takes quite a bit of time, but with three of us working at it, it gets done.  Aches and pains and feeling every bit of my years, I pop Ibuprofen like Skittles.

Then, it snows again.

So, out we go again, this time minus Emily, and Kim and I dig and shovel.  This time the snow banks are a little higher, so we have to carry the shovel-full a bit further and throw it higher.

Then, the plow comes along and seals up the end of the driveway with more snow, and this time, delivers icy chunks.

So, out we go yet again.

Doesn’t seem to end.  Looking at the ten day forecast, more to come, only we don’t have any clue how much.

And I’m sure, out we’ll go again.

Kind of like life.  Both the good and the bad hit us, batter us, challenge us, and we either step up with our shovels or retreat until it melts?  Goes away?  Is no more?

Life Comes In Waves.

There isn’t ever one snow storm.  There are many.  There is never just one wave.  There are many.  And like waves, or snow, or rainy days, they keep coming, just as the sunny days and the warm weather keep coming.

Life Comes In Waves.

As many warm days as there are, there will be cool or cold days.  As many sunny days as there are, there will be cloudy and rainy days.

As many happy moments as there are in our lives, there will be days of disappointment, even sadness.  As many days of smiles as there are in our lives, there will be days of tears.  And as many days in our lives where there are no worries, there will be days where we fret over things big and small.  As many days as there are when we feel life’s riches can’t shower us any further, there will be days when it feels like we are in a drought, when the river . . . our life . . . is dry.

Life Comes In Waves.

Mountain peaks and valleys.  Wave crests and troughs.  Sunshine and rain.  Warm weather and cold.  Days when we feel on top of the world, and days when we feel so very down that we cannot go any further.  Life comes in waves.  Happy and sad and all the in betweens.  Life Comes In Waves.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Feed The Wolf


Our dog, Bailey, eats the way our previous Golden Retriever, Sherlock used to eat:  a lot in a little amount of time.  Not only does Bailey eat from the bowl, but she will place her food neatly on the carpet near her bowl and eat it one small piece at a time.  At other times, Bailey decides to dine out.  She’ll take pieces of food to a different room, appropriately our dining room, and eat it there.  Odd and funny and a bit bewildering.

For many years now, I’ve fallen in love with the Navajo people.  I enjoy their rich history.  I enjoy the stark beauty of the American Southwest, specifically the Navajo Indian Reservation in Northeastern Arizona.  I even have a few books on their fables and stories, their lore, their customs, and their traditions.  In my favorite room in our house, I have the walls dappled with Navajo art and artifacts.

The Navajo people have a saying: “Coyote is always out there waiting, and coyote is always hungry.”
           
I don’t know to whom it is attributed other than that it is a traditional Navajo proverb.

In one of the books I wrote, one of my characters questions whether or not he is evil.  A heady concept and question, despite the fact that the boy’s age is only fourteen.  Without going into a lot of detail, the question is warranted.  The answer comes from George, a Navajo boy who is also fourteen, and who was raised very traditionally in the Navajo way of life.

After Brett’s question, there is a long pause before George speaks.  Finally, George said, “My grandfather told me that in all of us, there are two wolves.  One is good and one is evil.  We make a choice each day to feed one wolf or the other.  The one we feed the most determines whether or not we are good or evil.”

“We make a choice each day to feed one wolf or the other.  The one we feed the most determines whether or not we are good or evil.”

While the book I draw this conversation from is a work of fiction, my second book in a trilogy, I believe the words George speaks are real.  They ring true to me.

I sincerely believe there are two wolves in each of us. 

In Each Of Us. 

Drawing from yet another story, another allegory, we might call one wolf Cain and the other wolf Abel.

I also honestly believe that we make a conscious choice to feed one wolf or feed the other, one being good, and one being evil.  We make this choice by our words, our actions.  Sometimes we make this choice by our absence of words, by our inactions.  Sometimes, the thoughts we have make the choice for us. 
However we choose, whatever choice we make, we Feed The Wolf. 

We Feed The Wolf in our day to day interactions with people . . . even with ourselves.  We make choices to act or not act.  We make choices in the words we say or write, and in the words we refrain from speaking or writing.  We make choices in our reactions to the words and actions of others. 

In any case, we make a daily . . . sometimes minute by minute . . . choice to Feed One Wolf or Feed The Other.  Which will you decide to feed?  The choice is up to you each and every time.  As Yoda would say, “Choose wisely!”  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Friday, February 7, 2014

Line In The Sand



A Line of Demarcation is a boundary separating one thing from another.  Sometimes the line separates two countries, such as the Blue Line separating Lebanon from Israel, or the Radcliffe Line separating India and Pakistan, or our very own Mason-Dixon Line. 

We have fence lines separating one ranch from another, or one yard from another.  Sometimes the fence is somewhat imaginary such as a hedge row or tree line.  Sometimes the line isn’t so imaginary such as a river or an ocean. 

The thing about a line is that it separates.  Countries.  States.  Time Zones. 

People.

In our own country, in our own recent past, we sometimes had two lines: one for whites and one for anyone else of color.  Separate water fountains.  Restrooms.  Parts of town.  Even social events.

Sometimes we give each other or earn a title that separates us from one another such as Commander In Chief, or Senator, or Board of Supervisor, or Principal. 

Arbitrary or not, lines separate us from one another and can and often do create divisions and sometimes divisiveness.

And if a line separates, imaginary or otherwise, what happens if the line is crossed?

To me, a Line In The Sand is a dare.  It’s saying to someone, “See what happens when you cross this!”  And it seems like it’s human nature to want to cross that line just to see what happens.

I think we draw a Line In The Sand to each other.  Between one adult and another adult.  Many times, adults do this to kids.  “One more time and I’ll tell your father!”  “Do I need to contact your parents?” “You do this one more time and I’ll . . .” 

Effective, huh?  Hmmm, not so much.

When we draw a Line In The Sand, we back each other, sometimes kids, into a corner so that there is nowhere to go.  Sometimes we even back ourselves into a corner and leave ourselves no choice but to cross our own imaginary line.

Mostly, I feel it is uncomfortable to have a Line In The Sand drawn for us, real or imaginary, our own doing or someone else’s doing.  It’s a dare and somehow, someway, that line says, “I’m better than you!”  “I’m tougher than you!”  It is an assertion, real or imaginary, rightly or wrongly, of one’s power over another individual.  Drawing a Line separates.  It can, and often does, hurt.  Instead of unifying, it creates division.  Instead of joining, it creates divisiveness.

Perhaps we should separate less and join more.  Perhaps instead of keeping others away, we need to include and become more inclusive.  Humans, after all, seek others to be with them for comfort, for guidance, for support.  Lines don’t join people together.  Dares don’t support or encourage.  Lines and dares are destructive, not constructive.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Where An Apology Falls Short



An apology is so important when one has done or said something wrong or hurtful.  An apology is equally important when one has not done or said something that should have been done or said.  It is an act of accountability, of owning up to a mistake.  It is raising one’s hand and stating, “I am sorry.”

I believe an apology is a step towards making things right.  An apology is a corrective action.  It lets an individual know that there is recognition that something was said or done that was hurtful.  An apology lets an individual know that there is a willingness to fix a hurt and to mend a relationship.

Still . . .

I came across a post by another writer who wanted to point out an apology’s deficiency.  I paraphrase, but it went sort of like this:

Take a plate.  Any old plate would do, but a nice plate, a treasured plate would be better.  Now, pick up the plate and throw it on the floor.  Did it shatter?  Yes, it shattered.  Now, tell the plate you’re sorry.  Did you?  Yes, I told the plate I was sorry.  Did you really, really mean it?  Yes, I’m very sorry I broke the plate.  Did the plate un-shatter?  Did the plate come back as a whole plate?  No.  Didn’t think so.  Sometimes “sorry” doesn’t make the pieces whole again.  Sometimes “sorry” doesn’t undo the damage.

“Sometimes sorry doesn’t make the pieces whole again.  Sometimes sorry doesn’t undo the damage.”

I’ve written a post titled Tattered And Torn.  In it, I wrote about the pain and suffering some of us . . . many of us . . . have that were the result of the words or the actions of others.  Stuff that was done or said to or about us.  The effects last a lifetime.  Many times, we so very well remember the hurt caused by one individual and forget . . . perhaps ignore . . . the complements we received by many individuals.  That one hurt lasts and lasts and . . .

An apology is a necessary first step.  So very necessary.  And yet, it is only a first step.  It is only one step.

The hurt is remembered and will be remembered.  There is a certain amount of damage that hurt caused that might not go away.  There is a certain amount of damage that hurt caused that will not fade away in any time, short or long.  Sometimes the damage is such that it lasts for the rest of one’s life. 

Each of us has those hurts we remember.  We retreat and lick our wounds.  Sometimes we might even lash out in equal or surpassing measure, as if we can become “better” by making someone else feel worse.  Sometimes, each of us has reacted without thinking, out of emotion of the moment.  Hit me with a fist?  I’ll hit you with a rock!

But, an apology is a first and necessary step to rebuilding a relationship, to mending hurt feelings.  Yes, an apology is necessary so that the other party will know that we recognize our misstep, that we recognize the damage we caused- not only to the other party, but to ourselves. 

But while the apology is a first and necessary step towards your and the other's healing, there has been damage.  There has been hurt.  And as we know, as you and I know, sometimes that hurt, that damage doesn’t go away.  Like the plate, it will remain shattered.  Like the plate, the person we hurt can remain damaged.  It might take more than a lifetime to get over.  It might take forever and a day.  So the only solace we take, can take, is that we extended a heartfelt, deeply felt apology admitting our mistake.  Whether or not it is enough, well, we might not ever know.  Whether or not we will be forgiven, we might not ever know.  And, even if we are forgiven of what we did or said, what we didn’t do or didn’t say, it might not ever be forgotten.  A tough and sad reality we might face for a long, long time.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!


Friday, January 31, 2014

Low Hanging Fruit


Ever notice that fruit trees have a beautiful blossom and that the fragrance is wonderful? 

When I lived in California, you could smell an orange grove way before you actually saw it.  The smell is that powerful.  Ever notice that apple trees, in particular, look like they are in pain, especially when the leaves and fruit fall?  Almost old and arthritic.  Branches at odd angles, jutting this way and that way.  Best I can describe it is that it looks painful.

One of the benefits of growing up in the country on the river was that we had our own orchard.  Now, I wouldn’t exactly call it an orchard, but we did have one green apple tree, four crab apple trees, a pear tree (without the partridge), and a cherry tree (without George Washington threatening to chop it down).  And, it wasn’t the kind of orchard we spent a lot of time on, nor did we do a lot of work to it.

The trees would bear fruit.  We picked the fruit when the time came, and we filled our beat up bushel baskets, and then carried the lot of them to the end of the gravel driveway where the driveway met the blacktop of Highway 33.  We would set up our lawn chair next to the mailboxes, and sold them to any willing passersby.  Didn’t make a lot of money, but it was something to do on a fall Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

My dad would instruct the shorter ones among us to pick the fruit off of the branches we could reach, while the older, bigger ones among us climbed the ladder or the tree itself and picked the fruit off the higher branches.  It was an all day, many day chore.  After the picking, the apples, cherries or pears that didn’t make the baskets were raked up and disposed of. 

Got me thinking . . .

You’ve heard the expression, “Low Hanging Fruit.”  To me it means, that which is easily obtained without much effort, without much work, without much sweat.

Low Hanging Fruit.

Nothing wrong with picking Low Hanging Fruit.  Nothing wrong at all.  It’s there for the taking.  It’s easy and doesn’t take much effort.

We see opportunities in our daily lives:  a simple “Hello!” “Thank you!” “I’m sorry!” None of these take much effort and there are plenty of opportunities for us each day, many times a day.

Low Hanging Fruit.

A compliment.  A pat on the back.  A willingness to listen.  A willingness to help dry someone’s tears.  Showing empathy.  Showing courtesy.  Showing respect.  A gentle touch.  Reaching out to another in time of need.  Giving the gift of self.

Nothing great, glorious or glamorous.  But what a terrific reward for both the giver and the receiver!

Low Hanging Fruit.

No need to climb a ladder or climb the tree, unless you want to . . . are able to . . . reach for more, reach higher. 

Some have the ability to climb without fear or trepidation, without fear of falling.  And perhaps the benefits are just as great, maybe greater, than picking off the lower branches.

It comes down to comfort level and a willingness to pick.  All it takes is a willingness to gather.  All it takes is a willingness to protect before the fruit falls to the ground and is ruined, or damaged, or judged no good to use or eat.  Whether you pick the Low Hanging Fruit or climb up a ladder to pick the fruit off the upper branches does not really matter, as long as you Pick the Fruit.  Each day.  Every day.  And many, many times a day.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!